Teenagers and Cellphones. The world has changed.

It has been a long time since Erma talked about teenagers dragging the family phone into the closet.  Just this year, everyone in my family now has their own phone.

Yes, this does make it easy to track kids down.  I can nag them with multiple texts asking where they are, who they are talking to, and ask for a picture of them in the place they are supposed to be wearing what they left the house in and holding a piece of paper with a code word on it that I just gave to them and then forgot so that they could have written “Where’s Waldo?” and I would be happy thinking they knew the code word and were not using old pictures they had taken of friends or classrooms or the stage at the auditorium and were really doing drugs on the hillside above the “shortcut” home which is really a code word for drugee hangout.

Now you might say, why don’t you use the gps ap. that cellphones have to track children.  I tried!  The website to set it all up wouldn’t work and I ended up locking my own phone out of being about to make any changes on anything and I had to call the phone company every time I wanted something and sit on hold for two and a half hours until a human came on and scared me out of my coma.

And it can track phones within 5 miles, which pretty much covers my entire town.  They could be in the bottom of the skate park, hiding down by the river, or in the school library making out with some little boy and I would still have to stalk them by posting on their facebook page “Child has disappeared.  Please tell me if you see her.”

Speaking of which, they do all kinds of things with their phones that are incomprehensible to me.  I know they can connect to facebook and email.  They make up their own ringtones.  They might even store music, which makes those Ipods I bought them all obsolete.  They take better pictures than I can take with my camera.  I think they might even be able to wipe their own asses with a puff of air that comes out of the microphone because I rarely find remnants of toilet paper in the toilet when they became unable to flush because they are texting with one hand and applying eyeliner with the other.

At night I collect all the phones because  I have this old fashioned belief that they will sleep better if they can’t talk to anyone, despite the fact that they still have Ipods, a kindle, 3 DS’s, a laptop, and might be connected to wifi through their navels now that babies are born with an internal wifi card and an attraction to any screen (Seriously, you should see the speed with which my baby crawls toward a laptop or phone.  It’s like a horror movie possessed baby crawl, head upside down and limbs turning in the wrong directions and crawling faster than a tarantula in my nightmares.)

And then I’ll be sitting, no, lounging sprawled, on the couch after work, where I go to pay for all these gadgets that I don’t even understand and my phone will go off in the kitchen with the drumroll tone that I use for texts because it is the ONLY thing that makes me feel special and I will spend every ounce of energy pulling my limbs together to make the trip to go find out what is so important, only the find that the child who was sitting on the couch across from me asked me a question.  A question like “Can I go see a friend?” Or “What’s for dinner?”  I swear they will eventually lose the ability to speak and their lips will move and no sound will come out except a drumroll.

They will all lose their sight too before they become as old as I am.  Not only do they spend 18 hours a day with their noses 2 inches from a screen, squinting at the flashing images (and another 5 hours every night hiding under the covers on their beds), but they can text without looking faster than I can speak.  The first time I texted, after they spend 3 hours showing me over and over how to hold the keys down until the next letter comes up, I was so slow that they laughed and slapped each other on the backs with an enthusiasm I haven’t seen since . . . ever, because they can never all agree that the same thing is funny because that would make them too similar and WE CAN’T HAVE THAT.  I’ve even see them pick up their little brother and tap on his belly and then stop and realize that no one is receiving the message they just sent, or are they?




20 WAYS to kill a laptop: Windows recovery virus leads to time spent in dark basement

My Dell Inspiron 1501 was attacked over a week ago

by the Windows Recovery virus.

It looked like a windows program and kept popping up saying I had a dozen viruses on my computer and asked me to buy protection.

So I did the most common sense thing.  I closed it down and updated my virus protection just like this site says to: windows recovery

I did a scan with my virus protection program at reboot. 

And it still crashed like a multiple car pileup in slow motion that I can’t write about here because I will have flashbacks and a panic attack and I’m already feeling a little tingly in my hands just writing this sentence.

So I took this DELL that I’ve had to buy 2 batteries, 3 cords, a hard drive, lost my blue function keys, dug jelly out of, and sworn at 184 times

And I put it behind my car and drove over it

lit it on fire

bashed it with a sledgehammer

threw it in the river

buried it in the garden

and then I stopped ranting about Dells and I had my husband take it to the computer repair guy, because if I had taken it outside I’m not sure what I would have done.

And that’s why I’m sitting in a dark basement now, in my pajamas, typing madly.

How to convert mp4 to mp3 using iTunes

I bought songs from iTunes for my  husband and then discovered that when I copied them onto my mp3 player the format was wrong and they wouldn’t play.

Apple doesn’t really want their music to be played on music players other than the ones they sell, so they don’t make it easy to change songs to mp3.  The ones I downloaded were in MP4 format.

Go to EDIT in the top left corner of iTunes.

At the bottom of the drop down list choose PREFERENCES.

Open the GENERAL tap.

Click on the IMPORT PREFERENCES button.

Choose MP3 encoder next to Import Using.

If your songs are already in iTunes right click on them one at a time or highlight a group and right click.

From the drop down list it will now say CREATE MP3 VERSION.

This will create a second version of your song, in the same iTunes folder that is now in MP3 format and can be copied to your player.

I would assume that any song uploaded into iTunes could be changed to MP3.

But then again, it took me forever to figure this all out and I could be wrong about life in general.


The Worst Game Ever that seems to be what all the Teenagers are playing


I found them all huddled in the kitchen laughing hysterically last night over this really simple really hard game.  My first try I made it to 52.9 meters by inching along on my front foot.  But that first hurdle was impossible to get over from such a low position and I did a bit of a somesault onto my face.

Which is a bit like my life, isn’t it?

Inching along at a nice safe pace, ending up on my face, and then laughing about it.

So go play!

Tomorrow’s post will probably be about my work Christmas Party today because I have NO IDEA what a bunch of therapists are like when they get together to party.  It could be really really bad or it could be insane.  I’m going to ride the middle between the two.

How did you find my blog?

I like to do this once in a while because it amuses me and that’s what life is about, amusing myself.  These are real searches that ended up right here–on my blog:

“Rectal Exam”

Right on!

“mushrooms + kidnapping”

I think you meant to find the Alice in Wonderland site instead.  Or perhaps you are doing a little online researching in order to commit a crime.  Either way you won’t find what you’re looking for here.

“midget on a leash”

Somehow I think my title leads a lot of midget porn fetishists here.  I can understand putting a leash on a small child in a busy airport.  But this . . .

“keep an eye in the midgets”

Okay, first of all that’s ON, not IN.  And secondly I think we need to keep an eye on YOU because you seem to be much more dangerous than a midget.  Midgets do not need eyeballs shoved into them.

“breast lactate middle age

OMG, this isn’t right!  Now I really am worried about menopause!

“pickle sinus”

This is kind of like the eyeball-midget thing, isn’t it?  That pickle does not belong in your sinus!  I don’t know why you put it in there, or what kind of bizarre accident occurred in which you ended up impaling yourself in the nose with a pickle, but PLEASE got to the Emergency Room instead of googling for helpful ideas.

“baby powder explosion”

I really thought this could only happen in my life.  Please contact me so that our 15 year old daughters can hang out together.

“pirates spiced”

I think you meant to google SPICED RUM.  It’s not the actual pirate that’s spiced and in a bottle.  Pirates are too scrawny and mean to taste good.

“what are good NYC metal stations”

Seriously?  Here?  This blog is like the complete opposite of NYC metal stations?  You must have been on ANTI-Google.

“worst rectal exam”

Okay, the first time was right on, this is just the opposite of that.  What would anyone want to know about the worst rectal exam?

“are my breasts quiz”

If you don’t know which part of your body is your breast just look down.  Those two hangy balloon things that rest gently on your stomach are you breasts.

“dating a hippy difficult”

Well Yoda, yes it is difficult to date someone who recycles, conserves gas, and likes flowers.  Go date a metal head instead, or just stick to Jedi cause at least they can save your ass when someone throws you down a well.

“What is a normal mother”

This is my favorite.  You are looking in the wrong place!  This is the NOT SO NORMAL site.  Don’t even look anywhere on line.  Go pay your kids some attention instead of sitting on your laptop.

Super Mario Bros Wii: A Review (and how I became an addict)

Anything Mario is always good.  So I picked out this game on that rare occassion last week when I went to the store to look for a new game.  I thought it would give the kids something to do during this well below zero week of school vacation.

Instead every chance I get I’m down there.  It’s the same Mario with the same map, obstacle courses, flying shells, and music.  ONLY BETTER BECAUSE:

  • Up to 4 people can play at one time ON THE SAME SCREEN.  This is good because I sometimes forget which screen I’m on and I end up driving madly off the road or something while thinking, Wow I’m really good, when it’s the other person who is going really good. 
  • I love the bubble.  There are times I live in the bubble.  If you fall down a hole and there’s still someone else alive you can press A and bubble over to them where they pop you out to play another day.  I have turned this safety net into an MO, a strategy all on its own–much like the people on survivor who stay really quiet and vote with the majority and end up winning because they haven’t pissed anyone off.  I stay in a safe place and let other people go through the dangerous things and then BUBBLE OVER TO THEM.  So instead of getting stuck on one world and never getting any further in the game, I can tag along and feel important.  Cause while they are running through they can always bubble back to where I’m happily standing whistling cheerfully to myself. 
  • The whole family plays their role through their character.  We’ve got the panicked SCREAMER, the nervous BOUNCER who feels blamed, the BRAGGER, the BRAVE male, and me–the one who lives in my safe little bubble.
  • The graphics are excellent, the worlds vary endlessly, and it’s incredible stressful and exciting.  We play until we start getting angry at each other and then I call a break so that everyone can calm down.
  • It’s a little creepy too, when someone dies and comes bubbling back and the remote they are holding has ghostly little kids voices coming out of it saying “help me” and something that sounds like “jelly fish.”
  • I also wonder why all the characters yell “Asshole!” before entering a new world.  The kids tell me they’re are saying “Here we go!”  I’m hearing “Asshole!”


    The Hot People List

    My friend is on the list.  Not that I’m googling Hot People and I just happened to find her.  I know I’m married now!

    I was googling HER because I can never remember her address.  That’s how often I mail her anything.  NEVER.  And the first link that came up was Hot People.  This cracked me up because I’m such a good friend.  (I was mailing her birthday box 3 days late, so I’m an easily distracted friend.)

    This is what I found:

    G. Abrah – Hot Rating: 3.2

    Abrah G., .0.. Cochran Rd, Morrisville, VT 05661.

    Phone 802-88.-…. Click here to find out what makes Abrah G. hot? 101666, 101953, 101862, 101657
    How hot is Abrah G. this second? 

    It also has her listed as being 48 years old. 

    Now Abrah, you are pretty hot for a 48 year old living in Morrisville.  I have been to the theater there once.  So I would know.  Wait, that just doesn’t sound like what I meant to say.  Abrah, you’re always hot to me because you’re my friend.  Maybe I’m feeling too sarcastic today because anything I write sounds like I’m saying something else.

    While writing this post I went back to copy that listing for her name and I read the TOP of the link.  It’s not ah OOOOO lala you’re so hot list.  It’s a list of people who are close to TOXIC WASTE SITES.


    (But this isn’t a bad list to check when you’re dating and want to know if the man might someday have children with tales and an eyeball in the middle of their forehead.)

    I fully support your decision not to have children, Abrah.

    This is not the supportive, I’m a good friend Post that was in my head when I started writing this.