Thank God for my brother, the hustle, and the hookup: I have a new iPod now. When I told one of my friends that I can get back to walking and twirking at the same time, she responded, “What happened to the last one you had? You’ve had like ten iPods.”
Ok. She has a point. I’ve run through quite a few. The first died of natural causes, and was subsequently replaced with another one just as janky. I’m grateful for extended warranties. I ended up switching it out for the special black and red U2 edition. That was the first summer I spent interning in New York. On the last day of one of my internships I was finally allowed to go on a shoot — this one with Kanye West. Just so you know: That stool he sat in was carried by me. I know: E! True Hollywood Story, look out.
Anyway, I had my iPod attached to the hip and I must have knocked it over in the cab carrying that big ass stool. Thanks to me, Habib is probably banging screw in his taxi right now. A bit impatient and impractical, I just went out and charged another. I curse the people who gave me a credit card almost as much as I curse myself for using it. I should have asked Kanye to buy me another one.
That iPod lasted until this spring.
I was shaving, texting, and dancing to “Sex Shooter” and I dropped my iPod in running water. In my defense, the song is very catchy.
The little thing punked out on me in some water. I tried to see if the store would honor my extended warranty, but said something about it being my fault, blah blah blah. Bitches. I’ve had a mild grudge against them, the area codes 410 and 281, and Appolonia ever since. Well I have no beef with the area codes, but the incident did remind me of why I was always more partial to Vanity. If you don’t believe me, you can ask the pregnant women I made dance to “Nasty Girl” in the street last year. That’s what friends are for!
Electronics hate me, so please say a prayer, wish on a star that I don’t throw this thing in the air trying to superman some hoe, or drop it on the floor trying to rap.