Electric Spaghetti

oh wow.

I’m going to burst in a katrillion sparkly tinsel pieces of delight.
I’m now able to access my gmail account from my cell phone.

goody goody goody gummy bears.

November 25 is Buy Nothing Day.

But i’m not promising anything.

I’ve chanted the slogans, stuck the stickers, signed up for the newsletters…but i harbour a dirty, nasty, little secret.

I’m a materialist. And a hedonistic one at that

*quick comrades, douse her with an environmentally-friendly alternative renewable fuel source, and recycle her*

I love Stuff. Stuff makes me happy. Stuff fulfils me. I lay oblations at the altar of Stuff. Stuff is what rips me awake before the sun has even brushed it’s teeth, and steels me to face the Schlep of Formal Employment. Stuff is honest. You buy it and it’s yours, for as long as you want it. Stuff doesn’t tell you that it’s confused. Stuff doesn’t have issues. When Stuff malfunctions, you fix it or you discard it, guilt free. And if you experience a breakdown in communication with Stuff, you don’t have to ‘talk about it’, you just go out and buy an upgrade.

So I’m a mindless consumer. So what?

Four billion happy shoppers can’t be wrong.