Making It Up As I Go Along #316

MONDAY...
— Work alone for a while but Stephanie also comes for some overtime. It’s okay at the office. I even do a walk at one of the breaks.
— Colorado is killing me in the hockey pool. I’m ready to kick the TV while watching them play the late game... they lose to Minnesota in overtime and are now down in the series... JERKS.
— I’ve changed my home e-mail to only check for new messages every 20 minutes rather than every 5 minutes. Just too few real e-mails and too much spam. I’ve been ignoring the notification most of the time anyway, just assuming it’s a message telling me how to grow certain body parts bigger... or how to get a good Rolex watch.

TUESDAY...
— Not alone at all tonight at work. Read and Dan work OT in the early part and Keith is there for the later part. It’s fine.
— Home to see the Montreal game on tape. A good one too. 1-0 Habs.

WEDNESDAY...
— I missed the clip until today, thanks to youtube, but wow are the Ottawa Senator brain trust a bunch of moronic geeks! That pre-game Spartan, gladiator speech thing was laughable. Proof why if you’d ever characterize a hockey team as a nerdy geek, Ottawa is your team. What I can’t believe is that before a do-or-die hockey game, they got the players to line up in a hallway and stand there with straight faces watching this half naked clown march out past them.
— And it’s the end of the Sens. They lose tonight to get swept out of the playoffs. I can’t say I’m broken hearted but I’m friends with enough Sen fans now that I can’t take joy in it either.
— Did a walk after work today. About an hour out there... first time since November I think. It’s good.

THURSDAY...
— Work alone tonight. It goes okay. Melissa and I do supper outside. It’s sunny and 23. Nice to have Spring here at last.
— Montreal gets kicked and I watch it on tape after work. Not pleasing.
— And it appears that I’ve chipped a tooth by taking a bite of a fig bar. Don’t ask me how that happens but biting a pit seems to have taken a little bit of tooth. Pain free but still a pain. I guess the dentist will soon get a call.

FRIDAY...
— In early for a staff luncheon. I sit with Kiyomi and Martin on either side of me. It’s good.
— Work is alright. I’m bouncing around doing lots of different things through the day... and it’s a shorter day thanks to that luncheon.
— After work it’s straight to Karl’s art gallery showing with Melissa. I meet Karl’s family and check out his art in a real gallery.

SATURDAY...
— House day. Watch Spider-Man 3 on DVD... it’s not horrible but not a classic either. Hockey after that. Washington vs. Philly is okay... Montreal vs. Boston is annoying. And by the time Colorado vs. Minnesota comes on, I’m too annoyed to enjoy it. Do I go to work on Monday with Montreal going to game 7? Work half a day and get home in time for the game? Who knows.


We Are Our Babies
When we become our babies.

I speak of those icons that represent us on the computers. The two most notable situations I see this in are on MSN messenger and on facebook.

A picture set up to show you... and many show their two year old child instead. I see that a 35 year old I went to school with is online and I see a picture of a baby who’s so young, the child needs to be propped up by hands in order to pose for the picture.

Thousands of infants across the world are plastered on facebook. They represent their mother, and sometimes but not as often, their father... and they’re oblivious to it all.

Think of the future embarrassments. Those baby pictures we all hate when we get old enough to pay attention. Those shots of us laying in the bubble bath with only our head and butt poking out of the suds. Shots of us staggering on skates with ankles nearly touching the ice. Pictures of spaghetti sauce drenched faces. All of these pictures were held in albums and away from the public viewing in the 70s and 80s. Today, those pictures make it to the internet.

We’re left with no say. Our parents, who have virtually no hint of common sense when it comes to us in infant state, are deciding our fate for us. And that bathtub shot which, in the old days, was viewed by a dozen family members on Christmas or summer visits... today is seen by thousands whenever your mom or dad go online to play scrabble.

And when it comes to babies, we really are an insane race. I’ve seen pictures of worn out looking mothers taken a few minutes after the most traumatic event in their life. A purple head of a child poking out through a blanket on top of her belly... and people leave internet comments on this web based pictures talking about how precious it is... or how cute... or adorable. Bah... it’s a purple infant who’s too tired to pose and a haggard woman who needs her rest.

I know a couple of people who have their own baby pictures representing themselves on facebook. People in their 30s showing pictures from their diaper days. Give it up fools... you’re not tricking anyone!

Some put their pets up there. I may very well have a relative or two who, to the untrained eye, could be mistaken as my pet dog rather than say... my sister!

Then there are those who represent themselves online by posting pictures of their spouse. Women with pictures of bearded men. Men with swimsuit shots of their wives. Not that I have an issue with women in swimsuits. But it just seems oddly disturbing to see those pictures of women with attached names as Dave, Mike, or Bill.

But at least these are adults. They can see the pictures for themselves and, if they don’t want it up there, they can put up a fight. And dogs... well it doesn’t take much figuring to know that it’s a dog. And the dog isn’t going to grow up and learn that it’s been exploited.

But babies... I don’t know. Soon I’ll have a facebook friend who’ll decide they want their profile picture to be the actual birth of their newborn. It’ll be nothing but spread legs and the miracle of birth. And that picture will appear anytime Fred is online.

That is the day I leave facebook. So any friend of mine... if you ever see that I’ve disappeared off the internet universe... now you’ll know why.