Month: March 2011

Creepy Computer Geek just texted me:

Please call me when you get a chance.

All right. Listen up, meat pie:

I ain’t gonna call you.

My dad — who is actually the one paying for this computer fix — is dealing with you. I can’t think of anything we even need to say to each other at this point, so WHY are you texting me? I rather doubt my dad confronted you because his daughter said you “have a bit of a creepy, overly familiar vibe and make her uncomfortable.” That’s not how he rolls.

I was pretty vague with Dad because it was rather vague. It was a sense of things, a gut reaction. He didn’t DO anything to me, so I rather doubt my dad would say something. Besides, why say something when the dude is still working on the computer?

I don’t want to ask my dad if he said something because I don’t want to make this a bigger thing than it needs to be.

But, still, WHYEEEE are you texting me to call you, dude??

I’m now talking to myself on Facebook. Here is the actual conversation, copied and pasted here:

ME: Facebook apparently thinks one of the “People I May Know” is Christopher Hitchens. I wish.

You know, perhaps Mr. Hitchens came to Facebook searching desperately, crossing his fingers, hoping against hope that there was someone somewhere in the world named Tracey Credit-Union. Here I am, Mr. Hitchens! Pay no attention to the giant next to me sporting that pesky wedding band!’

*****
Four minutes later:

ME: Okay. It’s too much. Christopher Hitchens is haunting my sidebar. I just saw him on “60 Minutes” again last night and my ardor only deepened. I’m tempted to click “Add as friend” and believe the lie. And that’s what FB is: believing the lie.

*****
Ten minutes later:

ME: Maybe I should change my FB name to “God,” click “Add Christopher Hitchens as a friend,” and see if he friends me back. Since I’m pretty sure I’m NOT God — although I dither on this point — and since I’m pretty sure others, including Mr. Hitchens, can discern this, would he still friend me back if I’m calling myself God?

*****
Four minutes later:

ME: On the other hand, does he just friend anybody? If so, he’s participating in lie of Facebook, right, but he won’t participate in the “lie” of God? Doesn’t one of those two have *potentially* much greater eternal ramifications? Unless the next world is Facebook, Facebook, all the time. (Hello, hell!) I love the man. I do. I’ll listen to him say anything, anytime. I just don’t agree with him on that point.

*****
Two minutes later:

ME: Now he’s definitely not gonna friend me. See? I’m an expert in self-sabotage. Please notice I’ve now spent 20 minutes talking to MYSELF about this. He won’t friend me now because I seem insane.

*****
Three minutes later:

ME: Okay. I should put up the infamous cleavage shot as my profile pic, mention again I believe in God, THEN send the friend request. Someone needs to intervene here. I need some smiting.

*****
Ten minutes later:

ME: Maybe all the people who want Christopher Hitchens to find God are using the wrong approach. I mean, why would someone care what a bunch of saggy men in rumpled suits blather at him during a debate? He needs some hot — smart — chicks taking their tops off and telling him about Jesus.

And, you know, I’m not even drunk.

*****
Eight minutes later:

ME: I’m a moron. I clicked on “Add Christopher Hitchens as a Friend.” I got a little note that said, “Please only send this request if you know Mr. Hitchens personally.” Well, why are you haunting my sidebar then? What givees? You’re cruel, Facebook, messing with an innocent girl’s hopes in that way.

*****
Three minutes later:

ME: To add to my idiocy, I wrote him a note and still clicked on the request. I TOLD you guys I needed smiting. What good are all of youse?? You’re my Facebook frrrrrriends. Friends don’t let friends drive drunk and friends don’t let friends send breathless notes to Christopher Hitchens. Good God.

*****
Three minutes later:

ME: Why isn’t there an “edit” function for FB posts? I wrote “givees” below (ed.: above here). If Christopher Hitchens sees that, he definitely won’t friend me.

Although maybe it makes me sound British.

*****
Eleven minutes later:

ME: At this point, all I will get from Mr. Hitchens is a restraining order.

I don’t blame him one bit.

**************
Please don’t unfriend me, pippa.

It’s true. I’m on Facebook. I’m allowing myself to hate myself and everybody else for at least several days. And maybe more. I’m under a fake identity which, for now, is Tracey Credit-Union. Well, it was Tracey Banks and then I thought about banks and got mad, so there you have it. Look me up and mock me, if you will.

I’ll be changing my name regularly. For as long as my foray into FB even lasts.

I’m already feeling itchy about it.

Pretend you’re me. (Sorry, guys, you just sprouted big boobs and lost something vital.)

Let’s just move on then.

You’re on the phone with a tech guy/computer geek discussing a download problem you’re having. He just fixed your computer a few days ago, but you’re still having this download problem. He happens to be friends with your parents, although he’s actually closer to your age than theirs. He is a widower.

You’re more familiar with Mac, but you can find your way around a PC fine. You’re also pretty good at figuring techie things out by yourself, which surprises you sometimes. But this problem is beyond you.

Here are some highlights of your conversations with computer geek.

From the first conversation, when he’s fixing your computer:

GEEK: I have good news and bad news. Which do you want first?
YOU: The bad news, so I have something to look forward to.
GEEK: The bad news is that Jesus hasn’t come back yet.
YOU: Oh. Uhm-hmmmm …… (Is Jesus fixing my computer?)
GEEK: The good news is that he is coming back!
YOU: Yeah. So what about my computer?

*******

GEEK: Let me tell you about your dad …..
YOU: (Yes, please do. Enlighten me. I’m sure you know him much better than I, having known him for 3 years)

*******

GEEK: Your dad and I get along because we speak the same language.
YOU: Yeah. I can see that.

*******

GEEK: Let me tell you something about your mom ……..
YOU: (Oh, for God’s sake.)

*******

From a phone call you’re forced to have after you’ve gotten the computer back, but still have download issues. This is how he greets you:

GEEK: Guess what?
YOU: What?
GEEK: Jesus is coming back again!
YOU: (Is he retarded?)

*******

YOU: Okay. I clicked “run.”
GEEK: Wait. Wait. Waaait. Waaaaaait. I didn’t say to do that yet. I need to make sure you didn’t make any mistakes.

He makes you go back some steps. You didn’t make any mistakes. You get to the same spot in the procedure.

GEEK: Okay. Now, click RUN. RRRRRUNNN.

Which is what you already did. Also, you are not 5 and this is not Sesame Street.

*******

In another conversation you’re forced to have:

GEEK: I’m older than I sound.
YOU: Oh, really? Interesting.
GEEK: I’m a hospital chaplain.
YOU: (Great. Professional Christian.) Interesting.
GEEK: So are you a Christian?
YOU: Yes. Not professionally.
GEEK: That’s awesome!
YOU: Yes.

*******

In another conversation you’re forced to have:

YOU: (after dropping the phone) Oops. I dropped you. Sorry.
GEEK: Aw, don’t do that to me. I’ll rat you out to your dad.

He has jokingly threatened to “rat you out to your dad” a couple of times now. He thinks you’re a Care Bear Christian who wants to flirt with him when, really, you just want to squash him like a bug.

YOU: Please don’t do that. I’m usually in enough trouble on that front anyway.
GEEK: Oh.

*******

In another conversation you’re forced to have:

GEEK: I want to meet you in person. I mean, we’ve talked on the phone four times now.
YOU: (Only four??) Sure. I’ll bring my husband so you can meet him too.

*******

GEEK: Do you see a yellow bar underneath the URL?
YOU: There isn’t one.
GEEK: There should be.
YOU: Well, uh, there’s not.
GEEK: There should be a yellow bar that says “blah blah blah.”
YOU: Hm. Well, there’s not.

A few minutes later, you notice a barely yellow bar farther down on the window, but it doesn’t say “blah blah blah”; it says “blee blee blee.” Still, you mention it because it’s vaguely yellow.

GEEK: Okay. Honey? I’m a man. Yellow is yellow. It’s not marigold or sunflower or daffodil. Yellow is yellow.
YOU: (OMG. I wasn’t having a problem identifying the color yellow. I didn’t mention it earlier because it was neither in the location you said it would be nor did it say the thing you said it would say.)

Turns out, this vaguely yellow bar was a dead end after all. Nyaaah, “honey.”

*******

Later:

GEEK: I have some time now. I could come over to your house and fix it.
YOU: (Oh, hell, no.)

Call waiting, thank God. It’s Your Beloved. You tell him the geek wants to come over. Your Beloved says, “Oh, HELL no. He’s not coming to our house and getting a gander at you when I’m not there. Or ever, actually.” You click back over to the geek.

YOU: I’m sorry. That won’t work.
GEEK: But I have time now. It’s no problem.
YOU: I’m sorry. It won’t work for me.

Even later:

GEEK: Okay. Well, honey, one of us is not speaking English here.
YOU: (Call me honey again and I will cut you and you won’t have to wait for Jesus to come again.)

*******

Pippa ….. is it me??

I think the poster of this video means quadruplets, but it’s still damn cute. And, I’m sorry, but how cute is the wife? She’s adorable.

And wouldn’t 4 twins be eight? Not that it matters. Although I could have just let it alone and I didn’t, so it obviously matters more than I care to admit.

I have problems.