Welcome To The Working Wiik
If any of you were wondering: Who do I have to fuck to get my hands on a Nintendo Wii?

The answer? Me. I got one. You all can touch it for the low, low price of my total sexual gratification. Sound too steep? I got propositioned at least three times on my way out of the Toys R Us. I don't want to ask you people to prostitute yourselves, but it's what the market is apparently demanding. Those Toys R Us employees can be really aggressive.

That's right, I am now of the member of the exclusive club of American owners of a Nintendo Wii gaming system, a cozy little group of only 2 million. I haven't run in these kinds of rarified circles since my membership in the Peter Cetera Unofficial Fan Club expired. I don't know what happened; they just stopped cashing my checks. It might have had something to do with the fact that right at the end, the only ones left in were me and Peter Cetera.

The lure of pretty electronic Wii pictures and a whole new way to get carpal tunnel isn't what put me off my regularly scheduled Sunday night post, however. While I am no longer ensconced in Internet Hell, I have only managed to work my way up to Internet Purgatory. The service is erratic and sketchy and will continue to be so until we get some things sorted out. If/When this post goes out, it will have happened in a brief but glorious window of time wherein the floodgates of basic Information Age data transmission were thrown open by the rapturous intermittent functioning of twenty-year-old technology.

Little series of blinking lights, deliver us.



This post on the Narcissus Scale: 10.0



Pops

Labels: Fermina Daza

- posted by Pops @ 10:00 AM