If the delivery truck doesn’t get here soon with my iPhone 5, I am going to go to them. Look for me on the 6 o’clock news…
As I wait for my iPhone 5 to be delivered, I begin to notice things about my iPhone 4S that I never have before. I see lines in its face that weren’t there yesterday.
Siri seems demanding and bitchy, her voice a shrill whine.
Where is the truck with my new mail-order girlfriend?
I sit on the front lawn, binoculars at the ready. I have a pen to sign for my precious, just in case the delivery person doesn’t have one handy in their brown shorts.
I wish the delivery company would call ahead to let me know my delivery is next. I need to be presentable when she gets here.
My coffee is cold, and tastes of yesterday’s regrets.
I consider taking up smoking again…
The cigarettes are bitter and stale, the smoke leaving its acrid essence in my mouth, the cold coffee comes in handy for extinguishing the butts.
Note to self, buy another pack of cigarettes, this 10 year old pack of Marlboro’s aint cuttin’ it. I’d ask Siri to remind me, but she won’t talk to me, she knows I’m about to dump her. I don’t mind, her voice has begun to grate on my ears. I long for the dulcet tones of Siri on the iPhone 5…
I hear a truck approach my house, can this be it?
Dammit! I forgot it was trash day! I guess that truck didn’t really look like a delivery truck.
The driver was startled when I jumped up on the running boards and demanded “Give me my damn iPhone!”
It’s true, everyone does have a gun in Phoenix.
I go inside to change my pants.
The shower is refreshing, I watch the water go down the drain like the broken dreams of a fat kid in front of a shuttered Krispy Kreme donut shop.
My 5 minute shower turns into a 20 minute marathon, as I have to stop the water multiple times because I think I hear the doorbell.
I make a mental note to grab the mop on my next water logged run down the stairs.
Alas, the 78 year old lady who lives next door knows more of my secrets than almost anyone else on this earth, as I surprise her by flinging open the front door before remembering I have forgotten my towel on this trip downstairs.
I make the mistake of watching news reports about the iPhone 5 launch.
I loudly curse every media person who got early access to the iPhone 5.
Even the bubble headed bleach blonde on Fox 5 News who reported that the iPhone 5 would have a 3D screen and a projected laser keyboard is holding one.
Suddenly I understand why my friend Cheryl hates Fox News SO much…
The trash truck lies still, like a whale beached 500 miles from the ocean. It’s amazing what a switchblade knife can do to a set of tires on a truck that size. Sweet silence fills the air.
I pace the floor, I didn’t know it was possible to wear a rut in a hardwood floor in such a short time. My shoes are tattered, the soles have holes. I make a mental note to return them to the store where I purchased them last week…
My faithful canine companion Lloyd, sensing my discontent, sleeps fitfully in the corner. He awakes, stands up, and growls in my direction. He turns once, and lays back down.
I continue to receive emails and text messages from my friends who have their new iPhone 5’s.
My enemies list continues to grow…
My neighbors begin to show concern as I stand in the middle of the street, looking from one end of the other, scanning the desolate landscape as I wail, “WHY?!?! WHY?!?!”
I suddenly realize I may not be able to hear a knock on the door over the roar of the air conditioner blower. I turn off the A/C. Thankfully it is only 97 degrees in Phoenix today. I sit quietly in a dark room and say a silent prayer of thanks for talcum powder.
I am out of cigarettes. I remember the box of cigars I received as a bachelor party present back in 1998. I find the box. Unwrapping the cigar, I find it a bit crispy to the touch, but most likely still smoke-able. I raise the lighter to the end of the cigar. What was that bright flash?
I awaken with my dog licking my face. I am unable to determine whether he is doing it out of concern, or as a taste test.
I stumble into the hall bathroom, to look into the mirror. The damage doesn’t look too bad. I’m sure my eyebrows and lashes will grow back someday, and I look much better with a little color in my face. I’m having a little trouble focusing my left eye, but I’ve always felt that depth perception and 3D movies are overrated anyway.
My face has stopped hurting for the most part, and the blisters have stopped bubbling. I was able to find some Vicodin in the medicine cabinet, and I washed it down with a handy beer. I feel much better now. I am calm and ready for the delivery of my phone. I’ll just sit here in the recliner and wait for the… Z-Z-Z-Z-Z!
I awaken to the sound of a truck engine, instantly alert, I find the nearest towel and wipe the drool from my chin, I must be presentable when I open the front door! I run to the door and look out the window, just in time to see a brown delivery truck drive by. N-O-O-O-O!
I run to my computer upstairs in my office, I quickly check the delivery status of my iPhone 5, WHEW! still showing “Out for Delivery”.
Perhaps the brown truck I saw was a milk truck finishing up deliveries. My mind conveniently blocks the fact that home milk delivery stopped over 20 years ago. At this stage of the game, it’s all about sanity preservation.
I’ve come to the conclusion that as an influential member of the Apple covering media, the “corporation” has decided to teach me a lesson for my sometimes irreverent coverage of Apple and it’s products.
I believe the order to delay the delivery of my iPhone 5 comes from the very top of the Apple hierarchy. The big man himself, the CEO of Apple, Tim Cook!
That’s right, I think I’ve been…
Word that I had finally figured out Mr. Cook’s evil plan must have finally reached his ears. Realizing that I saw through his plan to eliminate me as an Apple user, and thus as an influential member of the Apple covering media, Cook immediately relented and sent the order to finally allow the UPS delivery truck that had been orbiting my neighborhood for the last 12 hours to deliver its precious cargo.
Round one goes to me Mr. Cook. Well played! Well played! All is forgiven. Now, let’s talk about the iPad mini…
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