I was driving to work yesterday morning and listening to the inspirational musical musings of Bob Schneider's Texas Bluegrass Massacre on my iPod. One track ended and the next loaded up. And nothing happened. The display showed the new song title and track information, but banjos were not delighting my ears. The play icon sat there in the upper left corner, but the progress bar was not advancing. Not at all. There was less movement from the progress bar than from me that time I told my mom I would wash her car and then took a nap instead. So I hit the rewind button. And my iPod started seeking back through song after song like some sort of meth-addicted schizophrenic with obsessive-compulsive disorder. When I hit the play button again, it stopped seeking backwards, but still wasn't playing.
And then I looked up and found that the car had somehow made its way into this old guy's living room. He was just standing their with wide eyes and his hands clutching his chest. I asked if he was okay, but he just sort of gasped. So I backed up and went to work.
Just kidding.
I hit play and pause a few more times to no avail. And then something terrible happened. Something even worse than an old guy in a wife-beater and boxer shorts having a heart attack on my bumper. My iPod froze up. Just stopped working. And I had to turn on the radio.
Yeah. The radio.
When I got to work, I tried everything. I reset it half a million times. I tplugged it into the computer. I pleaded with it. I used it to peel a kiwi. Nothing. So now the champ is on his way back to Apple for service or replacement. His fate is a little unclear, but I do know this. I'll miss the champ.
And if you're reading this right now, the champ, you should know that you've made me happier than any other electronic apparatus ever. Probably. You earned your name and a spot in my heart. Whatever happens, I'll always remember you tenderly.
Oh, and uh, if they're gonna replace you with a new iPod, tell 'em I want a black one.
And then I looked up and found that the car had somehow made its way into this old guy's living room. He was just standing their with wide eyes and his hands clutching his chest. I asked if he was okay, but he just sort of gasped. So I backed up and went to work.
Just kidding.
I hit play and pause a few more times to no avail. And then something terrible happened. Something even worse than an old guy in a wife-beater and boxer shorts having a heart attack on my bumper. My iPod froze up. Just stopped working. And I had to turn on the radio.
Yeah. The radio.
When I got to work, I tried everything. I reset it half a million times. I tplugged it into the computer. I pleaded with it. I used it to peel a kiwi. Nothing. So now the champ is on his way back to Apple for service or replacement. His fate is a little unclear, but I do know this. I'll miss the champ.
And if you're reading this right now, the champ, you should know that you've made me happier than any other electronic apparatus ever. Probably. You earned your name and a spot in my heart. Whatever happens, I'll always remember you tenderly.
Oh, and uh, if they're gonna replace you with a new iPod, tell 'em I want a black one.
Did the champ take Bob Schneider's Texas Bluegrass Massacre with him?
Fortunately, no.
*giggles*
Loved a bit about you in the old guy's living room. And that you used the ipod to peel a kiwi fruit. :)
you love the champ more than your camera?
The camera isn't really an electronic apparutus. Not to me, anyway.