My 80s Hazzard

Though I often bemoan the fact that my wife grew up in a communist wasteland, sheltered from the 80s, I have, from time to time, realized at least one benefit. I have been fortunate to have introduced her to many 80s concepts, and have borne witness to the same awe and rapture I must have felt so many years ago.

Me: Honey, *tee hee*, you know what would be cool?

Alex: Vut?

Me: Well, what if, instead of getting haircuts at the salon, *tee hee*, we cut the hair at home ourselves?

Alex: Vut about mess? Leetle hairs everyvhere? And vut about length? How vould you know vhen to stop in back?

Me: Well, imagine this: I could invent hair clippers of various sizes that we could then attach to the hose of our vacuum cleaner. The vacuum cleaner would suck in the hair to the desired length, and anything that was cut would be sucked into it! No mess! Perfect length every time!

Alex: Ooooh! Dees good idea!

Me: I know! I was thinking about calling it a flowbee. *tee hee*.

Alex: Flowbee? Vy the hell you call it Flowbee? Flowbee stoopid name. Sound like Ceausescu torture device.

Me: But you like the concept, right?

Alex: Da. Concept fine, but name mean everytheeng. You theenk I marry you if you named Cooter?

And as she walked away in disgust, I guess she taught me a kind of lesson, too. You can dream the impossible dream, you can fight the unbeatable foe, you can even run where the brave dare not go, but if you call your invention a flowbee your Romanian wife will smite you.

Cue the music.

…someday, the mountain might get’em but the law never will…