Addictions

I’ve found myself addicted to Twitter.  In my defense, it happened really suddenly.  Overnight even.

I had downloaded Twitter to my computer when I saw that WordPress was offering the widget.  I even added the widget to my blog space.  But it remained empty, save for a tweet that read “Figuring out Twitter”.   A few weeks after, I “tweeted” again saying, “STILL figuring out Twitter.”  Then while browsing the Twitter website, I realized there were various Twitter applications.  That began my quest for an easy Twitter application for my Blackberry.  Which brings me to the present.

In the past 24 hours I have “tweeted” 12 updates.  That’s an update once every 2 hours!  Dear GAWD!  Really??!!!  I mean, honestly, what did I have to say?

“Hey, y’all!  Walking to the kitchen.”

“Okay, hanging out in my bedroom.”

I’m not even as witty as one post I read,

“Going to a fundraiser.  Heading to the shower to wash the stinky parts.”

Which, by the way, was hilarious. I will soon be searching for twitteranonymous.

Hi.  This is my Logic…and I’m a twitter-holic.

Password not strong enough

I’m going bonkers with the gabajillion usernames and passwords and access codes, corresponding security questions for each application and all the other alpha-numeric-symbol combinations that have been lately swarming my life.

I’m not kidding.  Everyday,  there are a million numbers and names that I must remember on the drop of a dime and I find that I no longer have the capability nor the time to remember any of my own personal set of codes.  Are you following my line of ranting yet?  Here, let me take you through a typical day.

6:30 a.m. – Wake up, lean over and check my blackberry.  Type in password to get into phone.

7:30 a.m. – Type password to log onto User office desktop computer.

7:35 a.m. - Type username & password to log onto Quickbooks

7:45 a.m. – Type username & password to log onto Office Network/Server

7:47 a.m. – Customer walks in. Name, name…WHAT was his name again?  “Oh, Good Morning, Mr. Redbook.  Is the Ranger already due for service?”

8:00 a.m. – Check online bank accounts (log on with yet another user name, answer corresponding security question, confirm security picture and type in password).  And to make matters worse, these passwords must be changed every 30 days. Ugh.

8:30 a.m. – Repeat with 2 other accounts & also confirm with corresponding credit card account that also has its own password and username.

Are we wigging out yet, folks?  And recently, I opened a new personal account to apply for a car loan.  On top of the two pins for the ATM card and Check Card, I also have to memorize the account numbers itself and make a “strong enough” alpha-numeric-symbol password and username to access my account online.  All on top, of course, the 10 personal questions they ask in case (by some really off chance) that you forget your password.  I’m tempted to only remember the answers to these questions if it weren’t for the fact that it only leads to having to memorize a newly “reset” password and user name.  Then, while trying to check the status of my application over the phone, I was told by an automated recording that in order to transfer money from my checking to saving or vise versa, I had to devise yet another PIN for phone transactions.

Then there’s the user name and passwords for all the online applications I log onto daily…like…ahem…WordPress or Flickr or MySpace.  The list goes on and on and on….

I appreciate the safety measures put into place to stave away the would-be burglars from stealing my identity…but I mean…I almost respect these thieves for keeping up with the ever changing codes!  Almost.

I’m reminded of a “Fresh Prince of Bel Air” episode where Phillip Banks and his daugher Ashley are searching their home for their missing house key.  Their other daughter, Hilary, comments that she always makes multiple copies of their house key because she always loses it.  But with the multiple copies, she’d always have a spare!  So when Ashley tires of looking for the key, she recommends that they just drive around town and track down one of Hilary’s lost keys!

Ingenious!  I say we quit memorizing all the passwords and user names that these robbers have forced us to utilize and…well…just ask them for it!

April Fools

Happy April Fool’s Day, Everyone.

Derrick, today would be the perfect day to pull it.  Go ahead.  I promise we all won’t be mad.

Pull it.  We’ll all be happy April fools.

Emblazoned

Since Murphy was hanging out and since the first Friday 13th didn’t quite get the task done, March Friday 13th 2009 will be forever inscribed in my memory.

Last Friday 13th, my sister lost her husband and our family lost  our dear brother-in-law, Derrick.

Lost.  Why does society use this term?   Why do we adopt it?  Lost.  As if, were we to find him, it would bring him back.  That if we look long and hard enough, we’ll “find” him hiding out in some closet.  Will hide-and-seek fix it?  Peek-a-boo?

I feel like he’s playing this big, old joke.  Like he’s going to step out of some dark corner any second now and burst out laughing, saying he got us good.  I can even see it.  He’s laughing as I’m shaking my head, “No, I knew it all along.”

But let it be a joke.  Let my sister be genuinely happy again.  Let my niece and nephews have their daddy back again.  Give back to my children one of  their favorite uncles.  Take back having to dry all the saddened tears and erase the memory of hearing the sorrow-filled wails.  Let the doubts and all the “if only’s” not exist.

Because “if only”…then we would have more time…more memories…more moments…more chances.

Quick Progression

I need coffee today.  Coffee from the neighboring Circle K will do.

What’s that, you say?  Problems with stock?   Maybe I should make a run to the recently-opened coffee shop down the street.  Espresso might have to step in.

Oh!  Some other problems with communication?  Double shot of espresso…yunno, since I’m there.

And! Customer complaints?  Gosh, its a good thing I bought this new coffee thermos…buy extra coffee, drink current cup now and drink coffee in thermos later. Double Espresso, please.

Murphy is hanging out here somewhere, I know it.  And he’s doubled-team with Mr. F-13.

One Day…

030909 came and went without much fanfare.  I didn’t get drunk this year.  I didn’t go out and party late.  Nor did I occupy my time with my favorite past time companion.  Rather, I stayed home and had an otherwise normal evening.  I came home, cooked dinner for my children and sat down and helped my boy do his math homework.

Besides the disturbing, abruptly cut-short conversation between my princess and I about how “Mommy, when are you getting a boyfriend?” I had an uneventful night.  I had planned on a little bit of “distraction” but was rudely reminded about my Lenten sacrifices.

I knew the day would come when the day would not hold any more emotional connections for me…has it really arrived?

40 days and 40 nights

40 long, long days & 40 even longer nights.

It has been a rough few days.  Heck! It has been a rough couple of months.  What with spraining my ankle, earning the largest bruise ever on record, successfully getting the flu and now hosting migraines painful enough to bowl over small mammals.

And of course now Lent.  I am told that it must mean a lot to you in order to give it up and qualify as a sacrifice.  So I’m giving up *MM.  An old theater director asked me, “Debbie, what is *MM?”  I told her that my only appropriate reply would be, “Not ‘What is *MM?’ but rather, ‘Who is *MM?’”

And of course I’m giving up the usual red meat & rice that I normally attempt to sacrifice.  Needless to say, all three sacrifices have not helped my migraines any.

It’s going to be an interesting 40 days.

How to survive Valentine’s Day (Single or not so single)

Not that I’ve tested this theory or anything of the sort (insert look of innocence and vehement shake of head here).  From one professional…errr…amateur to another, here is my guide to Surviving Valentine’s Day.

• Have lots and lots (and lots) of your favorite chocolate on hand.
• Have lots and lots of sex! (Any kind!) (Note:  Can be substituted with eating lots of chocolate if sex is unavailable.)
• Have a padlock and lockable container on hand.  Take laptop battery, laptop power cord, desktop power cord, cellphone and any version of your “little black book” and lock up in said container.  Immediately drive to your most trusted friend’s home, hand over locked container containing aforementioned items and inform her/him that you will be back tomorrow to pick up the “evil” container.
• Banish all thoughts of calling him, googling him or driving by his place (this includes his girlfriend’s also).
• Rent “John Tucker Must Die” or anything similar (must evoke 3 episodes of guffawing laughter and a couple of unfeminine snorts – MINIMUM!)
• Order or pickup take out
• Settle onto your bed with all the pillows you can find, your favorite comforter, “John Tucker” vid, chocolate, take out and anything else you find comforting.
• Watch the video/dvd…including all the previews.
• Laugh as hard as you can muster

You’ll fall peacefully asleep  sooner than you can say, “John Tucker Must Die” and find yourself waking up to your alarm with Valentine’s day long gone…and soon, long forgotten…til next year, then repeat.

(Recipe also conducive to groups of single -or not so single- friends.)

Contagious

I sprained my ankle last Saturday.  There is a tall step (yes, just one) from the office side door that leads straight to where I normally park my car.  I had just stepped out this very door when my right ankle decided to take a break.  Literally.  I crumbled straight down into the asphalt…with my left leg conveniently tucked under me.  So I sat in the middle of the parking lot, a glance away from full on 5 o’clock traffic, grinding my teeth, trying in vain not to cry.  It took a few minutes to get up since I had to wait for my right ankle to stop throbbing enough to gingerly lean on it enough to get up.

I’ve been wondering what is up with my leg disasters lately.  I didn’t blog about it, mainly because it was visually horrible and because I was quite embarrassed.   About a week before spraining my ankle, I also earned myself a bruise the size of a football on my left calf.  I was practicing climbing back into the outrigger boats and somehow heaved myself in at last minute and awarded myself with a  (HUGE) black & purple bruise.  It faded in time for the Air force Command Run and Awards Banquet, but by then I had the swollen ankle to boot.

So needless to say, I didn’t participate in the Command Run.  The recruiter ushered me away to help the other members that were on “profile”.  I found myself, a few minutes later, in the company of 5 other women, 4 of whom were (of all things) EXPECTING!  And no offense at all to those who are but, uhmm… I have developed a serious distaste for that pregnancy state.  So almost feeling like it might be contagious, I was seriously contemplating doing the run instead.

Then during the Awards Banquet, Chrissy conveniently places the chair she was sitting on, firmly on my 3rd tiny toe on my left foot.  My thoughts?  Military Bearings.  Remember your military bearings.  Nix that!  Remember your FEMININE BEARINGS!  Swearing and vulgarities in the middle of a military personnel-filled banquet room aren’t exactly lady-like.  Especially with  a gorgeous date looking on.

I also haven’t mentioned the fact that my left knee that had crumbled under me is also scraped up and oh, yeah, btw, I stepped out of the boat after Wednesday’s practice, thinking that I was going to step firmly onto solid sand.  I was wrong.  Had it been asphalt instead of the unexpected not-as-shallow shore line, I would also be nursing a busted lip, possibly missing teeth and not just the bruised shin, ankle & ego I now am nursing.

Anyway.  My point…my point.  Gee, I don’t think I really had one this time.  I think I just wanted to play my little violin, which I did.

Thanks.

Tick, Tick

I am sitting here and I’ve realized that I have spent the last 20 minutes watching a TV show I’ve never liked.  The show caught me as I was channel surfing.  Hey, who wouldn’t stop and watch when a sexy (granted almost raunchy) looking chick falls backwards off a stage because she was too busy wrapping up a cord, trying to disassemble a Rock Star’s stage.

Why am I watching this garbage??!!!

So what’s on the tele, you ask?  Rock of Love.  Yunno, that show with the Bret Rock Star dude.

Seriously, I can feel myself getting more stupid my brain turning more to mush as each second ticks on.