Keriosity

To call my husband a gadget-freak is like calling Bill Gates “well-off”.

If it has buttons, makes noise, contains a hard-drive, plays music, does something you don’t need like fax while recording your favorite TV show while creating an online grocery list based on your credit card receipts, or its name starts with a small “i“, he has it. He buys so many gizmos that we have started a hand-me-down system with our friends - a few of whom have developed some sort of sixth sense and are putting dibs on items as soon as UPS drops them at our door. (I’m guessing the UPS lady is in on the action too.)

I used to really fret about this addiction of his until he fell off the deep end and I determined that there was no saving him: I should just let him be. I came to this conclusion when someone asked me if Emil had bought the new iPod nano that had just come out the previous week and I had already acquired a nano hand-me-down. It was 7 days old. (He decided he didn’t like it in black.)

I am fully appreciative of these hand-me-downs. I have only had to ask for a new device twice: when we converted from PC to Mac and the time my worn out second-hand iPod broke. But - when the Pink Razr came out this week…I really really really really really wanted it. Badly.

Thank you, eBay! (and Emil!)

I received my Pink Razr before anyone who isn’t friends with Paris Hilton could even get their hands on it. It’s like Shocking Pink. You can see it glowing through the zipper of my purse. I’m a little suspicious that it might be a terrorist attempt to give girly girls radiation poisoning - but in the off chance that it’s not, I look totally cute talking on it!

So I went to the nail salon today for my bi-weekly acrylic fill. Because that’s what women in Orange County do. Acrylic nails that permanently look like French manicures (”forever French”) are to Orange County women what dark clothes and overcaffeination are to New York women. It’s part of the Branding.

There I was, getting my nails grinded down with the dremel, which is another sign that we let men off too easy in the grooming department. Forget waxing and tweezing and micro-dermabrasion - women let strangers (who don’ speak English well enough to understand “that hurts”) take power-tools to our fingertips. We actually do this. Men don’t brush their hair.

Ok - back to my story. I was getting power-sanded when my little pink phone started playing its jazzy little ringtone. I could tell that my nail girl, Kim, who never remembers my name, was making an annoyed face from behind her surgical mask. (They all wear masks. It makes me uneasy about the substance they are putting on my nails. But again - in the off chance that it’s non-carcinogenic, my nails look FAB!) I apologized, and retrieved my phone from my purse, but had missed the call.

Suddenly - all activity in the salon came to a stop. All rotary tools had ceased. All chitchat had been silenced. There were only the sounds of bubbling footbaths and awed gasps. I felt like C3PO in Star Wars Episode VI when the Ewoks first saw him - oh my god did I just say that for real? (We had a Star Wars marathon last week. Don’t ask.)

Finally, Kim pulled down her mask and said “Pinka Lay-za!” and the whole salon was on its feet. Everyone wanted to see it, hold it, and take pictures of it with their drab phones. People were calling other people to tell them that they were holding an actual Pink Razr in person.

My phone was like a god.

And I was like a ghetto Paris Hilton.

Kim asked, “Keli, you get it? Where?” Oh - I see! I’m “Keli” now! Not just a set of fingers that carries a wallet, huh? Well, well.

“eBay” I replied. “AAAH - EBAY! eBay! Chijidjogichimoogi eBay!” All the nail technicians started talking in Vietnamese and they all knew eBay. Of course. (and I love how spellchecker corrects the word “eBay”)

The O.C. Ladies of Leisure weren’t as outwardly enthusiastic. (They never show that much emotion. It’s the botox and boredom.) But they still wanted to see it. Some made jabs at my expense. “Oh is THIS what my TEENAGE daughter has been asking for?” If I were in New York, I SO would have flashed her and said “Uh huh and THIS is what your husband has been asking for!”- but this is Southern California and her 45-year old pair was perkier than mine. So I let it go with a “You should BOTH get one - I’m sure you look as young as her!” or are trying to in that outfit.

I left the salon feeling like the most popular girl in school. All the nail technicians know my name. The O.C. Ladies want to be me. I have the most fabulous phone ever. And yet I still feel empty, as all popular girls do, because deep down I know that they are totally using me for my phone.

Like I care. I have a Pink Raaaaazr! I have Pinka Laaaaaay-za!

This entry was posted on Wednesday, November 30th, 2005 at 6:56 pm and is filed under Stuff I did. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.