I was just on the phone with some fine specimen of Customer Service for Go Daddy. I’m pretty computer literate, and in fact, the reason I was calling was to get some assistance with a web page I’d just designed for a client/friend. The domain was registered; hosting, signed up for. But oh, hmmm… the hosting had been applied to one of the client’s other domains. Let’s fix that, shall we?

I explained the problem to the customer service dude who told me to click the My Account button on the right hand side. There wasn’t one. I told him so. I told him what I did see – you know, so as to be helpful in navigating our situation. And then… do you know what he did? He SIGHED. He sighed like a pissed off teenager whose mother just does totally not get it, okay? GAWD and then he repeated the same sentence, instructing me to click the same non-existent My Account button. And he used his best You’re An Idiot voice to do it. I thought my eyes were going to pop out of my skull from the sheer force of fury behind them. You don’t get to sigh at me! I know how to use a computer!

“Listen,” I said, after a second sigh, “I get that you do this all day long, but I’m telling you right now that either YOU are on the wrong screen or I am and sighing at me like that is not doing anything good. For either of us.”

Here’s where the Darth Vader thing woulda come in handy. Me, smiling at my desk, my right hand making a squeezing gesture. Him, wherever he is, suddenly going ack, ack, ack! and gasping for breath while his coworkers flail, horrified and unable to stop the terror. Then I’d let go and we’d try again. See how effective that shit would be?

Back in reality, having not squeeze his guts out, I told him again what I saw and like magic, he knew what I was talking about. “Oh, yeah, they changed all this yesterday.”

Mmm hmm. I waited for a “sorry,” but duh, pissed off teenagers do not apologize. I remember. I used to be one. Even frickin’ teenagers apologize to Lord Vader, though.

Oh, and I’m told the gravy train stops here. Somebody’s gettin’ his manstuff snipped.

And then I am gonna try to use my Southwest rapid rewards ticket to get out there to meet her sometime before she’s grown!

Happy Abby Day, everybody.
 

Sure, my engagement ring doesn’t fit after the Great Memorial Binge of 2010, but I won’t let that put a damper on things. Food + sleep + Dexter = Winner.

Oh man, not only does Dex bear a striking resemblance to an old Boston coworker that I may or may not have made out with a few times, but the show indulges the morbid side of me that loves Law & Order SVU (okay, so part of that is morbidity and part of that is Detective Elliot Stabler) and Bones (see also: Sully), even though, yes, it does end up scaring me. Last night, after we’d finished the season finale and it was way, way past my bedtime, I headed upstairs while the Dork Lord took the beast out for a walk. I will freely admit that on the way, I turned on every single light, checked the closets and even yanked back the shower curtain before I could commit to brushing my teeth and leaving myself vulnerable to bad guys. They always getcha when you’re brushing your teeth! Or, they grab at your ankles while you’re getting in bed, so you have to check there, too. And probably behind the blackout curtains. Bad guys are crafty.

I had surprisingly calm dreams last night.