I'm iFedup

Here's the awful truth about me: I am a Mac girl.

I live downtown in a North American city in a neighbourhood with Starbucks and sushi joints on every corner. I shop vintage and get premium haircuts. My trainers are old school, my values are new school and my iPod selection is (I like to think) eclectic. I'm not really a car person, but I bought a car – on credit. I eat organic and drink whatever's going. I listen to CBC and watch The Office and develop short-lived obsessions about certain things (pulled pork, for instance, or Japanese toy fish), which may or may not be ironic – I'm not even sure any more. Like I said, I'm a Mac girl.

I say this in the interest of full disclosure. With the exception of a couple of minor technological blips – my mother's hand-me-down Epson in high school and a surprisingly plucky Sony Vaio in London – I have never used any personal home computer that was not a Mac, Apple or “i” something.

And now the world's most trendy pronoun is filling up my life – and the lives of those around me – with “i” everything. There's iKaraoke for parties, iPhoto for family portraits, iWeb for the Internet, iTunes for music, iMovies for entertainment and iPods for light listening. All this comes complete with upgrades from the handy iLife package – mandatory software for any self-respecting hipster. Is that awesome, or what?

Problem is, iOverit. And I'm not the only one.