Ahhh...I am experiencing silver-hued techno-toy nirvana. On my lap is a box of ULTIMATE GERMAN, which is full of CDs and suchlike that are supposed to turn me into a competent Sprecher der Deutschenkopferzimmer, but that's not the exciting bit.
No, the exciting bit is what's on top of the ULTIMATE GERMAN, which I'm using as a kind of lap desk while I sit on the couch and The Who start up an hour of corpses on tables and specially-effected reennactments of lethal injury on television. That's not the exciting, bit, either.
(At this point, we cut to a large group of medieval peasants on a hillside, who all shout GET ON WITH IT)
My Think Outside Stowaway Infrared Wireless keyboard arrived today, snug in its leather pouch. That's the exciting bit. I installed the driver and software on my PDA/cell phone/iron lung, unfolded the keyboard, swung the little IR wand into place, perched the PDA in the proper position, and magical French word! I am sitting downstairs on the couch wirelessly communicating with you, dear reader, about...uh...vital matters of the day.
This really is a first-rate product: tightly designed, good travel on all the keys, with flawlessly executed software. In a decade, it'll be quaint because we'll be typing via telepathy. Right now, it's $69.99 worth of gadgety-geekthrob goodness.
[Of course, the fact that the super nifty gadget is indeed super nifty doesn't count for a hill of monkey colon-fermented coffee beans when I've got 0 bars' worth of signal. My wireless nirvana has turned into a standard pool of hardwired PC upchuck, so I'm upstairs on the desktop. I could write the post, see, but couldn't get it up to the blog from my PDA, because a flock of geese combined with swamp gas to refract the light of Venus, which interfered with my wireless throughput and caused a spate of UFO sightings on my block.
The fire department showed up as well, but they were here to track down the source of the wood-smelling smoke that was hanging in the air when we got back from wings/chardonnay/Guinness/chocolate pie at the Tap Room. They didn't find it, so I'll retire, disappointed by my fall from gadget grace and hoping that my house isn't covertly burning down.
Amen.]
