The Dinosaur (For Maria)

-
Because Maria said I needed to blog about this....  here we go.

The call was for my husband, but my comadre answered.  This is always a great surprise for me.  I call Lloyd at work to get an answer to something :"did the cat get his medicine? Did you take out the trash?" and we don't chatter on and on about much else.   When my bff, his co-worker, answers, I get to catch up on gossip and the goings-on of life.

She asked how it was going in my quest for a new job and I told her how flustering it was to be looking for a job on the dinosaur.  The dinosaur is my desktop computer.

My company from which I am now departed supplied us with laptops.  A shiny machine that glowed in the backdrop of an episode of "The Bachelor".  Most of my best work was done on my leather couch, curled up with "So You Think You Can Dance" and other favorite tivo'd shows playing in the background.  

The internet connection was hot fast.  My cute, compact little laptop that saw me through work sales and facebooking my friends.  This cute laptop that was taken back at the finale of my post.

I am now back to using the dinosaur.  It is funny because I used that dinosaur 3 years ago to find a job and it seemed to work out just fine.  I can't recall, now, if the dino took so damn long to load back then.  But literally, I wake in the morning, saunter downstairs, make breakfast, feed the cats, brew coffee, wash a few dishes and parade back upstairs only to discover that my pc-saurus has still not fully loaded all of the applications I need to successfully search for a new job.

And that noise.  Let me tell you.

It's like a T-Rex chasing a raptor through the jungle. 

I can't call it a hum, because it isn't that pleasant.  When it doesn't sound like a screeching raptor, it sounds like a falling brachiosaurus.  (Aren't I so clever with all my dino-knowledge?  Thanks Jurassic Park.)

But the sound is horrendous.  Yes, yes, I can go out and buy a new laptop, no problemo.  But I am being stubborn and trying to act like Cammy from the Block, like, y'know, I can still put up with the simpler things in life.  I don't need a fancy schmancy new laptop to look for a job because that would just be my way of making an excuse.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

"Dear Bobby"

-
Image
"Dear Bobby, I love you. I always look forward to when my husband leaves for work, and you sneak into bed with me. Sometimes, you will wake me up, but usually, you just lie there next to me waiting for my eyes to open." Bobby. You are a cat. But you are the cat of all cats. Unliked some others whose names I will not mention.... you like being a cat. You are my original Obi Kenobi... But you don't like your name and insist I call you "Bobby" or "Bob". You are my predator. You can catch anything- including a rabbit almost twice your size. I remember the time you brought a baby possum into our home. I had just awakened and sleepily headed to use the bathroom when, peering from inside the toilet, was a little possum begging to be released. You cheeky bastard, Bobby. That poor possum. I scolded you and you just turned the other whisker, as if to say "look lady... I am a cat, that's how I do...." The other cats beg for forgiveness when ...
Read More

The Good Dancer: A Dating Story

-
Image
I once dated a really good dancer. That wasn't his only strength. In truth, he was one of thee absolute best dudes I ever made out with.  He was super funny, smart and we clicked right away. But what struck me as odd was that, for the first time before and since, his good dancing skills didn't turn me off.  (For some reason, a man with too much swagger on the floor has always confused and frightened me a little.)  Oh, and I also don't like when they are so involved in their dancing that they forget you are on the floor with them.  Oh, and when they A. crowd you or B. use you as a prop.  Oh, and when they sing along to songs by female artists.  If you know all the lyrics to "I'm a Slave for You", that's both impressive and embarrassing. (I really did have strange deal-breakers with men...) So here was the first guy who I enjoyed dancing with that was actually a really good dancer.  He didn't crowd.  He didn't sweat profusely.  H...
Read More

Degree

-
Image
It was on Friday night. We laughed a lot, perhaps made delirious by the sweet smell of men that were familiar-yet-elusive and desirable. It could have been the wine,  it could have been the great company of old friends and conversations and shared opinions with other women. I disagreed with Ariel more than once, though... "Too sweet" or.... "smells like a jelly bean...." The ones I couldn't put down were the ones that smelled like a man's deodorant, hidden among 75+ samples that scattered in baskets around the coffee table. There we sat around a table full of scents as we sampled the fragrances from a friend's Scentsy collection, eager to fill out our order forms for the smells that would soon promise to envelop our homes. I opted for the "Iced Pine" option, which always reminds me of the home I have not yet lived in and lingered around the fragrances that smelled of citrus and orange peels.  The idea of the smell of "Orange...
Read More