Except when I don't

Well, Apple, it was fun for a little bit. I'm done with you. Safari was a good browser, and I really liked my Ipod, but I was never the biggest fan of Itunes, and, now, with the Icloud, Ping, Home sharing crap, I view your products as a threat to my well being.
See, I got this shiny new laptop, and it really is shiny and new, all silvery and speedy. Then, I tried to upload itunes on. First, it wouldn't let me download it. Seems my shiny new laptop is a bit too shiny and new for anything but the absolute latest version of Itunes, the one that comes preloaded to operate on the cloud. Which would be OK if it retained functionality, but it didn't. See, I couldn't access my library. Worse yet, when I tried to access through Home sharing, I got someone else's library. Yes, I couldn't believe that either! I mean, I was using my information. My username, my password, my email address, the works, and yet, there I was, staring down a list of bad Nu-metal and pop country tunes owned by what I can only presume is a girl in dire need of therapy - and Amy K, if you ever stumble across my email that I sent you, before you delete it because you think I'm some kind of Nigerian Prince scam, I wish you the best of luck, and whoever is the guy who made you so hurt and angry, he's not worth it.
But, Apple, things got worse. I was still trying to make it work. After all, I'd invested so much time and money in you. Somewhere in the neighbourhood of 800 songs purchased, not to mention the hardware, and all the time spent trying to recover from previous crashes, glitches, and problems. But, you were unavailable. No easy access to a help desk, unless I gave you a product code, but there is no product code to itunes, is there? I had a certainty inside that it wouldn't work. But I finally found a few places to email, and so I did.
Then, I heard back from you. More precisely, from Theresa. Theresa, I know you're just working a shit job. I know this because one of my jobs isn't so very different from yours. Theresa, I know you need information to do your job, but you don't need the personal data that you were asking for. I'm not going to sell out Amy K, either. On top of that, my kaspersky LIT UP every time I opened one of your emails. Worms, trojans, viruses: you're carrying more threats than a Somali hooker with a poorly made AK. It was then that my heart turned and hardened. I realized how bad our relationship has been.
I will find love again. I know I will. One of my real friends will set me up. When I fall in Love, I'm doggedly loyal, and I'm shameless in promoting. When I love something, or someone, I love them all the way, except when I don't. Then, I leave them behind me like excrement. Worth nothing but disgust. Yes, Apple you disgust me. Go fellate Jobs' corpse, you cancerous piece of trash. I mean it. Just like that. You've betrayed me for the last time. I won't trust you, and I don't like you. I hope that effing Coby electronics outsells you. I hope that someone hacks your new Iphone, and makes your operating system a cheap concubine for Russian Mobsters. Go die.