New Tech Is Pretty

Thursday, March 24th, 2011 – surrounded by chaos, urge to play mariachi songs

Last night I spent an enjoyable half hour shoving Lindor chocolate truffles into my pie hole in a joyous, chocolate procession, while loading 707 episodes of my favourite TV shows (yes really) onto my shiny, new, external drive, to save my computer from expiring under the weight of them. I also moved 97 movies and copied a metric fuckton (official U.N. measurement) of back-up photos and music. Oh it’s so light now. My little computer is a slim, dancing diva, freed from the weight of all my media, its happy little quad cores daintily flitting around like M and Ms, bouncing inside Oprah’s belly, on a spring morning. I will say this. USB 3 is a fine invention. Holy crap yes. Because who has 2 hours to sit and wait for a bunch of files to transfer? Not I. These ones zipped in. I have the attention span of a small, excited fish, therefore, this is paramount.

I also bought a new mouse. A tiny, chrome coloured, mini-mouse that fits precisely in my delicate lady hands rather than my last mouse which was like clutching a dinosaur egg with buttons and obviously made for someone with transformer-sized hands who eats steaks the size of a table top while burping battle songs

As a side note, Google-searching for terms like “lady mouse” and “sexy mouse” can only bring nightmares like a mouse I found shaped like a vagina. Find it yourself. You’ve been warned.

Speaking of mice, I haven’t seen Baxter in months, thanks to those of you emailing me to ask about him. I assume he and Maybelline are living it up somewhere warm for the winter and not hiding under the dishwasher taking incriminating video of me, red faced and puffing, in yoga poses again...

Of Mice And (Wo)Men, Part Trois

Wednesday, June 16th, 2010, some ungodly hour of the morning

Something mously is stirring...


Baxter:  Well hello!
Me:  Oh for fuck’s sake, you are kidding me.
Baxter:  Did you miss me?  It’s been a while, huh? 
Me: Tell me I’m having a bad dream.
Baxter: You’re having a bad dream.
Me: Thank the lord!
Baxter:  Not really.  I’m back.  I decided to give you some space for a while.  You were getting a little psychotic there and I was feeling a little unwelcome.
Me: No shit. 
Baxter: I see you are still employing the old duct tape hole-plugging method.  It amuses me greatly.
Me:  You’re never going away are you?
Baxter:  Hmmm.  Not really, no.
Me: I might get a cat.  A really big cat with an attitude.
Baxter:   Now, do you really think that’s wise?
Me:  How’d you mean?
Baxter:  Well,  I don’t want to be negative or anything but, cats need nourishment.….and look what you did to that plant.
Me:  Yeah well…this cat would be eating mouse.
Baxter: Oh touché my dear, touché!
Me:  Sigh.
Baxter: Anyway, I’m glad to be back.  I’ve missed the entertainment.  I’m happy to see you’re still hilarious.
Me: What the hell are you talking about now?
Baxter:  That thing you do.
Me: ?
Baxter:  You know.  The thing.  Where you wear the sports bra and the funny pants.  Where you throw your arms in the air and suffer some sort of seizure.
Me: What?  You mean ZUMBA? 
Baxter: Is that what that was.  I just thought you were unwell.  You had a terrifying painful look on your face.
Me: THAT IS MY SEXY FACE!
Baxter:  Oh dear.
Me: You utter fucker.
Baxter: Well there’s that other thing you do.  The one when you lie on the floor in funny positions.  That scared me also.  Maybelline was watching on video.  She almost dialed 911.  She thought your innards were imploding.
Me: What. The. Fuck?
Baxter:  You were down there on the ground, with your limbs flailing all over the place and a look on your face like death was near.
Me:  I was doing YOGA!
Baxter: You were?  Oh.  I am sorry. 
Me: I hate you.
Baxter: You know, I’m pretty sure yoga is supposed to be peaceful and meditative.
Me: I am fucking peaceful and meditative!
Baxter:  Well I don’t want to say you’re mistaken.  But generally yoga doesn’t call for people to yell “No way is my leg going there, motherfucker!”
Me:  It is the way I do it, mouse.   Maybe you should just go away and stop spying on me.
Baxter:  Well I’m going now actually because it’s past my bedtime, as you are aware. But I just wanted to alert you to my return.  In case you missed me.  Or were lonely.  Or distressed.
Me:  I am now, you little, long-tailed, hoity toity tool.
Baxter:  I’m going to ignore that.  See you tonight!

See here for Part Deux
And here is the first part.

Of Mice And (Wo)Men, Part Deux

Early Monday morning…

Mouse:  BOO!

Me: What the shit!

Mouse: Sorry about that.  I thought I’d surprise you.

Me: But… I plugged up all my holes.  You shouldn’t still be here, you little Hugh-Granty-sounding motherfucker.

Mouse: Yes, about that.  It was a valiant effort, really it was.  I applaud it on principle.  It even worked for a few days.  However, duct tape?  Really? I have sharp teeth you know.

Me:  But duct tape is strong.  You can rapel off a building using duct tape.

Mouse:  Really, you’re too cute.  And you watch way too much “Mythbusters”.  However, maybe it’s just not such a good  idea to use duct tape for blocking up gaps under your dishwasher.  I’m just saying.  So that next time you can perhaps find something more daunting to plug that hole with. I like a challenge.  Duct tape, frankly, is a little insulting.  I’m not an amateur, you know.

Me:  Well I’m VERY fucking sorry.  Why can’t you go annoy someone else, Mousepants McGoo?

Mouse: It’s Baxter, remember?  And for your information, I visit quite a few apartments.  Don’t go thinking YOU’RE so special.  And truthfully, I’m starting to think most of my other humans might be nicer than you. Which is sad because I had high hopes.

Me: Oh that IS sad.  Maybe you should spend all of your time with your other humans then.  I recommend that.

Mouse:  Sadly while they’re more polite than you, they are significantly less interesting.  I mean not one of those other humans like to dance around the room on Friday mornings in only their star covered pyjama pants and a bra, shaking their money maker and singing a made up song about not having to go to work.

Me: That’s my Gwen Stefani impersonation!
 
Mouse:  Of course it is.  Although, I believe Gwen has ribs.  And something called “coordination”.

Me;  Screw YOU, rodent boy.
 
Mouse:  And I sincerely doubt that Gwen stops every so often, raises a leg and rips a raucous air biscuit.  And then proceeds to get delighted with herself and rate it for pungency and vibration and then emails her sister with the results.

Me: Well how the hell do YOU know what Gwen does or does not do? Maybe she’s the goddamn Queen of Farts! And stop spying on me.

Mouse:  Please.  It’s the most entertaining part of the week.  And it’s free.  I video tape it to show all my mouse friends!  They think you’re hysterical.  Especially my girlfriend, Maybelline.  She laughs until she practically chokes!  One day I shall put the video on YouTube and we shall have a viral hit.

Me:  I WILL SUE YOU.

Mouse:  Come on now.  I’m a mouse!  You can’t sue a mouse.  Don’t be ridiculous!

Me: I will…wait a second.  Her name’s Maybelline?  MAYBELLINE?

Mouse:  There’s no need to make a scene, she’s heard all the jokes.

Me; Hey Baxter?  Is she pretty?

Mouse:  Yes she’s…I think so.  She’s quite pleasing to look at, yes.

Me: Hmmm.

Mouse: Hmmmm?

Me: I was just wondering.
 
Mouse:  Oh no you don’t…

Me: Maybe she’s born with it…

Mouse: You are monotonously predictable.

Me: Or MAYBE IT’S MAYBELLINE!

Mouse:  Sigh.  I do enjoy our little chats.

Me:  One day mouse.  One day I will set an elaborate trap you won’t see coming.
 
Mouse:  Oh?  Will it involve duct tape?  Oh, oh, oh, I know!  Maybe you could get another one of those clever little boxes that say MOUSE TRAP on the side in big, red letters.  Those are HILARIOUS.  I peed with joy last time you tried that.  I gasped and I said, “OMG! What can THAT possibly be?!”  It was so amusing, you can’t imagine.

Me; You’re still a sarcastic little fucker aren’t you?  Anyway…I thought mice couldn’t read!

Mouse:  Well we can’t talk either, but hey.  Looky!

Me:  You need to go away now.

Mouse:  Cranky!  Anyway, you’re right, it’s past my bedtime, what with me being nocturnal and all, and looks like you’re running late, so guess I’ll see you tonight then? Around midnight? Don’t figure on sleeping, we have things to discuss.  Bye bye.

Me: *$&%^*!