Birthdays

Got together with Bobo e Anner last night for a double-dip birthday dinner (bobo & the wife both being Libras). We gorged on Indian food and I taunted the three pill-poppers at the table by enjoying a delicious Indian beer (I echo this reviewers perspicacious comment, "I have been drinking beers for ages and Golden Eagle beer is one of the most exotic beer I ever drinked. i definetly recommend trying.").

I got Bobo a bitchin' three-volume version of the Codex Borgia (if you're my friend, you'd better love books...because that's what you're getting. Well, unless I make you a CD...but bobo shuns such musty old tech).

Erin has been burning with jealousy since my 40th birthday yielded an iPod. The fire was extinguished last night, with the arrival of this beauty:


I would have bet cash money the wife wasn't capable of squealing in girlish delight...showing the same kind of oddsmaking brilliance that led me to pick Zab Judah over Floyd Mayweather Jr.

"It's so SMALL!" she exclaimed in tones of wonder and awe, as if beholding a dainty saint's knucklebone nested on velvet in some Italian ossuary.

A testament to why Apple rules the word of digital audio:
my technophobe wife, who eyes anything more complex than a toaster with the sort of contempt most reserve for child molesters and who views the television remote as a personal and ongoing Battle of Verdun, figured it out by herself in less than five minutes.

Well, I loaded the music for her...but she deciphered the control system on her own.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is the definition of 'intuitive'.