To start with, I was definitely born fifty years too soon to ever relate to computers, computer programs, electronic data transmission, and obvious operational procedures that completely baffle any semi-intelligent human over the age of say, 45. To say that learning this new technology has been a challenge would be the understatement of the century. I have fought, cursed, concentrated, demanded, and drank my way into trying to understand the obvious. Some knowledge has crept through over the last 20 years, but most of it eludes me to this day.
Take my computer for example (please!). I bought this cute little laptop about two months ago and aside from the frustration of trying to learn MS Office 2007, it seems to be working fairly well. That is, until last night, when it copped an attitude, refused to boot all the way up or shut down when commanded to do so. I must’ve pushed every button on this keyboard in a futile attempt to accidentally hit something that would respond to human touch. But the evil trolls that dwell in the depths of the CPU were not impressed and steadfastly refused to respond to any demand, no matter how hard I hit the key or what language I used to describe its lineage.
I’m not sure if it was the blatant disregard of the machinery to obey me, or the emerging realization that I have become far too dependent on electronic means of communication that frustrated me the most. Suffice it to say that I retired for the day in a complete snit, completely irate over the lack of respect displayed by this cocky little square of plastic and silicone perched on my desk. Somewhere during the night, probably during my 1:00 – 3:00 a.m. sleepless hours, I resolved to take the unrepentant black slab back to the place of its beginnings (Radio Shack) for a sound attitude adjustment.
My first choice of penance was a visit to a locally run computer shop where I had my last towering computer built back in 0-2. What was I thinking? It was only 9:45 and God knows no self-respecting geek ever arrives before, ohhh, say 11:00 or twelve-ish. Forget that. Then it’s off to Radio Shack, pay the damned $40 fee for analysis and get this thing up and running while I still have friends. Of course, it was too early for real tech support, but I managed to give an indignant demonstration of the laptop’s unwillingness to either boot up completely or shut down to the accommodating clerk. Quietly, the young man watched as I stabbed at the power button clearly showing non-obedience. As I completed my tirade, he reached over, pushed on the power button and held it there. POOF!! Off it goes, completely shutting down like a good little computer! Then, just to make matters worse, this….this…..”clerk” (who wasn’t a minute over 22) taps the power button, waits, and viola! On it comes, performing perfectly obviously taking advantage of the opportunity to make me look like a complete old fool.
Snatching the computer off the counter and giving the boy one last glare, I stormed out of the store indignantly while he tore up the work order, returned home, hooked up the computer daring it to disobey me just one more time. But this time, all is well.
(Did I just hear “nee-ner, nee-ner, nee-ner?” Damned computers.)
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Monday, September 21, 2009
Finding Love in Your Sixties
Well, just the title should be enough to scare you off. There is a stereotypical image of the sixties singles and I’ll have to admit, in large part, it holds true; visions of dried up old raisins with saggy boobs and shriveled men with no hair. Those of us of that age can remember fondly the “Granny” cartoons in Playboy and relate. Maybe the ol’ girl is still there – haven’t a clue.
As a woman in that demographic, I proudly announce that I am one of the few and emerging new sexy senior citizens. Despite the typical post-menopausal few extra pounds, I’m still in pretty good shape for an old girl, still firm in the right places. I work out at a gym, hike, fish, and camp, do my own carpentry, and run my own chain saw. I’m quite alive, healthy, and divorced. So how do I find a new companion in the 21st century?
Let’s look to the internet. Now there’s a fine option for you and I have signed up on no less than four on-line dating services. The automated matches that I receive courtesy of two of these services reveal a variety of colorful relics, most of whom post multiple pictures of their treasured Harley Davidsons. Now, I’m not sure what happens to mature men when they suddenly find themselves single again (or not), but those Harleys have definitely found their nitch as a phallus symbol for aging studs, most of whom need to rely on modern chemistry to simulate what they used to do all night effortlessly.
I’m definitely not your typical motorcycle mama. In fact, I know of few women in this demographic that are, although the wind in your face at 70 mph tends to pull the wrinkles out and give one a fresher, more youthful appearance. Forget going topless. I heard of one woman who got her nipple caught in the spokes. It was not a pretty sight. I prefer the quiet comfort of a nice sedan, SUV, or pickup, preferably one with Sirius radio and GPS (we tend to lose our sense of direction after about 55 or so). That way, we can listen to Elvis or the Beatles while we wait for search and rescue after having provided precise coordinates via the GPS unit. That being said, we’re on with the search.
For about the last year, year and a half, I’ve been using these sites and on occasion even met a few prospective companions. Let’s see, so far there’s been one who already has cirrhosis of the liver; God only knows how long he’ll last. Another was a confessed bi-polar; a third was a full-blown alcoholic that displayed bi-polar symptoms. Then there was the guy with whom there was RED HOT chemistry! Boy! That one had some distinct possibilities. Turns out, after my requisite background check, the guy wasn’t exactly who he said he was and seemed to have a little secret….like, a wife. I don’t think so, dude.
Others have been the evasive sailor, whom I have big suspicions about; the guy with no money or any other assets; and then there’s the dream guy who after one blistering day of laughter and romance, disappears and is never heard from again. Crap. He even passed the background check.
Whatever the phenomenon, I can’t describe it. I can only report on the history of what happens to me. To say this whole scenario is frustrating would be an understatement. I’ve put myself out there in all sincerity. I’m a reasonably good looking woman. I’m healthy, positive, have a life and my own money. So what is it? What is the missing ingredient that causes companionship to elude me? Am I doomed to be nothing more than a nurse or a purse to those poor unfortunate males of my species that wore themselves out being defiant all their lives? I don’t think so. I’d rather be alone. And so it is……
As a woman in that demographic, I proudly announce that I am one of the few and emerging new sexy senior citizens. Despite the typical post-menopausal few extra pounds, I’m still in pretty good shape for an old girl, still firm in the right places. I work out at a gym, hike, fish, and camp, do my own carpentry, and run my own chain saw. I’m quite alive, healthy, and divorced. So how do I find a new companion in the 21st century?
Let’s look to the internet. Now there’s a fine option for you and I have signed up on no less than four on-line dating services. The automated matches that I receive courtesy of two of these services reveal a variety of colorful relics, most of whom post multiple pictures of their treasured Harley Davidsons. Now, I’m not sure what happens to mature men when they suddenly find themselves single again (or not), but those Harleys have definitely found their nitch as a phallus symbol for aging studs, most of whom need to rely on modern chemistry to simulate what they used to do all night effortlessly.
I’m definitely not your typical motorcycle mama. In fact, I know of few women in this demographic that are, although the wind in your face at 70 mph tends to pull the wrinkles out and give one a fresher, more youthful appearance. Forget going topless. I heard of one woman who got her nipple caught in the spokes. It was not a pretty sight. I prefer the quiet comfort of a nice sedan, SUV, or pickup, preferably one with Sirius radio and GPS (we tend to lose our sense of direction after about 55 or so). That way, we can listen to Elvis or the Beatles while we wait for search and rescue after having provided precise coordinates via the GPS unit. That being said, we’re on with the search.
For about the last year, year and a half, I’ve been using these sites and on occasion even met a few prospective companions. Let’s see, so far there’s been one who already has cirrhosis of the liver; God only knows how long he’ll last. Another was a confessed bi-polar; a third was a full-blown alcoholic that displayed bi-polar symptoms. Then there was the guy with whom there was RED HOT chemistry! Boy! That one had some distinct possibilities. Turns out, after my requisite background check, the guy wasn’t exactly who he said he was and seemed to have a little secret….like, a wife. I don’t think so, dude.
Others have been the evasive sailor, whom I have big suspicions about; the guy with no money or any other assets; and then there’s the dream guy who after one blistering day of laughter and romance, disappears and is never heard from again. Crap. He even passed the background check.
Whatever the phenomenon, I can’t describe it. I can only report on the history of what happens to me. To say this whole scenario is frustrating would be an understatement. I’ve put myself out there in all sincerity. I’m a reasonably good looking woman. I’m healthy, positive, have a life and my own money. So what is it? What is the missing ingredient that causes companionship to elude me? Am I doomed to be nothing more than a nurse or a purse to those poor unfortunate males of my species that wore themselves out being defiant all their lives? I don’t think so. I’d rather be alone. And so it is……
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