I am without a cell phone yet again. I have never had such a run of bad luck involving phones. To my credit, I have never lost or broken a phone up until this year. Then the winds of change blew in and destroyed my perfect record of cell phone responsibility. Last night I went to flip open my old, but trusty, Motorola Razor and what should happen? The top fell off. All of the praise I ever offered that phone at any point during it's life has been withdrawn and replaced with obscenities. I looked at my phone, two pieces in my hand, and did the only thing reasonable; I hucked both into the river in the backyard out of frustration. After a night to reflect on my actions I came to the conclusion that I should apologize to the fishes who live there, because more than likely they will not appreciate the battery fluids that will probably leak. I promise to try and toss a fisherman into the river at some point fishies, to make amends for my transgression.

The irony to the situation is that I think my phone knew I was jumping ship. I had just finished ordering a new Blackberry Pearl from Verizon (not AT&T, which is my current service) complete with a new number, I.e. new identity. Maybe I broke the Razor's heart. Maybe Motorola engineered a shitty phone designed to get the money of every impressionable middle-20's-something college student. Maybe I am a tool. Or maybe, just maybe, that phone was better than I give it credit for. I doubt it though. Tomorrow the dawn of new cellular age is upon me, curtsey of FedEx and their miraculous free 2-day shipping policy.

The weather is too nice to be ignored so I am taking a break later to go riding. I wanted to get up earlier so I would not have to stay late at work tonight but I was irresponsible last night. Getting in touch with my middle school self, I bought a 12 pack of Pacifico, 2 limes, and planted myself firmly in front of my Xbox 360 and played Assassin's Creed all dumb night. Initially I just wanted to kill some medieval fools and go to bed at a responsible hour, say midnight. Well, I found myself trying to understand the really, really, bad plot. 12 turned into a little after 2 in the morning and just when I thought I had come to the end of the game, CURVEBALL! More things to do. I looked towards the microwave (the only nearby clock due to lack of phone), squinted and realized there was no longer a 1 in front of the 2 and rationed I should go to bed. I pounded 2 more Pacificos, watched some NBA all star highlights and went to bed around 3 in the morning. Whoops.

It was harder to get up at 8 this morning than I had planned, but I still managed to do it, albeit really slowly. A shower was a foregone conclusion this morning, a screwdriver was not. I pulled from my glass of OJ and Sky and quickly brushed my teeth, gathered up my snowboard gear and was on my way to work. From inside the outside looks deceptively warm with the sun at full blast. The windows whisper lies of 50 degrees. Actual temperature: 12 degrees. I rolled the windows down in my car and said fuck it, I want to enjoy this. In my mind it was 70 and there was a beach to my left and my right going down the PCH.

I'm taking my camera up to snap some photos of the lovely area. Now that President's weekend is finally over all the gapers and their families have gone home so I can once again enjoy the slopes. The only other peak time will be during spring break, but that means lovely ski bunnies and bros. I will take the former but not the latter.