Tuesday, February 14, 2006


You know that theory where if your electronic devices don't work, then you should beat them? But when you beat them, they don't actually improve? I'm sure you've done it - like, if your TV is out of focus, you walk over and bang the top of it?

Sunday evening when I was waiting for a bus to take me home, I finally got tired of my i-Pod's rude behavior. As of late, Iggy, my i-Pod, has been so moody that he rivals Awesome's and my moodiness combined. He skips to the next song in the middle of my favorite tunes without warning or reason; turns himself off at random moments; will only play certain songs that he likes; and so on. So Sunday evening, at this fateful bus stop, I removed Iggy from his protective leather i-Pod condom and threw him at the brick wall of a stationary store. After doing so, Iggy worked perfectly!

Thus, the mature, responsible moral of this story is that whenever you're having problems with something or someone, you should domestically violate him/her/it.

Well, maybe: a small child who was waiting at the bus stop with his mother witnessed my Iggy abuse, as well as my excited and pleased reaction after the abuse, and followed my lead by throwing his Gameboy at the wall. His mother was not happy when the Gameboy split into three pieces. I looked at her son like he was insane and then gave her a facial expression saying, I mean, c'mon, who the hell would throw an expensive electronic device at the wall?

Now. Yesterday evening when I was on my way home, I turned Iggy on and he was completely blank. Until last night there were over 4,600 songs on my i-Pod. Over 4,600 songs and Iggy was only halfway full - I felt like such a digital failure. I could not complete him. All of the songs were gone and Iggy was entirely shallow, the bastard.

This morning, though, when I leaned over and caressed Iggy's soft circular touchpad, he had magically replaced all of the songs on my i-Pod, telling me that since it's Valentines Day, he had apologized for his behavior, and had also forgiven me for my act of domestic violence. My flatmate thought it odd when, from the next room, he heard me scream, "You do that again, bitch, and I'll beat you so hard you'll end up in the hospital!" Tonight I'm going to an anti-Valentine dinner with some friends, but Iggy is not invited.

Like Iggy, I've never found the point of Valentine's Day. I can't say it any simpler: It's fucking stupid. Last year I mailed Awesome a card that read, Happy Bat Mitzvah!, and on the inside, Honey, you're a woman now. Since he showed little appreciation for my gift, this year I mailed him a box of chocolates shaped like collagen-infused lips and a large box of Solpadeine since he's hungover quite often, too. So romantic.

I don't understand why Cupid was chosen to represent Valentine's Day. When I think about romance, the last thing on my mind is a short, chubby toddler coming at me with a weapon. - Anonymous