Mad for Mavis pt.I

My computer is sick, my darlings. It's worse than I originally thought. I did a complete update on the system, and Conchata wasn't taking it well. I think she misunderstood my desire for current software as me telling her she wasn't good enough, and she just shut down.

She's going to have to have some work done. I discovered this after many hours in the Apple store, which as a side note does not have air conditioning due to the breakdown of rare and expensive AC parts. You can imagine how happy this makes the customers. There they are all shapes and sizes, just like a fucking iPod commercial, but less black. They are holding their broken iBooks and iSights and iPod minis, their faces dripping with iSweat. Soon, they leave behind the semi-sane person they were when they entered the store, and are reborn as an iCock.

I tried to make as many jokes as was appropriate and keep the mood light. I also really began to enjoy asking the people around me what their problems were. "What's wrong with that iPod, Myrtle?" and Myrtle would look at me lamely and say, "It won't download songs anymore," and I would respond with "Do any of your tables have a shorter leg that makes them wobble? Just use the iPod to balance it out. That's all it's good for now, sucker." The people either laughed or made motions to kill me. Oh, so sorry Mister Sensitive iBook owner. Just because YOU didn't think it was a good idea to use your piece of shit, 5 year old, 12" laptop as a chopping board to separate your coke on doesn't mean I was out of line to suggest it. So what if your teenage daughter was with you? Take it from me, she's no stranger to drug use. Maybe if you'd let her use that laptop for the nose candy all her boyfriends-for-a-night would stop using her tailbone as a table to cut their stash on.

They were having trouble diagnosing the problem. They installed, uninstalled, reinstalled, and booted in safe mode. They updated. They goaded, and eventually, my favorite Apple genius (appropriately named Joy) threw her hands up and went in the back room. I listened carefully for the sounds of weeping and/or property destruction. There were none. Instead, she emerged quite calmly, carrying something that made peals of laughter exit my body.

A stethoscope.

Like any layman, I thought she was kidding. "What's the prognosis, doc?" I chided. She ignored me, as any good Apple genius would do, and laid the shiny silver stethoscope on the bottom left corner of the laptop. She listened. Then she determined that Conchata even sounded fine, so she was stumped. No evidence of corruption with a regular-sounding drive. I am officially screwed.

She's going under the knife this weekend to receive more RAM and a new hard drive. Maybe. It's in God's hands now.

I tried to cheer myself up by taking a peek at all the fun software in the store. I went into geek mode, exclaiming things like, "Holy cow! You mean I can learn Spanish in just TWO WEEKS?!" and "Golly gosh, who knew that starting a small business could be so easy?!" People were starting to throw crusty glances my way. I was just about to tell them all to take their iPod shuffle, roll them up real tight, and cram 'em, when I saw it. Glowing proudly on the shelf, holding the answer to all life's troubles.

Mavis Beacon.

more tomorrow. g