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Art Colony: to the 13,572 happyroboters:THE TWILIGHT ZONE story
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
› by victoria
What is up with the duplication-triplication-endless-multiplication of the happyrobot user counter? if there really are that many robots, my strangely xenophobic-tinged mind can only hope that we have been spared an invasion of chat-happy middleschoolers with AIM (they can't type, I swear!), etc. etc.
So, some pedagogy from me for all you happyroboters:
If you're invited by a greatfriend to go out to eat somewhere, definitely go, take your b.f. along, and have a blast, and stay up until 3:30 AM in the morning watching "Star Wars", and chat 'girl talk' while being fueled up by Diet Mountain Dew. Because these things are important.
Even though I feel like Emeril used my head as the "BAM!" cutting board, it was so totally worth it to do that yesterday. Robin, you always have some wonderful surprise cooking up your sleeve--thanks for giving us a call to hang out.
I was re-reading old "Medium Pimping"s at work today (it was slow-ish, since 99.9% of everybody here is back at home in Winnettka, Illinois) and I found them strangely inspiring. Bright lights, big city, all that. I was trying to think of my own random stories about bright lights/big cities, so I think I will share one that you might enjoy:
THE TWILIGHT ZONE STORY
This must've been back in 1991, or 1992. My parents used to lead tour groups to France (since they're both brilliant, have phD's in french, etc.) and so at one point my dad is in the national french bank in Paris trying to exchange some large sum of money into francs, while my mom is dealing with my older sister and two bored rugrats (i.e., myself and my younger sister). My mom got the idea that maybe if we walked around in the bank, we wouldn't be so hyper, so we walked down the shiny polished marble stairs into the basement of the National French bank and came across this HUGE open safe door. The door itself must have been 20 feet in diameter, and you could see offices and cubicles and clerks/accountants running around inside, all in all an overwhelming scene. It immediately reminded my mom of this TWILIGHT ZONE she had seen where the protagonist, a geeky male bank worker who is perpetually pestered by his nagging wife and co-workers and never allowed to read, finally seals himself up in the bank safe for his lunch break so he can get some peace and quiet. While he's in the safe, an atomic bomb (or some kind of weapon) is dropped on his city, but he's protected from the blast effect, and when he gets out of the safe, he realizes that he has ALL the free time int eh world to read--but then he trips and breaks his glasses. The irony! or some such thing...
Anyhow, my mom remarked on the amazing similiarity between that twilight zone and the current safe in front of us, and she said that we 3 girls should pose while she took a picture with her new Olympus camera. So she did, but then these two guards saw the flash and got extremely upset...
Guards: Madame, quest-que vous faites? (Ma'am, what are you doing?
My Mom: Je prends seulement un petit photo pour un souvenir (I'm just taking a little photo for a souvenir)
Guards: Vous etes un espion! (you are a spy!)
etc. etc.
So the guards were FREAKING out and trying to steal my mom's new $300 camera, we 3 kids were getting fairly scared, and my dad had no idea what was going on.There was no reasoning with the guards, so when they left to get re-inforcements to arrest us, we fled to the Galleries Lafayette shopping complex next door. I remember hiding directly inside the sliding glass enterance across the street from the national bank, watching the guards come outside and look around angrily before stomping back inside in the rain. It was very scary. I wish I still had the "spy" photograph of the safe to share with you all, though.
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