We all want things that are not, perhaps, practical. A cocktail dress, for instance, is not the most practical item of clothing for an Alaskan girl who never, ever goes to cocktail parties, but I have several. I also have several huge cocktail rings. If I’m not getting any use out of the dresses, why buy rings? Uh, because I needed a gigantic enameled flower ring that matches my gorgeous black cocktail dress that is currently languishing unworn in my closet. It’s a theoretical outfit. And it looks damn good on me, theoretically.
Continuing in this vein, I know it’s not practical and that I probably wouldn’t use it, but I want a typewriter, and I want it now. I want it yesterday.
I know it’s silly, not least because I HAVE A COMPUTER, but my computer is not pink, ok? And the keys on my computer do not make the satisfying clack that a typewriter makes. My computer does not have little arms that pop up and leave their mark on paper, clickety clack. My computer does not make a cheerful little ringing noise when I hit the return key. My computer doesn’t even have a return key. When I reach the end of a line, it begins a new one automatically. And I must be a total ingrate, because I want a return key with a little bell.
But vintager typewriters are tres expensive. Some people are charging $500 for them, and I’m like seriously? You want $500 for that anachronistic heap of scrap metal? How about $450? Can you take a personal check?
If I had a typewriter, I would obviously also have gorgeous hair. I would listen to Glen Miller on the Hi-Fi whilst writing the Great American Novel, clickety clack. Yep, me and Dorothy Parker, with our trusty typewriters.
I could be just like Dorothy Parker except with better hair. And I wouldn’t swallow a bottle of shoe polish. Come to think of it, I’d rather be like a more contemporary acerbic wit.
Oh Tina Fey. I want to be you when I grow up. And I want that typewriter, even though I know for a fact that you write scenes for 30 Rock on a Mac.