I'm covering my windows with tin foil, Evil Necromancer Jobs!

I know what you're doing. Don't think I'm not onto you, Stevie.

I woke up this morning clearly under some Blackberry-focused wiccan spell. While trying to retrieve my phone from a high shelf in the bathroom - not exactly sure how it got there in the first place - I stepped onto the bathroom scale and nearly tipped ass-over-tea-kettle into the bathtub. Other uncharacteristically graceless moves have spotted my morning. But while I recognized that I was under some sort of hex, it was not until half an hour ago that I realized, in a moment of stinging clarity, who was casting it.

My Blackberry pearl, just a few months old, a jaunty red thing that has survived theft in Africa, meat schmutz in upstate New York, and endless pants calls and obsessive texting, was quietly charging on a table in the living room. I'd just picked it up to look in on its progress when Eric, in the kitchen, called out excitedly that I should come see the gelatinous substance that had emerged from the mason jar of six-month-old iced tea he was pouring out into the sink. Understandably thrilled, I turned to go to him while setting the Blackberry back down. But instead the cord somehow caught on my sleeve - dark magicks! - and my PDA went flying through the air in a fantastical arc - straight in to Robert the Dog's freshly filled water bowl.

This is something I can't even really by mad about. God has spoken. Or Steve Jobs. Same difference.

Julie, says God-Jobs, You must buy an iPhone.

Who am I to disobey God's will?

Steve Jobs must die

Already my iPod that I got a year and a half ago can't hold a charge for more than fifteen minutes. That grates, not so much for the music lackage per se as for the vision of the vast fields of dead iPods littering the earth, and no effort by the bazillionaire world-saving genius who makes them to figure out to solve that particular problem.

And now the laptop. Which I've had a little over a year. Dead. Suddenly, irrevocably, mysteriously dead. All my data - i.e, my BOOK - gone. I had some of it backed up. I might - MIGHT - be able to get the rest of it through data retrieval, for the piddling sum of $850.

My friend Emily's just died too, today. Hard drive gone. Poof.

I'm really considering assasination options here.