We had a little meltdown here the other day.
By "we" I mean those of us who are sixteen years old and passionately attached to our iPhones. And by "meltdown" I mean a crisis of epic proportions. A emotional event that, left unchecked, could level a city.
It started when PhoneGirl tried to update the operating system on her beloved companion and ended up with an unresponsive black screen instead of than the highly anticipated iOS8. This was followed by the usual ranting and raving, and panicked plugging in of phones to this computer and that, all to no avail. In the depths of her despair, PhoneGirl seems to have tried to comfort herself by hearkening back to the halcyon days of her youth ("Enjoy it now," she loves to tell poor Matthew, who is all of 8 years old, "pretty soon you'll be in High School and its all SUFFERING there!"). That is to say, she found this
and went to work.
Observe now, if you will, the shocking evidence of one teenager's descent into iPhone madness:
Clearly, the suffering was overwhelming. And, fortunately, fairly short lived. By the time our damsel in distress was eyeing the activities on page 56, the cherished phone beeped back into consciousness. It's memory had been wiped, but it had clearly returned from the land of the lost and all was on the way to being well again.
Until the next Teen Drama.