You should have seen all the suckers today at the Apple store, waiting in line to get the new i-Fucking-Phone. There were so many people waiting around it was like Christmas — and they were giving them away.

I was lugging my iMac in, cause it had a CD jam, and the extra dough I shelled out for the technical phone support couldn’t eject it, either.

I dragged the iMac along the ground in the very nice box it came in by its flimsy handle, back to The Genius bar, where all the geniuses at my local mall’s Apple store labor. They told me to wait at the bar, cause they’d call my name when they were ready to deal with me, and the store was really loud cause it was chock full of suckers waiting to get a piece of the new iPhone — code named G3.

Kinda like a robot name.

I looked up at the pretty illustration of the G3, and then down at my new LG Dare. The Dare is Verizon’s answer to iPhone, and while its design is wholly feminine (hence making it kinda gay for a dude to have one) I very much like it…as well as my Verizon service.

I Dare, but No Way Am I Gay.

(Time for a total (and really stupid) digression: “I Dare” reminds me of “I Will Dare”, Paul Westerberg’s fine opening song to the superb Replacements record “Let It Be”. If you don’t know it, make yourself aware).

I kept looking up at Apple’s nifty illustrations, and back into my palm and at my Dare.

My Dare — the iPhone G3. The iPhone G3 — my Dare.

To make myself feel a bit more secure, I started playing with my Dare, and reassuring myself I made the right decision to extend my contract with Verizon 2 more years in order to get my Dare super cheap…and not ending my contract with Verizon (it was coming up fairly soon) and going to AT&T…and the iPhone.

I flipped through my pics. I turned my Dare sideways, so I could look at my pics at more of a 16:9 ratio — just like iPhone.

Fucking iPhone has nothing over Dare!

I scrolled through recent family pics, and old friend pics, and, nestled right in the middle of all those nice, safe pictures, are a handful of pictures of my Ex’s red, swollen vagina with my ejaculate slowly oozing out.

Creampie pics on Dare! Take that, G3 iPhone!!

I smirked to myself, looking out over a Sea of Suckers, then back at Dare — and those filthy, dirty images.

Which made me go right to My Videos. There’s only three, but oh, what dandies they are! There she is again, doggystyle, pushing her absolutely stunning ass right into my swollen, white-boy wiener. Which isn’t to say I was fucking her in the ass, cause I wasn’t, cause railing a girl in the booty doesn’t really make my Freak Flag fly.

I would also like to add that making homemade movies of me getting it on with a girl does not make my Freak Flag fly, either. Really, it doesn’t. I know you’re thinking something like, come on, dude, you’re full of shit. But really, it was simply a case of a capturing a moment in time for Whackiness’s sake.

Whackiness’s sake!?

Anyways, I smirked to myself, looking back out over The Sea of Suckers, then back at my Dare and those filthy, dirty movies.

I played each one, two or three times, whilst eying all the Dopes & Morons waiting in a dumb, dumb line for their new god damned iPhone.

(For some reason, I just felt the overwhelming need to show off my superior grammatical skillz and use an ampersand in a sentence, so there you go).

As I watched my homemade porno I thought Thank God for technology, and, at that very moment, I swear to God my Ex called.

I did exactly what the geniuses at the Genius Bar told me not to do, and I walked away from their smarty-pants place, cause I didn’t have a good signal there, and I wanted very much to talk to her. So I walked to the front of the store — by the Power Books — where my signal got much better.

We’re kinda navigating through Rocky Seas at the moment…and, when I think about it, with a clear head and from a safe distance, there’s really not very much of a good reason why we’re going through what we’re going through right now. Cause we haven’t really been a couple for quite sometime, with the exception of one recent Romantic Whorl, and that’s when things got kinda weird.

Weird, huh?

I don’t even really know why I’m referring to her as “Ex”, and I suppose that’s super fucking weird — cause that’s what she is — but whatever. I had to dream something up to call her here, and that’s the best I could do.

So we’re in the middle of a nice conversation when I look up at notice my genius at The Genius Bar is giving me The Stink Eye, so I hung up and ran back as fast as I could just to deal with her. “So what seems to be the problem?” The Genius asked.

I said, “CD jam.”

“What kind of CD is it, exactly?”

“A very good one. All stuff off hhe Trojan label…Dancehall…oh, and Rocksteady, I think.”

She looked up at me, totally befuddled. But she’s a genius, right? And I have no idea why I told her this, and when I did, she looked up at me like I was a Special Person. A very Special Person. Like I shoulda been wearing a helmet while shopping at the mall.

So I quickly followed up: “It’s a reggae CD, and I was dumping it into iTunes, and it just jammed. I tried everything, and nothing worked. I Googled a bunch of stuff, but nothing worked, and I spent about 1/2 hour with Apple care, and they finally gave up and assigned a case number and told me to bring it here.”

Genius wasn’t too friendly. “Did you restart the computer with your mouse pushed down?”

“I did everything.”

She didn’t like that answer. “Did you restart the computer with your mouse pushed down?”

“Yes mam. That was the first thing Apple Care told me to try.”

“I have to ask that, sorry.” Then she grabbed some paperwork and started filling it out. Half way through she looked up at me and said, “How do you spell Reggae?”

I shit you not.

And I wanted to say something like, what kind of genius working The Genius Bar do you think you are? But instead I said “R-E-G-G-A-E”, which she wrote down on the paperwork.

I shit you not.

Suddenly, I thought about Priest’s super fun e-mail that I blogged the other day. I have no idea why I thought about it, but I did. Maybe cause I just hung up with Ex…but who knows. And I wish the genius working the bar was really a genius, cause I woulda followed up with all sorts of questions on relationships, and how to make them work, and what to do, and what not to do, and what to do when they go haywire; but, instead, I just kinda stood there and watched her fill out her paperwork, in which she wrote “REGGAE”, (spelled correctly) and then she handed the paper to me and said to initial here and date there and sign here and then she said something about it taking up to 48 hours to make things work, and they’d call me when my iMac was all better.

I walked out and noticed the line was gone. I couldn’t believe it. No more iPhone Dummies waiting in line for G3! Where the fuck did they all go? Big Bonus Points to all the employees at the Apple Store! Imagine that wild influx of Yuppie Suckers who want a new gadget to beat off to…and taking care of almost all of them in under an hour.

I was shocked.

Amazed.

Must be some sort of World Record.

Some place.

Somewhere.