They Say I’m Long Winded

WindMaybe it’s genetic. I have no idea.  Should I be more self aware of this?  Probably. Fact is, Google has officially called me out on it.  It’s slightly creepy when a non-human entity points out a human characteristic. Okay, so it’s not a human characteristic that’s considered attractive but still, it’s unsettling. I laughed out loud but it was one of those laughs that was part ha-ha, part I-don’t-know-what-else-to-do-because-I’m-uncomfortable kind of laughs.

Here’s Google’s response to one of my blog post titles:

Warning: Title display in Google is limited to a fixed width, yours is too long.

I’m giving the shitty sentence structure a pass.  Namely, because I’m completely fascinated by how this non-human “voice” manages to sound so beautifully, snarkily human.

I’m wondering which Google team member insisted on taking off “dumb shit” at the end of that warning?

Just to be clear, I know “snarkily” is not a word.  I’m sure Google will somehow find a way to point that out.

P.S  Rudimentary, art-house doodle is a self-portrait. And yeah, that’s sorta the color of my hair right now.



The Forever Conversation

My days in hiding have officially come to an end.

I wasn’t actually hiding, per se. I was just kind of…anonymous.

I had e-mail. That was about it.

Now I have Twitter, Facebook, LinkedIn, multiple e-mail addresses, Godaddy domain names, lots of cool Apps that I don’t know how to use [yet], Google thingies, bells and whistles,  pins I can put in things that interest me that others can see and ponder why my deep and abiding love of Jimmy Iovine has consumed my life. [ooooops, the Jimmy shrine is still a secret]

I can follow, be followed, watched, poked, prodded, reminded, pinged, tagged, linked, attached, hooked up and dialed in…. sometimes, I don’t even know I’ve done it until I get a notice or a message or a ping from someone who I may or may not know saying they like something or another I did or posted. Really? What did I do, again?

Case in point:  Cake and Pinterest. Someone trying to teach me how to use it pulled a picture from HER Pinterest page as a quick example of the wonderful things I could do on the site.  Like post pictures of cake.  I started getting Facebook messages about how yummy that cake looked and how cool it was that I posted it for all to see and salivate over.

Just to be sure….that was somebody else’s cake. Not my cake.

Don’t get me wrong. I like cake. In fact, I love cake. But I see no real value in posting a picture of it on a web-site so people know I like it. I’d rather just speak it to another person face to face which feels way more….intimate. Or better yet, eat the cake in front of them so they really, really, really understand just how much I like it.   BTW…I also dig sex. A lot. I’m wondering if I should post pictures of sex on my Pinterest page alongside the cake? Probably not as to avoid any confusion. Probably not a good idea to do it in front of someone to prove my point, I suppose, but you get my drift.

For the record, I believe eating cake and having sex are two distinctly different activities and any respective imagery should remain appropriately segregated on Pinterest.

This everything-is-public concept hit me hard  in the shower yesterday [as epiphanies often do] between  shampooing and shaving my legs.  This forever conversation with people via the internet will never end.  On the contrary, it’s just beginning.  It’s 24/7…the open all night diner, the bar with a vodka fountain that never goes dry, the Insta-everything that’s making me into I don’t know what. A true entrepreneur? A target? A victim?  A wannabe? A pathetic wretch who believes people give a shit if I like cake or shave my legs?

I’m not sure yet.

P.S.  Generally I wax my legs but sometimes a girl just has to be smooth right now! Thought you might like to know that.




While further attempting to customize my Google home page so I get more news and become smarter?  I added the New York Times headlines which, against all odds considering the source of aforementioned attempt, went well….but then I was redirected to this weird page of additional stuff I could add.

For example, I could add Joke of the Day.

No thank you.

Word of the Day.  Mmmmmm….nope. The only word I need to know first thing in the morning is c.o.f.f.e.e.




Too depressing.

And something called Poke the Penguin.

I don’t even want to know what that means after reading in my daily horoscope that “the Sun in Aries hooks up with erratic Uranus.”


Today, like every other day of my life, I stumbled to the kitchen for a cup o’ Joe so I could regain my eyesite, snatched up my laptop and climbed back in bed.  It’s still early, mind you, lest I give the impression I spend my entire day in bed.

Coffee and computer. My two most cherished “C” words.

E-mail came first.  Not much to report except that you can still buy Viagra for super, super cheap from that Canadian on-line pharmacy…and oh, yeah,… those hideous Jimmy Choos are now down to $27.50  from some discounter who refuses to stop stalking me. Nevermind that they really ARE hideous and they’re a size 18.

Off to check in with my Writer’s Workshop to see what’s cookin’ in the minds of my fellow scribes.

Open Safari….

Up pops Google which is my browser.  (Is that the right term? I think so.)

The article that caught my eye on the news feed thingy (probably NOT the right term) was:

“Google Knows Too Much About You.”

Of course I clicked on it because I’ve been seeing all those touchy-feeling messages from Google about how their new privacy policy is “beautiful” and “simplistic” and aren’t you all going to accept these lovely words….smoking us like a swarm of angry bees…eyelids growing heavy as we drift off to the land of…..

“Holy shit”, I say as I shake the images of candy cane trees and rivers of honey out of my noggin.

Yeah. They know everything about you.  Every fucking thing.

And God love ’em.  They reminded me that I’m overdue for my bi-yearly dental check-up and since I’m now 50?  I really need to schedule that colonoscopy and just to be really, really safe even though I do resistance training on a regular basis with kettle bells and pilates, probably a bone density test as well.

Gosh!  Thanks for putting in the time to know me so well, Google!  I feel really, really special now. It only cost me every ounce of privacy I have left in this double-edged-cyber-freak-show we live in.

….as she signs off of her blog, powered by the Internet, searchable on Google, the information she used to get here lovingly stored and preserved for future use in selling her a product or service of some sort.

She says to herself “What a clever blog! I feel like a hypocrit but whatever. It’s all harmless fun.”

She doesn’t believe her own words. Doubt clouds her face like she’s searching for a vague just-out-of-reach memory.

And realization hits her. Her face falls. Her fingers fly up to her Google search history.

Ruh roh.