Tuesday, June 8, 2010

I Don't Get Technology

Writers aren't exactly people.... they're a whole bunch of people trying to be one person.
F. Scott Fitzgerald




I Don't Get Technology
By Kelley Williams

If you were attempting to have a life today, don’t read this post. You’re going to be here a while.


Remember when you were younger and you were up on the latest slang, and knew what the latest fashion trends were the day before they became fashionable, and knew how to work all the latest technology, like how to turn on a computer and copy and paste (because that’s pretty much all computers were capable of back then) and make a call on a cell phone (back when cell phones were actually used for making phone calls) and spell BOOB on your calculator, and hit your head on a brick that looked like every other brick except this one produced a mushroom that gave you an extra life in the magical world of nintendo? And remember how the adults were all like, “how do they do that? I don’t even know where the ON button to my computer is and the phone I use is still attached to a cord and I don’t have a calculator but look at my super cool adding machine and Mario and Luigi make the best pizza?” And you were like, how do they not know this? Do they live in a cave four thousand feet below the surface of the earth?

Well I have totally become one of those adults, in the areas of slang and technology, that is. I was never one to be down with the whole fashion thing. My friend once asked me if I liked her capris and I told her her hair looked the same to me. But I’m okay with not being uber fashionable because everyone has their own style and that’s what makes us us. I mean, I wish I had the balls to wear a studded leather jacket over a hot pink bikini top and a green feathered skirt over parachute pants and black high tops with the laces untied to the movies. Not because I want to dress like that, but because I admire people who don’t give a crap what others think of them. And suddenly I feel like I’m sitting in my therapist’s office.

Back to the situation at hand.

Technology. I don’t get it. I mean eventually I do. Kinda. After my husband explains it over and over again.

Example:

Mark: I skyped today.

Me: Ew. Go to the doctor and get some medicine. And don’t touch me until it’s all gone.

Mark: No, it’s not a disease. I was talking to someone on my computer.

Me: Like IM?

Mark: No. Like on the phone.

Me: Your computer has a phone in it?

Mark: No.

Me: Oh, you were on your iphone?

Mark: No, I was on my computer and I was talking to someone like I was on the phone.

Me: Why didn’t you just use your phone?

Mark: Because he was in Jordan and it was free to talk this way.

Me: I went to school with a girl named Jordan. Ever since I started working, I’ve wondered if when people call her they ask for Mr. Jordan Razzdazzle and if it’s happened to her so many times she started making business cards with her picture on them, which I always thought was kinda cheesy, but now I can see how it could be useful.

Mark: Are we done talking about skype?

Me: I told you. Go to a doctor.

And remember when you were younger and the newest technology came out and you just had to have it? And you knew exactly how to use it before you even removed it from the packaging? Well, now I find myself actually resistant to new technology. The version of word I use is so old it has a red squiggly line under the word blog. (I assume the latest version of word doesn’t have the red squiggly line under BLOG, but I wouldn’t know because I don’t use it. But if it does have the red squiggly line, what the heck new version of Word, get with the times.)

And don’t even get me started on facebook (red squiggly line under that word too). I don’t get it. I remember the first time my friend told me about it in college. He was all jazzed, “dude, there’s this site you can go on and meet lots of people that go to UF.” And I was like, “are you kidding me? You’re going to go on a computer to meet people you could walk outside your door and talk to? That’ll never last.”

But guess what? It did! And I am against it. Completely and totally against. Morally, ethically, religiously, against it. Because I. Don’t. Get. It. Poke someone? If a man comes up behind a girl on the subway and pokes her in the rear with his you-know-what, he gets arrested. But do it on the Internets and it’s okay? I don’t think so.

Oh, and Mafia Wars. What is that? Seriously, what is it? I can’t even make a joke about it because I don’t know WTF it is!!

And I won’t even begin to describe the hot mess I was when Yahoo changed the look of their home page. My husband had to spoon feed me chicken broth just to keep me alive while I pulled out my hair and rocked myself in the corner for three weeks. I mean seriously, Yahoo, could you be any more of a jerk? It’s my homepage. Do I go into your house and put the tv where the fridge is and the fridge in the backyard and the grill in your closet? No, because I am not a total bag o’ douche.

And will someone please tell me what the heck an app is? Everyone’s always all excited about the latest app, but the only app I know is short for applicator which is a device that helps woman insert tampons into their hoo-haws, and call me crazy, but I don’t think everyone’s running around all turned on by the latest tampon insertion device.

And ipads? Really? Is all the newest technology code for feminine hygiene products? Is it like some secret language men developed to get away from their girlfriends when they’re on their period? Does “Dude, can I come over and check out your new ipad?” really mean, “Dude, I need to get out of my house asap. My girl’s PMSing right now and is out of her damn mind.”

Honestly, I’m surprised I’ve figured this whole blogging thing out. And by figured out, I mean I manage to put words on a screen. I go to other people’s blogs and they’ve got pictures and videos and cool graphics and a colored background, oh my! Don’t get me wrong, I like the look of my blog. Minimalism is totally my thing. I’m a why-have-pics- and-vids and why-use-two-words-when-one-word-will-do kinda girl. But then again, you already knew that.

And speaking of words! What the heck are kids talking about these days? I was talking to a teenager awhile back and she was telling me about this guy who creeps. I was like, “he’s a creep?” And she said, “no, he goes out creepin.” And, I kid you not, in my head imagined a guy ducking behind bushes, peeking into windows, walking in a stealth-like fashion, you know, creeping around. Apparently what was going on in my head was playing out on my face, because she said, “no, like he goes and meets up with girls. You know.” And I was all like, “Ohhhh. Yeah.” Except that I didn’t know what ‘meet up’ meant. Like does he meet them for lunch? Somehow I don’t think that’s right. Does he make-out with them? Have sex with them? Do everything but? I honestly did not know. But I was having a conversation with a teenager, so it was not appropriate to delve further. So for, like, ever, I had a fuzzy idea of what ‘creepin’ meant. And then I watched the Jersey Shore, and I was like, finally some clarity! But actually, no. Everything on that show boggles my mind and after watching it I thought maybe it had something to do with gym, tan, laundry. And btw Jersey Shore, laundry, really? Laundry? Couldn’t you have come up with something a little more, I don’t know, not stupid? How about gym, tan, liquor, since every time I watch you guys, you are getting wasted. Or what about gym, tan, like to fight, since every time I watch you guys, you are beating the crap out of someone. Or even gym, tan, like to pick up skanks and make-out with them in the hot tub, is better than gym, tan, laundry.

You know, now that I think about it, I’m not sure I was ever up on? down with? slang. When I was in elementary school there was this girl who was thirteen because she’d failed kindergarten like nine times and it was rumored that during football games (I went to a pre-K through 12 school) she would sit in the tunnel slide on the playground and let boys finger her. And when I was nine and I heard that I imagined boys poking her in the arms and legs with their fingers. I even told my dad, “hey dad, there’s this girl at my school who lets boys finger her during football games.” And he was all “that’s nice honey.” But I’m sure inside he was freaking out because OMG my nine year old just talked about fingering.

So I guess slang was never really my thing either. Except that I don’t think ”fingering” is slang for anything. It pretty much is what it is and I’m pretty sure it’s not letting a boy poke you in the arms and legs with their finger.

Oh! Oh! But I did recently find out some computer slang. I follow this blog of this one woman who is totally happy and upbeat and writes about her children and gardening and likes to make faces with punctuation. You know like this : o) and this :( (which she hardly ever does cuz she’s so happy) and this :oP, which I always took to mean she was sticking out her tongue, but apparently it’s internet slang for oral sex (which, if this woman knew that, she would probably die. Which is why I didn’t tell her. Hi, you’ve never met me, but I wanted to let you know you are giving the Internets oral sex when you do :oP.).

Ha! So there. I’m not totally un-hip. Kids are still saying hip right? No? Sigh. If only there was some magical place I could access from the comfort of my room whilst sitting in my pj’s and type “what do all the cool kids say these days?” and have forty-two million, nine hundred eight thousand and twenty-three answers pop up, each one more bizarre and unrelated to my question than the next. But that’ll never happen, because seriously, computers can’t talk to you, so how would that work?

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to mail my friends a letter to find out what’s going on their lives and then I’ll try to get through all eight levels of Mario Brothers in one life. I’m so close!

2 comments:

  1. You crack me up! Loved this one. LOL'd many times ;)

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thats okay, I never understood the fingering thing.. & when a friend finally explained it to me, the ocd germ freak, well.. lets just say I washed MY hands 5 times... lol ;)

    ReplyDelete

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