I Blame iTunes

This weekend I did a spectacularly dumb thing. Well, not really spectacular, I just liked the way "spectacularly dumb" sounded. There's no way I could ever do anything spectacularly dumb, since the Muppet confirmed less than an hour ago that I was, in fact, a genius.

I digress.

So, I like, BOUGHT A CD this weekend. Not on iTunes, either. Like, a REAL CD. I was in Target, spending gobs and gobs of money on things like "Intensive Firming Cream" and new unders. I casually browsed the music section and found a disc I'd been meaning to check out, but for some inexplicable reason is unavailable on iTunes.

W
T
F
?

I know! Anyway, I picked it up and drove home with the intention of listening to it straight away and getting it onto my iPod.

Normally when buying from iTunes, I click a button and BOOM! Done! INSTANT GRATIFICATION! It's a beautiful thing! However, it doesn't do much for your motor skills. Importing a CD requires a little more manual maneuvering than the click of a button. Still, I was up for the challenge!

The first step in the process was to be, of course, removing the CD from its packaging. Then I planned to launch iTunes, connect the iPod, plop the disc into the drive, import it and enjoy my latest musical venture. Easy peasy.

It took me, oh, maybe TEN WHOLE MINUTES to get that CD out of it' packaging. I picked it up and tried puncturing several seemingly opportunistic corners to no avail. There were no sharp objects about for me to drag along the plastic wrapper. I couldn't even find a pen. Not that I was surprised by that.

Our house has been a pen vortex for as long as I can remember. My step-father knew this very well and so he hoarded his pens in a special shoebox he kept under his side of the bed. This shoebox was one of my favorite things growing up due to my aforementioned Office Supply Lust. My mother's second job always required pens, pens, and more pens. Steve couldn't even keep UPS pens in the house, since the minute a writing instrument left the fleshy warmth of your palm it then automatically became my mother's property by default.

Sorry. Digressing again.

My nails are weak and short, much like my patience. No amount of dragging them across the plastic wrapper AS. HARD. AS. I. COULD. would budge that motherfucker. You can imagine the rapid regression from civilized, intelligent, music-loving female to angry, impatient monkey bitch. Soon I was grunting and whimpering and despairing of ever clawing my way back to a cerebral cortex-using higher being.

Seriously. That shit was IMPERVIOUS.

Finally, I got my lazy whore ass up and went downstairs, where I took a liiiiiiitle too much pleasure in taking a knife to that plastic wrapper. I removed it triumphantly. Then I went into my mother's room, got down on the floor in the lotus position facing the sun, and meditated my way back to a state of zen before I lost my monkey mind trying to remove that sticky seal.

I blame iTunes. I used to be able to get that shit off in two seconds flat, in a pitch black room, with one hand tied behind my back and the other one dipped in bear grease, like the strong American Indian warriors of yore.

Now, sadly, I'm nothing but a soft, culturally-removed, instant gratification/iTunes-dependent white woman with weak fingernails and a newfound addiction to sugar-free popsicles.

I just keep getting better!