For those of you who are wondering what happened to my cellphone, it is in good hands: namely, my own. Apparently it fell out of my jeans pocket when I was lugging 20-kg bags of icing sugar from point A (the pile of sugar bags) to point B (the mixing bowl). It slid beneath a prep table. It was set to vibrate. It had landed in a pile of icing sugar, which muffled the already-subtle sounds of a vibrating cellphone. Every time I tried to phone it to pinpoint its location, it vibrated itself a bit further under the table. I spent 2 days cellphoneless, during which I discovered that payphones cost 50 cents per call, and no one in the mall will give you change for a Toonie. One of my wonderful co-workers found the phone, and it was eventually returned to me.
While we're on the subject of cellphones, remember that time I started a private war with Virgin Mobile? And how in the end they promise my cheque was in the mail and would be on my doorstep by the end of September? Yeah, it's still not here. Erg. I dread calling them again.
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