Week of Scary Changes

I hate change. Really. Loathe it.

This past week has involved a lot of changes.

I don’t understand how people can go through pets like magazines. One week they have a Persian cat, the next week a dachshund.  Once a cat adopts me, I don’t want to change.  When I entered service in the Court of HRH Ana-Sofia Vargas, I was perfectly happy to devote myself to her for the duration. When circumstance caused Wind to join HRH’s court as valet, I accepted that he’s here for good, too (unless ASV fires him).

Watching “Alice in Wonderland,” I swear I caught ASV watching the Red Queen scornfully. “Pah. Amateur.”

So I was here in my cave with my cats. If I needed cat fuel or other supplies, The Infernal Store is right around the corner. I had the DorkFone 9500 XLT, which was equipped with lots of apps, including one we’ll call “TwitterDum.”

I’ve been on Twitter for about a year. I like it, and TwitterDum has been a lovely interface. We’re not talking about running the Cassini Mission, just getting words from my fingers to their intended destination, and TwitterDum had done so admirably.

Then I awoke Friday to find that TwitterDum had been banned from the Twittersphere! GAH! Why? What did they do??

Well, turns out “TwitterDum is banned fo hwsud wsunv agggfwv kckoo sglkkllo asghdswsh!”

I know, right? Shocking!

I read the explanation somewhere, and that’s about what it looked like to me.  I have a limited capacity to give a shit about technology. 

For example, I love ATM’s, and I am quite adroit in their use…to a point. I can suck $20 bills out of ATM’s like it’s nothing. Swipe, beep, beep, done.  But I don’t know how to transfer funds on an ATM. Make a deposit? No reason to. For all I know, you can take out mortgages or order mob hits on an ATM, and I could live forever in blissful ignorance.

So the explanation of TwitterDum’s banishment meant only one thing: I needed a new Twitter widget. The search took me a total of 4 minutes, from “Search” to “Download” to “Install.” The difference is that my screen is a different color, and there’s a bird on the logo instead of a Space Invaders guy.

So then, with this new Twitter thing, suddenly I asked out this redhead. She brought her baby. Not only did I not run screaming at the sight of the baby, I actually enjoyed watching and playing with it.

Her. The baby is a “her.” I went so far as to HOLD the baby. It smiled at me!

She. She smiled at me.

So after dinner, I packed date and baby in their car, and sent them on their way. I needed to stop at The Infernal Store™ for a few things.

Well, guess what. The new Twitter widget (henceforth known as “Twidget”) pointed out that Estela’s, where we’d dined, is right next door to The Nice Store™, the store I never frequent.  How different could it be? Bravely, I walked through the door.

Holy crap. I didn’t know where anything was, but it didn’t matter. First off, there were clearly marked signs above every aisle.  But I wouldn’t need them. A lovely young Maori woman came up to me as soon as I entered. “Welcome to The Nice Store™, Tom. My name is Jessamine, and I will be your shopping guide this evening.” Um. 

She looked down at my giant purple and white Nike’s. “Size 15,” she said, and another young woman brought a pair of slippers. Once my feet were comfortably shod, she gently took my elbow and guided me down the main aisle. “Anything in particular you need this evening, Tom?”

“Oh. Microwave popcorn, some soda, cat litter, and a book.” She led me to a recliner, and bade me to sit. She spoke gently into the orchid corsage at her wrist. “Microwave popcorn.”

At once, I heard a low, quiet sound, as two tall, beautifully muscular women wheeled the entire popcorn shelf to me. Jessamine pointed out the virtues of each choice, before we settled on Pop Secret Jumbo Pop Butter.” Next, the women wheeled the enormous drink aisle to me.  I mentioned that I was looking for a diet cola. Jessamine popped open eleven different bottles, offering me sips of each, allowing me to smell bottle caps, and then I settled on a robust yet friendly The Nice Store™ brand diet cola. Next, the two big girls wheeled over the cat litter shelf. Before I knew what was happening, Jessamine brought out a bunch of empty litter pans and ten cats.

“No! No demonstrations are necessary! Tidy Cat will be fine.”
“D’accord.”

Jessamine brought a booklist with 9000 titles. I selected a nice Peter Straub. Jessamine calculated my total, including state and county taxes, and I gave her a $20. She made change from a small pocket in her sari. The girl who’d taken my shoes returned. She gently removed the slippers, then helped me into my big hightops.  She tied the laces in a neat bow, and adjusted the velcro power strap to the perfect tightness. My shoes had been polished to blinding white-and-purpleness. I tried to tip the girl a five, but she bowed, saying it was her honor to serve me.

By this time, Jessamine had wrapped my packages in paper, and she helped me out of the chair. She took my elbow and guided me back outside, where the shoe girl had fetched my truck. Jessamine set the packages in the back seat, kissed me softly on both cheeks, then waved as I drove off into the gorgeous night. I couldn’t help noticing that my gas tank had been filled, and my windows all cleaned.

I came home, just glowing from my first experience with The Nice Store™. I’d had a wonderful meal with a lovely redhead, actually enjoyed my encounter with a baby, then found out how luxurious grocery shopping can truly be.

And i’d have continued living my life in shameful ignorance, if only–if ONLY–TwitterDum hadn’t gotten themselves banned.  I am truly grateful to inhabit a world where a giant Cracker can discover wonderful new worlds on his sandbar, all because somewhere in the Twitterverse, some idiot had to go and wsunv agggfwv kckoo sglkkllo asghdswsh.

Happy Monday.

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9 Responses to “Week of Scary Changes”

  1. Astonishing!
    And I hate change, too.
    Vox.

  2. You can buy postage stamps at some ATMs. Unfortunately you can’t buy Viggo Mortensen’s or Colin Firth’s contact info. Technology sucks.

    Vox: Word.

    • Viggo and Colin. Word. 🙂

      • I believe I know where Mr Firth will be Sunday. 😉

        I always thought ATMs should sell condoms. It would eliminate any awkwardness in buying them, and shy people wouldn’t be left to either diseases, or the scary condoms in the men’s room vending machines. (Ie, fun novelty colors, and extra pleasure spikes.)

        I miss my Vox neighborhood. That was a lovely feature, and I made a lot of good friends that way.

        Hope Viggo gets in touch with you soon.

      • Now if I could get Viggo or Colin (or even a generic equivalent) to serve me at The Nice Store (TM), I’d pretty much quit bitching.

      • After seeing “The King’s Speech,” Simon Pegg tweeted, “Sod the Oscars. Let’s just make Colin Firth king.” I could handle that.

        (Simon Pegg uses TweetDeck for iPhone, as does John Cusack, Matthew Gray Gubler from Criminal Minds, and my friend Kelly in Texas (only a total nerd would point this out)). *snerk* and I’ll have Viggo and Colin made aware of your requests. 😛

  3. Viggo and Colin are going to be afraid. 😉 Happy week.

  4. Oh, it would be real nice if I could get Colin Firth from my ATM. Very nice, indeed.

    Also, I want The Nice Store… NOW. I want each shopping experience to be like a trip to the spa! 😀

    (Babies are usually “its” to me too. I have to really like it to refer to it by name/gender.)

    • The baby was delightful. Even when it cried, it was fairly quiet, much quieter than when her mother cries. 😉

      When SHE cried. Sorry.

      The Nice Store is pretty cool, but I’ll always have a place in my heart for The Infernal Store. I owe them that after far too many years of shopping there. I know where the skeletons are buried, and I know what’s in the ham salad. 😛

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