It’s late. All-nighter late. Couldn’t even post today because I’m still on an insane deadline for 2:00 pm tomorrow afternoon. So at 3:50 am, when your walkman dies and you’re looking for an AC adapter, where do you turn? That’s right:Bag o’ wires.
Every guy has one. Any guy says he doesn’t, well, he just ain’t... a guy. It’s what defines us. That, and power tools. But tonight, my bag failed me. After 10 minutes sifting through the ethernet orgy encased in plastic for said adapter - nothing. Nada. Nunca.
There is not a creative alive who does not need tunes played insanely loud to get them through a deadline. Nada. Nunca. So now, I am listening to iTunes at insanely low levels so as not to wake the family. Hardly enough mojo to get through the rest of the night either. And all because my bag o’ wires let me down.
Tags: advertising, brands, viral
9 comments:
My bag o' wires is actually a box o' wires that's followed me on every move since leaving home for college. I think I've still got the cables needed to connect a 1541 drive to a Commodore 64. Seriously.
Hope you managed some shut-eye.
Got 3.5 hours. Just. Good to go tho.
And I was thinking after that, there should be two categories: Bag/Box o' wires and Bag/Box o' Cables.
Cleaning out some stuff this past weekend in the garage and I found my old Nintendo 64 unit with regular TV antenna adapter! Hello eBay bitches, here I come.
Man, with all the cables I still have saved, Radio Shack® should name a wing after me at corporate.
;-p
My box o'wires saved me this weekend, when I didn't have any string to tie up a mattress I was moving.
I dug through the wire archives, and - VOILA! - mattress tied.
*No useful wires were harmed in the packing of said mattress
George, this is your lucky day. You're only the 3rd or 4th person to discover that yes, I in fact at one point had a pair of wide-ass bell bottoms, made by, (drum roll please...)
Sears.
That's right people. Sears. Oh, but wait. It gets better.
They were Archie comic book bell bottoms.
That's right people. You heard me.
Veronica and me: party time.
(Still looking on ebay for a pair of those fuckers too.)
Ryan, please tell me you aren't this guy on the freeway on a Saturday:
Chevy S-10 with mattress over the top of the roof, but just one piece of twine – and I'm being generous when I say 'twine' – around the middle while the front catches air and looks like a freakin' parabola about to lift the car off the ground.
And as you approach a Marty McFly-like 45 mph – it snaps. Your famous last words as you turn to your wife/spouse/better half-drunk friend:
"You hear something?"
;-p
Of course, there’s always the turtle pool guy with the '74 Nova and the busted rear springs going down the street sideways. Just like the back of a hook and ladder firetruck gone haywire.
THAT shit is always funny.
But not as funny as Archie pants people. No. Never as funny.
;-p
Your bag of wires is like my stash o' shopping bags: as a woman, I have one. Every woman (and gay man) has a stash of shopping bags. Sometimes, we run out and have to go to our co-workers, and they have their own stash. Because shopping bags are so fucking great when you have to carry sh*t!
m - paper or plastic?
;-p
Be careful if you have a box o' wall warts -- transformers. Turns out they're not interchangeable as I learned when I set a cable modem on fire using the wrong wart. Now I label each wall wart with tape, but there's always one labelled "unknown" -- just waiting to set another innocent appliance aflame...
anon - I will heed thy warning. Speaking of interchangable though, best thing I ever did buy at Radio Shack is still that multi-end AC adpator that fits any plug.
Just couldn’t find the damn thing that evening.
;-p
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