The Week That Was: iPad? We Choose Cadbury Cream Eggs

cadbury creme egg single 2 The Week That Was: iPad? We Choose Cadbury Cream EggsFine: Apple unleashed its iPad upon the world. We have elected not to care.

The only piece of technology for which we ever experienced a visceral craving was the Tamagotchi, circa 1996. That bright plastic egg was so intensely desirable that we almost wanted to eat it, or at least squeeze it very hard in our hand all the time.

It did not take much to please us in those days—just an LCD screen and an endlessly bobbling pet alien. We would advise those yearning for iPads to seek satisfaction in simpler pleasures.

This week found us once again faced with tasty-seeming egg items. Driven by a sense of atavistic compulsion, we purchased a Cadbury Creme egg. We thought we remembered these being kind of disgusting, but no! They are wonderful, especially if consumed while reading fat fashion magazines. Or ancient Laurie Colwin paperbacks. Or Star. An iPad would have gotten all smeary.

And, in the interest of cultural balance: Over her plate of no-tortilla huevos rancheros, a friend explained to us the concept of matzoh brei. Although we do not entirely understand how crackers can become French toast, this sounds like something worth investigating.

We are not very well informed on the workings of either Easter or Passover, but we know this much is true: We approve of Easter bonnets, even on adults. Generally we feel that hats are the outward manifestation of poor judgment (why, why are you doing that? Could your head possibly be cold enough to justify looking so stupid?), but on Easter, even hats charmed us.

In other surprising seasonal developments, we considered joining a CSA, the better to appreciate earth’s bounty. We imagined ourselves a few months from now, laden with summer squash and peaches. Perhaps at that time we would wear exclusively floaty linen garments. But in any case, not yet.

For now we wear pants and eat supermarket asparagus, and we have conversations about the correct way to pronounce “Treme“: hint, not like “extreme,” although as soon as we began thinking that, it was impossible to stop.

Also discussed over asparagus were Breaking Upwards and Tiny Furniture, although ultimately we concluded that if we wished to feel shitty we might as well go all out and see Joan of Arc at MoMA, or the “Newspaper Movies” series at Film Forum.

This is where our education has left us, evidently. Also: better-educated women are more likely to drink more (true of men, too, but less so), and Yale students are no longer permitted to sleep with professors, a blow to morale that may prevent Harold Bloom’s anticipated return to teaching this fall.

All the life outside (flowers, even!) makes work unduly taxing. The only thing that cheers us is that unpaid interns are the true April fools, and those days are behind us forever.

Yes, just as New York–bound students were cementing their summer plans, the Labor Department decided it was not too keen on this whole “unpaid internship” thing. And if said interns plan to seek work in “media,” God help them; even if they eventually acquire paid jobs, The Times will dismiss them as a “gossip bloggers.”

But The Times does not only ruin hopes; occasionally, The Times provides inspiration. Someday, maybe we can grow up to be like David Remnick, greatest human ever who lived. We are heartened to learn that all it takes to produce a critically lauded book while working full time is coffee and a little gumption. David Remnick, we are dedicating our first novel to you!

mfischer@observer.com