So what started as a very normal, typical day in Mrs. Oshimbo Land, has now become a matter of life and death for you, my beloved 120GB iPod. How did we get here? Well, we got in the car, we plugged you up with the Monster FM Transmitter, we got angry at how bad Maxwell's new album is, then we rocked out to Florence & The Machines before getting to work. Then we unplugged you from the Monster FM Transmitter, placed you so softly within your Juicy purse pocket and then released you onto the work desk you spend many hours on. Then, you allowed me to place headphones in and change artists to Discovery. But, when I tried to play the LP album, you froze on song one even though you said you were playing. Then you let me go to song two, but continued to freeze. It was at that moment I knew you were sick.
I tried to perform a restart by holding down the Menu and Center
Button at the same time. I saw a glimmer of hope as you faded to black
and returned with the Apple logo. But hope faded fast when you started
making a loud clicking noise that could only spell disaster. I waited
with bated breath clinging to that shimmer of a dream until you showed
me how sick you really were. You gave me the red circle with an X in
the middle. But even in your weakest moments, you gave me instructions
(www.apple.com/support/ipod).
I tried in vain to revive you with continual restarts, but it was no good. You just sat there making that whirring clicking noise. I even saw you try to start yourself without my help and yet still no life.
It is with sadness that I believe your hard drive has failed, even though you are only a sprightly young 5-Mo old 120GB iPod. I have only had you since Valentine's Day, and even though you decided you didn't want to wear the LOCK slider anymore, I still loved you.
We'll get you some help. I'm going to make an appointment at the Genius Bar and hopefully you will live again. Most likely, you will be sent away and come out as someone else's iPod, but I will remember you.
I will still love you when I have a new one (LOCK slider and all).
I tried in vain to revive you with continual restarts, but it was no good. You just sat there making that whirring clicking noise. I even saw you try to start yourself without my help and yet still no life.
It is with sadness that I believe your hard drive has failed, even though you are only a sprightly young 5-Mo old 120GB iPod. I have only had you since Valentine's Day, and even though you decided you didn't want to wear the LOCK slider anymore, I still loved you.
We'll get you some help. I'm going to make an appointment at the Genius Bar and hopefully you will live again. Most likely, you will be sent away and come out as someone else's iPod, but I will remember you.
I will still love you when I have a new one (LOCK slider and all).
RIP 120GB iPod Classic
awwww sorry about your ipod. "we got angry at how bad Maxwell's new album is" LOL!!! That's awesome.