replacing...my...precious

The unexpected took a sojourn in my modern life: I acquired a replacement to my lost phone. What’s more, it is far more coveted than my stolen camera phone. Apart from the usual perks of video, camera, radio and all that jazz, it also has mp3 and, wow, a television. That means never having to miss shows aired in Channel 2 and commercials that are worthy of parodying, as long as the phone battery, its longevity or some criminal minds won’t let me down.
It was our new PE instructor who brought the entire faculty’s attention to that phone. He owns a unit, and since everyone took interest, offered an extra TV phone for everybody to rave about. We scanned the free channels to check on their availability as well as the reception. Somebody pointed out that UNTV37 was miraculously picked up—we openly wish we could watch the showbiz talk show hosted by Natasha Ledesma and Pete Ampoloquio for some good laugh trip. Immediately a sign-up paper was doing the rounds for those who want to own a unit by Friday, and guess who was on top of the list.
I casually mentioned that just then, I might not be able to sleep until the day my hands triumphantly hold a stylus to perform some touch-screen texting. That proved to be crucial when our PE instructor called his Chinese friend to close some transactions regarding our phone orders. I was outside the office of my not-so-charismatic superior, waiting for colleagues to emerge dejected after a useless haggling for on-time payroll with that superior when our PE instructor approached me, asking if I already want to take home the available unit. Needless to say, my PS2 body bag was filled to bursting when I left for the Ipil Dorm to edit our brightest’s thesis proposal.
I was already exhausted when I got home that night so it was early the morning after that I got to test my new acquisition. Good news greeted me and the whole Philippines via the morning show which a cutie newscaster hosts: a high-profile journalist who had been kidnapped in the south was already freed. Then, a text interrupted my viewing. It said, “Panakaw mo uli ‘yan ha, mahal. Don’t bathe and tapis. Mwah.” Don't worry, Pangga. I'll keep my new phone in an inconspicuous place, bury it under loads of books, kitchen utensils, garments and whatnot, and finally place on top a post-it note that reads, "Walang TV phone dito, peksman, kahit halungkatin pa ang pinakailalim ng tabon."