A
World On Technology...
The
typo in my title is purposely done. I have a huge bone to pick with
the auto-correct on my PC. I try writing things to my editor,
striking moving stories... about let's say a girl trying marijuana
for the first time. My auto-check has no reading or reasoning
capability what-so-ever and as a result my sentences in my story ends
up with words that are substituted with the auto-check's best guest.
Now my sentence turns into something like, “So I smoked a jaguar
and herded off to school.” Further, knowing full-well that I do my
best proof-reading after I send an e-mail I am quite convinced my
editor thinks that I am the kind of idiot so severely damaged that I
spend all of my free time sitting in the corner drooling on myself
and poking myself in the eye repeatedly.
Another
thing I wish to address is the fact that my wi-fi box only seems to
have a melt-down when I am in the middle of an important discussion
or a hugely owed apology.... leaving potentially life-long friends
thinking, “Dude! She's not only a snob, she's creepy. Last week she
invited me to go out for a cup of coffins.”
Technology
for all of the luxury it affords becomes a problem for me and has my
whole life. I recall my Pappaw fussing at me many years ago with,
“When I was your age we had to walk across the room to change the
channel.” Okay that being said I spend most of the time I could use
being productive walking from one end of my house to the other
randomly trashing and frantically pulling off couch cushions looking
for the remotes.
Now
we come to the microwave oven, something that in my daily life I
usually can't live without. But of course on nights when I throw a
huge dinner party it doesn't fully heat things. Admittedly it has
never heated things evenly. But to pull out an important side dish
that is singed to the point of being nuclear waste on the edges yet
frozen in the middle just tends to spoil my party-girl rep! I am
epically proud also when my guest are leaving and the “fare-well
receiving line” compliments me with things such as, “Wow Angel
everything was great! I especially liked the french-cut green bean
popsicles!”
A
very useful thing these days is the gated community gate opener. What
those are are controllers for those little wooden rail-road crossing
gate thingys that drop down preventing you from entering a
neighborhood until you've either pressed the big, red button on your
gate-controller or punched your gate-code into some digital system
thus lifting the gate and letting you through. I can see how this is
useful in many ways. Some criminal evading police in a high-speed
chase will have to mind his manners and rather then crash through a
colorful piece of wood stop to punch in a secret code! The most
utilized tools it provides is that when your remote battery dies the
people stuck in traffic behind you get the golden opportunity to
practice their road-rage skills and figure out what their horn sounds
like. If you have an overly complicated code that is too long to
remember, that just amplifies the fun! This leaves you with the
lovely choice of picking up an old plastic phone and randomly dialing
neighbor after neighbor to ask them to let you in... and each will
remind you what crystal punch bowl, designer dress or lawn-mower you
forgot to return the week before. So yes, incredibly helpful!!!
Thanks gate-controller! Now I can run from the lynch mob behind me
resting comfortably in the knowledge that I forgot to send the check
to the office for my rent before I died!
That's
my side of it,
Angel
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