Tag Archives: texting

Who sleeps anymore?

One of my favorite people ever is Oscar Wilde. So perhaps it is only fitting that I feel like one of his quotes, with all due respect to Jerry Seinfeld, rather sums up this blog: “I love talking about nothing. It is the only thing I know anything about.” I get to come here and post things that usually keep me up late at night, things that are usually about nothing, and few of you hold judgment against me for doing it.

And while I haven’t been blogging on a regular basis lately, don’t think I’ve been sleeping more (nor that actual, useful thoughts have been plaguing me). In fact, while life has taken away some of my blogging time, it has continued to give me plenty of fodder. Alas, I’ve read if a post is over 350 words, y’all just don’t wanna plod through it. So, in an effort to get caught up on random musings about nothing, here in one post are the seeds of several thoughts that I’ve been mulling over come 3:00 a.m.

First, a blinding light of clarity hit me in Target: The reason why gauntlets came back in style a few years ago (I think the young people call them wrist-warmers) is because you cannot text in gloves. So there is reason behind fashion! See? Now, if only I can figure a way to justify stiletto-heeled boots . . .

But clarity is always soon clouded over in my muddled little brain, because I just don’t understand why all my skin care products contain alcohol to preserve them and keep them looking new, smooth, and to hold their shape, while, regardless of the amount of alcohol I drink, I’m still aging, getting wrinkly and falling apart.

And thinking about alcohol brings me to yet another question: why is it when I make a vodka infusion with an entire pineapple and a pint each of strawberries and blueberries, it does not count toward my recommended daily allowance of fruits? And if it does, does that mean can make Bloody Mary with V8 juice and say I’m having a salad?

In a different vein . . . On a recent visit to see a relative in the hospital for a gallbladder issue, we had to go to the Cardiac Failure Unit to find him. Aside from the fact that I’m pretty sure the gallbladder and heart are two separate organs, I was a bit confused as to the name of the wing: Cardiac Failure Unit. If you were a patient being wheeled into an area destined for any kind of failure, how hopeful would you be for your future? Was that really the best they could come up with? Why not be a little more straight forward and write “so long sucker!” on a Post-it note and slap it on the door?

And, finally, according to the county where I live, I am not allowed to throw away partially-used cans of oven cleaner in the regular trash because it is too toxic for the landfill — TOO TOXIC FOR THE LANDFILL. Instead, I must hold on to it until a designated date and deliver it with other “household toxic wastes” to a specified location. Why is oven cleaner too dangerous for a landfill, but apparently safe enough to use in my home and immediately bake cookies in my oven afterward?

So there you have it folks, some of the miscellaneous ramblings about nothing that have been keeping me up at night. What’s keeping you awake?

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Filed under Commentary, TASFUIL

Texting for the over 40 (Because you asked for it, Laurie!)

My friend Laurie recently asked me how to abbreviate “obnoxious, gaudy, distasteful and trashy” in a text message.  She may have been joking, but I felt it to be a good question, which needed a good answer.  I thought perhaps we could rearrange the words and come up with an acronym we could pronounce, e.g., TODG.

The idea brings up a good point:  if those of us over 20 (OK, over 40) are going to embrace texting, we need to come up with our own abbreviations.  After all, our vocabulary in general is more mature than most avid texters and our life experiences often require something more than OMG to describe them. We have reached that age when we must socialize at events that, if we were twenty years younger and had been invited, our response would be to laugh our asses off, or as they say LMAO. But, due to our jobs, our spouse’s job, our volunteer work, our political affiliations or whatever, we now suffer through them and the suffering is more easily handled if we can E-vent (if unfamiliar with that word, see my post regarding e-venting, apparently I’m too old to figure out how to put the link in here) to a friend who’s not there.

Yes, someone needs to come up with texting expressions for the rest of us. And why not me? I can fulfill a public service as well as the next gal. So here goes . . .

BING >^^< which I decided means, “Being Catty.”  You can preface it with a name to suggest someone else is being catty, or you can introduce a clause with it so that the recipient of the message knows you’re being catty about what comes next.  For example if you text:  “BING >^^<  when will she get control of her boobs?”  The recipient will know that the woman with cleavage deeper than Himalayan valleys  is having her usual problem.  (Yes, I know, I’m probably just jealous–after all if I’d had all the fat sucked out of my body and something else propping up my boobs, I’d probably dress like that, too.)

Of course you can always follow BING>^^< with another acronym, such as OTH, for “Oh, the hair!” (think bad dye jobs) or SWMD, for “she’s wearing my dress!” (for those times when you realize the sales-woman lied to you again). And if you think the other woman looks better in the dress than you do, you can add SOB!

Social events can often begin with:  GIND for “God, I need a drink.”  Then a few hours later you could probably change it to GIWIWD for “God I wish I were drunk.” or maybe even HIC, for “yes, I am drunk.”

If you ever find yourself surprised by a new, young face in the crowd, a face that replaced a person who had already showed up at the same event earlier, you can type:  &HXIH2, which meansAnd his Ex is here, too.” The problem with that one is that I can seldom find the & sign on my phone, so for those of us with Blackberrys, you may want to use NHXIH2.

For those moments when an acquaintance with eccentric tastes, beliefs, or hobbies corners you at a holiday party to give you the latest updates, you can use TA_______A, to meantalking about _______ againand fill in the blank.  For example, you text “Tom’s here TAufosAfor Tom’s here and is talking about UFO’s again.” It works better when the subject in question begins with a consonant, e.g., “Sue’s TAcatsA” because when you read it, it sounds like a word you can pronounce in your head.

Whenever something is too long to text, but you know you’ll just have to repeat it later and there’s a good chance you won’t remember, send your friend: RM2TYL for “remind me to tell you later” and then follow up with a noun that you hope will continue to have meaning when your friend asks about it.

And for those nights when you’re out with the girls or when your husband isn’t with you (I don’t mean to sound sexist or anything, I just can’t think of any man sending texts like those above to anyone but EVERY woman I know would), there are a couple of abbreviations that may come in handy.  The first is for a girlfriend who isn’t there with you:  DDDHM, which means “Desperate, divorced Dad is hitting on me” and she’ll know you’re sitting on a bar stool and some dad is showing you pictures of his kids even though you’re wearing your wedding ring and told him you happily have a husband at home.  Finally the last two are for the spouse who is at home while you’re not.  The first is: IAY, which means “I appreciate you” (which is a purpose of all those DDD’s just mentioned; they are yet more reminders of why you’re with your man).  And the second is “SU4M” suggesting “stay up for me.”

Now then, if I were a marketing genius, I’d condense all that down, put it on tiny laminated cards and sell them as an accompaniment to reading glasses.


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Filed under Age, Chaos, TASFUIL

Am I old?

God, I just can’t stand it.  But every bleeping day there’s yet another sign that yes indeedy, I’m getting old(er).

In an email I received yesterday, someone used the acronym FWIW to begin a paragraph.  I had no idea what it meant.  It took me an hour and two phone calls to figure it out:  For What It’s Worth.  (Which is much nicer and cleaner than anything I came up with.)

Of course I flew into a steaming diatribe against texting and how it’s degrading the English language and how we’re all going to be illiterates unable to read words with vowels within the next decade. 

But then, after I calmed down and had a cocktail last night, a different, and somewhat scary, perspective fuzzied up my logic.

The thing is, I can’t specifically say what’s wrong with texting.  The English language has never been static.  It’s in a continual state of flux and change.  It is different than it was 500 years ago, and almost unidentifiable from its form of 1,000 years ago–and nothing horrible happened because of that state of change. So why does it bother me so much when I experience it changing in front of me?

I think it’s because I’m getting older. 

Let’s face it, the world continues to change and go faster all the time and the only people who have problems with it are the older folk.

Like the elderly woman at Acme Grocer the other day.  She accidentally got in the self-checkout line, thinking it was a wider aisle for the handicapped.  While she fumbled with the machine and created a line of smug, sighing, eye-rolling impatients behind her, I could tell she was becoming more and more angry and defensive.  I stepped up to help her scan, bag and pay.  She thanked me, begrudgingly.  Then there was an off-hand remark about how “these damn machines” are destroying the world as we know it; making everyone anti-social.

Is it because I’m younger than she and have never had a checking account without a debit card that the self-checkout line only seems to make sense?  I don’t think I’m anti-social.  Most of the cashiers are rude as hell to begin with.  So if I have a chance to check out without dealing with them it makes me a happier person, hence more apt to be social with people I want to socialize with.

But, if I was thirty or forty years older and had come into adulthood speaking to “the girl” behind the counter as I write my personal check for my food, would I be as happy with the self-checkouts as I am now? 

And, if I was twenty or thirty years younger and had yet to develop my adult habits, would I still be upset with how texting is changing the way we spell and use grammar?

Perhaps fighting age has nothing to do with anti-wrinkle creams and plastic surgery.  Perhaps we should let go of the fight against graying hairs and start fighting ourselves whenever we insist on keeping the status quo. Prhps.

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Filed under Age, Commentary, Definitions