You know, there are things or situations in life that just confound logic. Take, for instance, driving. The faster you need to get somewhere, the more likely it is that slow drivers will be in front of you. If you aren’t in a rush, you get green lights, no traffic, or people rushing by you. But get poop cramps, and the chauffer from ‘Driving Miss Daisy’ is going to block your way every time. It’s illogical and yet a daily occurrence. And it seems that illogical things happen to me more regularly that I’d care to admit.
My wife falls into this category as well. Oh, she’s not getting away from this topic unscathed. Anne is a very illogical logical person in my opinion. It sounds weird, I know, but allow me to illustrate to you a fine example of what I mean.
With Christmas fast approaching, I kept saying I was going to buy a ‘T-Pain’ cordless microphone. It’s a gadget microphone that has a built-in beat, and allows you to auto tune your voice at the same time. It’s a cheap thing and as you can imagine, is quite annoying. Now Anne gets annoyed very easily. So she kept telling me not to buy one. This makes sense. If you don’t like these kinds of things, you don’t allow them in the house….right?
And so, knowing all this, she bought me one for Christmas.
Before I continue, let me ask you a question. If you suffered from migraine headaches, and you had a four year old boy in the house, would you buy him a drum set? Most likely you would not. Chances are you’d have some extra Ritalin kicking around somewhere just to calm the little fella down. This is totally logical.
Now buying me a T-Pain Microphone is the equivalent of the kid with the drums. As far as I’m concerned, it’s downright illogical. That’s not to say that I wasn’t happy about it. No, I was in heaven. I even went out and bought extra batteries to prolong the pain.
For two weeks, I was T-Pain-ing everything. The dogs needed to go for a walk? I auto tuned it. Anne would come home? Auto tuned. Time to go to the bathroom? AUTO TUNE TIME! As you can imagine, the dogs were ready to leave, my kids were checking out adoption options, and Anne was making a curious amount of phone calls to our lawyer.
The T-Pain Microphone lasted until she came home and there was I, clad only in boxers and a smile, auto-tuning her arrival. I’m pretty sure that’s what pushed her over the edge. In fine redheaded style, the T-Pain became a T-Projectile. You’d be surprised how fast something plastic can fly under duress. I was shocked to see just how many parts there had been in my once-functioning microphone.
To make matters worse (much worse). I have now discovered an app for my iPhone called the ‘I am T-Pain’ app, and it works much better. On top of that, you can e-mail your various recording using this app to your friends. I am currently amassing a list of friends that would want to receive such an email. So far, it’s a very short list. I’m also reasonably sure she won’t throw my iPhone into a wall. Well, mostly sure. You never know with a redhead.
Bill's Musings 