A feminist outpost in the desert.
While I continue to recuperate from the Flu-pocalypse, I happened upon my old cell phone. (A lemon that a certain phone company that shall go unnamed had the balls to sell me even though it was defective and when I went back to get my money back, they told me they knew the bluetooth didn’t work but I had missed the return window by one day. Seriously. Balls.) So, I have this cell phone that otherwise works great and was used all of two weeks and then put back in the box. (PS: I called my credit card company and told them that I was sold a lemon and my credit card company gave me my money back and then went and crapped on that cell phone company. Or, at least that’s what I imagine in my Nyquil-brain state.)
I started thinking that this old/brand new cell phone would be totally useful to someone else. Like, say, a victim of domestic violence. So, I looked up the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence, and lo and behold, they’ve got a program for that. Because even though my old phone doesn’t have bluetooth, it can still totally call 911 or another emergency number for a survivor on the run. Find out more here.
And, by the way, why not take a scan around your pad and see if there are any laptops, cell phones, or digital/electronic goods that you could give a second (and perhaps more purposeful) life to. (Cell Phones for Soldiers is another good option.) Not to mention, it keeps this stuff out of the landfill.
We can be heroes … with our old cell phones!
Okay, I’m getting out of here. Clearly, the medicine has gone to my head. Until next time, pass the tissues and don’t bogard the cough drops.