(In case you were wanting to find a good place to send some of that tax refund money!)
* * *
So let’s see… where did I leave off? Oh yeah, my whining and moaning about BobPod and his state of brain-deadness. Several people recommended that I try taking BobPod to the Apple store and see if they could fix him up, and since there’s one in Huntsville, I decided to do just that.
On my way, I stopped at a different T-M0bile store – one that was on the way to the Apple store – to see if they could figure out why I could take pictures, but not send them to anyone. Fred had called T-M0bile customer service the night before to add me to the account so that I could do things like ask T-M0bile store employees for help and not get the “Sorry, it’s NOT your account!” bullshit.
The guy at T-M0bile messed with my phone for a few minutes then told me that since it was a European model, he couldn’t figure out what was going on, and I’d have to call the tech support number. He said it in a helpful way, even writing down what to tell them he’d already done so they wouldn’t have me try to do it again.
I called Fred to let him know what they’d said at T-M0bile, because I was certain he was on the edge of his seat with the sheer excitement of my cell phone issues.
“Have they called about Joe Bob?” he asked.
“No, I don’t expect them to unless there’s a problem,” I said.
“Call and see how he’s doing!”
“Okay. Then I’m going to Apple and see if they can fix BobPod.”
“Okay. Good luck with that.”
I headed straight to the Apple store, walked in, and told the guy working at the… something or other desk (I don’t remember what the hell it said, but he was using a screwdriver to open a laptop, so I figured he worked there and might know what he was doing) that I thought I’d killed my iPod. He tried resetting it and I hoped he’d have better luck than I did.
He didn’t.
He took it over and hooked it up to a computer and tried to reset it from there, but had no luck with that, either. He kept shaking the iPod and holding it up to his ear. (I think it was the iPod Doctor way of listening for sounds of breathing.)
Finally, he handed it back to me, and shook his head.
“Yeah, it’s dead,” he said.
“WHY? WHY? WHYYYYYYYYY? OH BOBPOD COME BACK TO ME!” I screamed falling to my knees in the middle of the store.
(Just kidding.)
“Well, damn,” I said ruefully. “Thanks for trying.”
“The hard drive’s not even (doing whatever the fuck hard drives are supposed to do. I guess no one ever told this guy that iPods run by MAGIC, not HARD DRIVES, for god’s sake.),” he said. “It’s pretty dead.”
He went on to mention that the newer iPods didn’t have hard drives (because they gave up the pretense that iPods run on something other than MAGIC) and I thanked him again and headed out to my car.
I called Fred.
“Hey,” I said despondently. “He’s dead.”
Fred gasped sharply.
Wow, I thought.
He’s really taking this to heart! I didn’t think he cared about BobPod!
“Oh my god!” he said, sounding like he might cry.
Wow, I thought.
He’s REALLY taking this seriously!
“Joe Bob is DEAD?” he said.
“What?” I said in horror. “NO! NOT JOE BOB! BobPod!”
“Jesus Christ, don’t do that to me!” he said, and I could just imagine him reeling around clutching at his chest.
After I’d apologized a hundred times, I told him again that BobPod was dead.
“You know,” I said. “If we sign up for another two years with T-M0bile, I could get a Razr that plays mp3s for a hundred bucks!”
We talked about it for a few minutes, and then I headed for T-M0bile again.
In short order, I had a brand-spankin’ new
Razr V3i in my purse and was heading home.
Once home I fiddled around with the phone for a while, then started uploading a couple of Keith and the Girl podcasts onto the phone. Which is when I hit my first problem – I could only get one podcast onto the phone before I ran out of space.
Considering I can go through six or seven podcasts on the weekends when we’re working on the house, this wasn’t good.
Then I listened to the podcast I’d uploaded, and we ran into problem #2.
The sound quality sucked.
I called Fred and told him I was returning the phone and he sighed and rolled his eyes and said “Whateverrrrrrrrr.” I went to the store in Madison – since it was closer – and exchanged the phone for a Razr v3 (the non-European model).
I’m possibly having too much fun snapping pictures of the cats and setting them as wallpaper.
From there I headed out to Smallville to work on the house, and it was sad and quiet and very lonely, working without a podcast to keep me entertained.
When I got home a few hours later, (after I picked Joe Bob up at the pet store – and he was just fine, not a crystal to be seen in his urine, and instructions to finish out his medication and keep him on the prescription food), I found evidence sitting on my desk that someone loves me very, very much.
Meet the new Bawb, same as the old Bob (only much, much better).
I’m calling him BawbPod for the time being until I come up with something I like more (suggestions welcome!). He’s a
generation 5.5 80GB video iPod ( ::Tim Allen grunt here :: ), and though you can’t tell from the picture I’ve taken, due to the flash, the picture quality is outstanding.
I’m terrified I’m going to drop him, so I’ve been carrying him around in my pocket until I get around to buying a case for him.
Thank you, someone who really, really loves me. I really, really loves you too.
* * *
Hey, between the new phone and the new iPod, I don’t guess I’ll be needing one of those iPhones after all, will I?
* * *
Some women get candy and flowers. I get romantic notes in the dust on the floor. Awwww.
Maxi through the front door.
Not ten minutes after Fred complained about the cats not appreciating the house he’d built for them, Newt was hanging out in it. It’s like he heard!
Hate.
* * *
Previously
2006: But I’m afraid that now it’s tasted human blood, it’s going to require a periodic human sacrifice.
2005: No entry.
2004: The Bean appeared before me, eyes wide and dark, a sad little
I’m a poor kitty who has lost his way look on his face.
2003: They freaked out.
2002: Um. In yesterday’s entry, I MEANT to link to Fred with the words “nice butt”, not MYSELF.
2001: We got proof today that we, in fact, do not have two gay hamsters.
2000: No entry.]]>