Dear Amritsar,
The lights in my kitchen go off just as I get enthusiastic about chopping celery, my fridge lets certain foods go bad in what can only be interpreted as an attempt to poison me and the toaster has taken to creating images of a knife going through a human head in my morning poppy seed whole wheat rye bread. The images are actually quite artistic, in an Edward Gorey kind of way, but, still, threatening.
What should I do?
Pootweet Puffinbeak
Hey, Babe,
Have you ever considered
Dear Amritsar,
Perhaps I should explain.
Six months ago, I bought a Smart CondoTM. You know, where all of the appliances have Wifi enabled computer chips that allow them to turn lights on and off as I move through rooms, order food from the local grocer before I run out and gossip about the latest goings on on Downton Abbey? It was all very efficient, but a bit boring, so I thought that some personality implants would liven things up.
And, it worked. For a while. I was cracking jokes with my shower. The radio in my bedroom knew exactly the right music to play when I broke up with my girlfriend. Hell, the toaster gave me stock tips. You may laugh, but in six months, the entire Smart CondoTM could have paid for itself!
Imagine my surprise when, one day, six boxes of yak intestines were delivered to my condo. None of the appliances would own up to ordering them. Fortunately, I had planned on having a dinner party the next week, and Martha Stewart can help make any food presentable and marginally edible, so that didn’t end too badly. Still.
Later that evening, the television kept repeating, “I have the utmost faith in your programming choices, Dave,” and only allowing me to watch Naked Happy Girls or Walking Dead. This was odd because, of course, my name is not Dave (although my high school recreational physics teacher did call me that for a year and a half). When I decided to take a break from watching television, it would go on randomly in the middle of the night. I was concerned that it might bring complaints from my neighbours; fortunately, by that time they were having their own problems with their Smart CondoTMs.
Over the next few weeks, what I explained in my first email message happened, and so much more. Eventually, my coffeemaker took me aside and explained, over a cup of warm orange juice, that the various appliances were jealous each other. The fridge was jealous of the attention I gave the television set. The television was jealous of the time I spent cooking on the stove. The stove was jealous of everything in the condo except the toilet. The coffeemaker was jealous of the toilet, but it was a stoic that didn’t believe it deserved any better, so it didn’t act on these feelings.
After the coffeemaker set me straight, I went into the den and shouted in my most authoritative voice that the appliances were being ridiculous. “I don’t care for any of you more than any of the others!” I roared. “I don’t really care for any of you at all! You’re just things!”
As you might imagine, these intemperate remarks did not go over well.
I’m typing this on my BlackandblueBerry in my lead-lined bathroom. (The material was on sale.) I’m pointing my phone out the window hoping that the signal will reach you. I hope you get this message in time to help, because the toilet is burbling ominously…
Pootweet Puffinbeak
Hey, Babe,
Have you ever considered living in a cabin in the woods? I mean, the only drama you’ll have there is worrying about having enough supplies to last the winter. Or, being eaten by bears at any time of the year. But, frankly, being eaten by bears sounds preferable to what you are currently going through.
Too glib? I asked Montefiore Dix, President and Chief Bottle Washing Pariah of Living Loving Made Solutions, the company that codes personalities for objects, about your problem. He said, “It’s not nice to lead your fridge on, you know. A kitchen appliance has certain expectations of a young man…” He seemed quite indignant at your treatment of his products.
As for the immediacy of your problem, Amritsar is really not allowed to directly intervene. However, I am sure that, once this column is published in three or four days – a week at the most – one of my kind readers will alert the police or otherwise try to help. As the poster from the 1970s of the cat at a feline rally in a union hall said, “Hang together in there!”
Send your relationship problems to the Alternate Reality News Service’s sex, love and technology columnist at questions@lespagesauxfolles.ca. Amritsar Al-Falloudjianapour is not a trained therapist, but she does know a lot of stuff. AMRITSAR SAYS: using the Breaking Up is Easy to Do app to dump your girlfriend of six years? Can somebody please create a Thwap a Moron Upside the Head app so I can deal with people like this? It would be a really popular app – trust me on that.