I love the internet, I really do. Ever since a friend told me back in the late 80’s about this new thing called the information super highway I was intrigued. I opened my first email account some 12 years ago and Facebook tells me I joined in 2007. Granted I have no recollection of joining therefore it was probably a tentative attempt at a marketing strategy or I was drunk, but so it tells me. Anyway I meandered back to it eventually. Over the years I have made nearly 3000 friends some of which I actually know. To my credit I swear like a trooper and have never been banned – yet.
Beggars can’t be choosers
Over the years by email I have received countless thoughtful mails from people concerned about my ability to get an erection and offering me a way up, if you will. I have also received many and varied letters from poor souls with millions of South African rand to dispose of because their great Aunt Fanny died intestate of Mongolian frostbite, and asking for my help. Yes little me who they hardly knew. I felt unworthy to shoulder the responsibility for the 50% they were offering.
Some six years ago I opened a Twitter account for my business. I had no idea what the hell I was supposed to say given my mouth and only 140 characters or why they were so intent on gagging us but it seemed to work. I confess on my Twitter account for the blog I am struggling to contain my oral laxity. I’ve actually had to cut out the profanities to say what I want to in the space I have. I feel bereft of adjectives.
My first computer was approximately the size of a small garden shed. The monitor took up the whole of the kitchen table so the kids had to eat on the floor. It took about half an hour to load a page and made a strange screeching noise at start up and every 15 minutes or so thereafter until you switched it off. But I loved it.
No poking allowed
Having said that the world of Social media perplexed me at first and sometimes still does. The first time I received an email from Facebook telling me a chap called Kev had written on my wall I actually went outside to check. I was ready to call the police and have the bloody little graffiti artist nabbed. Then I checked the account and found some dirty bugger had poked me. Did I want to poke him back it asked? No I bloody well didn’t, I hardly knew the guy. I have to confess I really still don’t get that concept. I really must Google it and find out where the idea came from. Is it implying we are all so bored on there we need a prod to wake us up? How is that a selling point? I don’t think I’ve ever actually taken up the offer since 2007 but if I am mistaken and I have poked any of you, my readers, do correct me and accept my sincere apologies.
Google it or die
Speaking of Google, don’t you just love it? All that lovely information at your fingertips. What did we do before? Over the years it has saved me so much time in libraries it’s untrue. I’ve also diagnosed myself with approximately 427 different diseases and ailments ranging from breast cancer, ectopic pregnancy and swine flu to malaria and yellow fever. All of which I’ve treated myself and fully recovered from with the aid of white wine, herbal remedies, drinking plenty of water and chatting with the similarly afflicted on forums . Group therapy, powerful stuff. The children have all had meningitis on several occasions and my husband is currently suffering from chronic erectile dysfunction diagnosed by me with my Google buddy when we’d had a row one night and he wasn’t in the mood. Maybe I should forward him one of those emails.
Call the brothel!
It has also saved my blushes on several occasions. You know how it goes with kids. You’re on your way to do the weekly shopping when suddenly a little voice pipes up from the back of the car “Mummy, what’s a brothel?” Well previously it would have been a case of telling them to wait until you got home and you would explain over dinner. This would be followed by a trip round the supermarket, during which you would be completely distracted framing an age appropriate answer. You would consequently leave with three carrots, 102 tins of dog food, ten bottles of Chablis and a dishcloth. Then whilst trying to concoct something like a meal from your purchases you would have to try to explain the rise and fall of Madam Cyn before the table was laid and dinner was ruined by an unhealthy focus on ladies of the night.
Not now. No you just whip out your trusty Android, Google it, find the relevant Wikipedia entry and pass the phone to the back seat with strict instructions to click no links. Job done, dinner saved, kids aghast but happy and educated. I have to say it works for me.
There are many things that drive me nuts about the internet and some odd and annoying things out there in cyberspace but on the whole I think it’s a Godsend and a fantastic resource if you use it wisely. But yes, irritants and weirdo’s do make up a fair part of it, but that’s another story……
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