Steve Jobs is one sick man. (And I’m not talking about the cancer. Come on, what do you think I am?) He orchestrates an over-the-top hype for the iPad to the point where I’m barely able to carry out daily bodily functions, I’m so excited about it. He gets us all at the edge of our seats, putting in a rare Howard-Hughes-like appearance in that black mock-turtleneck and showing us how magical this thing will be.
Then he says, “Oh, yeah, that’s right. It won’t come out until the middle of March.”
Then he says, “Did I say middle of March? I meant the iPad will come out in early April.”
“And by ‘iPad,’ I mean the Wi-Fi version, which is fine, really. It’ll be fine. For some people. But the awesome one you ordered won’t be in until late April.”
“Did I say late April?”
Oh my freaking gosh, just send the stinker, would you? I need to start complaining about what it doesn’t do and how it didn’t really change my life nearly as much as I had hoped. I can’t very well do that until I have the thing in my hands, now can I?
I’m telling you, he’s getting a sick sense of satisfaction out of all this. We bought the whole bag o’ hype and pre-ordered the iPad 3G and all of its bridesmaids. The accessories are starting to arrive, in reverse order of importance.
First we got a piece of white iMaterial (that heavy white stuff that is too heavy to be plastic and too lightweight to be metal that all iThings are made of). I have no idea what it’s for and I don’t give two shits. It can’t read me an article from The New Yorker so I don’t want it yet.
This past week we received the case. It, too, is made from a material unlike any case you have in your house. It’s too soft to be rubber, but too rubbery to be cloth. (It might be a substance in between a liquid, a solid and a gas, like mercury. Or cornstarch. Or fire. I would not put it past Steve Jobs to make the iPad case out of fire. (“My iPad can heat up leftovers. In your face, Kindle!”)
The case is pretty cool. While completely useless right now, I’ve decided to start carrying it around. I’ll have to stuff it with Kleenex to make it look not so empty, but I’d like to get everyone used to the idea that I have an iPad. Envy me. Try to be me. I have the iPad. . . case.
If you think I’m a pathetic loser, you should meet my husband. He has scheduled weekly Saturday morning visitation with the iPad in the Apple store in the mall. They are semi-conjugal visits, from what I understand. Over-the-case touching and fondling are allowed.
Here’s proof of the power of Steve Jobs: Everyone groaned when they first heard the name. “Why would he name it that?” All kinds of Kotex jokes came out of the 7th Grade Joke Folder and became relevant again. I was right there with them, but a little voice inside my head whispered, “What happens if the meaning of the word ‘pad’ changes? What if one geeky man’s vision can change a little three-letter word from meaning something you don’t say in front of your boyfriend’s parents to something that’s totally cool to talk about in public? What if Steve Jobs could change slang?
And I think that’s exactly what’s happening. You can walk into a school cafeteria and yell “iPad” and no one will spew milk out of his nose. I’m telling you, this Jobs guy has some powers.
I can’t wait until I get my iPad and can tell you all about it and tell you how you should get one, too. Or not. I’m souring slightly on my iPhone right now. It’s not the miracle communications device it was when I got it two years ago. And the case can barely heat up last night’s dinner.
Labels: Apple, iPad, Steve Jobs