Whee...

Some ideas for Wii game titles, just in case they haven't been done yet. (I'm still building out my knowledge. For all I know they've been done.)

* Wii Curling: the thrill of curling without the ice.
* Wii Plumber: make housecalls and fix emergency leaks.
* Wii Painter: Van Gogh never had an electronic canvas.
* Wii Sculptor: carve marble, wood, or form whatever you want, and possibly even have the option to order real versions of your design.
* Wii House Painter: requires business acumen but no artistic talent.
* Wii Handyperson: now you have to diagnose the problem.
* Wii Auto Mechanic: now you're fixing cars.
* Wii Botanist: like Endless Ocean, but in the jungle, with animals you probably shouldn't pet.
* Wii Deadliest Catch: like Rock Band, but without the special toys and with lots of crab.
* Wii Dentist: like Trauma Center, but without the urgency and with lots of teeth.

Maybe I was wrong to ask for stock.

I am the proud owner of a Wii. It is the first game console I've ever owned, partly because I've been put off by the prospect of paying a premium for older graphics, partly because I've been put off by the prospect of having to keep buying new games for what was sure to become obsolete.

After all, cookbooks pay off more, don't they? And stocks pay real dividends.

Now I'm reconsidering this line of thought. A video game console is indeed something every well-rounded kid should own, along with the bookshelf of good books (containing the Anne of Green Gables, Chronicles of Narnia, and Lord of the Rings series, as well a bunch of others that escape my mind at the moment).

One weekend of suffering a strained shoulder from Wii tennis, and another weekend of carpal tunnel from Williams Pinball is downright embarrassing. Definitely something that could have been averted had I bothered to play my friends' consoles earlier in life.

I know what I want for Christmas.

Things I am coveting at the moment.

* Water boiler.
* Mango splitter.
* New music.
* Garlic press.
* Wii.
* Ice cream machine.

The hunt for the best gift.

In my opinion, the best gifts are "brilliantly useless". When you first take them out of the box, they seem pretty useless. They might waste your time, take up space, or go in the gift closet. They bear no resemblance to anything the recipient had on his/her wish list or registry. Their true value becomes apparent over time (which is why you should never, ever, clear out the gift closet). When they become valuable, they become really valuable. Not necessarily as valuable as, say, a bottle of water would be to you in the middle of the desert, but certainly valuable.

The best example of this I've received is probably a set of coasters. When I received them, I didn't have my own place, and we were inclined to set drinks directly on the furniture anyway. Now that I have my own place, they've become incredibly useful. They even match the decor, which is amazing, because I don't really have much of a decor, but they match what little there is. They get used quite often (although by the end of the evening we usually set the drinks directly on the furniture anyway; it's all in the company you keep).

I'm not sure what would be the best example of a brilliantly useless gift I've given. Possibly "The Field Guide to Stains", because I imagine it probably used up a significant amount of the recipient's time when first received (just flipping through the thing). As the years passed, it probably took up a significant amount of shelf space (it's rather thick). And eventually it because useful for obvious reasons.

For the next gift I give, I'm determined to make it as brilliantly useless as possible. I have already scrapped the first two ideas. The first because the technology is still rather new, and there's a good chance the item will become just useless in a short amount of time. The second I've almost scrapped, but not quite, because I haven't decided just how briliantly useless it will be. On the one hand, the recipient could be so incredibly well-organized and endowed with the right capacity that the item will never, ever achieve its full brilliantly useless potential. On the other hand, it could turn out to be as brilliantly useless as I think it could.

Life's a gamble, isn't it?