Tamagotchi’d

Woo, I haven’t written on this thing for awhile, I’m very rusty. Bear with me.

Life is as unpredictable, terrible and sort of good as it always is, though I spend most of my days writing about conversational commerce and tech, which I really, really love. Who wudda thunk? Robots are going to destroy us all btw.

Anyway, that’s not the most critical issue here. I’m currently under the influence of a Tamagotchi. Remember those?

I was recently dumped, and like I usually do, I put all my thirty-something hopes and dreams into a relationship with someone who had the EQ of an executioner. We’ve all done it; I digress – back to the Tamagotchi.

In amongst my sorrow, I had to maintain my career and manage to live in a money-sucking environment like London which laughably offers savings accounts at its banks. So funny London, savings…haaaaaahahaha..okay. Have a conversation with your overpriced tomatoes first.

I also have a shopping problem, hence the Tamagotchi.

I bought it on a whim one day when I took a break from daydreaming about hitching a ride on the Mars mission, which will allow me to sleep for five years and I never have to see any of my earth ex-boyfriends again. I can be a spinster in space and thrilled about it. In my dreams, the exchange went something like this:

“Do you have a significant other you’re leaving behind? That would make you an unfavourable candidate for this position,” Elon Musk would ask.

“No, I’m alone forever,” I’d reply.

“Okay great, fit her for a Mars space suit SpaceX minions,” Musk would say.

BUT since a ticket on the Mars mission requires an astronaut-level education and millions of pounds, I got a Tamagotchi instead. Regression into your childhood is also an excellent coping mechanism when you’re miserable and alone at 32-years-old.

I remember when I got my first Tamagotchi, I was about ten and thought it was the most genius toy ever invented; I loved feeding it, cleaning up its bowel movements and exercising it so it would stay alive. I mourned when I’d forget to do all that, and it died a horrible death with lots of tortured beeping.

It gave me a reason to get up in the morning for something other than awful school. Yet again, this small robot creature is giving me a welcome distraction.

When you’re sad you need stupid; you need to busy yourself with mindless fare because if you don’t, the despair begins and you buy cake. I used to buy cake a lot during my relationship, sometimes without realising it.

“What is that?” he’d say.

“What’s what?” I’d reply.

“The huge Toblerone ice cream cake in the kitchen,” he’d retort accusingly.

“Omg,” I’d whisper under my breath. “Its happening again.”

Now, every time I want to stuff my face I feed my Tamagotchi because that Japanese sperm animal doesn’t have to fit into skinny jeans at some point…it doesn’t even have legs.

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So far I’ve managed to keep this one alive, though haven’t named it yet. I might call it something like Ariana Grande.

We all have our own paths, so far mine has been as weird and awkward as all my primary school teachers predicted it would be. But also full potential, a sentiment they’d oft scribble on my report card.

Must go, Ariana Grande needs me.

 

 

 

 

 

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