I’m a snob.

When Daniel convinced me to buy an iPhone in the days of yore when they were still silver and black, I somewhat married the Apple brand. (It was a small ceremony. Very intimate. Roses and tulips. Chocolate fountain. You know, the norm.) I can’t explain it, but I feel as though I am a part of it and it a part of me. So when they come out with the latest and greatest gadget, I want it. I need it. I covet it. I would be practically breaking a commandment not to own it. (Whoa there, teetering between humor and blasphemy. Blashumy?)

I mean, come on. I spent the night in a parking garage in Glendale just to be one of the first people in the world to upgrade to the iPhone 3G. I’m committed. (And I should be committed.)

There’s all this hullabulloo going on with the new iPhone 3GS. It’s been really confusing figuring out who can upgrade for the cheaper price and who can’t, and I won’t know until tomorrow if I’m eligible. Even though I called AT&T today. And made a trip to the AT&T store. And it wasn’t until I was on my way out of the AT&T store that I realize I’m a snob.

With any other cell phone, the answer is “tough shit.” You wait your two years until you’re eligible for the discounted upgrade. But with the iPhone, I feel like I’m entitled to own it, at the lowest advertised price, the minute a new model comes out.

I can’t help it. It’s just how I feel.