In my attempt to build the perfect 300 body, I sacrificed the perfection of my iPhone’s body.
You see, when you’re running on a treadmill and you have your media device on the part of the machine that all the girls keep their copies of Self magazine, if your arm comes down too hard on the headphone cord your shit will hit the ground… hard.
Fortunately, with my agile grace and soccer ball deftness, I was able to stop the iPhone from being shot off the belt like a tennis ball launcher and, instead, dribble it safely to the ground beside me. Of course, not without a minor scratch.
You still won’t catch me putting any protection on it. To me, that’s like putting plastic coverings on your furniture. Tacky. And what’s the point of having nice furniture if you make it not nice by covering it in sweat inducing plastic?!
I’ll beat this thing until I get a new one in a year or sooner.
Someday, Weederman, we’ll look back on all this and laugh… It will probably be one of those deep, eerie ones that slowly builds to a blood-curdling maniacal scream… but still it will be a laugh.
— Mister Boffo