If you have a Gmail account (and if you don’t, WHY NOT, and also ask me for an invite, because I have about a thousand of them), you may have noticed the new Gmail Chat feature. It’s… odd. But interesting. I of course had to test it out immediately by pestering Jenny with it, whereupon we chatted about many important things, including but not limited to:
1) The fact that you can “pop” the window out of your browser
2) The fact that my saying “Oh, I popped it out and it feels better now” sounds really dirty
3) The fact that the chat window reads “pop-in” or “pop-out” in the bottom corner, accordingly, and the hyphen is incorrect and that ANNOYS THE CRAP OUT OF ME
4) The fact that Jenny was not, in fact, using Gmail Chat, but GoogleTalk, and the two were talking to each other! Somehow! Magically!
Yeah, we’re tackling the important issues. Tune in next week when Jenny and I turn our critical eyes towards the dryer’s lint trap! Does it REALLY trap all the lint it could? What happens when it traps something that isn’t lint? We’re on the case!
[Sidebar: I suspect that the bizarre misplaced hyphen could have been avoided if Google had simply diverted some of the brainpower from various “features” towards checking the interface for grammatical English. While it’s really useful and everything for the smilies to appear as regular typed text, as entered, and then slowly rotate to an upright facial position, perhaps that wasn’t the wisest use of resources. Just sayin’.]
Mostly I was chatting to avoid sitting down to do an entry, tonight, because yesterday, you know, I was feeling sort of… heavy. Which is fine. But when I write something that isn’t light and fluffy, I sort of feel an obligation to follow it with a circus of amusing delights, just to sort of even things out. So, ideally, today I would have something totally hilarious to talk about, and then you would forget that last night I really needed some cheese to go with my whine.
A quick review of my day reveals that it was perhaps the most mundane and unfunny in recent memory. Dammit. Mostly I worked, and shopped online for shoes when I should’ve been doing more work, and picked up the kids and took Chickadee to Tae Kwon Do, then came home and played taskmaster to get them through showers while I made dinner, and blah blah blah, completely typical day.
Oh, wait. I think I may have told Chickadee that if she didn’t get out of the shower in the next 30 seconds, her eczema was going to get worse and all her skin would fall off. That was sort of funny. Or sadistic; I always confuse those two. (But that kid would stand in the shower for an hour if I didn’t make overblown and frightening threats, so it’s not like I have any choice.)
Without proper fodder from my day, I then considered the things rattling around in my brain. Well. Let’s see! Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day! OHBOY! (Note to self: Must. Buy. Liquor.) But it gets BETTER, because I know I’m gonna have some action. Some hot, steamy, mammogram action, that is. I can spend some time thinking about that, but it’d probably be better if I just wait and see what happens. Generally any embarrassment I can dream up is… not even close to the utter humiliation I end up experiencing.
So, I may have absolutely nothing to say today, but we can all rest secure in the knowledge that tomorrow will almost certainly yield a story that must be told. Sure, you may be snuggling up with your sweetie, but I’m gonna go get smashed between two plates of plexiglass. Try not to be jealous.
[And if you can’t help being jealous, well, I suggest you go check out the Gmail Chat. After you pop-in and pop-out a few times, you’ll feel much better. Sicko.]