So I bought Lula some little electronic pedometer thing as a stocking stuffer so she could get extra credit in gym, only to discover that the damn thing required a genuinely ridiculous amount of calibration to function properly and the instructions that came it had obviously been pushed through some ancient automatic translation program (from Serbo-Croation to Mandarin to Esperanto to English), making them incomprehensible even had I been able to read the 2.0893 pt. type.
Needless to say, it has never been used, and now lives on the corner of the bookshelf in my bedroom. And every single day, at exactly 2:24, it blares (in a heavily accented computerized female voice that is meant, I imagine, to be inspiring to the walker), "It is SIX O'CLOCK ay em. beepbeepbeepbeep It is SIX O'CLOCK ay em. beepbeepbeepbeep It is SIX O'CLOCK ay em. beepbeepbeepbeep..." You get the idea.
Of course it's NOT six a.m. It's exactly 2: 24 p.m. Which in itself is extremely irritating. But do I throw it away? Of course not. It's brand new, never been used. Perfectly functional, if only I could program it. Do I remove the battery? No, then the battery would surely get permanently seperated from the stupid little pedometer thing, rendering it useless. Do I finally snap and crush it underfoot? Nope.
Every day, at 2:25, I get up and push the only button that seems to serve any reliable function and the voice shuts up. I've been doing this, every single day, since December 25, and I'll likely be doing it every single day until that long-lasting battery thing finally decides to die on its own.
This is a boring little story, but it illustrates perfectly exactly what kind of person I've become. So there you are.
Needless to say, it has never been used, and now lives on the corner of the bookshelf in my bedroom. And every single day, at exactly 2:24, it blares (in a heavily accented computerized female voice that is meant, I imagine, to be inspiring to the walker), "It is SIX O'CLOCK ay em. beepbeepbeepbeep It is SIX O'CLOCK ay em. beepbeepbeepbeep It is SIX O'CLOCK ay em. beepbeepbeepbeep..." You get the idea.
Of course it's NOT six a.m. It's exactly 2: 24 p.m. Which in itself is extremely irritating. But do I throw it away? Of course not. It's brand new, never been used. Perfectly functional, if only I could program it. Do I remove the battery? No, then the battery would surely get permanently seperated from the stupid little pedometer thing, rendering it useless. Do I finally snap and crush it underfoot? Nope.
Every day, at 2:25, I get up and push the only button that seems to serve any reliable function and the voice shuts up. I've been doing this, every single day, since December 25, and I'll likely be doing it every single day until that long-lasting battery thing finally decides to die on its own.
This is a boring little story, but it illustrates perfectly exactly what kind of person I've become. So there you are.
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Comments
rated.
You guessed it! English.
Hey, at least it is spurring you on to activity.
Me personally? I'd just regift it. :-D
Thumbed.
So, how much you think this thing would go for on ebay?
That's not laziness. That's misdirected productivity.
Lainey, they might. But we're not unthinking. We just think about completely random, useless crap. A lot.
Yeah, Leigh, now that you mention it, I think on lots of worthless crap.
I still can't figure out how to set the time on the clock in my car. Looked at the manual, no instructions, asked husband to no avail, asked my dad, finally asked the guys at the dealership. After about twenty minutes of fiddling, the guy says, "Well... you could move to Iowa, then it would be right!"
It is SIX OCLOCK ay em. It is SIX OCLOCK ay em. It is SIX OCLOCK...
Peece! David
and btw, i much appreciate your way of solving conflicts by reading my blog and posting a thoughtful comment.:)
I understand on a deeply personal level.