Tag Archives: Technology

The GPS Lady is Our New Magic 8-Ball !!

For decades many New-Age people have claimed that the universe sends us signs — if only we’d just tune in and pay more attention. They claim that finding feathers indicates our guardian angels are frolicking nearby and a fork-in-the-road symbolizes an important decision will need to be made. And I always scoffed, “Sure! Right! Whatever.”

Until the one fateful day this past December when I started getting profound messages (and spiritual guidance!) from the Modern Digital World. I’m not kidding! It all began rather innocently. Just like this . . .

WALKING WONDERS!

I tried to cross the street at a busy intersection while debating what to do about my unsatisfying relationship. “Should I break up with my boyfriend now or delay things until after the holidays?” I wondered aloud, while pressing the crosswalk button. Immediately the light turned red and an emphatic male robotic voice reiterated over and over again, “Wait! Wait! Wait! . . . Wait!” Startled, I looked around at the halted pedestrians patiently anticipating the traffic signal to turn and grinned broadly, realizing I had just saved a $200 therapy session. “Of course I should wait,” I mused. “After all, he might put a terrific present under the tree this year.” Never mind that we’re both Jewish.

CAR CODES!

Inside my Mazda, I caught a glimpse of my mousy brown hair in the rear-view mirror and for the umpteenth time that day contemplated, “Should I dye it blonde or go with auburn highlights?” Without missing a beat, my GPS lady wisely advised, “Take the Highlighted route.” Well, that settles that! (I guess blondes will just have to have more fun without me.) Gosh, this woo-woo stuff was actually pretty cool.

Thinking of my boyfriend waiting for me in bed, I started to connect my cellphone to my Bluetooth when it instantly blurted out, “Ready to Pair!” Well I wouldn’t go that far, but I was feeling a bit aroused at the thought of him shopping for my Chanukah present. Maybe there was something to this, “Getting Messages From Beyond” thing after all?

As I pulled into the parking lot of my next destination, I wondered if I would ever get to a place in my writing career where I would finally achieve real success? “You have arrived!” exclaimed the GPS lady enthusiastically. “Really?” I flushed with excitement. (Now if only my publisher saw it that way and sent me on a lavish book tour.)

CHECK-OUT CHARMS!

Using the self-checkout kiosk in Target, I had to admit to feeling pretty self-conscious about my appearance lately, particularly since I hadn’t been sleeping well and the skin under my eyes appeared swollen and puffy. After swiping my credit card, I entered information into the keyboard indicating I would use my own totes to carry away my purchases. “You have zero bags!” the machine comforted me. Blushing, I thanked it for the compliment on my complexion.

My next errand was clothes shopping. As I waited in the long line to pay for shirts for my boyfriend, I wondered how on earth I would know which register would be available first? Immediately a seductive computerized voice loudly announced over the P.A. system, “Cashier number 3, please!” Wow! The Electronic World certainly does have all of life’s answers! I made a mental note to set-up The Checkstand Lady Voice with The Crosswalk Man Voice, who was so diligent at his 10-9-8-7 countdown while I strode across the street. It would be a match made in digital heaven. And now I was eager to see what psychic information would come across next from another device!

MAYTAG MARVELS!

As I piled the dirty towels into the front-loading machine in my laundry room, my thoughts drifted to a possible pregnancy. My period had been erratic and it was getting rather challenging to predict. “What’s my monthly going to be like?” I asked aloud. The washer was quick to reassure me there was nothing to worry about by lighting up the control-panel with, “Normal Cycle!” Thank goodness — I was getting way too old to change diapers.

NETWORK NUANCES!

Even text messages on this special day became uncannily spiritual. Feeling stressed, I contemplated what kind of self-care I should do? Perhaps meditation or maybe a long walk on the beach? Just then I replied to my friend’s request for a good pizza parlor, prompting her to text back, “TY!” Normally I knew this acronym was just a typical social nicety, expressing gratitude. However on this unique day, I somehow recognized it didn’t stand for “Thank You,” but instead my smartphone was now an algorithm guru telling me in secret language to “Take Yoga!”

Next I made the decision to create a cool new self-image on social media. I changed my User Name, put up a hip new profile pic, then sent friend requests to all the buddies of my adult kids so I could become popular with the younger in-crowd. Upon acceptance, many of them greeted me back with a timely acronym, “WTF!” This was unbelievable! What were the odds?? Every single millennium was warmly communicating back to me, “Welcome To Facebook!”

EXTRAORDINARY ENDINGS!

Before I fell asleep that evening, I called out to Alexa, “Please wake me up at my usual time.” And she ominously confirmed back to me, “You will become Alarmed at 7 am.”  Wow. Just wow.

The next morning I was eager to tune back in to my Digital Universe of Guidance, but nothing seemed to be working. When Siri asked how she could help me, the Yelp Chinese restaurant review she directed me to was rather ordinary. Google merely gave me a synonym for “intelligent” that was actually rather dumb. My Voicemail wouldn’t play back any new messages from my boyfriend for me on my phone. And even WordPress had no wisdom to impart. At first I thought, “Status: Draft!” meant that the U.S. military would be mandatorily inducting young boys into the army again, but nope — it just meant it had saved the silly blog post I wasn’t too sure about publishing.

Sadly, all the magic emanating from my digital world had abruptly ceased. Where had it all gone? “Appliance Reliance” had turned into “Appliance Defiance.” And I was simply left with only my “Inner Navigational System” to rely on, which I now refer to as M.O.M — “My Own Mind.”

But perhaps this 24-hour accounting of unusual events will somehow help someone else out there obtain sudden flashes of intuition from their technological interactions?

Please leave me a divine comment from your mystical Apple Watch to let me know if that’s the case!

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/undulate/

Grounded From Your Own Cellphone?!

1e90696ff70a925f211d2c9e5d1d2b32It happens every single time.  I confiscate my teens’ cellphones (completely warranted and justifiable for their wrongdoings, believe me!) when inevitably I hear their incredibly plaintive (although there’s nothing plain about these dramatic waterworks!) wailings, “This is a fate worse than death. Not fair! Adults NEVER get their cell phones taken away from them — even though they abuse the privilege constantly.”

Never say “NEVER,” kids!

The next time I ground my kids from their electronics, I include myself in the same disciplinary action. Mainly to prove how much it builds character, but also out of curiosity and determination that I can survive it too!

After our three cellphones commune together in a locked trunk, (plus our laptops, iPads, notebooks, Kindles etc. because if you’re gonna build character you might as well go for constructing a superhero!) I hand the only key to our friendly mailman, (don’t ask!) and decide to keep a diary.

LIFE WITHOUT A CELLPHONE 

Day 1 – Dear Diary, the first thing I’ve noticed is that I really miss carrying a chunky, firm, substantial object that weighs me down in a reassuring self-important kind of way. How to fix? Easy Peasy Verizon Easy! I’ll just substitute a nice, shiny, heavy stone inside my jacket’s zippered pouch. Voilà!

Day 2 – Because it’s just after the holidays, today all my girlfriends show off their sleek, new gleaming technology stocking-stuffers at coffee . . . “I got an iPhone 7!” “I got a Blackberry Passport!” “I got a Samsung Galaxy.” All eyes focus expectantly on me as I slowly extract a stone-age “device” from my coat pocket and bemoan, “I got a rock.” I’ll credit Charlie Brown later, when I’m not feeling so dejected.

Day 3 – Today I announced I was going without a cellphone indefinitely to some other mothers at the gym. “Oh but your poor, pathetic family. None of them will ever be able to get a hold of you now!” pointed out one frazzled mom on a treadmill, obviously trying to empathize with my dire plight. I gave her my “seriously?” look, then burst into hysterical laughter while maniacally rubbing my hands together and gleefully repeating, “Yes, yes, YES!”

Day 4 – Tonight I silently remind myself what a newfound sense of freedom I now have! Like a little tyrant, a cellphone just barges into the middle of everything — eating, sleeping, important conversations, blogging, sex, cleaning, jogging, cooking… “You don’t clean, jog, or cook!” shout my resentful children from the hallway. How could they have heard my thoughts, I wonder?  Then I realize — even though I don’t have a silver rectangular gadget to dictate into, (out of force of habit) I must still be unconsciously talking aloud to myself. “That’s right! You are!” they retort again. “You’re not our mother. You’re like a wacky, homeless person now.”

Day 5 – Today I have been informed that even a wacky, homeless person’s children would have cellphones.

Day 6 – I was right. This experience IS building character for me!  In fact TWO very well-rounded characters! Because I suddenly have a new story idea where the antagonist grounds the protagonist from using her cellphone, causing her to lose her pics, her appointments, her to-do list, her friends, her lover, her memories, her mind, and her life! It’s a Sci-Fi Porno. The only problem is I have nothing to write it on. Normally I type my good ideas inside the little yellow notepad icon on my homepage screen.

Day 7 – Ha! All you other people out there are getting brain tumors, crashing your cars while texting, being eavesdropped on by Big Brother, and getting blackmailed for sexting — while I sit here innocently relaxing and eating some healthy fruit. How many calories are in Sour Grapes anyhow?

Day 8 – I prop myself up on my elbows and stare begrudgingly at our family’s two pet parakeets, blithely Tweeting back and forth to each other.

Day 9 – Does Facebook ever send out a search party when people go missing in action? Maybe it’s gone past that point now. A Facebook Funeral! Complete with a newsfeed obituary, eulogy comments, and privacy options so my burial won’t be broadcast live or made public. Just please “Poke” me first, Facebook — to make absolutely sure I’m completely lifeless before sending me 6 feet under with a musically accompanied slideshow of the highlights of my Posting Years.

Day 10 – What am I thinking??  “There’s nothing I used to do on my cellphone that I cannot still do in real life!” I console myself by endlessly repeating this mantra. Where’s that old cork bulletin board in the garage?  Here it is!  I viciously stab it with pushpins, hanging up scores of photos carelessly ripped from home decorating magazines. Take that! And that! Who needs Pinterest??

Day 11 – Today I couldn’t recruit a single soul to play the boardgame, “Scrabble” with me at our kitchen table. I wonder if I’ve been automatically resigned from my “Words With Friends” opponents yet?

Day 18 – Sorry it’s been so long since I’ve written an entry in here, but I’ve been busy searching for things to put together for a Cellphone Substitution Survival Kit which will replace almost everything my iPhone 6 used to do!  Turns out I’m gonna be just fine, thanks to the fact that I still own: a landline rotary phone, an answering machine, a typewriter, a radio, 3 wristwatches, a pedometer, a polaroid camera, a bank checkbook (with deposit slips!) a Rand McNally folded roadmap, local take-out restaurant menus, a kitchen timer, an alarm clock, a stopwatch, a calculator, a flashlight, a calendar, a compass, a do-not-disturb sign, a dictionary, an encyclopedia, a cookbook, The Yellow Pages phonebook, and a tooth that’s blue — not to mention I have an obedient friend named Sari, which is close enough to Siri. The only thing I couldn’t recreate was having an object to put on “airplane mode.” Oh! And I still long for the sound and sensation of a gizmo that buzzes in my purse. However now that I think about it, I sense an even more enjoyable contraption to fill my “vibrating void” will be quickly (forth)coming. (Ahem, you didn’t just read that here on my G-rated blog!)

Day 19 – Today (and only for my poor, uncreative children’s sake, of course!) it’s finally time to put an end to this lifelong lesson and reclaim our cellphones. I triumphantly make the announcement and am immediately rewarded with lots of appreciative cheers. (The loudest of which are mine.) We all gather around the locked trunk to ceremoniously open it and retrieve our precious electronic “friends.”

Oh dear, I think to myself (but somehow my kids still hear me?) — our friendly mailman possesses the one and only key to our cellphone jail and he’s gone on vacation. We can’t even text or call him. That’s right, there’s only one way to reach a US Postal Service worker . . .

And to think I don’t even own a stamp, an envelope, or a pen to put in my Cellphone Survival Kit.

Dear Readers:  What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without using your cellphone? Disastrous or peaceful?

mail carrier delivering to mailbox

 

Phone Sex . . . Your True Calling? (Part 2)

betty boopI was going to end with Part 1 (avoiding future awkward moments for my readers) but many people phoned insisting I finish what I started. Of course most of those callers were my daughters referring to their baby scrapbooks.

 For better or worse, we now return to the climax of the “HOW TO HAVE BETTER PHONE SEX” article I modified from Wiki How, posted in its original state  HERE. My additions are in Red Font.

Begin the call!

Once you have your partner on the phone, take things at a speed you’re both comfortable with. There’s no “correct” way to have phone sex.  However there is an incorrect way! Don’t put your partner on hold each time your persistent Jewish mother calls worried about your “health.” Here’s the fix: Tell her beforehand you’re keeping your line clear for a prominent physician to call. She’ll be so busy humming, “Matchmaker, Matchmaker” she’ll forget about you for hours.

  • If it helps you relax, spend a few minutes chatting before you get started… just don’t let yourselves get distracted from your sexy goal.  I like to sing, “Happy Birthday, Mr. President” to bolster my confidence and to see if blondes really do have more fun?
  • A low, soft tone of voice or heavy breathing can help set the mood, but don’t force it (if you have asthma, get your inhaler) Speaking comfortably in your normal tone of voice will be sexier than an awkwardly forced attempt at sounding sexy. In fact sometimes doing the opposite can break the ice for both of you.  Do you do a mean Rosanne Rosannadanna impersonation? Now’s the time.
 Introduce a casual topic that will segue nicely into sexy talk. Getting started is possibly the hardest part. Pick a topic that’s easy for you to bring up, but which has the potential to spiral into steamier territory. Examples:
  • How much you miss them, or wish they were with you (if  your partner leads with this, best to confirm it’s not a wrong number.)
  • What you would like to do if they were with you (Refrain from saying, “Call your mother up so you can explain why she’s not welcome at our house for dinner anymore.”)
  • What you’re wearing and how you look in it  It’s a huge turn-on to be assertive so instead of asking them the usual insecure question, turn it around into a confident “I” statement. i.e. Insist,”I know these jeans DO make my butt look fat.  Yes, they absolutely do!”  If that seems to get a rise out of them, you can berate and discipline them ala Fifty Shades of Grey. “It’s your job to tell me! Don’t you roll your eyes at me!! How could you let me go out like this?  OMG, I oughta strangle you. Would you like that??”  Mmmmmm, they would. . .
  • What you’re doing at the moment (Feel free to skip this part. They’ll never hear you filing your nails over your loud moans.)
  • How you’re feeling about starting phone sex (avoid any synonyms to “Silly”)
  • Recount how many items went missing in the last load of laundry, causing sorting and mating footwear to be difficult. Oh wait, that’s Phone Sox.
  • Escalate into sexy talk. (If you tend to loose your footing on moving staircases, Elevate into sexy talk instead.)  Once you’re feeling comfortable, try getting bolder with your descriptions. A good approach is to describe these 3 things:
  • What you’re doing: Describe how you look and the way you’re touching yourself. Be raunchy but coy! (Just don’t say, “Maybe we could do it in a Koi pond some day. Wouldn’t that be raunchy?”)
    • Ask for “advice” — for example, “should I start playing with my underwear?” (“White underwear that turned pink in the wash yet again, I kid you not! Any advice on that issue?”) Shhh, not the laundry again!  That’s only erotic the first time around.
    • Tell them what you’d like them to do, if they’re willing. (Would they be willing to buy you a Porsche? No? Bargain with them. How about just a down payment on a Honda Accord?)
    • Don’t feel bad if you’re not comfortable touching yourself — you can still let them know that you’re enjoying simply listening to them.  Or say enthusiastically, “I couldn’t wait to touch myself. And guess what I discovered? My purple nail polish is nearly dry!”
  • What you’re imagining: This could be, for example, what you’d like to be doing with your partner, or a moment from great sex the two of you experienced in the past, (make sure their recall skills are just as sharp as yours however, or you’ll be arguing whether you were the person on top during an Alaskan cruise or a Mexican holiday.
    • You might want to start out slow: begin with tame descriptions like “first, I’d stroke your hair. Btw, did you ever try that dandruff shampoo I bought you?” or “I really like the way your chest looks in a T-shirt”, (just not the one that says, “I’m with Stupid.”) before moving on to steamier things like “then I’d kiss your neck” or “remember when you did that thing in the shower?” And after that, we never had another clogged drain again!
    • As always, how explicit you get, and how quickly, is entirely up to you. Seize the control, baby! 
  • How you’re feeling: Describe the physical and emotional feelings you’re experiencing as a result of what you’re doing and/or what they’re saying.
    • Moaning is a great way to communicate. However, there’s no need to to do this if you’re uncomfortable. You can start with just letting your breath go at first, to help encourage little moans into louder moans. I think there’s a MPH (Moans per Hour) formula but I’m not sure. Moan Multiplication is complicated if your mouth math skills suck.  You could moan to the 10th power and then divide by the square root of 9 and call it a day. If you’re more right brained, Musical Moaning to Michael Jackson’s Thriller can be equally as effective.
    • Let them know when they’ve described something you particularly enjoyed. (Nordstroms, Tiffany’s, Neiman Marcus. This is called Foreplay storeplay)  Likewise, don’t be afraid to tell them when you don’t enjoy something — it’ll allow the two of you to move on to something else that you’ll both find enjoyable. Have a judging system like they do on ‘So You Think You Can Dance.’

 What Comes Next!  

  • Masturbation and orgasm . Mutual masturbation and orgasm are excellent additions to phone sex, but they’re not a requirement by any means. No worries. Just like a new driver who starts the ignition and idles in the driveway the whole entire day. It’s all good.
    • Don’t feel bad if your partner doesn’t join you in masturbating. If you don’t want to masturbate alone, ask them before you start if they’d be interested in joining you? Don’t make a sales pitch. You’re not telemarketing.  Besides, they may still harbor resentments from you demanding they leave the warm bed you share together and heading to the phone booth around the corner so you could try phone sex.  Likewise, they shouldn’t get anxious if they start masturbating and you don’t want to — you’re not obligated to join them. What do they think they’ve formed? A Mutual Masturbation Coalition?  Just enjoy listening to them pleasure themselves.
    • Don’t worry if one or both of you never reach orgasm. Think of it as the icing on the cake, rather than the goal of the exercise.  However, they may have achieved their goal so quietly, (or your ears may be failing at your age) that you didn’t hear them. In situations like this, it’s permissible to say, “Was that what I thought it was?” Warning!  Don’t say, “Come again?”  photo-75
    • If you reach orgasm before your partner has, never hush all the way up!  Brush up on the lyrics to “The Sound of Silence” by Simon & Garfunkel and serenade them. Or continue talking, describing what you’re feeling and imagining. You might want to say, “Well, I imagine you might want to come back home now?” if it’s still raining outside.
     
  • Finishing. The point at which you decide to stop is up to you. There’s no need to wait for orgasm or until you’ve built hotels on both Boardwalk and Park Place. However if you can’t discern if they’ve reached their climax (because it’s all sounding the same right about now) you may want to have an agreed upon signal that they are indeed “complete.” Walter Cronkite signed off with, “And that’s the way it is!” but I think you can do better.
    • There’s no rule as to how quickly you should end the call after finishing off. Some people prefer ending the call as soon as their breathing has gone back to normal, whereas others prefer to stay on the line and chat. Just don’t say, “Well, I hate to eat and run but….”
    • Let your partner know how much you enjoyed yourself before you end the call and that you’d like to do it again soon.  I once said, “Don’t call us, we’ll call you.”  (That didn’t go over very well.) Good Luck readers!

If this doesn’t work out, and a divorce looms in your future, I’ve got you covered there too with my brand new article on Huffington Post today right HERE.  

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But First . . . Lemme NOT Take a Selfie!

photo-405In Breaking News, the word “Selfie” has now made it into the official Scrabble Dictionary during this recent month of Aug, 2014.  And here to tell us more about the story, as well as some of the history of Selfies is our own Roving, Roaming (and Random) Reporter, Little Miss Menopause.

Thank you, News Room.  The first historical documentation of the word “Selfie” occurred in 1964 when some kid named Ralph turned around and pointed his Polaroid camera straight into his own face so he could see how bright the flash actually was.  Dressed in costume for their annual holiday family portrait, his parents framed the little overexposed, Red-Eyed Santa’s Helper, placing it on the Mantle for all to see. That night when company came for Christmas dinner, they bragged . . .

“There’s our Ralphie in a Selfie as an Elfie on the Shelfie.”

Shouldn't these be called "Woofies?"

Shouldn’t these be called “Woofies?”

But today, as cell phone camera popularity surges, the Selfie has become the sort of photography phenomenon that nobody can escape.  I myself, feel that taking portraits should be something intimate and beautiful that’s only shared between two loving and committed people, the Professional Shooter and the Subject – –  but if our society is okay with Technological Masturbation, who am I to argue?

However, many have not anticipated the newest strict laws sweeping the nation.  The Selfie format will quickly be replacing all prior cases where professional photography was previously used and in some cases, legally mandated.  Examples of this will soon be found in your local Department of Motor Vehicles, Passport Offices, County Jails, and even Playboy Magazine.  So how might these professional photographers (who are soon to become jobless) feel about these laws? Listen to my brief interviews.

First I talked with Dick Handle, Head Photographer at Playboy Magazine:

“I don’t know, Little Miss Menopause.  It’s really not gonna work.  First of all, one of the reasons men buy Playboy is because they know a male is posing these girls – – Guys instinctively know what other men wanna see.  If women take their own Selfie and that becomes the centerfold, it’s gonna be all fashion oriented with close-ups of their purses and shoes.  I don’t know any healthy red-blooded male who wants to see a pair of shoes over a pair of bongos like yours.  Know what I mean, heh heh?”

Um, Sorta.  Additionally, Mr. Handle has these suggestions to share, should the “Do It YourSelfie” laws take effect.

TIPS FOR PLAYBOY CENTERFOLD SELFIES

Bring your own high speed Fan and Favorite Cleavage Faker bra.  Look seductively into the lens, lick your lips, and choose one of the following phrases to shout flirtatiously at yourself, while wolf-whistling:

a)  Show me that sexy little pout!

b)  That’s it Baby, the camera loves you!

c)  C’mon Sweetheart, Arch your back – – close your eyes and say “Super Bowl Sunday.”

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Over at the California Crowded Community Criminal County Concourse Correctional Center where they Charge Creepers with Crimes, I spoke with Melvin Mugsly who asked me to say that last sentence three times in a row, quickly.  Just kidding, he actually asked me if he could comment on what would take place if all Alleged incoming Bad Guys took their own official Mug Shots.  And he doesn’t mean pictures to be printed on Starbucks coffee cups, either.

“So you’re tellin’ me some dude who just got brung in from holding up Bank of America is gonna strut into a booth, with a mirror so they can go all pretty boy and smile nice for their Selfie Booking Picture?  I don’t think that’s right, Man.  They be all slumpin’ down in front of the height wall so they look shorter and shit.  Oh, I get what’s happenin’ now!  This here’s one of them joke shows.  Looky here.  This is Candid Camera, right?  I always wanted to be on that thing.”

Not quite Mr. Mugsly.  However he does bring up a good point.  How will these Selfie 10 Most Wanted Posters hanging on walls in the post office, appear to customers?  Gone will be that fierce, “You don’t want to run into me in a dark alley” grimace and instead, many of them might very well look like our own husbands after they mow the lawn and are demanding sex, eh ladies? (But we all know he’ll settle for a cold beer!)

How do we know he's really not a midget wearing high heels? Selfie Mug Shots will be very deceiving.

How do we know he’s really not a midget wearing high heels? Selfie Mug Shots will be very deceiving.

Next I chatted with Miss Daisy Driver (no relation to Driving Miss Daisy) at the Department of Motor Vehicles and asked her what will happen when people are allowed to snap their own photo for their official driver’s license picture?

“Well, I really don’t think it’s going to change anything at all.  People are already coming in here and writing the answers to “what should you do when you come to a four-way stop?” on their hands so they can pass the test.  Everybody has the eye chart completely memorized so they won’t have to wear glasses.  Women are constantly fudging their weight on the form.  I don’t see what difference it’s going to make if their Selfie picture actually looks half decent, instead of looking like a mutant squashed alien with limp hair and dreadful skin.”

Before I wrap up my feature story, let me just say that there’s also been talk of Selfies infiltrating into the Baby Photography industry.  Instead of professional grown-ups hiding behind expensive equipment with a black velvet cloth draped over it, exclaiming “Say Cheese!” there will be special toy cameras, perhaps a bit more sophisticated than the one pictured below.  Children will be encouraged to jingle a set of keys at themselves, while making goofy clucking sounds with their lips to coax themselves into their first real smiles.  Asian Child Photographer (and chef!)  Goo Goo Ga-Ga Gai Pan was unavailable for comment.

This has been a special featured story from your Roving, Raving (and Writhing!) Reporter, Little Miss Menopause.  And now. . . Back to you.

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This Text Has Me Vexed And Perplexed!

photo-382A few weeks ago, I let you have a glimpse into the email box of a 50 year old woman – – Me!   It wasn’t pretty.  So I decided that revealing my texts from this past week couldn’t be any worse.  Disclaimer:  I deleted all my complex Sext Texts rejects to this guy, Rex (you should see him flex his Pecs!) so I wouldn’t lose your respects.

Forget Vexing & Perplexing!?  Where is My Sextng?!

 

1.  We’ll start with my 16 year old – – needs no further explanation.

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2.  My Ex-Husband is still trying to move on.  I once wrote a dating profile for him right here.

 

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 3.  My 21 year-old son 

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4.  In the middle of all this, I had a thoroughly delightful conversation with my younger kid’s teacher.

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5.  And then my own mother. . . she’s 72.  Oh, and we’re Jewish.  Need I say more?

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6.  So of course I had to do the right thing.  Hmmph.

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7.  Naturally my “friend” Tiffany gave me lots of “empathy.”  You can read more about Tiffany HERE.

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8.   And the other 21 year-old son now.  (Yep, twins)

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9.   My own Mother once again texted (obviously recovered enough to get out and about) so I decided “if I can’t beat ’em, then I would join ’em!”

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10.  And I’ll close with another text between my teenage daughter (miraculously not about shopping) – –  I initiated it this time!

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So there you have it – – My Racy Text Life.  And how’s yours these days???

 

 

So . . . The Dog Ate Your Email?

"I'm lost and I have important info!"

“I’m lost and I have important info!”

The glint of something oblong and shiny in the bushes caught my eye as I strolled with my dog through a nearby park.  When I bent to check it out, I was surprised to find an egg.  This wasn’t the Homeowners in my neighborhood’s idea of offering a hearty free breakfast for the residents – – No, this was a plastic remnant from an Easter Egg Hunt.  I shook the contents of the pearly pink shell and it rattled.  Hopefully those are Skittles and not M&M’s, I thought, or the insides will be a chocolate mess (we’ve had 100 degree weather since April) but when I pried it open, instead of the jelly beans, my focus became the note.

Ava:  I hope you enjoy this one last sweet treat from a Nana who loves you!

My writer’s mind went to work.   Was Ava getting too old for egg hunts?  Did she develop a serious case of diabetes?  Was Nana terminally ill?  Was this the one and only egg that contained those loving, parting words from a grandmother to her grandchild and I was the wrong person holding it?

Recently I have been both the sender and receiver of many text messages and emails that were never received.  This is a real problem with technology because you don’t realize your words are not being transmitted and you end up feeling ignored or unacknowledged.

Worse, crucial information that would have impacted an important outcome has gone missing and nobody knows it.

Once I drove two hours to pick up a child who cheerfully announced, “Thanks Mom, but I texted you earlier to let you know I already had a ride home.”

I have lost blogging jobs because I never received an email telling me I needed to submit a sample of my writing before a specific deadline.

I have sent an apology and told someone I loved them dearly only to have them proceed as if we were parting ways.  (Granted that would have been better verbalized in person, but you know us gun shy writers.)

Let’s look at how outcomes in history would be altered if certain communications had come across as they were intended.

 

DIDN’T YOU GET THE MEMO???

 

Dear Prince Charming – – I heard you found a high heel slipper at your ball.  That would be mine!  I’m going through some glandular stuff right now, so I might look a little “different” when next we rendezvous.  But rest assured . . .  that’s MY size 6 Jimmy Choo and there’s no need to send some Duke Dude with a foot fetish throughout your land, searching high and low.   See ya at our wedding!

Drizella

ps.  Beware of sooty-faced Gold-Digger girls with petite feet nicknamed Cindy.

 

Garfunkel,

I’m skipping the Scarborough Fair today.  But I’ve been thinking – – Crooning about “The Sound of Silence” makes no sense. Let’s do the piece in sign language.  Also, “Like a Bridge Over Troubled Water”   –  meh, I dunno – – really?   How about “Like a Bathmat Over Soggy Carpet, I will Lay Me Down?”  And finally, that Mrs Robinson chick is one Hot Mama!  I say we draw guitar picks to see who’s gonna be “Feelin’ Groovy” with her tonight!

Simon

 

photo-374My Darling Barbie – – As much as I love your va-va voom measurements, maybe we should give all the females in this country a break. You should probably start eating.  Outback Steakhouse at 7 pm?

Ken

 

Sonny,

Pick up a Barbie for Chastity on your way home from skiing today.  I’m thinking our daughter should be playing with dolls a little more.

Cher

 

Siskel~

We better give “Terms Of Endearment” two thumbs up.  I’ve heard that Karma can be a real bitch.

Ebert

 

Okay Peter,

Will you just grow up already?  And stop with the Flying Fad.  United Airlines offers round-trips for less than the cost of a Pirate’s Booty.  Besides, we could partner up and have a great career in Peanut Butter.  I promise to split the profits fairy fairly.

Tinkerbell

 

Shalom Dr. Seuss:

It has come to our attention you are planning on publishing a book that might mislead quite a number of children down the wrong path with its title and subject matter.  We respectfully ask you to consider “Green Eggs and Brisket” instead.

National Council of Jewish Mothers

 

Hey Abbott~

I am so over talking about baseball ad nauseam.  Let’s go bowling tonight instead.  How does that strike you?

Finally, "Hu" IS on first!

Finally, “Hu” really IS on first!

Costello

 

To Dorothy (and your little dog ToTo too!)

I don’t mean you any harm.  I’m really a Goth clothing designer and the Ruby shoes are just what I need for this new black gown I’m manufacturing.  The message in the sky was not supposed to say “Surrender Dorothy!” it was supposed to read, “Suspender Dorothy!”   My little fashion tip to you (with all that blue gingham you’ve got going on!)  Sheesh, where is the Giant Etch-a Sketch when you need to fix a Cloud Typo?  See you on Broadway in Wicked!

What a world!

Elphaba

 

Siegfried,

Just watched a Wizard of Oz rerun – – “Lions and TIGERS and bears….Oh My God!”

Roy

 

Adam & Eve,

Forgot to mention that Apples are now on the Dirty Dozen List of produce and should only be eaten if they are certified USDA Organic or with the skin peeled.  To be safe, I’d pass on all of ’em.   And talking Serpents?  In what whose Universe??

Your One & Only,

God

 

Our Beloved Snow White,

We have a feeling you need to study your bible more, particularly looking into the Adam and Eve skit referenced above.  An Apple is always a metaphor for something bad.  We’re working late in the mine tonight and don’t plan on building any glass coffins to stand watch over a maiden, no matter how pale her skin – – So don’t wait up for us.  Sleep well.

The Seven Dwarfs

 

This Easter Egg didn't have my name on it...

This Easter Egg didn’t have my name on it…

Oh, and it was with great sentimentality that I posted a “Lost & Found” notice on our neighborhood bulletin board to see if I could return the wayward Easter Egg to the poor little ill-fated Ava or her affectionate (but not long for this world) Nana.  I left my cell number so they could message me.

This morning an acne-faced teenage girl showed up on my doorstep making sure I knew I could eat all those Jelly Beans myself.   It was too late for her.  She has a full set of braces now.

I never got that text.

How has a lost email/text or missed voicemail messed up your life?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Remember Liquid Paper?

photo-259I was very mean to my mother.  When I was 17, we got a new IBM Selectric typewriter with automatic corrections and I gleefully threw the little bottle of White-Out away.  We also got a VCR (Video Cassette Recorder) and I smugly taped all my favorite shows, getting frustrated that she couldn’t learn how everything worked when I explained it all.  My mother stood by watching helplessly from that day on; incompetent to type without her old manual typewriter and unable to watch her Days of Our Lives soap opera with the complex remote controls.   But she had a prophecy:

One day when new inventions come out, you’ll have a child who is impatient with you.  And I’ll just call you up and laugh.  And laugh.

photo-258Today is that day.  I have a used Mac.  Someone gave it to me.   In my world, Mac is an expensive brand of cosmetics, a Big fast-food hamburger or a really cranky cab driver.  Apparently it is also a different kind of computer. Not only do I have this confusing Mac, but I also have three sons away at college who are technologically gifted.  Listen to the following phone call.

Youngest Son – – Mom,  we’ve been at this for over an hour. I have to get to class.  There are professionals who will come to your house and help you.  But I’m not “The Geek Squad.”

Me – –  Yeah, you’re more like “The Bleak Squad.”  If you could just explain it one last time – –  I promise I’ll get it.  All I want to do is write a post on my blog.  Please??  So at the bottom left of my screen, I double click the thing with the little thingy and the funny blue face, right?

Youngest Son – –  (long pause)  The thing with the little thingy.  Yeeeeaaah.  Listen, what is your ultimate goal here?  To share your humor, right?   Have you ever considered doing stand-up comedy?

I offer him my homemade lasagne if he’ll just come to the house and help me get things set up.  He asks if it’s the same recipe he remembers from living at home?  After I confirm it is, he tells me we have a bad connection, but he thinks his brother might be hungry.

In the time it takes me to search for my middle son’s number in my contacts list and refresh my memory with how to use Skype, his brother has already sent him a “Mom’s on the loose with her new Mac!” warning text.

Middle Son – – Hello Mom.  I Already ate. The thing with the Blue Face is called Your Finder.  That’s like your old “Start Up.”  But you have a great stage presence.  You could do a funny helpless routine that would make Jerry Seinfeld jealous.  Gotta go.

Me – –  Okay, Just tell me one thing. When I click on the cute little fruit with the bite taken out of it on the upper left corner and there’s a “Sleep” option, will that help with my insomnia?

Middle Son – – Click.

I explore on my own and manage to figure out that I’m now in a Garage Band and I already have a reputation for being a “Quick Time Player.”  I have a fear of tigers, so I don’t even think about clicking on “Safari.”

But I’m certain that my firstborn child won’t let me down.

Oldest Son – –  No!  Didn’t you hear me??  You cannot press, “Control, Alt, Delete” anymore!

Me – – So how do I stop that pretty iridescent disk from just spinning around and around??

Oldest Son – – Think of it like your old hourglass.  You just have to wait patiently.

Me – – Well, can I still “Escape?’

Oldest Son – – (Sigh)  Yes.  Yes,  you can Mom.  But unfortunately it’s too late for me to.

While the intelligent child that I taught to read (once upon a time ago) gets more and more sarcastic with me (and I get no help whatsoever) I receive a text from my mother, now 71 years old.

My three sons must’ve taught her how to type “LOL”.  Because that’s all it says.  Again and again – – as the Elton John song from the Lion King movie loudly blares from my cellphone, “The Circle of Life!”    Touché.photo-257