Like many successful and high-functioning personages, Princess Pissant lives by the familiar adage, Everything In Moderation!, which is why − in the wake of several consecutive days now of state-mandated thankfulness for the bounty and good-fortune bestowed upon her and her family − PP is going to pause for a moment in order to feel profoundly sorry for herself.
Today is no ordinary day at the Office for PP, since PP is not even at the Office, which of course you all know is a Starbucks, and since the reason for PP’s absence from the Office is, well, nothing short of a tragedy along the lines of Romeo and Juliet. As some of you will recall, PP fell in love recently. Head over heels in love, in fact, with none other than a new MacBook Pro with 15-inch Retina display laptop computer, whom she named Tina.
And, yes, it may be true that PP paid more attention to Tina than she did to her own children − KN2 (Kid Number 2) and HOB (His Older Brother). It may also be accurate to say that, on occasion, PP would stare lovingly at Tina for hours, effectively ignoring the protestations and even presence of MHTP (My Husband The Photographer.) And, yes, perhaps PP did bring Tina into their marital bed from time-to-time, or maybe even every single night.
But that is no reason, and really there is no excuse, for MHTP to do what he did, which was – are you ready for this? – in a fit of jealous rage, dump a pint-sized glass of orange juice all over poor, defenseless (and eighteen-hundred-effing-dollars) Tina!
You’re entirely right; that does not sound like something MHTP would have done, deliberately. And, in all fairness to him, I may or may not have left the pint-sized glass of O.J. in dangerous proximity to Tina on the coffee table, while MHTP, KN2, HOB and I all were involved in the family-friendly activity of editing a homemade video production entitled Zombie Hunter. (Not PP’s choice of title, BTW.)
Yes, I left the O.J. there next to Tina, never anticipating, naturally, that when MHTP quite suddenly abandoned the video project and jumped up from the couch to (I shit you not) shoot a squirrel off the birdfeeder with a slingshot . . . Did I mention that MHTP comes from a long line of people who display a zealous bigotry toward squirrels? . . . that he would knock over the O.J., thereby dousing my Tina.
So where does that leave us? Well, of course, there was a lot of screaming and cursing on the part of Princess Pissant, in stark contrast to the baffling − and frankly infuriating − Zen-like equanimity of MHTP, who issued forth this completely unhelpful statement of the obvious, “Well, no one died.” (Might I add that the squirrel himself escaped the assassination attempt, and ensuing calamity, entirely unharmed?)
Anyhoo, naturally, PP wasted no time in making an appointment at the Apple Store Genius Bar, which as any of you who owns an Apple computer well knows is utterly void of any semblance of geniuses. And is a misnomer on two counts, come to think of it, since at the so-called Genius Bar, the so-called geniuses don’t serve any goddamn drinks, which is precisely what PP was in serious need of by the time she got there.
Now anyone who has ever, say, taken a bath with her cellphone − as Princess Pissant did back in 1997 when the things first came out, and a mere two hours after purchasing it, resulting in the prototype device being drowned before even receiving its first incoming call or issuing a single ringtone, and PP rushing back to Radio Shack and making the dubious, but miraculously convincing (salespeople must’ve been suckers back then), claim that her new cellphone seemed to be “sweating,” and that she would need to switch it out at once − knows that certain types of damage are not covered by the warranty or AppleCare or any other sort of consumer protections. Namely – water, or shall we say, liquid damage. That sort of blunder seems to fall under the category of operator carelessness and incomprehensible stupidity.
But back to our story: few people would describe Princess Pissant as “honest to a fault,” and so it should come as no surprise that she had absolutely ZERO moral qualms whatsoever about handing over Tina to the resident Genius at the Genius Bar and feigning complete and total ignorance about what would or could have caused a brand-spanking-new-eighteen-hundred-effing-dollars-laptop-computer to simply stop working.
Everything seemed to be going well, as the Genius himself turned Tina over every which way in his hands, and tried a variety of “diagnostic tests” with an even greater variety of techie-looking tools, and looked increasingly perplexed and even genuinely sympathetic, and audibly mumbled something along the lines of, “well we might have to just get you a whole new machine,” causing PP’s heart to race (because no matter how much I love Tina, there are plenty of other sleek and stylish girls JUST like her), but then he said, “Do you mind if I just take her in the back and have a look?” And the way he said it reminded PP of all those episodes of Law and Order she used to watch where the detectives separate the suspects and see who will stick to her story, and who will break.
Well, I knew I would never cave. But what I couldn’t anticipate was that MacDaddy Effing Genius would come back with some kind of forensic evidence − actual photographs taken with his iPhone of gooey orange liquid oozing across Tina’s logic board, and ask me if I had any idea how that might have occurred?
If PP has learned one thing from her life of resolute dishonesty (only when necessary of course), it’s that once you’ve decided to outright lie, you just need to stay the course. Even if it’s going to cost you another twelve hundred − yes, you are reading that correctly − effing dollars.
Well, Tina’s been sent away temporarily − some kind of home for battered laptops. But she’ll be back within a few weeks, and I have to say, this entire episode has been a huge learning experience for Princess Pissant. Foremost, I’ve learned not to ever, ever, ever, in a million years, drink orange juice anywhere in the vicinity of a laptop computer. Secondly, I’ve learned that those guys at the Genius Bar might not be exactly “geniuses,” per se, but they can sure make you look (and feel) stupid. But mostly what I’ve learned − and what I am forced to reflect on in the absence of Tina − is something that we all, not least of which Princess Pissant, already know.