I've mentioned before that, when on the computer, I sit at my kitchen bar. This is not a large bar by any means and I sit outside the kitchen facing in on a stool. Well, today we got my mom's old iMac since she got a new one. The word OLD is key in this. It's running a super old operating system and the hardware won't support the super cheap Snow Leopard upgrade. We have to use just plain leopard. Anyway, the Mac desktop is now position on the kitchen bar and I am sitting next to it on the PC. And the Dingo is on the stool next to me messing with the Mac. This is extremely close quarters. Not because I dislike being next to the Dingo while I'm working but because I get a constant barrage of "Doodle! Look!" "Doodle, why won't this image move here?" When my back is to him he is less likely to distract me and I am more likely to ignore his distractions. I guess we are both the eternal bad kids in class. Except, while I am the talker, the Dingo is the kid throwing spit balls. This desktop may kill us both.
But I am SOOOO excited to get a "new" Mac. I've always had Macs. Even as a kid I had an Apple in dos. Ole Miss suggests all journalism students use Macs and that is what we have in the computer labs, so that is what I learned design on. I have cherished my nine year old iBook, refusing to let her die even if she is dingy and old and so slow. This has resulted in me stumbling around my work PC. I often have to ask MC what the heck is that program and how do I use it. (I learned what One Note is about a year ago.) I accidentally lied on my job resume at The Company years ago by saying that I can use Photoshop and Illustrator. Oops, not so much. I only learned key commands on a Mac and they definitely ain't the same on a PC. (Wow, do I sound geeked out yet? MJ I think you accomplished your mission to turn me.) So, now I'm waiting to hear back from MJ! if he can help me find a Leopard disc. Ok, I'll stop now since I know, and hope, very few of my techy work friends read this blog.
I'm not in the mood to be productive tonight so I am forcing the Dingo to eat delivery pizza. He isn't a fan of delivery pizza but since he basically orders dinner, which I cook, every night I put my foot down. I need dough, cheese and garlic butter dipping sauce. He is settling for the wings they offer. Fine with me.
The weekend holds very few plans. We, at some point, need to go to Macy's to register for the fancy stuff but I'm not really feeling it this weekend. I think we may check out Au Fond. And I may try a new lamb chop recipe I found, so be prepared for LAMB HEAD! I think this time I will inform the butcher that I do not need to see the entire animal before freak out ensues.
To finish; random Doodle/Dingo convo;
Doodle: Is it called a weed eater or a weededer?
Dingo: (mumbled) Weedeeter
Doodle: Like weed eater? Like it eats weeds or weededer?
Dingo: WEED-EATER, why are you writing about weed eaters?
Doodle: I'm not. I just got distracted and realized I've never known what it was called.
Dingo: (rolls his eyes) Will you please pour me a drink?
No comments:
Post a Comment