The magenta Motorolla RAZR V3. Like that'll ever happen. I've had my phone for three years. It's huge, heavy, scratched up, and leaves a very creepy bulge in any/all pockets. I hate it, and therefore, I never use it. I've begged for the RAZR. Begged, pleaded, and offered all sorts of favors. It didn't work. Despite the fact that I fixed my parents' marriage and didn't tell anyone about their respective infidelities, I don't get the phone. The same phone way too many of my friends have. Oh well. Mom threatened to call the school and complain about how superficial teenage girls are (hello? seriously? seriously!), so I guess I haven't got a chance in hell of getting the phone. Well, it's strangely fitting, I suppose. We don't get to go to Williamsburg (Frank had a scare with his heart so he's in the hospital for observation or something like that) and I don't get a phone. Well, at least she (hopefully) won't make me the most hated girl in school by calling the principal. Keep your fingers crossed.