with the new copy machine at school.
i want to marry it and have ten million of its babies.
no longer do i have to stand around waiting for my colleagues to finish copying packet after packet from binders the size of small children. no, seriously - their binders are only slightly smaller than the book that holds the guinness title for the largest single bound biography.
[tangent: wasn't that video compelling? i'm a bit confused as to why a photo wouldn't suffice. like panning up and down repeatedly gives the book more credibility.]
back to my love affair...
i now have push button copying from the comfort of my rickety wooden midget chair. today i had a job that required double-sided copying and stapling. i hit print. i walked to the copier. and there were the copies... hot off the presses... just waiting for me. i may have done a visible celebration
this new nerdy love affair sparked in me a synthesis of ideas which i am aptly titling my "working girl" moment. let me connect the dots for you...
DOT ONE: recently i've been thinking a lot about invention vs innovation. a braimbling which was further indulged while listening to the lovely british accent of sir james dyson, one innovator extraordinaire, on npr the other day. DOT TWO: i have been steeped in thinking about a new undertaking at school which led me to exploring the workings of several MIT media labs, including the personal robotics group. one of the projects the group is working on is playtime computing. DOT THREE: my love at first copy job moment.
so today, as i was enjoying a semi-private moment with my new girlfriend (she has to be female... she multitasks like a mofo.) waxing poetic about her versatility (this machine does just about everything imaginable. at the present time i'm imagining her mixing me a really delicious cocktail. which is just about the only thing she doesn't currently do.) i had an epiphany. there is room for innovation here. what this machine needs is a personal robot! one much like alphie. it could come out from a door in the bottom of the machine, wheel its way to my classroom, and hand deliver my copy job as i sit in my rickety wooden midget chair. now if i can connect that dot with the work of marcelo coelho, i would receive a cocktail with my copies. or at least a latte. an ice cream sundae?
"now get your bony ass out of my sight."
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