I am so out of it with regards to cell phone technology that my phone is still in black and white and I turned off the text and webservice, and when someone asked me if the loaner cars at work were bluetooth compatible, I looked dead at him and said, "That sounded like english, but I have no idea what you are talking about."

I then got a quick education on bluetooth technology and I still have no fucking clue what it does. It's voodoo, I'm convinced.

I then got a quick education on bluetooth technology and I still have no fucking clue what it does. It's voodoo, I'm convinced.

It's the first step into assimilating humankind into the Nokirollasson collective.

I actually do talk to myself from time to time (although I'm quite clear there's only me there...er...usually), maybe that's why I'm self-conscious about looking like I'm doing so.

If someone said, "I saw you having a big old conversation with yourself," I'd have to ask date and time, before I knew whether or not I was on the phone.

I then got a quick education on bluetooth technology and I still have no fucking clue what it does. It's voodoo, I'm convinced.

I always think of it as Gypsy Magic, I'm never sure whether it ought to be filed under: Parlor Tricks, Gypsy; or Big Mojo, Gypsy.

But, through thin air, you are able to send and receive all sorts of information, including sounds, images, and the written word. Tell me exactly why we shouldn't think it's magic. Tell me how it's not.

Seriously, I felt like Dana in Sports Night talking to the Quo Vadimus guy, "You invented something that makes big things small."

I think bluetooth headsets are cool, but they just looks a little too borg-ish for me to get one. Joe has a bluetooth thing that just clips to the visor in his car. I like that one a lot.

Especially with the baby, I only answer the phone when I want to talk to the person who's calling. Whenever people apologize for calling too early/late/whatever, I always tell them I wouldn't have answered if I didn't want to talk to them.

One thing about cell phones that makes people less confusing - every. single. time. I've been on the Metro here, someone has answered their phone and said, in Greek, "Hello? Yeah, I'm on the Metro. Bye."

People = pretty much the same everywhere.

Oh, Nicole! That first picture is just priceless!

The dog in a kilt? So cute. Sean Connery? Still sexy as all hell.

My shoulder is frelled again.

Well, crap. You only had, what, a week of no pain? Not enough.

Sometimes I like the phone and sometimes I don't. And I usually don't know what my mood will be until it rings.

They can "science" it up all they want, Aimée. We know the truth. If it looks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it's going to burn itself on a pyre of sweet smelling wood, and rise from the ashes, any minute, now.

So, according to today's mail, I am a 1945 graduate of Newton North High School.

That's news to me! I look pretty damn good for graduating from high school in '45!

In other news, I think I may have helped create a baby Bitch. A conversation with a friend about her three-year-old niece (who has a teeny-tiny princess fixation):

Me: You know what she needs?
Her: No, what?
Me: She needs A TIARA.
Her: ooooh. You're right!

So if you see a little girl in a Disney princess dress and a tiara, that's her!