What a Nice Guy by Phil Torcivia

Saturday, December 17, 2011

A Girlfriend for Christmas (some assembly required).

As I consider buying my Christmas gift from Santa to me, I must consider just how much work is involved in getting it under the tree before I wake up Christmas morning. Yes, living alone is complicated and somewhat disturbing. Still, I have tools and a touch of smarts. I can do this.

This year’s gift may be a fancy thing I stumbled upon called: Girlfriend.

The picture on the outside was compelling. There was no significant wear and tear except for a few dents and bit of sun damage. Perhaps the last person who handled it was a little rough. Although no batteries were required, it came with batteries. Fascinating. There was also a note saying it was suitable for ages eighteen and older. As expected, there was some assembly required using common household tools.

I’m equipped—perhaps not “well equipped,” but equipped nonetheless.

I loaded the gift into my cart and struggled to balance it as I approached the cashier, who was cute until she wrinkled her nose at my purchase. Perhaps she felt I was too old to take full advantage of that particular model. I didn’t appreciate the attitude, so no tip for that apron-wearing killjoy.

Once I got the box out to my Jeep, it started making noises. It sounded like it said, “That barbed wire license plate cover is gay.” Surely, minor adjustment to my toy (not my Jeep) was required. I opened the door, loaded the toy, and headed home, anxious to enjoy my new Girlfriend. During the ride I heard another disturbing noise from the box: “You realize you’re speeding, don’t you? The speed limit is thirty-five.” I was tempted to u-turn and return it, but sighed and sped up so my toy learned who was boss.

When I opened it on my living room floor and spread the parts to begin assembly, I made some interesting observations:
  • There was substantial damage caused by the designer, toymakers, previous owners, and plastic specialists.
  • The toy insisted it was too cold to operate properly. After I adjusted the thermostat, the toy said it was too warm. This wasted much time. I needed much beer.
  • It didn’t approve of my d├ęcor and insisted I “lose the poker table and fuzzy comforter.”
  • Its hair changed length and color frequently.
  • For proper operation, the toy required significant amounts of red wine, yogurt, and facial cream.
  • All sorts of loose parts were in the bottom of the box, including nails, earrings, and eyelashes.
  • Although it came with many accessories, it required brand new shoes and purses. When I sought a reason why, the toy said, “Because.”
  • The toy warned me that its previous owner wants it back.
  • It insisted I change the music playing, the TV channel, and my jeans.
  • I couldn’t pry the phone from its hand.

I don’t think I’m ready for this toy even though I’ve been a good boy. A bottle of Silver Oak would bring me more joy.

4 comments:

  1. Loved the visual and the metaphors and right now, I'd love a bottle of Silver Oak, any year.

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  2. Great post Phil! Saw it on Twitter and it made my morning. Happy hollidays

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  3. Mmmmm Silver Oak...... /Homer Simpson

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