I’m in technical computer crap hell. We are switching our whole calendar and reservation system at the studio over to a new one, and having to depend on a tech guy to get this stuff done is killing me. He’s awesome and hilarious, but I think he might secretly also be part puppy, because that’s about the attention span he has. I don’t think he has a half speed mode either. He’s just full on jumping up and down and peeing on your shoe with excitement, or he’s fast aslee- SQUIRREL! But again, he’s awesome and is developing a great system for us, I just know that when I get off of the phone with him I’ll feel like I’ve had 4 Red Bulls and am crashing. And then when he does get it done (because, let’s face it, I’m a damn luddite and couldn’t even begin to do this shit on my own), something goes wrong on the host site. Just trying to get an SSL certificate linked up correctly so we can accept credit cards has had to involved a special ops unit barging in, code blazing.* **And when I’m talking to the host site tech people and trying to figure out what the hell they’re saying so that I can relay it over to my site builder tech guy, I’m pretty sure my brain is going into convulsions. And I’m pretty sure all these tech guys aren’t really saying anything anyway. They just make up words as they go along, as in, “Yes, if you reconfigure the satiforus and the hantoon rantoon, you’ll be able to subplot the jiggawhoozy.” And then they throw in a couple initials like IP, and API, SSL for good measure, so you’re left wondering what the hell those letters stand for. My guess is that IP stands for Internet Porn, API stands for Always Porny Internet, and SSL stands for Super Sexy Lingerie. They say them and snicker because they’re being dirty and I don’t even know it. Well, I’m wise to you guys now. Why do I think I’m going to regret having typed those words on my blog? Can you imagine the people who are going to stumble across this blog post after hunting for online naughty bits?
*Which reminds me, I once went on a ride-along with my friend who was a cop, and I got to go on a drug bust. And by go on, I mean hide behind the car door and watch from a distance, because the bullet proof vest they give you doesn’t protect your head. Or your hands. What if I got shot in the right hand and couldn’t paint anymore?? I need to be like those supermodels that take out insurance policies on their legs just in case anything ever happened. Anyway, the whole big SWAT team pulled up really fast to the house and busted the door in, only to discover that the drug dealer lady wasn’t even home. The people who were home were a couple little kids and their grandma with no legs. So then we had to drive around for a while looking for drug dealer lady’s car, because you know she wasn’t coming home with 10 cop cars and vans pulled up out front. We ended up stopping some poor dudes who had the same kind of car but not the right license plate, just in case. You know they were shitting bricks trying to figure out what the hell they’d done wrong to get pulled over.
** Also, do you like how I accused my tech guy of having no attention span, but my posts are one giant digression? I had a boyfriend many years ago who was a college professor and he could never concentrate long enough to grade papers or write research papers, etc. He was constantly getting distracted by things that were more fun (which means that I graded more than my fair share of exams, and I didn’t have a psych degree of any kind – sorry kids). His student assistant was forever telling him to follow the light, which really sounds like she was telling him to die and cross over. But she ended up marrying him, so I guess not. But then they got divorced, so maybe she originally meant it, but then didn’t, and now does again. Maybe she got distracted.