The iSaga Continues
My new iTouch, whom I have named Bad Penny, is still sitting in it's little white Apple bag next to my computer.
She's sort of like adopting a Chinese baby girl who you just know is going to grow up to be brilliant but right now she's got a rash, colic, diarrhea and she's teething.
Okay, okay, I'm sure Bad Penny is fine. It's her adopted Mama who has the problems.
I think I have a touch of ADHD that manifests itself in my utter inability to read directions.
Hell, I've had my car for two years and I'm still not sure what some of the buttons are for. The car has Blue Tooth capacity and I don't even know what the fuck that is. I know it has something to do with wearing a gizmo too close to your brain and goading the tumor gods into action, but what that has to do with a car is beyond me.
Anyway, back to Bad Penny.
Enter my lover-in-law Jilly, my Big Sis's partner of ~50 years. She's like Sonic Hedgehog when you hand her some electronic gizmo. When I brought Bad Penny home to their house the day before Thanksgiving, she got her tiny mitts on it and before I knew it I was watching You Tube's "Charlie Bit Me" on the little screen.
Then we considered trying to load some music, but Big Sis's iTune account smelled fresh meat and tried to commandeer Bad Penny for its own.
I suspect it may have succeeded because when I went to download my own iTune account, Big Sis's playlist appeared.
Hell, I wish I could just steal her playlist but Apple is smart- they don't allow anyone to download their 99 cent songs to any location but the one iPod.
Another thing that worries me about Bad Penny is that I get a little obsessive about things and I just know I'll end up buying 1,000 songs and games and movies from those bastards.
Then once I get it fully loaded, what if I drop it or it wears out or gets stolen or whatever? Do they have batteries? What if they wear out?
Another thing, you gotta get the accessories or else it's like having a Barbie wearing just the one bathing suit she came with.
So next I gotta get the demanding baby a little outfit to wear so she doesn't get scratched. Big Sis is insisting on some icky hard rubber thing but I prefer black leather without the little flap covering her face.
Then I gotta get something called a docking station where you put her in a crib with big speakers on it. And I can't get a shitty one because lousy speakers make for lousy sound.
Then I gotta buy a recharger thing so I can plug it in when I'm not around a computer.
Basically, I cannot hold on to a pair of earrings for more than a week without losing one of them, yet I am supposed to keep track of a little sliver of chrome and glass that's filled with $2,000 worth of music n'shit?
Then I have to completely retool my wardrobe so everything I wear has the requisite pocket to carry her in.
Or I'm sure for the right price I can get her a little holster that clips on.
Buyer beware, that cool ad on TV that shows young people having a blast playing games on their new iTouch does not show them trying to figure out how to get the damn games on there to begin with.
So now I have to clean the house because Milly and Jilly will be here in the morning to show me how to diaper Bad Penny. In addition to being electronics junkies, housekeeping-wise they both make Martha Stewart look like a rutting sow in a mud pond.
I, on the other hand, take a more casual approach to housekeeping. I think exercise equipment and dining room tables make excellent places to store clothing. I think coffee grounds on the kitchen counter give a place that homey look. I think 50 pairs of shoes scattered throughout the home gives it that quaint, lived-in touch. Cat hair makes a great cushion for heavily trafficked carpeted areas.
What's more, Milly and Jilly want to have Sunday brunch at the Neiman Marcus tea room. That means instead of shlepping myself to the local taco joint in my ratty clothes and bed head, I have to find an outfit and "do my hair" before we go.
I tell you what.
After all this effort, when I get to work on Monday with my tricked out iTouch, those little Gen Z punks I work with had better fall to their knees in acknowledgement of my electronic sophistication and superiority.
Just once I'd like to hear one of them say, "Gee Karen, for an old fart you are totally cool."
And I can smile and say, "Yeah, I gotta have all the latest gear, kids. It's just how I roll."