The Talking Fridge Magnet
I was finishing my third morning cup of coffee when the fridge magnet first started talking to me. But let me begin at the beginning....
I brewed some coffee. I drank first one cup, and then another. Stuck in the middle of the New York Times crossword puzzle, I decided to pour a third cup.
Okay, you're caught up now.
So as I was saying, I was sipping my third cup of coffee when the fridge magnet first started to talk to me. Before I continue, however, let me explain a few things about fridge magnets.
Firstly, I always call them "fridge magnets", because it takes too long to say (let alone type out) "refrigerator magnets". You know? I remember from high school French that the French sometimes refer to the fridge as the "frigo." Well, actually, I guess that would be "le frigo"... or maybe "la frigo"; I was never good with gender. But I digress.
Anyway, the point is that these "fridge magnets" as I call them (remember? because "refrigerator" is too long a word. Okay) are becoming so ubiquitous that one is often hard-pressed to determine what the color of one's fridge is, due to the entire surface being obscured with said magnets and the various missives and erstwhile artwork plastered upon the aforementioned fridge (i.e. "refrigerator") held in place by the magnets in question.
Which reminds me: what was up with the 1970s and the color schemes that seem to define that decade? Avocado Green? Burnt Orange? Brown? What was up with that? And how come "brown" never got a descriptor? Why was it never, say, "Burnt Umber Brown", or maybe "Earthen Beige" or what have you? But never mind; that's not the point. My point, or rather question, remains: who ever thought those colors went together at all, let alone could stand on their own merits? There was always something disconcerting about reaching into a fridge that was colored like a faded, unripe avocado. The fact that the surface of said fridge was often covered with "burnt orange" paisley-shaped fridge magnets didn't help any.
And by "fridge" I mean "refridgerator". Just so we're clear.
But we've gotten off the track, here. Where was I? Oh yes. Fridge magnets. Every time we order pizza for delivery we get yet another fridge magnet from the pizza place. All well and good, but they're simple rectangles with the phone number of the establishment on them. To me, this is dull marketing. If I was in charge of marketing for the users of fridge magnets, I'd be a bit more creative. Pizza place, you say? Well, let's have the magnet be in the shape of a pizza. Or better yet, in the shape of a *slice* of pizza. You know, the little wedge, not a square. Yeah, I know some pizza is cut in this manner, but damn it, can't we be a bit more creative when it comes to fridge magnets?
Whatever. To get back on topic, I was having my third cup of coffee when the fridge magnet started talking to me. Damn it. I'm done with that cup.
Let me pour another and I'll get back to you.
I brewed some coffee. I drank first one cup, and then another. Stuck in the middle of the New York Times crossword puzzle, I decided to pour a third cup.
Okay, you're caught up now.
So as I was saying, I was sipping my third cup of coffee when the fridge magnet first started to talk to me. Before I continue, however, let me explain a few things about fridge magnets.
Firstly, I always call them "fridge magnets", because it takes too long to say (let alone type out) "refrigerator magnets". You know? I remember from high school French that the French sometimes refer to the fridge as the "frigo." Well, actually, I guess that would be "le frigo"... or maybe "la frigo"; I was never good with gender. But I digress.
Anyway, the point is that these "fridge magnets" as I call them (remember? because "refrigerator" is too long a word. Okay) are becoming so ubiquitous that one is often hard-pressed to determine what the color of one's fridge is, due to the entire surface being obscured with said magnets and the various missives and erstwhile artwork plastered upon the aforementioned fridge (i.e. "refrigerator") held in place by the magnets in question.
Which reminds me: what was up with the 1970s and the color schemes that seem to define that decade? Avocado Green? Burnt Orange? Brown? What was up with that? And how come "brown" never got a descriptor? Why was it never, say, "Burnt Umber Brown", or maybe "Earthen Beige" or what have you? But never mind; that's not the point. My point, or rather question, remains: who ever thought those colors went together at all, let alone could stand on their own merits? There was always something disconcerting about reaching into a fridge that was colored like a faded, unripe avocado. The fact that the surface of said fridge was often covered with "burnt orange" paisley-shaped fridge magnets didn't help any.
And by "fridge" I mean "refridgerator". Just so we're clear.
But we've gotten off the track, here. Where was I? Oh yes. Fridge magnets. Every time we order pizza for delivery we get yet another fridge magnet from the pizza place. All well and good, but they're simple rectangles with the phone number of the establishment on them. To me, this is dull marketing. If I was in charge of marketing for the users of fridge magnets, I'd be a bit more creative. Pizza place, you say? Well, let's have the magnet be in the shape of a pizza. Or better yet, in the shape of a *slice* of pizza. You know, the little wedge, not a square. Yeah, I know some pizza is cut in this manner, but damn it, can't we be a bit more creative when it comes to fridge magnets?
Whatever. To get back on topic, I was having my third cup of coffee when the fridge magnet started talking to me. Damn it. I'm done with that cup.
Let me pour another and I'll get back to you.
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