Apples

My name is Brooke…

And I have apples.

It started with a harmless little video iPod, then it progressed to a shuffle and a video iPod, and before I really knew what hit me, I sold my perfectly reliable Compaq laptop to my step-sis and ran to the Apple store for a MacBook.

Tonight my eyes are crossed from the file transfer and the navigation, and I haven’t eaten in days. Okay, well, like, hours at least. I have been on the phone with Mac.com 3 times to get help with things like changing passwords, opening new windows, finding an “open airport” and also things like, um, just opening or closing an application. Apples are hard, you guys. This is what the conversation sounds like:

“Hi, can I have your name and serial number?”
“How do I find the cereal number?”
“The blue apple. Click on About my Apple.”
“Okay, got it.”
“Good, now open a new window.”
“How do I open a new window?”
“Well, just go to view, and click New Finder window.”
“Okay. Got it.”
“Click on keychains.”
“I don’t see keychains.”
“Scroll down—”
“Oh, keychains! I found it.”
“Good, now drag it to the trashcan.”
“Where’s the trashcan?”
“On the dashboard.”
“What’s the dashboard?”
“That’s your little tray on the bottom.”
“Oh, trashcan. Got it.”
“Okay, now go ahead and restart the computer.”
“Okay. Thanks. Wait! How do I restart the computer?”
“The blue apple. Everything starts from the blue apple.”
“Oh yeah. Sorry I am so retarded.”
“No! You’re not. You should never feel stupid. We’re here to help.”
“Good. I’ll probably talk to you in 10. Thanks!”
“Thank you, A. Brooke.”

Anyway, I’m thinking of starting an AA group—you know, Apples Anonymous, because I know there are at least 2 or 3 other people in my area carrying apples in excess. I’ll start. My name is Brooke, and I have apples.