Wednesday, June 24, 2015

Wrong Place, Wrong Time


Except not an iPhone.  Fuck iPhones.



Oh. Em. Gee.  You guuuuuuys, I flippin' HATE technology.

I'm serious.

Or maybe it's just cell phones.

And computers.

And the internet.

Facebook.

Google.  (who is spying on all of us, guys, for serious!!)



http://www.msn.com/en-us/news/technology/google-eavesdropping-tool-installed-on-computers-without-permission/ar-AAc1CpO



Tumblr, Twitter, Flicker, blah, blah, blah.
(Random thought--maybe there should be a website called Dickr where dudes post pictures of their junk and you can decide whether or not you want to date them based on their manly bits. Too much?)



I hate cell phones. 


Wait, let me re-phrase that.  I fucking hate cell phones.



I am pretty sure I was the last person in the world to even get a cell phone.  I had one for work for ages, but I resisted having a personal one until....I am pretty sure it was 2006.  And the only reason I got one then is that I was knocked up, and everyone insisted that it was a medical necessity. 

By the time my pregnancy came to its horrifying and messy conclusion, I was completely addicted to the Tetris and would no more consider getting rid of it than my child.

Yesssssssssssssssssss!!!



Sadly, I lost that phone.  And the next phone had an improved Tetris that I did not like the graphics on.
 But it DID have Zuma. 

Addicted.  Phone stays.

But then I lost that phone. The next phone got dropped in a bleach bucket at work. 
The next one got dropped in the sink while I was washing my hands and talking on the phone. 
Lost on a hike.
Dropped in the lake.
Dropped in the bathtub.
iPhone for Christmas repossessed by my ex and re-gifted to his daughter as a birthday present. (not kidding)
Thrown in a storm drain when said ex would not stop texting me after a year.  Changed my number when I got a new phone.
Left at the river.



So, yeah....................  Phones, it would seem, so not like me so much either.



I am wondering if I should even get another phone.  Or if I do, maybe I should pull a Joker and have it surgically inserted under my skin....sans bomb, natch!



The sad thing about losing my stupid phone this last time is that someone had access to my bank account, my Facebook, and my text messages for about 18 hours. 

MY TEXT MESSAGES. 



Mother of God.



I think there are 2 kinds of people in this world.  People who can let someone read their texts without total shame and humiliation, and people who can't.



Three guesses as to which category I am in......



I don't have naked pictures of me on my phone, cuz EW!



But a couple of my more friendly friends have been known to, on occasion, send me pictures of their junk.  Ususally I delete them.  Actually, I delete them all.





Except one person's.  Because TC, guys, T. fucking. C. 



I don't really 'sext' either. 



I totally do this!


Okay, maybe I do.  I just Googled 'sexting' and it would appear I may have.  I always thought that sexting was like phone sex.  I just talk about sex via text, but there is no gory "Oh, baby, spank me harder" messages.  So, I consider myself a non-sexter. 

 And also a cell phone loser.  In every sense of that word. 



I also can't stand ebooks and Kindles. 



Kindles are not books you guys.  NOT. BOOKS. 



Fuck. You. Kindle.



You can't walk into a Kindle store and smell that gorgeous, sweet, papery, tangy smell that old bookstores have.  You can't read the back cover of your Kindle to decide whether or not you want to buy the book, you can't ANYTHING.  Kindles just suck.  I never understand when a friend that I know is as avid (or obsessive, whatevs) a reader as I buys a Kindle and raves about them.  I always give them that look that Mace Windu gave Anakin Skywalker when he realized Anakin was not going to kill the Emperor, but send his purple-lightsaber-waving-ass out the window.

Seriously.  Boooo to the Kindle.

<3
 



I also don't like cars, driving, flying.  Or traffic.  Or airports.

I don't like living in the 20-whatevers, you guys.


I seriously should have been born in the 1800s.  Then I could be a happy, dirty, pioneer chick, farming and raising goats and riding my horse around.
Maybe I watched and read Little House on the Prairie too much, because I could seriously get behind some Walnut Grove living....



ME!  Except, rounder, of course!

No cell phones, airplanes, or traffic jams.  Just making my own jam and living out in the woods. 
Blisssssssss....


Until I got scarlet fever, went blind, and fell off a cliff. 
And I wouldn't be able to call anyone, because there would be no cell phone reception at my Little House (no phones at all, actually), so I would get eaten by wolves and my goats would starve or be goat-napped by natives.


On second thought, I think I will just go to Starbucks while I think about what kind of phone to buy, and whether or not I want to attempt to insure it.....



Okay, so THERE is a phone I want!



Saturday, June 6, 2015

You're Not Going to Blog About This, Are You?



"You're Not Going to Blog About This, Are You?"

Someone  just asked me that about something.

Could I BE any more vague?

Nope.  But I can't be any less vague, either.

  Because I AM NOT GOING TO BLOG ABOUT THIS!


"You aren't going to blog about this are you?" Was asked in a fearful/annoyed/exasperated tone.

My response, a bit huffy and indignant, natch, was to insist that I do not blog about every single thing that I see or hear or do.  I don't, really.

And someone said,

"Yes you will, you won't be able to help yourself"

Chuh!

So, it's like that, is it?  IN-tereresting...

I realize that I have blogged about love, loss, abuse, drinking (barf.  just writing that kills me. completely hung over today.  alcohol is the elixir of Satan.  seriously.), drugs, and sex, but there is tons of stuff I don't blog about because a) some stories are not mine to tell, and b) I try to keep my feelings and emotions shoved in a little trunk at the back of my soul so no one can get to me.

Children who are raised in abusive situations have very diverse ways of coping and mine is to never let anyone get to me.  I'm not bragging or proud of it, it has cost me a lot in life.  I just have this natural tendency to fling everything in that trunk, slam that bitch shut, shove it in the corner, and drape a few things over it.....If I don't see it, I can almost pretend it isn't there. 




That's part of the reason I bailed on the #500wordsaday writing experiment.  I had a day chock-full of things that were too big to stuff in there, and I couldn't be selfish enough to walk around pretending I couldn't see them.  I had to deal with them then and there.

Because life, you know?

So, I have had a rough couple of weeks in some not-fun areas of life, but I think I am getting a handle on it, and have sufficiently shrunk them down to trunk size. 

Which means, of course, that I will not be blogging about any of it, and had no inclination to blog the whole time.  (My journal, on the other hand, saw plenty of action)


My super-duper-most-all-time-favorite blog is The Klonopin Chronicles.  'Klonnie', as she is fondly referred to by her legion of adoring Nutjobs, posts about the most real, raw, heartbreaking things.  (Also, she is more funnier [yes-I know, but it's my blog an I can eff with the English language as much as I want ] than you, any of your friends, or anyone else you have ever heard of.) 

 For real.  Click that link up there ^^ and see for yourself. 

Bring a tissue, though. 

And maybe continence pants.

Anyway, I am always in awe of how she can put herself out there like that.  So real, so raw.  Poetic as hell, also. 

I can't do that.  I get to a certain point and then I make myself stop.  Right there, in my tracks.  Off to the trunk with me, and then my post ends up being about giant penises or drinking or strippers, and I don't really get how I got there.

I got a mean PM one time from someone that read my blog that, among other not-so-nice critiques, said I would be a lot more believable if I quit trying to be funny and got 'real'.

Ouch.

Yeah, that smarted a bit, but I also got annoyed.  Believable?  'Scuse me?  I have only written one post that was not based in reality. 

Also, I am funny as hell, dammit!!!

I am not going to get 'real' on this blog, anymore than I already have, because this is about as real as I feel like getting.  And I appreciate those of you that read and comment and message me about it...except for you, Judgy Non-Believing Messager.  You can get nail fungus for all I care.  Then your nails will fall off, and you won't be able to write narky messages to people you don't know.  Unless you have that voice-to-text business, in which case I hope you get laryngitis.  And maybe gingivitis, too.  Just because.

Some things I can't/won't blog about, and I am totally okay with that.

And, by the way, Nip, I didn't blog about "it", see? 

So there.



Also, people, don't drink.  Ever.  Dying here......Dy. Ing.




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