Oh, Nicki. Of all the horrible mistruths you have intentionally or unintentionally spun on this blog, that one may have been the worst. Rewrite:
Things can get lonely in a smallishly sized, extraordinarily cluttered, maddeningly devoid of color townhouse. Lonely even with an elderly albino ferret and an overenthusiastic Shepherd-Lab mix that is the living representation of Bambi on Ice. All spindly legs and enthusiasm, no coordination. Or brains. Or a mom.
|I swear he's genetically modified. Nothing found in nature can run this awkwardly.|
Well, maybe a platypus.
Well, things can get lonely unless there's a Top Chef marathon on and I've got a big ole bottle of tempranillo. Or it's Mad Men Night and I
Or, y'know, my ceiling falls down.
Well, ladies and gentlemen, there is a new man in my life.
He's dark. He's bright. He's quick. He's well-connected. And I can look at him in full sunlight without squinting.
OH HELLO LOVER.
Look at his sexy "electronic ink" display and lightweight design. Take in his sultry page-turning buttons and his oh-so-considerate different font sizes, ranging from normal to semi-geriatric (perfect for my pre-coffee I JUST WOKE UP AND I FORGOT TO TAKE MY CONTACTS OUT LAST NIGHT AND THE WORLD LOOKS FUZZY AND DISORIENTING AND WHY THE HELL DO THEY MAKE THE TWEETS SO SMALL" moments).
Yep. He's perfect. Now he just needs a name. I put out an incredibly vague twitter request ("My new Kindle/date needs a strong, masculine, and ridiculous name, something like Gustav, Pierre, or Sergei. Suggestions?") and I got some pretty good suggestions--Vladimir (Vlad), Dragomir, and Adolf. Yes, Adolf. Thanks, twitterverse.
I got it down to Anton Chekhov v. Fyodor Dostoevsky. Let's face it, Hemingway and Steinbeck just don't have the same vibe.
Writer wise, my heart belongs to Chekhov. Always will. But I love Dostoevsky and who wouldn't love a Kindle named Fyodor?
So blog poll: Anton or Chekhov or Fyodor or Dostoevsky?
My Kindle's birth certificate is in your hands.