Frogtortionists and high-tech disasters

contortionistAnd so. Technology was not at its finest today. It was working okay all day at work although, for a large part of the day, I sat and proof-read a *printed* copy (2-sided print job, you green guys) of my now-178-page spec, so I was only occasionally tinking around making small edits with MS Word (2007 for Windows, get it, it’s pretty cool). And I’m not bragging about my spec because others have written longer ones. I’m still on the bunny hill here.

So then. The GG was scheduled to arrive at Metro (from the Smokies, don’tcha know, all the cool kids are flying down there these days). Everything thing was fine and I was on my way over and I was at the I94 State Street rush hour slowdown when I got the call that his plane had landed. Okay. I figgered I was late. He did have luggage checked and I figgered that would buy me some time. So. I got to the Metro cell phone lot and, when I called to say I was there, he was still on the blasted plane. At the gate. Turned out no crew was there to connect the ramp to the plane. Remember those days when we all walked up an outdoor staircase to board a plane? And we would wave to the photographers on the way down? Maybe they still do that somewhere in the world? I dunno. Anyway, he called again when he got off the plane and then he didn’t call and he didn’t call and he didn’t call and I was chompin’ at the bit because I hadn’t thought to bring a UFP with me like I did the last time his flight was late and the only thing I had to do was play with my iPhone, which was connecting to the Internet just fine. But it was getting late and I finally called the GG *again* and it turned out he was sitting outside the terminal with his luggage. He had tried to call/text/email/twitter me umpteen times and, for whatever reason, my phone didn’t interrupt my other activities to inform me that I had messages. He didn’t even show up on twitter. Anyway. We finally connected and I do *not* know what all those blasted cops were doing outside the arrivals area of Metro. Are they there every day? Fer kee-reist, how often do they have to collect some nincompoop who has made the intelligent decision to light a ciggie in the airplane bathroom and set the plane smoke alarm off so they can get picked up by the Dee-troit Po-leese?

And then I got home and found that Froggy had received an email from “MarjoryBeard” who wants to follow him on Twitter. I clicked over to MarjoryBeard’s Twitter account and it has one post, which is “hiiiiii guys. I want a guy who is willing to try new positions with me.” Hmmm. As you can see, Froggy is *always* in some kind of weird position but I am pretty sure it doesn’t have anything to do with sex. Er, we I always use male pronouns when I talk about Froog but others call him an “it”. And yes, I blocked “MarjoryBeard”.

Probably the worst thing I did today was call Mouse from work and say “grok” in a frog voice in response to her “grok” when she answered the phone. But it’ll be okay. They are starting to know I am a little crazy… Hopefully that’s not a bad thing…

2 Responses to “Frogtortionists and high-tech disasters”

  1. Marquis Says:

    Hiking on the Appalachian Trail? 😉

  2. rabbi ann white Says:

    Always enjoy your writing and photographs. You live in an awesome place. Be well.