I wish I had a Christmas-cookie making robot. Where I’d just be kicking back on the couch, get a hankering for a fresh batch of coconut macarons, and bam—the Christmas-cookie making robot delivers them straight from the abdomen-oven-atom-motherboard. Chocolate-chip oatmeal? No problem. Iced sugar cookies in the shape of adorable snowmen? Done.
The best part would be the robot wouldn’t make you wait for the cookies to cool before you could eat them. You wouldn’t have to worry about their molten centers exploding and sticking to the baking pan. There wouldn’t a blown-up kitchen full of gunky mixing bowls to clean. The robot would never yell at you for licking the spoon. In fact, the robot would gladly let you eat all the raw cookie dough your stupid heart desired. It would churn out the cookie dough through a Play-Doh Fun Factory shape ruler. You could just pull a lever, and out it comes. Best yet, you could mix flavors like you can at a FroYo shop. I think I’ve said enough.
I want you, robot.
And while the robot’s specialty would be cookies, it could also whip up a chocolate cake or authentic Belgian waffles. Perfectly-crimped empanadas. Even a batch of Pfeffernüsse. Whatever the hell that is.
Naturally, there are other things the robot could do aside from baking, including: cleaning rooms, programming VCRs (useless), making card houses (hilarious), diagnosing weird pains you’re having, and providing endless admiration and validation. I imagine this robot also having a funny assortment of hats with which to entertain us with. Oh look honey, the robot is dusting the armoire and wearing the hamburger hat!
The Christmas-cookie making robot would be an excellent motivator for when your Christmas spirit started to run low. The settings for this pep talk would range from Mister Rogers (lowest) to Jillian Michaels (high) to Ray Lewis (fetal position). The robot could use its infrared tracking skills to help you zoom in on parking spots at the mall. Use laser beams to help you MAKE a parking spot (fuck yeah!) Help you pick out jewelry for your wife. Manage your checkbook. Inform you when you had something stuck in your teeth, without making you feel self-conscious.
I need you, robot.
My robot would help in wrapping Christmas gifts. It’s an art form. A goddamn art form. If you’re good at wrapping gifts, you’re truly an artist. Then there’s the rest of us. And then there’s me. When I wrap, the paper looks like a puffy diaper hanging off the gift. The first one is never half-bad. But I spend all my patience on that first gift. For the rest of them, I’m pretty sure I exhibit all the clinical signs of ADHD.
Then this happens, perpetually: where is the tape? There it is. Now where are the scissors? Found them. Oh my god, where is the tape again? GREAT, WHERE DID THE SCISSORS GO? AGAIN?
Save me, robot. And then make me some hazelnut butterscotch bars.