I loved you. I loved that you looked vaguely like a storm trooper. I loved that my boyfriend always sang “phony phony phone” along with your T-Mobile jingle ringtone. (He wrote those lyrics himself.)
I even thought it was cute the way you got cell phone reception in my bedroom, but not in any other room in my apartment; I always enjoyed those moments of panic in which my teakettle was shrieking and my toast was burning while I was trapped in my bedroom, unable to walk twenty feet to the kitchen without dropping my call.
I love that you died exactly 48 hours after I spent $1.99 on a supersweet Britney Spears “Overprotected” ringtone. I love that the guy at the T-Mobile store said I must have gotten you wet because the little sticker inside my phone had turned pink. I love that the assclowns at T-Mobile put little pink stickers inside their phones so that they never have to replace any broken phones for free. I love that in order to get a new phone for a reasonable price I had to re-up my contract, which will now last FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE.
Rest in Peace.