“Mom, I need help writing my turtle essay”. “Mom, why don’t you write about me in your blog posts, I have good stories.” “Mom, I need…blah, blah, blah, money, money, money.” “Mom here are the 12 of the next 18 nights you will be preoccupied with attending my year-end concerts.” “Mrs. PQ , I need you to re write the copy on our Etsy Store page.”
I need a pair of headphones. Not just the ubiquitous, white knobs that accompany every iPhone, iPad and iAnything Apple, but rather a large, glaringly red, pair of Dr. Dre’s Beats. Apple, would you please accelerate your purchase of said company so I can become an in-office product tester. Of course, Bose “noise cancelling” headphones would also do the trick, but I fear the house would burn down in a world muted to that degree.
Rob Walker, @notrobwalker, Yahoo’s resident tech guru makes the case for me better then I could myself. I’m going to paste the link here, but, you ADD folks who came here to buy your dad a Journeyman wallet or Aria for iPad Air should complete your purchase first. Then follow the link, or you’ll end up forgetting and then resorting to gifting another sleeve of “barely-range ready" golf balls you found end capped at the Stuffmart Fueling Station enroute to brunch.
It’s not that I don’t love my family, and it’s not that I’m not more then happy to address their various needs and concerns, it’s just that every so often I need to bring work home with me, and writing blogs in the dead silence of O-dark thirty isn’t quite as feasible as it was in my youth.
For the record, we got the turtle essay compiled, including the insertion of 20 ecologically minded words at various points. I believe the kid didn’t quite grasp the point of the assignment as his first rendition included a string of 19 nouns with nary a verb or modifier to be found. I assured the college kid that upon returning home, she would frequent these little vignettes as I’m certain conversations of Keats, Milton, Dunne and Steinbeck will produce a plethora of eye catching Google keywords. I handed the credit card to the other kid, because, hey that’s why I work three jobs, and now I’m off to write Mr. PQ’s posts, somebody hand me Dr. Dre's Beats.