Batteries

You know what's really annoying in 2010? Encountering devices that still require batteries. Just when you think every knick-knack and patty-whack you own is running smooth as Santana on some variety of (ahem) Rechargeable Lithium-Ion Cell (that's what they're called--I checked), someone at the family gathering goes and hauls Taboo down off the ol' game shelf. Everyone gathers around and teams are formed but then, just as you're coming to terms with having been paired up with your illiterate cousin Stan, it's brought to your attention that the game's battery-powered buzzer--the one everyone has a gas pretending is an electric razor--has been short two double A batteries since 1996 when Uncle Mark took them out to replace the ones in his fish finder. "No worries, we can just use the Taboo Buzzer app on my iPh-," begins someone. "No!" you bark. "Few things in life bring me more pleasure than pretending to shave with that thing." Minutes later, you're front of the line at 7-Eleven blowing dust off a pack of Duracells when the cashier hits it out of the park: "Okay, you're looking at thirty-four dollars and nine cents. What'd you do, find a Walkman?"

Believe it or not I still own one of those grey, brick-like, first generation Game Boys that, despite utilizing the same graphics chip found in most lower-end Casio watches, require not two but four double A batteries. Taking it on vacation? There's half your travel budget out the window. And what's that? Your destination is that town in Alaska where the movie 30 Days of Night takes place? Well good luck making out any on-screen action without the aid of video games' answer to orthopedic headgear, the Light Boy: an attachable screen illuminator that takes an additional two double A's! That's six batteries total! In your lap! Also good luck not having your vehicle pounced on by freakishly in-shape vampires.

Then there are those devices that need BIG batteries. Batteries with names like "C," "D," and "car." A keyboard my family owns but really only hauls out at Christmas requires an astronomical amount of D batteries. Dropping the first one into the battery shaft is like dropping a stone down an abandoned well to determine how deep it is. You wait, ears perked, until at last a dull clamor is heard echoing up from the darkness. Gulp. All those batteries just so Uncle Mark can come over, tell us not to worry - he's "done a lot of practicing since last year" - and proceed with his annual defilement of "Good King Wenceslas?" I'll be upstairs playing Taboo, thanks. Assuming the buzzer works.