I think I’m slowly losing my husband to someone else. She’s smarter than I am, far skinnier than I will ever be and instantly loved by all who come into contact with her. She likes the same music as him, has a keen sense of direction, and never fails to make him laugh. I awoke this morning to see that he was cuddling with her right in front of me. The audacity.
That’s right. My husband’s cheating on me. With his iPhone. To add insult to injury, the dog also favors the phone over her loving, selfless mother.
Don’t mind the strange look on Jolie’s face. This photo was snapped a few moments after “Peanut Butter Prozac Time”. (Yes, my dog is on Prozac. More on that later.)
I suppose I shouldn’t complain too much as I am the individual who bought the stupid phones two years ago this July. How’s that for irony? Little did I know I’d be creating a Facebook-obsessed, Twitter-addicted, YouTube-crazed monster. And yes, iPhone addiction is for reals. Read about it here.
Scott had insisted we get the phones right away, so while he was busy studying at home, I was burdened with the humiliating task of being “one of those people” standing in line outside the Apple Store the day the new iPhone is released. Throughout my two hour wait in the Carousel Mall I was ridiculed by every Hot Topic customer in Central New York, a bevy of soccer moms and even a gang member (I think). Oh the shame.
I missed my window of opportunity last year when Scott’s phone was stolen from the Olympic Athletic Club in Ballard. On this particular evening he was on-call at the hospital (he works as a Physician Assistant) and needed to bring his phone with him in case of an emergency while he took a quick sauna break. He left his phone outside the sauna and forgot to pick it up when he left twenty minutes later.
After about five minutes he started having withdrawals and realized his dire mistake when he reached into his pocket only to find a few shreds of pocket lint. I wasn’t actually there for this moment, but I imagine he may have started twitching like an epileptic. He ran back to the club, but it was too late. She was gone forever.
Or so he thought. He had visited the gym at 11:30 on a week night, which meant there were only a handful of people in the sauna. Two young men, to be exact, whom Scott described as “douchebags that smelled like Axe body spray”.
Yes, that is a direct quote.
The woman at the front desk was able to identify these two young men and give them a house call, asking if they had seen the missing iPhone. Turns out one of the “douches” still lived at home, and was forced to returned the phone by his not-so-happy parents, who answered the phone when she called.
“I thought it belonged to one of my friends.”, he claimed. Yeah, sure, and I’m related to Barack Obama. (I used to
secretly not so secretly wish I was related to Barack Obama, until I realized that he couldn’t be my boyfriend if we were kinfolk.)
Gee, wasn’t it nice of Olympic Athletic to go to such lengths to ensure the iPhone was safely returned? They risked seriously offending some of their other members by basically accusing them of theft over the phone. What excellent customer service. Now Scott and Little Miss iPhone are back together. (I envision “Reunited and it feels so good” was playing in the background when the handed him his beloved.)
There was another close call last September when Scott’s failure to use an iPhone case caused some serious damage to his phone. He took the phone into several different Genius Bars (even missing a family dinner during a vacation in Colorado to try to get his phone replaced) but to no avail. Our warranty had expired and it was pretty evident that the damage was the result of carelessness and not a manufacturing defect.
Scott however had the brilliant idea that if a young, blond female took a stab at getting the phone replaced, she might have better luck. I obliged, thinking there was NO way they would give us a new $200 piece of equipment. Turns out I thought wrong. Not until I heard the young man at the counter say “Well, your warranty expired 64 days ago, but it’s obvious that you have been really careful with the phone, and we pride ourselves on our excellent customer service…” did I realize Scott was right. The phone looked like it had been dropped from a 12-story building multiple times, and I may or may not have snickered when the twenty-something Mac Genius claimed he could tell I had been careful with it. Oh, brother.
Speaking of brothers, my little bro Leif had a similar experience–He dropped his phone onto concrete, causing a huge crack across the center of the screen. After checking with a couple different Apple stores, he had resigned to dropping $500 on a new phone, as his contract couldn’t be renewed for a year and a half.
While Leif was home for Christmas, Scott suggested I try my magic again at the Genius Bar in the Tacoma Mall. Upon arriving at the store, both Leif and I agreed there was no way it was going to work and he resigned to telling the truth. Yet as soon as I heard him humbly state “I dropped it.” when asked by the Genius how the damage had occurred, I just couldn’t help myself.
“Actually, I dropped it.” I said as I batted my eyelashes while trying to look as guilt-stricken as possible. (This was almost as hard as simultaneously patting your head and rubbing your stomach.)
Bam. Free iPhone 4 replacement. You’re welcome, Leif.
I suppose two conclusions can be drawn from this post. One, I am basically a Mac Store Genius whisperer.
Two, it could be a lot worse. There could actually be another woman, or an addiction to something much more serious like video games, WWC wrestling, or black tar heroin.
Or even worse….Live Action Role Play.
Here’s to hoping I never wake up next to a man dressed in a raccoon suit and clutching a samurai sword.
1. Why is is that so many people in Seattle have iPhones/iPads anyway? I always thought Seattle was the kindgom of Microsoft.
2. Should I dress up as an iPhone to spice things up?