What is it, the Internet or Prom? It’s neither; it’s Lies.

There are a lot of things I’m not good at.

Riding horses, for instance. I’m also not good with cars - thank The Lord Above I’ve not had a flat tire…yet. I’m not the best with copiers, and I wouldn’t leave me alone for too long with nonvoters.  Granted, I’ve got more than armful of diplomacy – I still also have a middle finger.

And patience, too. I’m not always that good with patience. I often pretend to have it in spades, but it wears thin quickly when I’m faced with things, items, products, and gadgets that do not “do what they’re supposed to do.”

This should, immediately, bring to mind the Internet.

Following closely behind that will be this confession: I am not very good at the Internet. I am, in fact, nearly 61% Internet illiterate.

I don’t like to think of myself as being illiterate, under any circumstances. But, the Internet is a bastion of mystery to me. Today in class, I was showing clips of mildly entertaining productions of Godspell, and as I typed each new song title into YouTube, I heard a student say,

“My, you sure do type fast.”

That, however flattering, is still misleading. Typing doesn’t make one a computer wiz. Although, I must say, this disease, the You Look Like You Know This disease, I’ve had that for years. Every time I go to Wal-Mart, or Piggly Wiggly, regardless of what I’m wearing (which by the way, with the exception of that one time in the Pig when I was wearing my red, long-sleeved shirt), it’s never anything that remotely suggests I work there; yet, people always seem to think I can answer their questions about which aisle has the WD-40, or where they can find deviled ham.

I ought to say it’s endearing. So, I will. (It’s also because of the glasses, I believe)…though, my Ya-Ya used to tell me I just had a “kind face.”

No wonder I had anger management issues.

I do like to think I’m capable, but I know otherwise. I simply lack the capacity to understand certain things, even after trial and error. Yes, yes, you’re right, I did accidentally brush my teeth with Cortizone-10, once when I was six, thank you for reminding me, but that’s not the same thing, not at all. That was an easy fix:  I just have to make sure to take enough time to put my glasses on before brushing my teeth, nowadays.

The Internet though: it mystifies me with its seductive use of comfortable terminology,  you know, like cookies, hosting and parking. What is it, the Internet or Prom? It’s neither; it’s Lies.

Still, I like a good lie.

As a matter of fact, that was what I told my kindergarten teacher my favorite hobby was: lying. He left the classroom and called U.L. Who Was At Work, at the time. (I’ve yet to live this one down).

Yet, I plow through thanks to the help of the Cap’n. (That’s right, I have a personal Cap’n, and he knows the Internet on a First Name Basis). I have to ask him for help, and quite a bit.

I don’t think he minds it, either; if nothing else, it’s comic relief. For instance, earlier, we had a lovely conversation – well it was mostly one-sided, and it used words and abbreviations that I’ve had to write in my little personal notebook, for future reference, like FF, Chrome, RSS, balloons, stats graphs, F5, double-lined headers and Force Refresh. 

All I walked away with was Force Refresh.

I mean, what is that. I mean, I know what is, but what is that.

I’ve been saying it ever since, out loud, Force Refresh, in my office, for no reason other than I like how violent it sounds. (I respect the clever, negotiating talent of Violence as I often wish to endanger the life of my computer; I must admit, though, that I respect more, if frustratingly, the calm stoicism my NEOVO F-17 maintains in the face of such pending violence).

Leave it to me to get the Gandhi model.

But, that phrase, Force Refresh, it could so easily be a threat, you know, as in “If you don’t shut your pie hole, I’m gonna go Force Refresh on your face.”

Eh…let’s scratch that. I think that might lead to sexual harrassment…especially in light of how easily it becomes a tongue twister if you don’t articulate well.

Actually…

You know, if you did say it quickly, it could sound French, like “Oh, today is so beautiful I’m going to stay home, out at the pool, and de Force Refresh.” It wouldn’t really matter how you use it, if you made it French. When things sound French even a virulent strand of Ebola becomes a wonderful passtime.

I’m actually surprised some advertising execs haven’t snatched it up for the next Gatorade ad campaign. That’s really what it reminds me of.

I can see it now: EXT: urban recreation center. A young man, let’s put him in his indeterminate late teens, on the basketball court, in high-tops (let’s not forget, the 80s are back for now, right?), and he shoots, he scores, he’s sweating and needs Gatorade, but he has no money for the vending machine (because in my commercial, vending machines will have Gatorade. All Vending Machines.), and so he attacks it, he reaches up and grabs the top of that thing, and he beats the ever-living crap out of it…and out rolls a Gatorade.

Yeah, a Lemon-Lime Gatorade…maybe, he’ll be really strong, and so, like, an extra one will roll out and he’ll give it to me. (I forgot to mention that I’m also in the commercial. I’m, you know, at the end of it, and I’m bringing him his wallet because he left it at home).

And the tag line will say, in bold, bright font: Force Refresh…and Enjoy!

And he gives me the extra Gatorade as a Thank You for bringing him his wallet, and I take that extra Gatorade and I drink it, in one gulp.

I think it could work. I really do.

It’s already worked on me…because I’d just about give my left arm for a Gatorade right now.

Why aren’t those things ever in vending machines?

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