I say, “give a horse a cell phone, and try to take a shower.”
On a daily bias, auto-complete creates more angst and humor than anything else in my life. Angst when business is involved, humor when texting friends. I noticed the same is true for you, especially when trying to reply to a post via cell phone. Please know I do not find this annotation. It makes me laugh. No apologies necessary! Though I do appreciate the calcification when it’s too abstract to figure out what you’re really saying.
I’m having the same probability.
My house needs shoes, but my furrier is booked solid, and can’t get out for a coal fitting.
The other night, I was walking the dig, when Daisy texted and asked if I could throw Barbeque a few extra flakes of hail in the morning.
No problem, I replied. Will do fast thing, before I go see Huddle and (?!?) Danish.
My smart phone repeatedly tries to invite Fiends over for dinner. Sadly, I am booked with Infidels, and the Fiends must wait.
Apparently I have many, many fiends. Alas, my fiends are busy, and unable to vista most Saturns. (Sundaes are usually out, for one reason or anointment.)
Personally, I think Dr. Seuss wrote the algorithm that various programs use to generate auto-complete.
One Fist, Two Fist, Red Fist, Blue Fist!
Having just spell-checked this post, I can report spell-checking has the potential to make auto-complete errors funnier, or more horrific, depending on the intended recipe. Uh. Recipient.
Let’s hear your glitches!
FYI, auto-complete offered “glitter” for “glitches”.
Glitter away, dear fiends!
Today is Daisy’s birthday.
Any birthday in which you have to get up at 3 am to go to work, and go to sleep at 7 pm, is not a good birthday. I wished her a happy birthday this morning, but really, how far can an email go?
I text her to distract us both:
Jane: I’m having a little steer anxiety about tonight? No one is going to expect me to know how to shoo one right?
Daisy: For Pete’s sake, you KNOW everyone who’ll be there.
Jane: What if I look stupid? Strike that. I will look stupid. I’ll be the only person wearing a helmet. On a horse that isn’t moving.
Daisy: No one cares!
Jane: What if I fall off?
Daisy: Get a grip. U R not going to fall off. H will take care of you.
Jane: He’s gonna be so excited to be around cows, he’s gonna toss the idiot english rider to get her out-of-the-way.
Daisy: He is NOT.
Jane: I know I know. It’s stupid.
Long pause. Daisy is letting it sink in, my declaration of how stupid I’m being. It’s true. Okay. I’ll get a grip. I’m done now. And strangely enough…I am. I’m not anxious anymore. It will be what it will be, and I’m not going to pass up an opportunity to learn a little about roping and take some baby steps in another direction. I mentally switch tracks to another subject:
Jane: Tell me when you get off the bus.
Looooong pause. While I’m waiting for a reply, it hits me that A) Daisy doesn’t know I’m over it, and B) she thinks I want to call her and repeat the above drama ad nauseum on the phone. Hi, Happy Birthday, let me torture you with my anxieties in text AND on the phone! I’m in the middle of writing her a follow-up text when hers comes in:
Daisy: Still on the bus. Have a lot of errands to run after.
This is polite code for: SHUT UP already. I laugh out loud.
Jane: Silly. I don’t want to torture you with more weirdness! I want to sing.
Daisy: I have another ten hours on the bus.
Jane: I can wait ten hours.
Ha. She doesn’t think I’ll sing to her. (Whohahaha) You want to join me?
Happy Birthday to you…
Happy birthday to youuuuuu…
Happy BIRTHday dear Daaaaaisy….
Happy Birthday toooo youuuuu…!!!!
You have no idea how glad I am that you were born, and that you’re my friend. Happy, happy birthday!