A New Rug and Why My Mom Needs an iPhone

Yesterday evening, despite needing to do work, clean my apartment, and cook rice for the book club potluck I'm hosting tonite, I instead decided that I absolutely needed a new living room rug.

I've had this one for three years, and it's fine, but not really the style I'm going for.

And having recently got new pillows for my couch, it was even more not my style.

So I spent 2 hours in Columbia Heights going from Bed, Bath, and Beyond to Target to Marshall's to Bed, Bath, and Beyond to Target. All the while repeatedly calling my mom and emailing her half a dozen photos.

 
I didn't find any there so I headed home with a plan to stop by the Pier 1 on the way back to my apartment. And I'm glad I did. A super-nice saleswoman found me looking at rugs and told me they had tons in the back and we found the perfect cream-colored, fancy-shagged* one.

It's soft and fancy and looks great, in my opinion, with the pillows and both mine and my roomie's couch. It's a bit small, but since the next size up was three times the cost of this one, I'm ok with that. (It was also awkward enough caring this size rug the 5 blocks to my apartment, so any bigger would have been crazy.)

In case it's not obvious from all the photos above why my mom needs an iPhone, here are a few solid reasons:

1. So I could text her -- for free -- the photos instead of emailing.
2. So we could Facetime while I'm shopping and just show her everything I'm looking at, as I look at it.
3. Because I said so.

*I made up this term so as to differentiate between 1970s-type shag and this shag, which is...fancy.

Whatever, your mascot is still a terp

There are no less than three companies - Citicards, Pepco, and Dell - who more than likely have a recording of me screaming at their automated phone systems. After typing in my so-called "express service code" for Dell, this is how the conversation between me and the recording, whom I have named hoity toity yankee bitch,* went:

HTYB: Your number is 55555, is this right?
Me: Yes.
HTYB: I'm sorry, I didn't understand, is that number right?
Me: YES!!!
HTYB: Sorry, still didn't understand?
Me: OH MY GOD THE NUMBER IS RIGHT, YES, CORRECT, IT IS RIGHT!!!!!
HTYB: Ok, let's try another option?
Me: NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!

This went on not one, not two, but THREE times before she finally understood me. By the time I got to the acutal person who was going to help me, I had a sore throat and was a little short with him at first. However, Jason turned out to be quite helpful and fixed my problem, and by fixed I of course mean made me delete everything and re-install Windows. On the upside, it's been 2.5 years since my last computer crash. On the downside, in the four years I've had an iPod, this is at least the sixth time I've had to re-upload and organize my music. Oh playcounts, I will miss you most of all.

I just want to know what is wrong with my voice or phone that makes these automated people incapable of understanding me when I speak to them. It's not like I'm improvising words or speaking Sanskrit, I am choosing from their list of options. Is "yes" really so hard to understand in computer land? (Mom thinks it's because I talk too fast, but you can not say "yes" too fast, it's one word!)

Which brings me to my main complaint, why go to an automated voice menu in the first place? Was typing in "1" or "2" so difficult? Especially as our country grows in diversity with a range of accents and speech styles.

I don't like how much responsibility we give these computers. Judging from my latest virus and a myriad of computer problems in the past, they suck 90% of the time. If one can't even run a Firefox window and Word without them "fighting,"** what makes you think they will be able to understand me when I say the too-long option of "re-connect my electrical service." Here's a hint: they won't!

With this, burning two bags of popcorn and a pizza, creepy guys at Target, and of course that thing that happened in Maryland that I will not discuss, Saturday was a really shitty day that is making me consider anger management classes.

*I just really like that insult from Sweet Home Alabama and don't get to use it enough. I don't know many hoity toity yankee bitches, which I suppose is a good thing.
**Seriously, this happened at work and that's what my tech guy told me. But he got them to call a truce and they work fine now.

Day 248: Can you hear me now? (No.)

For years the cell phone curse has been squarely on the little brother. Prior to buying my own, I had just three, keeping them all for the time required of the contract. As soon as I buy my own, I have one that turns itself off, and now another, that has been dropped in water. Yes, I dropped my cell phone in a waiting-to-be-cleaned salad bowl full of water.

I went to grab it off the counter, but the gentle tap slid it toward the sink and into the bowl. For the benefits of all reading, I have depicted the harrowing scene in a comic drawing. Though there really is nothing comic about being phone-less for many days as I hope and pray the battery will resuscitate itself. (Still waiting.)

Key to understanding my drawing.Re-enactment of the crime scene. (The black box represents my despair. I'm way deep.) I had to do it like a photo strip because I don't know how to change the margins of my blog. Oh well.