Things That Will Change Your Life, No. 27

Number 27. Switch to a Mac. Robyn did and bought a beautiful 13" MacBook Pro. And now I did. Well, sort of. I made myself a nice little Hackintosh. I won't proclaim the gospel of Apple here...yet. But the whole system is very intuitive, fast, and stable, and fast.

Ingredients:

Dell Inspiron Mini 10v netbook (refurbished), $249 from dell.com/outlet

Retail copy of Snow Leopard OS X 10.6, $29 from Amazon

8 GB USB drive, borrowed free from a friend

a couple free install programs, another Mac to image the USB drive, and a little bit of patience

The whole netbook rebirth took me about three hours with only a couple minor hiccups. I now have a $278 Snow Leopard Mac that is smaller than a stack of three Time magazines. Suck it Bill Gates. Well, actually don't. You seem like a pretty nice guy with your foundation and all. That old company of yours though really makes a crappy computer. Yes, I am a nerd.

Man In The Mirror

I'm pretty hip when it comes to knowing what my kids are watching or reading. I know that Dora's iguana's friend's name is Isa. I know that Caillou's little sister is Rosie. Kai-lan friended me on Facebook. But I have a problem with Arthur and how the money has changed him.

Arthur is some sort of brown, furry, most likely mammalian, possibly tailed, Harry-Potter-bespectacled...creature. We've read the books and watched the show, and until I Googled this freak, I had no idea what kind of animal he was. I asked Audrey and she said he is a mouse. I guessed he was a squirrel.

Turns out he is an aardvark. An aardvark?

Long after Audrey had become a full-fledged Arthur fan, we checked out the first Arthur book in the series-- vintage Arthur. And that book, irony of ironies, featured a prominent proboscis and the old school Arthur learning to be proud of his nosey uniqueness. Apparently Mr. Arthur author decided after his first book that a nosejob was in order. Now I can barely tell who, or what, Arthur is. Have we learned nothing from Michael Jackson?

I Laughed, I Cried, I Saved All Our Empty Tuna Fish Cans

Every once in awhile, I need a little pick-me-up. Our TiVo is pretty jammed up with reruns of The Office, The Simpsons, and Max and Ruby. But I always make sure to grab a few feel-good episodes of Intervention and Hoarders. Don't ask me why I watch these nightmares. It's not schadenfreude because I don't revel in the misery of these people. But I will admit that it makes me feel just a little bit better about my life. A little bit more grateful. I've never done a line of coke off a gas station toilet seat or stored used adult diapers in our extra bedroom, but the collapse of these characters from seemingly functional human to broken being highlights the edge that may be a little closer than any of us would like to admit. There, but for the grace of God, go I.

Your Sunday Funny

The Rat King

Look, I try to limit the amount of Chuck E. Cheese pizza, Fox News, and lead paint my children ingest. But I am only one man, one dada. I have been known to turn a blind eye to the occasional booger eating, but I cannot save them from every toxic evil.

Today, we purchased our first of what is sure to become a horde of Zhu Zhu pets. And if you couldn't guess from the name, the creatures are minted in China. Turns out when the Chinese are not busy filling our toothpaste with cadmium, they are filling Mr. Squiggles with antimony. Luckily, my kids know never to touch antimony without an adult present, so she skipped Mr. Squiggles and picked out the pink (of course) Zhu Zhu, Jilly.

Audrey enjoyed playing with Jilly. But Jilly, like Mr. Squiggles, has a dark, dangerous secret. Jilly crept up to my unsuspecting daughter's hair and lept onto her head. After the crying and computerized hamster-shrieking subsided, we were left with Jilly ensnared in the kid's hair, like some sort of giant motorized rat hairball. It wasn't until I was cutting out the rodent that I noticed the "may pose an entanglement hazard" sticker on the belly of the beast. Right.

So we bought her a heavy-metal laced entanglement hazard. Yes. And it keeps her occupied for hours.

We're Sorry For You

Dear angry guy on the US Air flight from Phoenix to Boston,



We're sorry that you didn't enjoy all that is domestic air travel. Although the five year old boy and his grandparents seated behind you were the model of exemplary behavior, we regret that you were forced to endure an entire stanza of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star". Your cursing, muttering, rubbing of your temples, and pulling of your hair is understandable under these most trying of circumstances. The next time you choose to fly US Air, may we suggest something besides seething to help pass the time? If you are not afflicted by illiteracy, our Airbus A320 safety brochure, the ever-intruiging SkyMall catalogue, or the directions on an airsickness bag provide a much needed distraction from the human beings seated around you. Please use the enclosed drink coupons on your next travel from your mother's basement to the nearest Dungeons and Dragons convention. Thank you for choosing not to have your own children.

Sincerely,

US Air Customer Experience Management

You Are Now Returned To Your Regularly Scheduled Programming

This is a test. This is only a test. In the event of a real nap, both children would have actually been sleeping, and in their own beds.