“Didja’ get da’ zippo yet Deb?”
“Yanno, the zippo that you were supposed to get.” Mom says, as she poured another cup of coffee.
“Well didn’t the cable guy come?”
“Oh! The high speed internet?”
“Yeah yeah, whatever that thing you put on your blacktop is.”
“Blacktop?... You mean ‘laptop’?”
“Yeah, the thing you go on the intercom with.”
Don’t get me wrong, I love my mother. She is just a doll for not knowing the exact names of our high tech gadgets or to some ‘not so high tech gadgets’. It was a nightmare when I introduced her to caller id. Mom didn’t know what to do with herself.
“Well how do you know if someone is calling you?”
“The phone will ring ma.”
“Well how do you see who’s calling?”
“Look at the screen ma, it’ll tell ya.”
The answering machine was another evil that she had to tend with. I had to make the outgoing message for her because all you heard was, “Oh…this? Is this thing on? Which button do you push?” BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!
That’s all that people heard. So now my voice is on her machine, and the people who call her are exactly like her---in the sense of being a bit old fashioned.
My aunt calls the other day not realizing that mom’s phone is different from mine in my own apartment.
“Deb! It’s your aunt. I’m on my second cocktail and wanted to see what you all were doing.” Yes, alcoholism runs in the family. When my aunt and uncle venture over from Brooklyn to our place, it’s always a guaranteed good time.
But she addresses me when she leaves messages. She doesn’t address anyone else, because no one else’s voice is on the machine but mine.
So back to this cable guy/zippo dude/high speed intercom tech, I have to wait for him once again this morning because I wasn’t exactly ‘his territory’. He had to get different equipment to set me up. Fine. But when the technician came to the house, he chose the wrong door. My parents’ door.
“Huh? Whaddya’ tawkin’ abow’??? Wha cable? I didn’t call for any cable!” My dad stands in the front of the door confusing the poor guy while puffing on his cigarette.
“Dad! No! That’s for me!” I ran outside like a lunatic cause I knew he went to the wrong door. I had to fix this immediately.
I sat out there with the cable guy trying to figure out which pole was the winner. He checked the one pole, and figured out that he needed to get another guy from upstate to install it. I didn’t understand it—but apparently my poles are all frigged up. We sat there talking for a lengthy amount of time when I realized he had that look. That, ‘is she single look’. I realized we were kind of in an awkward situation- especially when I was talking ‘cable jargon’ with him since I worked for a phone & internet company. It would have been love at first sight if I were straight. The guy was an absolute doll. He could have saved my soul. Now I have to wait for this other technician to get here. Maybe it’ll be a gorgeous woman with a big ol’ tool belt dangling off her hip. That’s hot.
Wish me luck. I’m sitting here waiting for ‘the cable guy’ or hopefully---‘the cable chick’. They gave me a time frame of 8-11am. Hopefully I’ll be full speed ahead downloading porn and Joyce Meyer at the same time.
"I'm Sorry." After the last couple of years, and whatever it is that you may be personally going through, it's especially ...
Matt & Alissa Walsh & The Duggars Within the last couple of days, I have been responding to a post entitled, "T he Duggars ...
Let's get one thing straight right off the bat: I do not rejoice in other people's shortcomings or problems. What I do take a tiny...