The Lighter Side

My iPhone competes me. It had me at hello. It makes me want to be a better (wo)man.

Virginia Heffernan wrote in today’s New York Times Magazine, “I Hate My iPhone.” Them’s fightin’ words in my book.

Here’s my letter:

In proclaiming that she hates the iPhone, Virginia Heffernan has uncovered a new addition to the list of quintessential soul-defining dichotomies: Yankees vs. Red Sox, cats vs. dogs, Beatles vs. Stones, iPhone vs. Blackberry. Tell me which you are and I know everything I need to about you. I am an iPhone. Since Heffernan has staked her claim in the Blackberry camp, I can only assume that she also hates rainbows, sleeping babies, world peace, and true love.

‘Nuff said.

Yesterday, the New York Times ran article about marital discord caused by couples disagreeing about the order of their Netflix queue. (Found HERE.) My hubby and I happen to heavy Netflix users, though neither of us actually watch movies. We are tired, and thus tend to fall asleep about 25 minutes into even the most riveting blockbuster.  We do however, both watch DVDs on the treadmill. There are several series that I only allow myself to watch while chugging along at least 4.0 on the speed button. In my case, the promise of seeing Jack Bauer or Sydney Bristow kicking the living daylights out of some bad guy is the single motivating factor in my exercise regime. Hubby prefers reliving the misadventures of Tony Soprano. Ewww. I prefer my gratuitous violence without all the nasty language.

We knew from the get-go that merging out Netflix queues would be fitness suicide. We have always kept separate queues. The Times article calls this Netflix divorce, though I prefer to think of it as Netflix separate vacations. The reader comments posted about this article online were primarily observations about the sorry state of modern marriage (How can you get married if you can’t agree on a flim?). Those commenters must have been newlyweds. Anyone who has more than two or three years worth of wedded compromise bliss under their belts knows that if you’re still talking to each other enough to argue about your movie queue then your union is solid indeed.

Beyond that, the “sorry state” writers were missing the tone of the article. It was fun and lighthearted social commentary. Letters about lighthearted articles need to be lighthearted in tone as well. But you can’t just say, “Hey, I totally related to your article. It made me laugh at me,” because that’s boring. In my mind, the way to get a letter published about a fun human interest story is to up the fun ante — take it to the next level.

Here’s what I sent the Times:

Regarding Michael Wilson’s Sunday Styles article 3/29/09, “Hey, Who Ordered Gigli?”

Not only did my husband Netflix divorce me years ago, my children are now petitioning to become Netflix emancipated minors. Apparently, as a woman who orders The Hours, I need a queue of my own.

The facts of this are not entirely true. My kids have no interest in Netflix because they’re too busy downloading iCarly from iTunes. And while I did read the Virginia Woolf homage, The Hours, in my book group, I never did order it. I’d just fall asleep.

However, I do think it works as a letter. It’s very short — no one wants to read 200 words about someone else’s ideosyncracies in response to a fluff piece. Instead, my letter takes the fluff commentary to the next level. What’s the logical extreme of divorce? Emancipated children? And I give that little play on words there, which should make those intellectual types at the Times smile.

At least I hope so.