Damn you Apple!
My Ipod decided to give me an early birthday present by turning itself into a $300+ paperweight that enjoys playing 1 song of Shania Twain and 1 song of bad European techno.
I truly HEART my ipod. But its also a bastard cousin of Apple Ipod because dare I say, I purchased the HP Ipod because it was on sale. And of course Apple will not service this evil Ipod because its parents (HP) did not play nicely with the Apple Empire and the Apple Empire said SCREW YOU HP IPOD I LAUGH AT YOUR CRAPPY CLICK WHEEL FAILURE.
I’ve protected this baby since day one. But apparently all the love in the world couldn’t save it from the elements during the Seattle 1/2 Marathon. I really can’t imagine why it didn’t enjoy copious amounts of moisture entering its electronic veins. . . I remember the volume starting to fail around mile 10 and then a strong attempt at making me deaf with Whitney Houston and then skipping through my beloved AC/DC.
For a small fee, that is similar to the down payment of a home, or my left ovary, Apple *might* fix my Ipod. Or I can ship it to one of the many online ipod repair places that will probably fill my ipod with 30 gig of porn and Pubjabi techno.
Well screw you Apple. For $300+ an electronic device should whip me up some pancakes and provide free psychological help. Thus, I’m buying a cheaper and cuter mp3 player that has an FM Tuner and a expansion slot. Oooh sexy.
My head hurts and I have to go sit through my bi-weekly sales meeting from hell where we discuss the inner workings of excel documents and other completely worthless topics. Since I feel like complete crap right now this should be a “wonderful” meeting.
At this rate I’ll be calling in sick on my birthday, only I’ll actually be sick. Could be worse right? Spending my birthday in sweats and watching Discovery Health Channel.
Someone asked why I didn’t renew my license online. The simple answer is that my old picture makes me look like i’m on steroids, looks nothing like me, and was during a bad hair coloring phase where I attempted to go back to my natural color but instead I look like I dyed my hair with a Sharpie. Last time I was in Cali I had to show my Costco ID and University ID (in which I was 18 in the picture!!) to get into a bar because they didn’t trust my drivers license photo. LAME. Needless to say, I need a new photo! 🙂