Genetics are Baffling

Genetics are Baffling

Text message conversation I had with my nephew around 1 o’clock this morning that I just reread and found to be far more entertaining now than it was at the time:

Him: “Hey!  Are you still up?  I have a quick web question.”

Me: “I’m technically IN bed, but I’m still awake.  What’s up?”

Him: “Okay.  So… we are in the process of launching a new website for one of our clients.  I need to know what info I need to gather from him in order to repoint his old domain to the new one.”

Me: “Are you dealing with two URLs?  Or is it just one URL that needs to point to a new host?”

Him: “What’s a URL?”

Me: “A domain name, like www.bobsbigbanana.net.  Do bobsbigbanana.net and bobsbananaisntreallythatbig.com need to go to the same site?  Or does bobsbigbanana.net currently point to site A and needs to lead to site B?”

Him: “There are two domains.  They both need to go to the same site.”

Me: “Okay.  A couple things you can do:  One, contact the domain registrar and point both domains to the same IP.  Or two, add an http redirect statement to the index of the old site to force visitors to the new site.”

Him: “Again, please?  In English this time.”

Me: “Which part of that is confusing you?”

Him: “All of it.  You lost me after ‘A couple things you can do’.”

Me: “Dude, it’s 1am.  I don’t have the energy or the patience for this right now.  Call me when I get home from work tomorrow.”

Him: “Oh, man.  I wanted to get this done by tomorrow.”

Me: “Just tell him it takes 24-48 hours for domain changes to propagate.”

Him: “I love your convenient use of big words.”

Me: “Great.  Now shutup so I can sleep.”

Fan-Hitty Shitty

Fan-Hitty Shitty

impending-doom1

 

My work life has taken a turn from the mundane to the insane.  Everything has been flipped ass-over-elbows and I don’t know how to deal with it.  So I’m looking for a new job because I don’t get paid enough to put up with this garbage.  I now return you to your regularly scheduled Wednesday.

 

I Think Something’s Wrong With Me

I Think Something’s Wrong With Me

Okay, so here’s the deal: Yesterday afternoon, I popped the big question and my Hipster love, of course, said yes…and I should be ecstatically excited and giddily happy, but I’m not.  And it’s making me feel like there’s something wrong with me.  In the interest of full disclosure, there are certain details that need to be mentioned:

1. He’s still technically married to someone else.  I’ve known this since very early into our relationship.  They’ve been separated for almost 4 years (she cheated on him with one of his best friends; she and the other guy are still together…still living in the house she shared with the Hipster, in fact).  The divorce process has been started – he’s asking for a full no-fault, uncontested divorce.  All she has to do is sign the papers.  The question is will she?  It could be MONTHS before it’s finalized, and he’s asked me to keep the news off social media until then because he doesn’t want to give her anything she could try to use to cause trouble.  He just wants it done and over with (as do I).  Anyway, the short of it is: I can’t make it “Facebook official” yet and it’s making me feel like I’m some sort of dirty, little secret… and that bothers me.  A lot.

2. I have a paralyzing fear of commitment.  I’ve been proposed to by multiple suitors in my time.  Each time, I declined and ended the relationship.  It’s like I didn’t realize until the moment they stood before me offering tokens of their esteem that they were completely NOT what I wanted for the rest of my life.  The Hipster is different.  I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that he is exactly what I want.  And I found the balls to ask him myself, which was awesome, but now my head is heavy with chatter.

We wants it, we needs it. Must have the happiness. They stole it from us. Sneaky little psychoses. Wicked, tricksy, false!
No. Not happiness!
Yes, precious, false! They will cheat you, hurt you, LIE.
Happiness is our friend!
You don’t have any friends; nobody likes you!
I’m not listening… I’m not listening…
You’re a liar and a thief.
No!  Go away!  I hate you, I hate you.
Where would you be without me, fat ass, fat ass?  I saved us!  It was me!  We survived because of me!
Not anymore.
What did you say?
We can looks after us now.  We don’t need you anymore.
What?
Leave now, and never come back!
No!
Leave now, and never come back!  LEAVE! NOW! AND NEVER COME BACK!

3. It’s been less than 24 hours and I’m sick to death of hearing “Where’s your ring?  If you’re engaged, where’s your ring?”  Engagement rings are a useless waste of money.  The diamond engagement ring was created as a marketing ploy by a jewelery company during the Great Depression.  They had a surplus of shiny rocks and no one to buy them, so they created an imaginary “tradition” and people bought it – hook, line, and sinker.  I don’t wear jewelery, I don’t like jewelery, and I don’t WANT a sparkly bauble that was pried from the earth by slave laborers in Africa.  There is nothing about the entire concept that I find to be remotely appealing, let alone symbolic of love and romance.

4.  I’m also sick of hearing, “So when’s the big day??”  Dude, it took me 37 years to get to this point, let’s not go counting the chickens before they hatch, m’kay?  I’m in no hurry to get married.  It’ll happen when we’re ready for it to happen.  In the meantime, leave me the fuck alone.

That’s kind of how I feel about the whole thing right now, really… just leave me the fuck alone… friends, family, the Hipster himself… just leave me the fuck alone until I come to terms with whatever kind of weird bullshit my head is trying to convince me is true.  Give me time to sort out the weird feelings and the brain gollums.  Give me space to come to grips with what I’ve done.