In addition to my very busy schedule of coloring my blog and counting to four over and over with a stopwatch in hand, I have been camera shopping.
And camera shopping.
And camera shopping.
I have fondled the aluminum husks of dozens of lightweight beauties small enough to fit into my wallet's coin pouch. I considered actually testing the fit of cameras and coin purses, but realized quickly that this would also test the store's security response team. Curiosity is a poor reason to get arrested, even on an otherwise dull Monday.
I have pushed buttons both foreign and domestic, and never once managed to liquify Altoona. Or if I did, nobody complained about it.
I have asked thousands of apparently very stupid questions of hordes of teenaged salesdorks. They don't like me very much. One of them actually hid behind a counter to avoid me. Heh. Like that worked. I just walked up to that counter and leaned right on over, and took special wicked pleasure in the enormous sigh that escaped the boy.
These salesdorks, they sure have mastered the art of the expressive sigh. Their collective sighs were voluminous enough -- and noxious enough, dudes, skip the onions on the burgers for all our sakes -- to widen the hole in the ozone layer by the size of an eastern seaboard state. God help us all if I ever decide to buy a camcorder. Invest in sunblock, that's all I'm saying.
I've scoured dozens of internet review sites, most of which were useless without a camerageek-to-English dictionary. I mean, what exactly is an aperture, and why would I want one? Will it make my knitting look pretty on the screen?
Interesting side note: There isn't a teenaged boy salesdork in any camera department in the south suburban shoppingopolis who can respond to that question in an intelligent fashion. The best any of us can hope for is, "Knitting?" accompanied by a blank stare. Though one did say, "Knitting?" accompanied by a look that said, "That explains a lot." This was before he hid behind the counter.
I brought two sweaters with me, one white stockinette and one purple cables. I dare you all to photograph knitting in Best Buy. Double dog dare you. Two things will happen. First, many many innocent consumers will back slowly out of your presence. Second, one of the many clerks hiding behind the counter will emerge, white flag in hand, and volunteer to take photos of keys for you.
I don't know why either, but keys are the hot thing. Soon you will have a large collection of pictures of car keys, cabinet keys, keys to the employees' bathroom, against various backgrounds and with various cameras. This is supposed to prove something about something, but all it proved to me is that they didn't want me taking pictures of my knitting.
So where does this leave us?
I've learned that you have to spend $600 dollars for a camera, plus another $550 for a special macro lens, if you want to take a really cool picture of a key.
And I still don't actually own a camera.
But we're getting closer, if only because I will sooner or later lose patience and buy the first camera that jumps into my coin purse.
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2 comments:
Maybe we should have a SnB meeting at the local Best Buy and really freak out the muggles.
I also suggest going to Wolf Camera, as they are photographers and have experience in the biz...at least from my experience. Yet it seems with your luck you'll probably end up with another geekboy.
I have to agree with Kris. Either Wolf Camera or similar store will have on staff one or two experienced photographers that would be more than happy to work with you to find the best camera for you. Make sure they demonstrate and teach you how to 'white balance' your camera else the colors can be way off (especially with something as color rich as yarn) instead of just slightly off.
The deal with photographing keys is that most digital cameras are okay at photographing detail but generally aren't very good at correct colors. That's where the expensive professional photographer cameras are worth their cost.
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