You're ruining iPhone day!

I know you guys already know I have an iPhone because of the comic strip Andy did a few weeks ago (and because I won't shut up about it) but I don't think I ever shared the horrific battle that went on on the day I designated as "iPhone Day" and I really thinks it's a story that needs to be told. If not only to teach us all how to love.

It all started a couple of years ago when Apple announced they were coming out with the coolest most awesome-est cell phone ever. I went on their website and drooled and then I sent an email to everybody I knew (10 people)(okay 6) letting them know that when this phone came out, I, Bee Cor-Rut, would be the first in our family to own it!. Then I was kicked in the crotch by the price so I waited patiently for it to come down. Then I was crushed and one upped by Big Tex who bought one WHILST he was still working for Sprint. He then left Sprint and went to work for At&t because the evil Sprint spell had worn off and he knew he would do more good at At&t.

Okay, some time went by and they came up with a newer version, Big Tex bought the newer version and gave his hand me down to my sister Nancy.

Okay.

That's fine. I would bide my time for my perfect opportunity.
Then my brother Dan bought one. ::sigh:: Oh well at least I didn't have to see him every day . . .

Then Andy's phone went kapluey so the sensible thing was to replace his with an iPhone since it was only $50 more than a blackberry. Well, I married the man so I guess I shouldn't be this raving jealous so I wasn't, much.

To add insult to injury, my MOM bought one. You know what? She deserves it! I mean she delivered 5 children and I'm sure it wasn't the most pleasant of experiences since she didn't believe in epidurals.

Then my brother Sergio got one. He bought the iPhone with 36 iggybites and Christmas bells. In the meantime, I had a paper clip attached to my phone so that I could make phone calls.

Finally, after months of saving, I had enough for my very own iPhone. I called CNN, the Chicago Sun Times, the Daily Herald etc. and everybody was excited for me because they knew I was looking forward to this phone for years.

Via text message.

Bee: Big Tex, I coming over and buying an iPhone.

Big Tex: Okay.

Bee [as an after thought]: Can you check to make sure we have an update available?

Hours later, I see Big Tex is calling me. Must be serious.

Bee: Hhhhhhhello?

Big Tex: You're not eligible for an update until March of 2010.

Bee: Say huh?

[without the update the phone would be twice as much therefore making it impossible for me to buy]

Big Tex: Your brother Rick used your update earlier this year illegally at Radio Shack.

[Radio Shack can suck it! Dumb shit law breaking fuckers!]

Bee: ::cries::

Big Tex: This is what I suggest you do... [the rest is top secret][but it may have involved beating up Radio Shack]

Bee: ::mfhhmm sob:: ok

I get home and am rushing around making dinner (Country style BBQ ribs made in the slow cooker with my infamous mashed potatoes mmmmm) and I'm explaining all this info to Andy.

Bee: blah blah Rick, Radio Shack blah blah

Andy: ::ROAR ROAR!!!!::

Bee: STOP ROARING AT ME! Big Tex suggested... [explains top secret secret][SCREW YOU RADIO SHACK!!]

Andy: ::ROAR NO! ROAR ROOOOOOOAR!!::

and so it went for a few minutes.

Bee: You are going to make my head explode!! Not to mention you are ruining iPhone day!

So we brought the meal downstairs to eat amongst my family. Hello Awkward? It's me, Bee. It was tense because Andy and I were crushing each other's heads with our minds.

After a while, Andy came to his senses (the prospect of sleeping in the garage with the spiders was too much for him).

Andy: Fine.

And so we drove to the magical building that is At&t. This older lady beat us to Big Tex so we patiently waited. Oh look! My future case!


And we waited. People watched.

Some Kid and his parents came in because he was having problems with his phone. Turns out he was stupid enough to take a dunk in the lake with his cell phone in his pocket. Guess what, brain donor, no upgrade for you! Yeah, I guess I was being too cocky after my sobbing episode earlier in the day but that's part of my charm.

The parents decided not to buy him a replacement for $275 and opted to buy him a cheap GO phone at Best Buy for $30 and then just put in his SIM card. Even after he PROMISED TO PAY THEM BACK! He didn't say WHEN he'd pay them back. My guess was 2014. I'm glad the parents stuck to their guns because I see so many kids getting what they want when they want with no accountability for when they screw up. Take the 8-9 year old who was there with his mom and she was scolding him for the 200 text he had sent. Wow. My mom would have smacked me until I lost track of time.

And we waited some more.

It turns out that the woman buying the phone had been cryogenically frozen in the year 1679 and therefore needed a crash course in technology "but how can I hear the peoples talking in my ear?" so Big Tex had to patiently walk her through all the marvelous inventions available. If you are asking yourself how come they had Cryogenics in 1679 but they didn't have cell phones, I can't answer that because I wasn't around in 1679, I don't care how many rumors Andy spreads to the contrary.

I have to say this for Big Tex, he is a great, respectful salesman because when we mocked the woman after she finally left, he smiled at us, kinda like a father smiling at his wayward children, and then got down to business.

So far so good! I had my case in my hand, all I needed was the iPhone to go in the case. He brought one from the back, opened the box, put the plastic-y thing on the screen, put it in the case and then walked away with it.

I stood there, arms outstretched, watching my phone go to another part of the store. I assume this is what new moms feel like when they give birth and then watch their babies be taken away after a fast glimpse so that they can clean them and the mom's are thinking "are they bringing my baby back?? Don't take my baby away!". It's exactly like that right? Only mine was worse because I didn't even get to hold it close to my bosom before it was carted away. I was weepy because like all mother's I had already bonded with the little guy.

Anyway, Big Tex finally brought my baby and we finally walked out of the At&t store and celebrated by getting a Dunkin Donuts coffee for me and a strawberry milkshake for Andy.
(In case you're wondering, I took a picture of my iPhone with my iPhone, it is that cool!)

And the 9 of us lived happily ever after.

9= Andy, his iPhone, Me, my iPhone, Tazz, Mocha, Big Moe, Larry O. Pompadour and Curly the Acrobat.

P.S.
I promise this will be my last post about my iPhone. Unless it saves my life one day by pulling me outta of a well. Then all promises are off!

So hey! I'm still here!

Just wanted to say real quick that I'm trying to recover from the rage of the Olympic committee being such butt munchers and tossing my Chicago out like a used snot rag! I will now boycott all Olypic events until the day my mind forgets what the Olymipcs are.

I will not watch a single event which is pretty much what I do every Olympic year but that's neither here nor there.

Jokes on the because I didn't want all those people eating all my pizza anyway.

I'll be back later Monday with a "real" post.

P.S.
Zombieland rocks ass! "it's time to nut up or shut up" is now my most favorite phrase in the whole world!
Okay I may have had too much OJ and vodka with my Danish butter cookies. Then I ran out of OJ.

I bet you didn't think I cared. Well you're wrong! I do care! I care so much I'm letting Kevin from "Always Home and Uncool" take over my blog. (send help)

Kevin of Always Home and Uncool, one of the funniest dudes I know, has asked me to post this as part of his effort to raise awareness in the blogosphere of juvenile myositis, a rare autoimmune disease his daughter was diagnosed with on this day seven years ago. The day also happens to be his wife's birthday. Obviously all diseases suck but, those that afflict children pierce my heart. I know it's hard to believe coming from me but I do have a soft spot when it comes to the little people suffering. Please read the story of his family and help in any way you can.

*

Our pediatrician admitted it early on.

The rash on our 2-year-old daughter's cheeks, joints and legs was something he'd never seen before.

The next doctor wouldn't admit to not knowing.

He rattled off the names of several skins conditions -- none of them seemingly worth his time or bedside manner -- then quickly prescribed antibiotics and showed us the door.

The third doctor admitted she didn't know much.

The biopsy of the chunk of skin she had removed from our daughter's knee showed signs of an "allergic reaction" even though we had ruled out every allergy source -- obvious and otherwise -- that we could.

The fourth doctor had barely closed the door behind her when, looking at the limp blonde cherub in my lap, she admitted she had seen this before. At least one too many times before.

She brought in a gaggle of med students. She pointed out each of the physical symptoms in our daughter:

The rash across her face and temples resembling the silhouette of a butterfly.

The purple-brown spots and smears, called heliotrope, on her eyelids.

The reddish alligator-like skin, known as Gottron papules, covering the knuckles of her hands.

The onset of crippling muscle weakness in her legs and upper body.

She then had an assistant bring in a handful of pages photocopied from an old medical textbook. She handed them to my wife, whose birthday it happened to be that day.

This was her gift -- a diagnosis for her little girl.

That was seven years ago -- Oct. 2, 2002 -- the day our daughter was found to have juvenile dermatomyositis, one of a family of rare autoimmune diseases that can have debilitating and even fatal consequences when not treated quickly and effectively.

Our daughter's first year with the disease consisted of surgical procedures, intravenous infusions, staph infections, pulmonary treatments and worry. Her muscles were too weak for her to walk or swallow solid food for several months. When not in the hospital, she sat on our living room couch, propped up by pillows so she wouldn't tip over, as medicine or nourishment dripped from a bag into her body.

Our daughter, Thing 1, Megan, now age 9, remembers little of that today when she dances or sings or plays soccer. All that remain with her are scars, six to be exact, and the array of pills she takes twice a day to help keep the disease at bay.

What would have happened if it took us more than two months and four doctors before we lucked into someone who could piece all the symptoms together? I don't know.

I do know that the fourth doctor, the one who brought in others to see our daughter's condition so they could easily recognize it if they ever had the misfortune to be presented with it again, was a step toward making sure other parents also never have to find out.

That, too, is my purpose today.

It is also my birthday gift to my wife, My Love, Rhonda, for all you have done these past seven years to make others aware of juvenile myositis diseases and help find a cure for them once and for all.

To read more about children and families affected by juvenile myositis diseases, visit Cure JM Foundation at www.curejm.org.

To make a tax-deductible donation toward JM research, go to www.firstgiving.com/rhondaandkevinmckeever or www.curejm.com/team/donations.htm.