Remember yesterday when I mentioned that I had been joking around on Plurk this past Saturday night about what I was going to give John for Father’s Day?

One incredibly sneaky lady suggested I buy “him” a Dyson.  Quite a lovely idea, and ohhh, how I LONG to own a Dyson.  The thing is… uh.  They cost Money.  Yes, with a capital “M.”  And what I mean is, they cost A LOT of money.  More than we can afford.

I’ve heard terrible stories of a couple who tried to offer their baby up as payment for a nice vehicle that they obviously really, really wanted.  And people, I was horrified.  I mean, I was completely taken aback at how careless, heartless and sick some parents really are.  A car!?  You would give up your own flesh and blood for a structure of metal that you can ride around in?  SERIOUSLY?!  Appalling.

But if it had been a Dyson?  A DC25, maybe?  I would totally understand.

Our old POS Vacuum died about a month ago, and the carpet is now made of a blanket of my fallen hair, discarded cereal pieces, lint, random threads (where the hell do those come from???) and some unidentifiable things that I probably could identify if I really wanted to, but that I’d rather be in denial about.  It’s called “coping.”  It’s also called “gross.” 

The old POS now does no more than push dirt around the floor.  This is really handy if you’re trying to improve the whole Feng Shui of your dwelling by moving particular pieces of rubbish around the room so that they are arranged in a more harmonious and pleasing manner.  You know, so they help channel the energy through the room instead of just sticking to your damn soles when you walk through, barefoot, making you hop like an idiot to see what the hell is on your foot, then lose balance and face plant on the floor. 

Yeah.  I’m not interested in being the “vehicle” by which the accumulated carpet dreck in my house travels from room to room.  What am I?  Some kind of Tourist Trolley for Vacationing Cracker Crumbs?  I should buy a microphone and start announcing the spots of interest in our house. 

“Over here, you can see the mural Braden drew on the kitchen wall!  Lotus sure did make fun of John online for that one!  But don’t miss this!  Here’s where karma bit Lotus on the ass for making fun of John!  If we turn around and look back, we can even catch a glimpse of the stove Lotus punished.  Now, let’s head upstairs to see the former spot for the container of Evil Ones, now hidden and unused for almost two weeks….” 

Maybe someone can come stand outside the door and sell cheesy maps of the Carroll Hot Spots to the incoming Dirtatious and Pollenese Sight-Seers.

Okay, okay, the POS does more than just push dirt around.  I will have to admit that it actually does suck up a crumb or two periodically.  Then, when you lift it (just don’t lift it, for God’s sake, don’t) it spits out every piece of dirt/stink/hair/crumb/trash that has ever been on any floor you’ve ever walked on.  Never mind the fact that this is an impossibility.  It DOES.  And then all the crap that spews out of the POS flies all over the floor, even into the next room and onto THAT floor.  Pieces of long-forgotten crap hit your legs on the way out of the room, bruising you and even digging small gouges into the surface of the skin.  Crumb shaped gouges.  Soooo sexy, really.

So, you can see that I could really use a new vacuum.  And anyone who owns one will tell you, a Dyson vacuum cleaner can perform miracles.  Seriously, I heard that this one guy’s sister’s best friend’s hairdresser’s mom knew this chick who met a guy at the bus station whose dentist’s father’s next door neighbor’s daughter was brought back to life by a Dyson.  Really.  That is some heavy shit, man.

Can you tell how badly I want a Dyson?

I did enter a giveaway contest for one.  The button for it is on my left sidebar.  See that pretty Dyson?  It is literally THE EXACT MODEL I have thought of selling my soul to the devil for been wanting so badly.  It must be God playing a really mean joke on me my fate, and it’s destiny that I’ll be broken hearted come June 25 win!

I need to win this contest so badly that when I think about it, it makes me feel funny.  And not in a good way, like when you used to climb the ropes in gym class.  In a ’super panicky yet somewhat dreamlike and euphorically uplifting, while realizing that I may vomit at any moment’ kind of way. 

If you enter it too, now, and win?  I will kill you with my bare hands if you don’t give it to me out of the extreme generosity that flows from within you and the kindness of your soft, vulnerable, beating heart – as well as a deep, evolutionarily adaptive fear for your life.