db: Can you tickle the plastics a little more softly tonight, Thunderfingers?
ae: (natch)
ae: (pause)
ae & db: Bwaaaahahhaahahahahaahh!
Then alternate for the next 10 minutes between quiet calm and the two of us giggling up a storm and scaring the Dingo, who was trying to get some (more) shut-eye. Calm. Dying laughing. Calm. Snorting laughing. Calm. Hoots of laughter. Dingo moves to the end of the bed.
10 minutes later, db is finally trying to get situated in bed after the gigglefest:
db: My underwear is completely off.
ae: (pause)
ae & db: Bwaaaahahhaahahahahaahh!
Repeat.
In my defense, 1) it's warmer in bed. Why should I tickle the ivories--er, plastics--in the cold living room so, so, so far away? 2) db is a saint, and 3) my Apple laptop has gone all hinky*. Siiiiigh. Say it loud, say it proud: IBM makes an inferior product**. I just know someone sat in an IBM lab somewhere and said, You know, it'll sound like someone's being really productive if we make these keys loud and sticky. [Ensuing chorus of Yeah! and Hooray! and the Marketing Dept. wetting themselves.] My Powerbook on the other hand sounds like the gentlest breeze blowing across the downy fur of bunnies and kittens while cotton rains from the sky.
[*For those looking askance at the hinky Mac while the ThinkPad powers on, the poor Mac is 6 years old and has seen more travel than a Delta 747. It can't help that its battery is dying. Or something. Heck.]
[**You know I love you, don't you, ThinkPad? Niiiice, ThinkPad. Kiss-kiss. Thank you for letting me borrow you in my time of laptop need.]
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