I know, I know–I haven’t posted in three weeks. But I have a darned good reason why: it’s because my husband bought a 12-inch powerbook AND an i-Pod and has been online every frickin’ night since downloading CD track titles from iTunes.
I love my husband. I really do. He’s inventive, humorous, kind, loyal, trustworthy, etc. But unlike most straight men (and gay men, for that matter), he has absolutely has no interest in bigger and better–no SUVs, hemis or terabytes for this boy. He likes tiny. Compact. Miniature. In short, when it comes to material toys, I married a reverse-size queen.
Why? I have no idea. I’m sure he doesn’t either, other than a vague nostalgia for the days when The Man From Uncle and Star Trek ruled and a young Kurt Russell stumped for Mattel‘s Agent Zero-M toys. As an eight-year old who looked eerily like Woody Allen, the idea of taking pictures with a camera you could hide in a paperback was way cooler than Beatle boots could ever be. So guess what? We now buy phones that not only look like phasers, they can take pictures, send messages and play any annoying ring tone he desires. My husband is officially in what researchers have identified as hog heaven.
I should fess up that I get something out of this too–kinda. I’ve gained a laptop, two PDAs and a passel of cell phones as a result of my husband’s quest for teeny-tinyness. With nanotechnology on the horizon, I shudder to think what he’ll want next. After all, he did watch The Six Million Dollar Man….
RIP: Johnny Ramone, the third Ramone to pass away in the last three years. Gabba-gabba-sad….