Poor, sad iPod.

March 14, 2012 at 8:48 AM | Posted in Adventures in S-Land, And then I thought..., I'm related to these people. | Leave a comment

I’m clumsy.  I’ll be the first to admit it.  On a recent patient information form, it asked if I bruise easily.  Hmm.  Not sure.  Hard to tell since I spend an inordinate amount of time clunking myself into things.  If I got into a normal number of furniture altercations, would I have normal bruisability?  And how many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop?

The upside of being clumsy is that the human body is a magical thing that heals itself with cheesecake and Band-Aids.  Actually, you don’t even NEED the Band-Aids!  The downside of being clumsy is that things that are not the human body (or other living creatures) do not heal themselves even in the presence of Band-Aids or cheesecake.  Exhibit A:


What do you mean, my pictures are fuzzy? That is a special photographic technique. It's tough to get that look. I try not to brag about it though.

This is not awesome.  Not awesome at all.  It’s sad really; see how the crack looks like a little frown crossing the corner?

Now, my father is Mr. Fix-it.  So is my husband.  They use words like, “Spanish windlass,” “awl,” and “Now, what did you do?” They make water come out of wells and stop it from Old-Faithfulling out of the washing machine and toilet. They bring life to dead cars, many of which were “a good deal.”  They pull the yarn and cat hair out of the vacuum cleaner and can even do amazing things with mysterious entities called “fuses” which makes electric things work again.  And they make it look easy.  And I get tempted to try to fix things according to their examples.  And that doesn’t usually end well.

But, I am not a quitter!  I keep trying despite my very, very, very limited record of things that I have actually fixed and the fact that I usually drop heavy, sharp, pointy tools that make gouges in the floor.  So, since my iPod Touch still worked, indicating that the touchscreen is okay and that only the cover glass is cracked, I figured I could totally fix that.  So, hop-dee-do, I surfed around on the Internet and found lots and lots of articles and videos about how to replace the glass.  I found sources for parts.  And I realized that trying to replace the screen myself is about as good of an idea as diving into a tub of rusty scissors since there are A LOT of little, teeny, expensive and complicated-looking parts in an iPod Touch.  And you can’t lose even ONE PART during the repair process or bats will eat the sun and all kittens will go bald.

I can’t have either of the Mr. Fix-its in my life do the repair either.  My father is not a fan of iPod technology.  I only know this because of our deep, nearly ESP-level connection and by the way he says, “I’ll step on that thing” when he sees it.  He thinks iPods are communist and in league with the microwave.  My husband refuses to pay a lot for parts that cost nearly as much as a new version of the broken thing.  He believes it takes his spirit away.

So, since the iPod still works and all, I guess I’ll live with the cracked screen.  But I’m going to be very annoyed about it.  It will be character-building.


At the moment, I’m pretty into toxins.

April 2, 2010 at 7:11 PM | Posted in Adventures in S-Land, And then I thought... | Leave a comment

As in, I’m thinking about toxins a lot.  I haven’t slid into the paranoid-watching-for-the-black-helicopters-to-show-up mode, but I’m becoming skeptical about lots of things I’ve always been told were safe.  In an attempt to work these things out while avoiding the cost of therapy, I’m going to subject you, Dear Internet People, to the latest crazies I’ve developed.

1.  Tupperware.

This one hurts me because I like Tupperware.  I like it a lot.  My mother uses the word, “obsession.”  Here, I’ll show you:


Tupperware in the fridge!

Tupperware in the baking cupboard!

I just like things to be organized and airtight.  Is that so wrong?  However, the current BPA scare has me not scared, exactly, but sort of concerned.  Enough so that I’ve stopped reheating in Tupperware which is totally obsoletesizing all those Rock n’ Serve containers that I scratched and clawed my way through various garage sales and eBay auctions to acquire.  I don’t want to jump on the Chicken-Little-the-sky-is-falling frenzy against BPA, but really, that plastic smell in Tupperware that’s been closed up for a while is making me nervous.

2.  The Microwave.

Okay, it’s not that I believe the microwave is secretly cooking me by degrees whenever I throw in a bag of popcorn, but what exactly is going on in there?  I mostly get the science behind it which makes me wonder, is manipulating food at the molecular level a good plan?  Am I creating zombie popcorn molecules that are doing strange and unwholesome things to my molecules?  Because I like my molecules the way they are, thank you very much, Mr. Scary Micro Wave.  And I saw that movie where the microwave came alive and attacked an innocent kid in his own kitchen.  I realize that Transformers 2: Revenge of the Fallen isn’t exactly a documentary, but still…

You thought it was just a toaster...

3.  Nitrites.

I like bacon.  Bacon likes me!  We are good friends.  But nitrites, the chemical things that turn bacon red, might not be my friends.  Apparently, the USDA tried to ban sodium nitrite in the 1970s because it’s bad stuff.  However, yay for the organic movement!  I’m switching to nitrite-free bacon and going to start using just salt for corning moose.  Bye, nitrites!  Bye (I hope) cancer!

Yum Yum Yum Yum Yum

I’ll let everyone know when I’ve invited new bats into my belfry.  I think I’ve given you plenty to work with for now.


January 14, 2010 at 6:52 PM | Posted in And then I thought... | Leave a comment

I just can’t get used to writing 2010.  Two-thousand ten.  Twenty-ten. Two-zero-one-zero.

It’s too Ray Bradbury-Space-Agey.  As if I should be droning, “Captain’s log, stardate 2010-14-1” before instructing my trusty android to go power up the hover-capsule for me.  And it’s too weird and slightly discomforting to face the realization that I was born LAST CENTURY.  No, I don’t like that part at all.  It’s like driving someone else’s car.  I can’t relax into it.

Maybe I’ll just keep trying: 2010, 2010, 2010, 2010, 2010, 2010, 2010, 2010, 2010, 2010, 2010, 2010, 2010, 2010…

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