Today’s the big day! If you haven’t entered the Rue did she wash her McClanahands contest, make sure to do so by 2PM. I’ve verified that she will be at the matinee. Stopwatch (check). Fully stocked concessions bar (check). Trenchcoat and wig (check).
I feel like I’m in an episode of 24. That’s because I have a defective power cord and my Mac battery icon is flashing red and I only have 0:40 minutes left to write. Last night, after Gutenberg!, I met Woody for our appointment at the Apple Genius Bar on 5th Avenue. (It actually took me a few tries just then before I spelled “genius” correctly. That’s one of many reasons I don’t work there.) Our cords stopped powering at the same time. What are the odds of this? I developed my own non-genius theory that sharing power cords is like sharing needles. When mine broke I started using his on my strung out Mac. I gave his back and then after a farewell green flare, nothing. What a piece of junkie.
Going to the Apple Genius Bar at midnight on a Saturday in freezing temperatures isn’t my idea of a good time. I don’t like negotiating those glass stairs, either. They make me think of an 80’s sitcom where the girl trips on Prom night and rips the back out of her dress.
Woody and I had the Mac daddy of geniuses. His name is Dave and if anybody from the Apple store is reading this, Dave deserves a raise. He was multi-tasking on five machines at once. At first, I felt like Dave was a dentist. I avoid the dentist not because of picks and drills, but guilt. My last dentist made me watch a flossing video that featured animated teeth. When food wedged and decayed between them, the teeth shed little enamel tears. My dentist said this was because I wasn’t flossing correctly. See: guilt.
Dave came down pretty hard on Woody for setting his Mac on top of its Neoprene carrying case since wetsuits are made from the same conductive material and “Woody, dude, man, you’ll fry your battery with trapped heat.” What accusatory tough-love! What a dentist! But Dave spoke with such genius and sincerity that our respect superceded guilt.
Turns out my computer is registered with NYU, so even though I have Apple care, I’m not eligible for a replacement power cord until I transfer registration to my name. What a hassle after a midnight trip to a no alcohol bar. Power cords cost $80. Woody needed a new power cord and a new battery. I’m beginning to think Apple might be a bit rotten…
Not only is this Rue McClanahan day, but Oscar night! I will be a panelist at the Pieces party, making fun of celebrity-wear and performing Oscar winning songs (although I refuse to sing any Randy Newman.) I can hardly contain myself.
In honor of such a special occasion, I thought we’d play a game. It’s called Guess that Zellweger! OK. It’s real simple. Look at this picture of Renee. What is that scrunched-up face feeling? It’s hard to tell. Isn’t it.
Is she happy? Mad, glad, sad? Is she accepting an Oscar? Or did she and Kenny Chesney just sign divorce papers? Did she catch some concessions girl timing her in the bathroom?