On Saturday night John's iPod was suddenly burned, literally. It was charging and was too hot to touch. Because he was planning a PARTY and you have to have music playing, I offered to load my iPod with his party mix, a selfless act since it would take off all of my music and replace it with his. But when I plugged his FireWire chord into my iPod, the screen turned blue, then black. And my iPod doesn't have a color screen, so I was like, "Hmm, that's odd!" And then my iPod wouldn't turn on. It was dead.
Because I'm young and white, I've said many times that I do not have a heart, I have an iPod. And I also said that the day my iPod died would be the worst day of my life because this is America and such tragedies should not happen. So when the FireWire cable fried my iPod (nicknamed, appropriately, "Boo"), I tried very, very hard to cry. How would I manage to take the train every morning if I couldn't listen to Feist?
Luckily, Julia and Eric, who came to the party dressed as characters from Bravo reality shows, had an extra Nano lying around, which will hold me until Christmas when my parents buy me a new iPod. Thank God, right? (But it's hard to only have eight gigabytes of space; like, how will I fit all of those Sufjan Christmas songs on there?)
PS. This isn't iPod related, but I totally scored an original vinyl copy of Marianne Faithfull's Broken English from Reckless on Sunday afternoon. It was really awkward, though, because the guy handed me the record "to inspect," but I was like, "Whatevs, I'm only buying this to put it on my wall. It won't fit in my iBook!" LOL!