It hasn’t even been twenty four hours, but I find that I have a lot to say about Mr. Shiny Pants already. Say a prayer for me. (Oh. My. God. I’m calling the immigration bureau right this minute.) The pretty man with the black eyes said I could have a pony! Where did all these towels with apples on them come from and why are they all over the bathroom floor? It took 1 and 1/2 hours to compose this entry. The HTML is killing me! I miss you Bloggar. I know iMac doesn’t like you, but I think you are the best. The BEST. Sniff. Farewell… I mean Arivaderchi, Aloha, Ciao… ummm bye bye.
This computer is slick and fast and… weird. In mostly nice ways but sometimes the weird bits really scare the bejeebers out of you.
For instance, he, I mean the iMac certainly speaks English but he speaks it with a very thick foreign accent. It’s quite fetching and captivating and I even find that one can forget all about WHAT he is saying and get lost in the lovely new cadence of the words and before you know it you are weak in the knees and have forgotten what you were trying to get done.
BUT, the reality of your situation begins to dawn on you when you realize he wants to stay up way too late and sleep in far too long in the morning, and prefers breakfast… in bed… well, “Make that brunch won’t you be a dear?” is really more like it.
And just when you are in a full bore linear panic [thank you Mr. McMannis] about what is going to happen to your mp3 files when you try to load them onto the hard drive, and you are longing for your boring old computer and its stodgy but familiar file system, old black eyes comes walking out of the shower with only a towel on. The one with the Apple logo strategically placed…ahem. And you forget all about mp3 transfers. . .for the moment.
I used to be pretty good with the stodgy old file system, heck I was almost an expert for my age group. Sort of like having learned to be a good, solid, competent American cook. I could get a decent meal on the table in no time. But now? Now I need to channel Julia Childs to satisfy my new in-house foreigner. Scrambled eggs won’t cut it, he must have eggs benedict or nothing! Exactemont! sp.
Though actually, he seems more like an Italian than a Frenchman, and this of course is even more enigmatic. I know more French than Italian.But I can’t be certain of his accent.
I want to transfer my precious word documents into his room today and I’m terrified he is going to end up translating them into Croatian or some other language that will forever put them out of my reach.
But then while you are trying diligently to convert said files, he grabs you from behind and twirls you around the kitchen floor like Patrick Swayze looking straight into your eyes with those high definition mega pixels and you forget all about microsoft word. For the moment.
And don’t even talk to me about my photos stored on my funky little flash drive. He’s busy bending me over backward in a particularly tricky tango step while whispering in my ear in an accent so thick and enchanting that I barely catch half the words. But the words I DO catch are, “Don’t worry about your photos my darling, just dump them in that bin over there and I will sort them for you with my own special system.”
Needless to say, I am a bit frazzled this morning. Yesterday I spent 12 hours with him. I forgot to eat, I forgot to bathe, I almost decided to stay up all night. But reality kicked in and I stumbled into the bedroom sometime just before midnight with the bleary eyed dogs following me in disgust.
Don’t anyone wake him up just yet, will you? I haven’t had my coffee. . .
Oh wait, I don’t drink coffee. How am I going to cope?! All I want to do is post this to my diary and maybe add a picture or two, but you would not believe the hurdles between me and those simple tasks today.
But say it in Windows will you? I need to hear a familiar voice.
Insert Apple logo here in your imagination. I just can’t face one more hurdle to go fetch one….
Yetziirrahh! I think I’ll have eggs Florentine this morning, there’s my sweeting!
A shiny pony!
It hasn’t even been twenty four hours, but I find that I have a lot to say about Mr. Shiny Pants already.
Say a prayer for me.
(Oh. My. God. I’m calling the immigration bureau right this minute.)
The pretty man with the black eyes said I could have a pony!
Where did all these towels with apples on them come from and why are they all over the bathroom floor?
It took 1 and 1/2 hours to compose this entry. The HTML is killing me! I miss you Bloggar. I know iMac doesn’t like you, but I think you are the best. The BEST. Sniff. Farewell… I mean Arivaderchi, Aloha, Ciao… ummm bye bye.
Ooops. Forgot. I have a picture. I worked hard to get it ready to put on here.