Dear Chuck,

Thank you for throwing a hissy fit and therefore made the trackball useless. It doesn't scroll down no matter what I do. No towel, napkin or puff of air will make it mobile. You know what that means? No late night checking of Twitter. It also means going to Orange (thy father) and wasting what would be left of my afternoon trying to see if you're worth saving.

I am very annoyed. Bad Chuck. >( I can't live without you. You know this very well. I even bought you a pretty little purple cover to protect you after that first drop. I've apologized! Don't tell me you're one of those passive aggressive phones that suddenly explode thanks to the grudges.

What we had is real.

So please...

Can you magically heal yourself? That'd be nice.

No love,

Me