Calling the help desk

I should have a birthday more often (doesn’t that sound like fun?)…because I get a boatload of electronic crap. For this year’s b-day, I not only got a Nike iPod that tells me I am running 7 minute miles (wrong, but lovely), I also got a brand new GPS after someone realized I don’t even know how to get from Rita’s house to the San Diego airport – despite making that trip 63 times over the last 14 months. [who pays attention to directions when the conversation is so engaging???].

And we’re not talking just any GPS, but the Blue Tooth/Emergency Responder/Direction Giver that comes pre-programmed with 911 in it. Now if only Nicola had been here in Massachusetts to program it. Because while the pre-programmed 911 feature is nifty, you would be AMAZED at how easy it is to accidentally dial 9-1-1 on that little jobbie. Three times. [=) smiley face?] “Hi Marge, it’s Maeve again…no…no emergency this time either – yeah, I hope I get the hang of this thing too.”

As soon as I DID get it working, however, I also realized my rental car had XM satellite radio and everything in the whole car started talking to me at once – “turn right here for 106 talk radio stations.” Without even realizing it, I had told the whole car to “wheesht up you sons of bitches or I will pull this car over.” [That’s an inside joke for anyone who has ever taken a vacation to Florida with my father.] At one point, I even found myself carrying on a conversation with the glove box after my blue tooth went off after storing the thing.

Look – if you could program this thing through an Excel pivot table, I’d not only have directions and my favorite radio station, but I’m pretty sure I would be guiding satellite traffic. As it was, however, I felt just like John McCain must feel with that new fangled E-lec-tron-ic mail.