You know that moment when you’re scrolling through Amazon at 3 AM, you’ve already bought a personalized garden gnome for your ex-wife’s new porch, and then you see it: “Personality that pops with Logitech.” And you think, “Yeah, that’s what I need. I need my personality to pop. Right up my back end.” I’ve been seeing my boyfriend’s kids every other weekend, and they have this way of looking at me like I’m a gently used couch from a garage sale. So when this little plastic personality injector arrived — $109.99, which is cheaper than therapy — I figured, why not? It’s basically a Logitech product with some sort of spicy personality firmware, and at that price, I assumed it was programmed to be at least charming.
The box says it’s for “rectal use” — no wait, it doesn’t. I’m just projecting my own hopes and dreams onto consumer electronics. But let me tell you, trying this was a mistake ryobi mechanical keyboard style. You see, I also own a Ryobi Mechanical Keyboard, because I thought maybe building a desktop setup would impress the kids. Spoiler: it didn’t. They said “that’s loud, Dad’s girlfriend.” But this Logitech personality thing? I thought, finally, something that makes me not just the woman who ruins their Game Night with gluten-free snacks.
The “personality that pops” feature, as far as I can tell, just plays a pre-recorded laugh track every time you press a button. Not ideal for a rectal use scenario. I strapped it to my lower back with Velcro and elastic waistband — a look I’ll call “failed office dystopian chic.” It emitted a tinny “ha ha!” every time I bent over to get a sippy cup. The Ryobi Mechanical Keyboard under $109.99, by contrast, just sits there and takes it. I want that from a product. I don’t want it to pop, I want it to be passive and slightly warm. This Logitech thing has too much personality for that region.
The Amazon page says “personality that pops with Logitech.” But after 47 minutes of experimentation — which involved sitting on it, apologizing to it, and ultimately burying it in the backyard under a fake fern — I can confirm it’s not meant for that. The battery compartment leaks little lithium-flavored giggles into your lower intestines. I gave myself a temporary personality that pops, but it was mostly just tears and regret.
