Gone are the Days of Freudian Slip

Confession: "Damn You Auto Correct" happens in my head

(Thank you Michael Waters for coining that phrase for me!)

For those of you Android Swypers, does your swyper finger (formerly known as your pointer finger) lose direction and totally get out of control? You start to swype a word, then realize your key-location memory hightails when you try to navigate a keyboard with one finger instead of from Home Row Position? But you don't stop; you redirect and swype at least two or three letters more than you actually need to spell the intended word, and you end up with some funky word you've never heard of, or one that offers an entirely new connotation with its cutting-edge syntactic relationship.

I'm sure you had this happen pre-smartphone era, way back when we used T9 predictive text; remember how you'd key in the buttons containing the letters you needed and hoped the correct combination would magically appear? Pretty smart for a dumb phone that ended up in the sandbox. Next came the iPhone and Auto Correct. I don't think anyone predicted the hazards of Auto Correct. Auto Correct doesn't even wait for you to come close to finishing your word. It's like that friend who always finishes your sentences and is never correct and you just stop with your mouth still gaping open and you tilt you head and stare blankly at her and say, "Um, no." On the other hand, some of it's corrections are more revealing than incorrect--that's the reason you sometimes pee your pants from laughing so hard: because Auto Correct has just uncovered your deepest darkest secret! But you definitely don't laugh if you hit "send" before you notice the defaming information you just volunteered to the universe, hence the frenzied attempt to explain what you meant to say, only to realize that Auto Correct could care less about amending your embarrassment, resulting in a string of stupidity that lands you on the front page of "Damn You Auto Correct." Am I wrong to generalize that everyone who has ever texted has been on one end--if not both--of the Oh Crap! What Did I Just Say?? Composition?

Here's a small, not so incriminating example. I was texting with a friend trying to arrange a birthday surprise.

Me: Is there a time I could just show up and take her?

Friend: Do you want me to call her and see what she's doing?

Me: Sure, that would be great. I'll stand by trashy to go.

Friend: I'm not familiar with trashy to go.

Me: Oh gosh. That was supposed to say ready
Me: Ready to go.

I don't know about you, but I think this has happened so often that I no longer trust anything I swype or type. I have to reread every text to make sure I'm not sending an open door for future ridicule. Not only that, it seems to be happening inside my head. I have to double think before I speak or the giant finger swyping across all the (millions of) axons in my brain totally gets out of control and before I know it, it hits "send" and I say something completely amiss. One day at work I received a phone call from Jenny From Britain inquiring about an order she had placed in November. A coworker and I were looking everywhere and couldn't find the order; we guessed it had somehow been lost in the transition of our web site. We had her on speaker and I asked her to hold while I went to ask our shipper if he had any recollection of the order. (He remembers everything--Hollywood could make a movie about his Beautiful Mind.) He didn't remember the order. I got back to the phone and said: "Thank you so much for holding. I just spoke to my stripper" (at which point I gasped and burst into laughter so loud I couldn't even hear her reaction), "I MEAN MY SHIPPER!" I couldn't stop laughing for the rest of the conversation. I had tears.

We had a good laugh around the office. We feel lucky to work in a place of so much opportunity. :)

My coworker Mike said: "'Damn You Auto Correct' happens inside your head! You don't even need a phone!" So beware: after sending an undisclosed amount of text messages, your brain will begin to Auto Correct the words lingering on the tip of your tongue and you won't have time to fix them before they come spilling out and you've dubbed your coworker a stripper.

Look like you feel? Or feel like you look?

Confession: I feel better when I feel pretty

Remember in high school when we were getting ready to take AP tests (or regular tests...) and we'd groan and complain when our teachers told us to dress up for the tests? I definitely believe the way we prepare ourselves physically translates to how well we perform mentally. Anyhow, I love this conversation I had with my daughter Calli this morning.

Preface: Calli was her class alternate for today's school spelling bee. We didn't study AT ALL. Yesterday she came home and told me that one of the boy contestants said he might not be able to make it. Of course we were freaking out, but we still didn't have time to study. We decided we would study this morning before school. But I accidentally stayed in bed until 8:05.

This conversation takes place at 8:15 this morning:

Calli: How do I look?

Me: You look super cute!

Calli: Thanks! I have to look cute if I'm going to be in the spelling bee, especially if I get out on the first word!

Years later I finally understand that all those times our teachers told us to dress up for our tests, they knew that once the test was over, all we would say in complete exhaustion was: "I'm so glad that's over. I don't even care if I failed. At least I looked good!"

ORAL HERPES

Confession: I have Oral Herpes and I'm not afraid to say it

It may sound disgusting and like I should be ostracized like a leper, but try saying it out loud. But don't just say it--say it slowly and with seduction in your voice. There. Now I bet you wish you had it too. If you already have it, congratulations.

A week ago Saturday, I felt the small tingly on my lip--the indicator that Oral Herpes would be stopping by for a visit. I spent almost an hour googling home remedies for Oral Herpes. Every single spot I read and watched concluded that Abreva was my best option. One of the videos even reassured me that I'm not alone in my leperous disease. Thank goodness because I felt so alone. I just didn't feel like going to Walmart at 11 p.m. to spend $18 on a tube the size of my ear canal. Thankfully, my hubby encouraged me to go, so I owe my sweet victory to him.

One of the videos I watched suggested applying witch hazel before the Abreva, so I grabbed some of that as well. When I was home applying, I pulled out the rubbing alcohol and figured I would use that too because its container was identical to the witch hazel and a long time ago I learned that fish in identical tanks can live safely together and that was sound logic to me in my situation. Maybe it would dry it up a bit quicker. Anyhow, I don't know if it really helped, but it stung like a Witch-hazel-imposter! That's the last time I used that. Perhaps I should have considered that the dalmation fish bullied and killed the mollies. I continued applying witch hazel before the Abreva every day, and my Oral Herpes stayed confined to the guest bedroom. No one ever even saw it! It was gone by Thursday.

Then, I ran into one of my friends at volleyball. When she walked in, she had a huge cold sore on her lip. I couldn't brag about my successful bout with the disease, that would have just been rude. So I told her I'd bought some Abreva and started applying it as soon as I saw the sign. (This is where I break into Ace of Base song and dance.) She opened up her hand and looked dismally down at her own miniscule $18 tube. I should have told her the girl on youtube promised she's not alone.

Moral of this short story: Use witch hazel and possibly rubbing alcohol on your face.

The End.