For those of you who have been waiting anxiously to find out what kind of point and shoot camera I would buy … you need to get out more. You’re becoming like me. Someone who used to have a life but can’t find it anymore amidst 42 pounds of laundry generated by two female offspring who think we own stock in Tide.
I did wind up buying a camera and I actually took it out of the box and used it before determining the likelihood of it staying a part of my life. This is big for me. Typically, I return all purchases of this nature without opening the package so as to lessen any chance of getting attached to it. I can’t miss what I never saw.
Like my waist. I miss my waist. I hope it comes back one day.
So far, I’ve been happy with the results of this camera.
Two very important words. Because I can use one thing for a bit and love it and wake up one morning and hate the living guts out of it. Take my DSLR camera, for instance. Please, before I ram it down my garbage disposal.
So, anyway, this is what I bought:
A Canon Powershot A1000. I bought it off of Amazon for a great price. Mine’s purple. And not that Hannah Montana FOR GOD’S SAKE, JUST THROW ACID IN MY EYES purple, but a really nice, subtle, silvery metallic purple. And if you’re going to be like Nate and ask me if I bought it because it’s pretty, I’m just going to yell “NO, MR. SMARTY PANTS” and then ignore you, so be forewarned.
I took it with me to the Community Arts Day showing this past weekend because Helena had a piece of her artwork displayed there and it was the perfect opportunity to test out the camera. I knew it would be crowded and I wasn’t going to have the luxury of telling people to get out of my way and then curse them out repeatedly when they don’t, which is standard operating procedure for me. Basically, I was going to have to point and shoot at the first opportunity and keep my potty mouth to myself.
That’s hard for me to do. I have a great potty mouth and I like to share.
Helena was only too eager to get down and point to her masterpiece. But only after I begged her to do it no less than five times and then I took this shot right before being elbowed in the back.
So I did wind up sharing my potty mouth, but just a little.
I loved Helena’s art. It’s so her … fresh and funky and cool. I love the colors she chose and the fact that she labeled her buildings and most of all, I love her clock.
I want a wonky clock like that. That way, if I’m ever late, I can shout WHAT DO YOU MEAN, I’M LATE? I’M NOT LATE. YOUR NINE IS IN THE TOTALLY WRONG SPOT, SO GET OVER YOURSELF. NOW, BECAUSE YOU SO UNJUSTLY ACCUSED ME, GO BUY ME A DONUT.
The camera color was pretty spot on. I did apply a slight curve boost in Photoshop but only because I’m an anal and compulsive freak of nature and as such, I absolutely have to tweak everything in Photoshop or else my skin will bubble up and fall off my body in big bloody clumps.
And I like that this camera fits in the palm of my hand and that I can just plop it in my pocket, if necessary. No need to have my DSLR camera swinging from my neck and slamming into my chest, calling undue attention to that most oppressive of all female body parts, the section of my anatomy I like to refer to as FOR GOD’S SAKE, WHY DO THEY KEEP GETTING BIGGER? STOP IT ALREADY.
So, I’m liking this camera. So far, it’s the bee’s knees.
I have no idea what phrase even means. I just like the sound of it. Do bees even have knees? How can you tell? And if so, what makes their knees so awesome? Somebody clue me in because if Helena ever asks me this question, I don’t want her to be misinformed. I want everything she learns about bees and their friends, the birds, to come directly from me, so it would help immensely if the information were accurate.
I’m not even going to get into that whole “I’m not spokesperson for Canon, I’m not a spokesperson for anyone” speech because I’m tired of repeating myself. Aren’t you? Aren’t you? Aren’t you?
And to prove that I’m not a Canon spokesperson, this is my dream camera:
But unless I get friendly with Vinnie Boombotz and take out a hit on Nate and collect the insurance money, it’s not going to be a part of my life anytime soon. That’s not likely to happen because I don’t know how to mow the lawn into a reasonable facsimile of a putting green, I don’t know where the blueprint is for the thermostat and I don’t do spiders. So don’t worry, Nate. You’re safe!
But hey Nikon, if you ever need a spokesperson, let me know. If I could, I’d talk until the cows came home and I’ve served them dinner and given them a bath and put them to bed.
But I can’t because I don’t own any cows.
That’s OK, though. It’s the thought that counts.