Rest in peace little i-book.  You tolerated five drafts of my manuscript and countless emails. Of course you might have mentioned that a few of those emails–when it was midnight, I was tipsy, and in a severe state of PMS–were ill advised, but still.  You served me well, old chum.  And as for our issues…  The random port malfunctions.  The sudden, violent temperature differential between the left and right side of the keyboard.  The time I was running late for that thing at that restaurant and you refused to go online and show me the google map to tell me how to get there.  Bygones, really.  As for that disagreement between you and my bootlegged copy of microsoft word circa 1997 well, who could blame you two for parting ways?  His attitude and frequent erectile dysfunction was bound to shatter what was once a loving bond.  So I wish you well on your trip to the great beyond. May you be recycled into something extraordinary: next year’s i-lamp, an i-beagle, anything but i-tupperware, cause I really hate that shit.