Friday, October 29, 2010

alarm clocks

The thing I like most about alarm clocks is probably their sound.

There's nothing quite like floating around on a sea of marshmallows as every woman who has ever rejected you comes up to apologize for not recognizing you for the ruggedly-attractive billionaire you were destined to be, cry and beg you to take them and their miserable self back, and be interrupted by what could best be described as the blast of a Soviet-era1 air raid alarm system.

This is tragic, because normally you have to concoct that sort of experience via a fake dream, aka, daydream, while you should be listening during church. Seeing it while asleep makes it appear so much more real. Especially the part where you get to turn them down because of your extremely good fortune in dating a famous singer/model/business executive/all of the above and take that suckas!

However, in reality, you are really just listening to the hellish electronic buzz some sadistic designer once designated was the noise to make people excited about the day, for reasons that are likely only understood whilst being paddled by an inebriated porcupine. I don't know what exactly prohibited the original alarm clock manufacturer from coming up with another sound, say, like, peaceful rubber duckies, or distant fog horns, or even Jennifer Aniston repeatedly proclaiming her undying fealty to you. Instead I'm stuck listening to the incessant bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

If you do have one of those alarm clocks designed by the very denizens of the dark kingdom, let me suggest you place it on the opposite side of the room from the bunk you share with your college roommate. And then you could maybe set it for 5:30 AM. And then you could maybe let it ring.

Every. Morning. For. Ten. Minutes.

And, instead of silencing it and getting up, hit the snooze.

Again.

And again.

Nope, your roommate doesn't hate you to this day and uncontrollably twitch at the memory of that pitiful existence back in the spring of 2003. No he does not.

Of course, my favorite alarm clock belonged to my old roommate Scott.2 It chirped up in an oddly mechanical Spanish voice to give us the time every morning.3 Pretty cool. Less cool when you hear its English equivalent six years later emanating from somewhere within your empty house; your roommate having left it on while out of town.

I think it took me three days of walking around with a baseball bat and permanently-wet pants looking for an autistic female robot intruder obsessed with randomly taunting me with the time before realizing what had happened.

Speaking of menacing people with baseball bats, I would like to here apologize for my participation in a near-lynching when, on the first evening of sharing a room with three other men for two months, one dude pulled out an old school double-bell alarm clock, and began winding it up. I can't really describe in full detail what happened next, as the room suddenly tinted red, but three large missionaries (hypocritically self-proclaimed charitable servants) converged on this poor man and made it plainly evident that his life would be forfeit if that clock made one solitary tick.4 He quickly put it away.

In summary, God bless the man who invented the cell phone alarm and its cacophony of soothing sounds.

1. Now, might I suggest, the next time you're about to refer to something as 'Soviet-era' in order to denigrate it, you contemplate who, exactly, you are speaking to. For example: if you are speaking to your Russian co-worker, you might consider the use of another pejorative descriptor, lest she find that deeply insulting, and then start making references to dumb fat Americans with their baseball caps and chewing gum. Just a tip.
2. Easily one of the best roommates of all time. Realizing I loved Adam Smith and Laisseiz-faire Economics, he posted a picture of Karl Marx on our wall for the entire two years we spent together, refusing to take it down. Hilarious to this day.
3. He foolishly gave it away to a woman as she departed on a church mission. I correctly predicted that, just like my favorite hat I believe I once bequeathed a former lover, it would never be returned.
4. I can plainly recall the look of fear we instilled in him. It is the same look my co-worker Sam had on her face when she came into the office around midnight during our work up to the elections of 2006. I excitedly began to tell her how I had recently just hallucinated hearing her and our other co-workers emerging from the fire escape. She made me go home.

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