A Bullet in your head

"Order now and you'll get a second Baby Bullet (TM) FREE!" The woman on the screen blithely pressed a button and an entire sweet potato turned into a month's worth of puree in mere seconds. Quick camera shots of smiling babies flashed across the screen; how happy they were with their fresh, organic, hormone-, pesticide- and MSG-free mush. I was sold on the spot.

Hubby caught me eyeing the TV with what might be taken as a modicum of interest. "Oh my gawd, you're seriously considering this, aren't you?"

I'm the first to scoff at As-Seen-On-TV gadgetry, renowned for their obnoxious commercials and flimsy quality. At best, the novelty "must-have" items make for great comedy. The Snuggie I got for Christmas from my brother-in-law has become a classic inside joke. Mum is still convinced those green bags she gave us keep produce fresh, even though it's mostly just a means of containing a penicillin outbreak in the fridge. My granddad had a bookshelf lined with order-now frippery that fell apart on the first try.  Suffice to say, I needed a Baby Bullet about as much as a lobotomy.

Still, it was tempting. I don't know whether it was the smiley face on the front of it, the shiny accessories (date-dial storage cups! Kick ass!) or the look of the woman on-screen that promised me entire days of spare time because I wouldn't have to spend it all making baby food.

"Gimme the phone ..." I demanded with a growl. Then Hubby and I laughed, switched off the TV and went to bed. What a joke, we chuckled. None of that stuff ever works. Like we even need something like that.

Yeah. Like we need one.

Hmmmm ...