First, a sincere apology to my good friend Mr. Steve Myers for not providing any visual proof that I was indeed briefly a part of the subset of species typically defined as trolls. I have agreed to go out this weekend and roll around sans clothing in a patch of poison ivy and to post pictures within days of my release from the hospital. Apparently blogging is about the continued need to up the ante in terms of "exposure" and far be it from me to disappoint. I'll detail my brief battle with cocaine in future installments.
One of my primary problems with the world currently (and believe me I've got plenty, if I can ever get a job I can't wait to retire so I can tell people about the ills of the world all day) is the facebook pop-up ad that says, "Check who searched for you." Inevitably the photo is of some scantily clad, though no doubt beneficently intelligent co-ed who has come and hither written on each of her eyes. I'd like to see a concerted effort on the part of Ad-Sense to change the pop up to something more akin to reality. Perhaps the ad accompanying the "guess who's been searching for you" could be accompanied by someone who appears grandmotherly, perhaps new to the Internet, and just curious about how to track down her erstwhile relative on the net. Or perhaps a former teacher, or strange colleague from work whose name you're not really quite sure of, but who calls you by your name on a daily basis and keeps inviting you over to check out their prominent collection of stuffed snakes.
The only other thing that troubles me these days is that I had to replace our old computer this week, replacing it with a new and updated model that doesn't appeal to me because of its distinct lack of character. Who wants a computer that actually has a battery life over 30 seconds? I already miss the mad rushes from chair to desk in an attempt to print out one sheet of paper before hibernation. I was beginning to feel that with all the coaxing and TLC that we were giving our old computer that we'd actually adopted a somewhat needy child. Quite frankly, I think all teens should not be required to carry around bags of sugar to dissuade them from having children, but should instead be required to care for an aging/dying computer. Note: this project would include trips to Best Buy and local computer specialists, checking prices, standing in lines for an hour while inexplicably at 10 A.M. in the morning Best Buy conducts some unseen construction, which seems to involve a power saw and sheet metal, at intervals roughly akin to Chinese water torture. Not a personal experience obviously. Anyhow, the sheer logistical weight of caring for this computer would no doubt put girls off the idea of ever having offspring. Besides which, the computer's "death" (accompanied by the blue screen) could give children all the benefits of dealing with mortality that is traditionally provided for by pets without any of the hassle of upchuck on your carpet, or poop on your lawn. I suppose I could go on and on about the relative benefits of owning an aging computer, the scars, the spills of coffee, the random pieces of hair occluding the use of the question mark.
Well, this whole post has me rather distraught, and I've still got to spend some time rolling around in ivy and preparing a list of questions for our realtor's to answer in order to determine who we'll be going with. I'd quote something else here, but I'm not entirely certain that I or (apologies to those I spoke with) said anything that even remotely approached being funny, interesting, worth quoting, as it was pretty much a day to get real life adult stuff accomplished. I wish someone had given me a damn bag of sugar when I was in Junior High, I've have avoided this adult mess all together and just gone to live Where the Wile Things Are.
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