A Love Story

Picture it:

A girl.

Her iPod.

Her dad fixing the iPod.

The hope and promise that soon the girl and her iPod would be together again sharing in the beauty that is R. Kelly's "Remix to Ignition."

Yeah, I was that girl once.

And then last night it all came crashing down when my dad called me (while Corey and I were running the track at East Detroit High School and I had to rush to unzip the phone from the pocket in the back of my stretchy running capris [nice visual, no?] all out of breath and trying to stop Hannah Montana's "Rockstar" from blaring so effing loud it could summon preteen girls from miles around) and told me the news: He couldn't fix it.

And I almost cried right there on the track. I was already close to tears because running the track makes you feel like a big fat kid when you realize that you can't even do the half mile straight after skipping out on El Gymo for a month. But still, it was like, real sad.

But today I got the iPod back from my dad.

I dipped a Q-tip in acetone (of which we have a large jug in the garage for some reason. I don't know. Ask my brother.) and stuck it into the audio port to dissolve the Superglue.

Some cotton stayed when I pulled the Q-tip out and so I grabbed a toothpick and scraped it out.

Just then, I felt the piece of metal move. OH MY GOD, IT MOVED!

So I reached in, and pulled it out! IT CAME OUT!!!!

And I danced around, piece of metal in hand screaming, "YES YES YES!" like I was in an Herbal Essences commercial!

And then I woke up.

Goddamnit.

Love,

Katie