Windows XP

So,

I have two pressing matters.

One,

Felix the Ford is eating me alive.  Figures I would buy an SUV a right before the economy tanked.  I kind of have a track record with bad timing.  I bought my previous vehicle a month before 9/11 – right before all the interest rates dropped.  Go me!  This makes me kind of nervous to buy another vehicle…

Two,

Remember this kids?

My computer still operates (using the term loosely) with Windows XP.  Yes, XP, as if in invented right after the wheel and before sliced bread.  Besides running  r e a l   s l o w, it also does fun, creepy things like clicking on things I did not click on.  I’m surprised there’s not a poster with my ID hanging at the Facebook headquarters with the heading “PRO STALKER.”  I promise I’m not stalking you people!  My computer might be but I’m not.  It really wasn’t my intention to click on the page of the girl who is popping up on my nephew’s wall – a lot.  And when did I like Target?  That’s odd, I don’t remember even visiting its page let alone liking it.  It’s also a chore just to post blogs as the elves in my computer like to hide things from me.  Whenever I submit a post early, it takes five minutes and a whole lot of creative clicking for the schedule to pop up.   Plus, whenever I click on an email to read, it likes to take a step backward to the previous screen.  I guess it just wants me to be sure about my choices. 

Hmm, which matter should I take care of first?

Anyone Wanna Poke-a?

P O K E

FYI:

Do NOT start a poke war with somone who

has OCD tendencies

and who

owns a smart phone.

It is futile.  You will NOT win.

I try to ignore the message.  I try to forget about it.  But I can’t.  I MUST poke back.  I MUST keep the left side clear of notifications. 

Just so you know.

Resistence is useless.

Googling Away

I hate making decisions.  Life would be a lot easier for me and probably more enjoyable for other people if I didn’t have to make a choice.  Ever.  My decision making process is typically a three step process.  First, I agonize and worry about choosing wisely.  Second, after I make a decision I worry if I made the right choice.  This is almost always followed closely by the third step, wishing I chose differently.  Choices could very well be the death of me.  Okay, that’s a little dramatic.  Let’s just sum up, I really prefer not having to choose.

My friend Google is at the ready with any question I may have even if it’s just to settle idle curiosity.  For example, I’ve already googled Paul Hogan and Linda Kozlowski.  Yes, AMC is playing its Can’t Get Enough of…Crocodile Dundee I & II this week.  This means I have watched the same part of Crocodile Dundee II for the last three nights.  If I piqued your curiosity, Paul is about 20 years older than Linda and they have been married since 1990.

Trivial pursuits aside, Google has become a valuable tool for me to make informed (or misinformed) decisions.  Always at the ready, it’s a sophisticated 8-Ball.  It does its best to give me a plethora of options.  Although, sometimes I could do without the snooty attitude the way it corrects me.  “Did you mean…”  Is that really necessary?  If it’s smart enough to figure out an optional way of saying what I typed then couldn’t it be gracious enough to discreetly fix my error?  I should think so.

It is ever at the ready and with my iPhone easily accessed.  I can ask “What should I have for dinner?”   Sure, I still have to make a choice but it’s a matter of scanning through a page of options.  Let’s be honest, I’m easily swayed by the more alluring websites.  That cuts my decision making time by at least half. 

The other day I test drove a couple of vehicles.  I gave my phone to my niece and by the end of the drive we had an idea of the safety ratings and consumer comments.   I chose not to buy either vehicle – and I felt pretty good about it.

While planning my vacation I asked, “What is there to do in Cody?”  Before I even left for my trip I discovered the answer was, “Not a whole heck of a lot.”  It told me the route we should take and even how much I could expect to pay for gas.

“I need a job,” and “Where should I live?” are two recurring questions I like to ask.  At a moment of desperation, I even typed, “I need a life.”  No matter the question, there’s always a page of possible solutions.  And usually a correction – “Did you mean wife?”  (sigh) No, I meant life.

Google has become a verb.  Just like Xerox is synonymous with making copies, Google means researching online.  It doesn’t matter which search engine is used, “You can find anything you need by googling it.”  Too bad Bing wasn’t first because I’d rather say, “You can find anything you need by binging it.”  Oh well. 

The younger generation might pause one day and reflect, “How did the older generation ever find anything without Google?”  I had the original Google.  It was called, Mom.  My mom happened to be one the smartest people I’ve ever known.  Unfortunately, thanks to hereditary roulette, I received her temperament instead of her smarts.  Dang me!  At least with Google I now have a fighting chance in making decisions.  And pretending I’m smart.

SWF Seeks Employment at a Nonexistent Company

I want a new job.  A magical new job would work best for me.  No, I don’t expect to perform HarryPotter Houdini’s all day.  That would be a silly.  However, I do have a list of demands I’d like met.

Requirements that must be met at my next employment:

  1. I’d like to travel.  Send me anywhere, anytime.  I am ready and willing.  My dream job is to be a truck driver.  There are only a couple of small details prohibiting me from fulfilling my fantasy.  One is driving.  The second is the truck.  Okay, maybe it’s just one combined problem – driving a big ol’ truck.  I have to admit, when I see the rigs pulled over and I know the driver is all snug inside sleeping for twelve hours, I’m a little jealous. 
  2. I’d like to set my own hours.  This 8:00am stuff really doesn’t work for me.  However, I don’t like staying after 5:00pm.  So maybe, I should just work from home.  Then I could work during my, as of now, undiscovered peak times of productivity. 
  3. No accountability.  Just trust me, the work will get done.  Eventually.
  4. Overlook the whole lack of education thing.  If you really want me to receive an education, pick up the tab.  I’m not too proud to let you do that.
  5. Pay me a whole lot of money.  I’m talking, a butt load of money.  There are so many toys I want to by myself.  Car, house, truck, new computer, etc.
  6. Understand that I get bored easily.  So, 8 hours of data entry does not really jive with me.  I need lots of tasks or I will get on Facebook.
  7. Don’t get mad when I’m on Facebook.
  8. Let me use my undiscovered niche. 
  9. Let me have a window in my office.  The day feels twice as long when there is no window.
  10. An August through June work schedule sounds lovely.  July is too hot to work.

Is this too much to ask?  If I sound like I could make a valuable contribution to your company please hit like.

Facebook Stalking Anyone?

I’m not sure how I feel about Facebook yet.  Oh yeah, I’m a daily user and peruser but I have mixed feelings about it.  On one hand, it’s been fun to reconnect with old friends.  On the other, it can make me feel kinda creepy in a stalkerish sort of way.  And this isn’t the 80’s anymore.  It’s no longer cool – or romantic – to stalk anyone.  Sorry, John Cusack, your boom-box stunt would now get you arrested and a restraining order slapped on you.  Ah, the 80’s.

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The Avenging Unicorn

I am jealous.  Today a coworker brought in a present she received from a friend.  Her friend sends her the most awesome toys.  Last week she brought in a Zombie Apocalypse action figure set.  Complete with a dog running around with a severed human (er, zombie) arm.  I know what you’re thinking, how can that possibly be topped?  With three words that’s how, The Avenging Unicorn.

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A Dream is Just a Dream. Really.

I don’t put much stock into dreams.  At least, not my dreams.  I know there are websites galore to explain dreams and to provide interpretation, blah, blah, blah.

My dreams are usually a mesh-up of my day.  They are in color and typically have the feel of a movie (product of this generation, I suppose.  I wonder what dreams looked like pre-Hollywood? Do you think the ancient Greeks dreamed of constellations?).

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Little Wyo in the Big Apple

A couple weekends ago, I went to New York City for the first time.  When I told people my plans, it elicited two typical responses.  The pretentious, “I love New York!” or the “I’ve never been but I’ve always wanted to go.”   And since I suffer from MCS (Middle Child Syndrome) I milked the perceived jealousy from the second response so much it went sour.

After finding out about my impending trip, the next question was always, “How long are you staying?”  I answered the question honestly once.   At least, I started to answer it honestly once but as the words were coming out I noticed the expression on the other person’s face.  The words trailed off and I realized this needed to be answered vaguely to avoid the “Are you crazy?” question.

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I’m What You Would Call a Tender-head

My hair is always a sore subject to me.  But it has given me some stories to share.  Last night I realized I’ll be taking a big trip one week from today.  A trip during which, I will be taking lots of pictures and posing for probably an equal number.  So, I want to look cute and not like a Chia Pet.  It’s haircut time.  I looked at my calendar and realized my only options were today or Monday.

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