Computing

Something Is Wrong With My iPad: I Still Hate My Life

I hope you Apple Geniuses are up to snuff because I’m pretty sure my iPad’s busted. No matter how much I use it to check email, surf the web, or tag photos on Facebook, I’m still gnawed at by a horrifying emptiness that no amount of fiddling with your magical gadget can fill.

Is it too much to ask that the mere act of owning your products fill me with utter, unbroken contentment? I think not.

Now, don’t treat me like some tech newbie. I’ve done all the stuff the Apple support page says-I restarted the iPad, I upgraded to the latest version of iOS, I even sleep next to the iPad in hopes that it will turn into a beautiful, understanding woman-but for some reason I can’t pass by a mirror without gagging then giving myself the finger. The iPad, like my spirit, is completely broken.

For instance, it didn’t even come with a headphone jack. Headphone Jack, I assume, is an outrageous skateboard guy who will recommend music to me and be my new best friend. Oh, it’s just this music hole? Then, yeah, it did come with one of those.

Well, something is definitely wrong with the iPad’s Shared Photo Streams. It lets me browse my friends’ photos, but in every picture, they appear to be smiling-I know that’s not possible in a world that is literally a bottomless pit of loneliness, metaphorically.

And I don’t mean to go off on a rant here, but the only thing smart about this Smart Cover is how well it works! It’s not smart at all at reawakening my childhood sense of joy or my ability to deserve an erection!

Side Note: you know what’s great at getting fingerprints off the Retina Display? Tears. And you know what’s great for getting tears off the display? Kisses.

Look, I bought all this Apple gear because it’s all supposed to work seamlessly together. And sometimes it does. But when I download an album from iTunes on my iMac then use iCloud to download it to my iPhone then use AirPlay to send it to my Apple TV, no matter what song I select, the only thing I can hear is myself softly whispering “You are garbage” inside my own head. I restart my Airport Extreme thinking that’ll do the trick but all I get is even scarier whispering.

Alright, alright, I see that look in your eyes. I’m willing to leave this Apple Store on only one condition: You let me stay here as long as I want and don’t make me leave.

The second condition is that you find the voice of Siri and make her marry me. She doesn’t have to call me “Sex Hotshot” like I programmed the Siri on my phone to do, but she can. And she has to.

Also, are nightmares covered by AppleCare? Because my sleep mode is NOT working right.

Image: Shutterstock/Alliance


Sam Weiner is a staff writer for the Onion News Network. You can follow him on Twitter here. This post originally appeared on McSweeney’s. Republished with permission.


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