Sunday, 14 April 2013

She's Bulgaria and owls need skincare products too

Ok, so I'll be the first to say it. I don't get technology. I'm not ashamed. And yes I'm not unaware of the irony in posting this on a blog on the interbuttz but you know what, I don't get the internet sometimes either. I don't understand the procedure for booking flights on the internet and how that's supposedly faster than using a cave wall and a charred stick. I don't - and I'm saying this in full acknowledgement of the far-too-much-money I spend on inappropriate items I don't need on eBay - I don't get online shopping. I don't really understand how Facebook is supposed to be some sort of tool for keeping in touch with the people in your life that are supposed to be important enough for you to make some sort of fucking effort to get off your arse and call them once in a while. 

Most of all I don't get my phone. I accept that the phone has evolved. I have made peace with the concept that they can now perform multiple tasks. I took to text messaging initially like a duck to astrophysics but I'm ok with it now. I have come to terms with the fact that a telephone can now quite conceivably be lost in your pocket, whereas less than my lifetime ago it could quite conceivably be used to beat a shark to death. That is if you were to have one with you whilst out swimming, which would never happen because they were anchored to the wall by a cord. BY A CORD, MOTHERFUCKERS.

I understand and live with the idea that you can now use a telephone for texting, calling, videocalling morse code cameras torchesgamescalculatorsinternetfacebookmusicplayers etc.


Because it's all kinds of fucked up! It makes sentences that should not be! And the manufacturers and programmers keep telling me that it's getting more intuitive but you know what it's not. It's getting more arbitrary. It's getting hypocritical. It's like having a retarded nanny that's telling you that smoking is inappropriate whilst it's fisting a Canadian goose wearing fishnets.

And some are relatively harmless and slightly amusing, I'll grant you. I was talking to a friend about Facey and apparently instead of being hilarious she's been promoted to being Bulgaria. Not sure if the phone meant the country or the Womble but either way I don't think it was a compliment.  During a conversation about skincare products the other day it was decided (by my phone) that the "sensitive STIFF is marketed to OWLS with skin conditions". Whilst the mental imagery conjured up was entertaining - REALLY?! I'm unconvinced I need to know about a world where scabby leprous owls are being treated with sensitive stiffs... O_o

And it's not just me. I've been called a B*Tchaikovsky by Facey. Other friends have fallen prey to it. I've been told that someone can't text me for a bit because the boss has just gotten back from lynch (may or may not have been a typo). In a forum where the phone makes you tap out the letters of a profanity one by one almost every damn time because it refuses to recognise such vulgarities, I have sent MY MOTHER a message informing her that my recently-delivered sister was not up to visitors to see her and the new baby because they were removing her epidural and she was then going to have her first SHIT. I thought she was having her first SHOWER but apparently my phone knew better.

But auto core cats stew. You cache annoys them. Even if t your hardest is going to taken. And Swype doesn't help mates. It enables airboats and fair eggnog too.  Technology doesn't have a vats intestacy in improving out luau skills as a culture. As a whole we're moving away from the weekend word. Video calling and text soak is neutering the langue.  And lolcats have add lid to August fork.  How do we stop this Shiplake bastard is Aston of our mother tongue? Is theft any hope? Or attach we slowly devolving to Cavendish low grunts and chat timings over a blazibg mammoth carcass in the living ruin?

... for duck's sake. You know wet I mean.

Tuesday, 9 April 2013

Clearly this conversation is a shoe-in...

As far as ridiculous conversations that progressed from an auto-correct fail go, this has to be both the strangest I've had and the most impressive, if only because it illustrates how well-read we both are under the lunacy...

Facey McBones:
Hey noodle. You still ok for me to come
over after work today?

Charlie Blowfly:
Yep looking forward to it

I plan to poke you with socks and things

Wtf phone – how is me poking her with
socks going to help?  What happened to
the sticks?

Facey McBones:
Apparently not as terrifying as socks

Charlie Blowfly:
Few things are in my experience.

Facey McBones:

Charlie Blowfly:
... my experience may be limited.

Facey McBones:
I thought it might

Charlie Blowfly:
Of sticks. I have lots of sock-related

I’ve read all the classics.

Facey McBones:
You’re beginning to veer slightly into
obscure land here m’dear

Charlie Blowfly:
A Tale of Two Socks

The Taming of the Shoe

Facey McBones:
Oh Christ

To Kill A Stockingbird

Charlie Blowfly:
ROFL well done

Facey McBones:

Charlie Blowfly:
The Adventures of Sherlock Hose

Moby Sock

Facey McBones:
In Search of Lost Darn

Charlie Blowfly:
Adventures of Tom Sawyer and
Huckleberry Fishnets

Not to mention of course Shakespeare’s
A Comedy of Slippers

Facey McBones:
The Foot Soldier

Charlie Blowfly:
Don Quixote of Leg Warmer

Facey McBones:
On par with The Great Socksby I’ve always

And who could forget Charlotte’s Legs

Charlie Blowfly:
And Victor Hugo’s French revolutionary
masterpiece Les Chausettes

Facey McBones:
Ohh nice one

Charlie Blowfly:
Or that great tale of swashbuckling
adventure, The Man in the Iron Booties

Ooh ooh – The Jungle Sock by Rudyard Kipling

Or even Ivanhose

Facey McBones:
I always preferred The BFG
(Big Frilly Garter)

Even Denier Fair

Charlie Blowfly:
Oh well if it’s children’s books you
want then you can’t go past Kipling’s
Just Sock Stories

Or Anne of Green Garters

Green Legs and Ham is pretty
good too