I am re-reading Fast Food Nation for class. I'm on chapter one, where Schlosser analyzes marketing technigques targeted at children. He mentioned Tamagachis in Happy Meals and BOY! did that take me back.
My sister Betsy had a Tamagachi. On the outside, I relentlessly chided her for the ridiculous pink dog that pooped and barked but never grew. I told her repeatedly how stupid she was for liking that thing. Inside, I longed for one of my own. I wanted to be cool enough that I didn't have to feel uncool for wanting something my kid sister had.
When Betsy went to the beach or camp or some other thing forcing her to be away from the pink electronic dog, she left it in my care. It beeped. I fed it. I played with it. I cleaned up its electronic poop. Bliss! I took it with me to work at K-mart, lodged happily in my red vest pocket with the box cutter. On one woeful Saturday, my line was long and cranky. I had no opportunity to stop and feed the little guy. I did not clean up his poop. He passed away into the afterlife of electronic puppy heaven.
Betsy didn't speak to me for a long time. She thought I killed her dog on purpose, given my yatchy behavior toward her and my outward disapproval of its existence. Where is that Tamagachi now, I wonder? Does it survive in the mess of clothing and makeup in her room? Has she hidden it in a shoebox on a closet shelf with her other treasures? On Thanksgiving break, I would love to crack that sucker open and see how long it will take us to kill it again.
After years of nomadic temporary employment, advanced degrees, and chocolate ice cream, a rugger with a love of knitting and a cyclist with no domestic skills signed a Ketubah and bought a house in Pittsburgh.
3 comments:
I think it was buried during the renovation of Betsy's room. But You never know what could still be in those shoes boxes in the closet.
HA!
I bought those for my sister and I. She's only a year and a half younger than me. We had little dinosaurs. And we went to college together for one year, her freshman year, my junior and actually took an anthro class together.
Anyway, I made the mistake of playing with my dinosaur in that class and the entire class heard it making noises and I couldn't mute it for some reason, so I had to sit on it to make it quiet. And my sister, sitting next to me, knew exactly what I was doing and was laughing her ass off.
Anyway ... yeah, I think our dinosaurs both died too. :) I think mine is in some box next to my old swatch watch from 8th grade.
i had a furby. talk about high maintenance! it once got "sick" and wouldn't stop sneezing, which was the most pathetically sad sound ever. i had to feed it for an hour to get it to stop. it just kept saying "aj sick!" and sneezing. terrible things, furbies. it was a pity present from my mom after we had to put my childhood dog to sleep. crappy replacement.
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