"Your name is Gilly, but since we are good friends, I get to call you Jesus."*

   I got an iPhone 4S last week and my life is now complete. I’m so in love with iPhone that I take him everywhere and dress him in different, cute little outfits. He’s adorable and the closest thing to a child I can ever imagine owning (you do own children, right? If you have them yourself out of your vagina or adopt them legally?).

   Anyway, iPhone is great and I’ve never been happier with an electronic device (thanks, Momma and Steve Jobs!).

   But you know who’s a huge bitch? Siri.

   I wasn’t sure if I wanted to get Siri because I’d talked to her on Chad’s phone in the past and found that she didn’t particularly understand anything I had to say. It was like talking to the automated voice system on the phone with the bank or fucking stupid AT&T: it hardly ever knows what you’re talking about and keeps saying, “It sounded like you said, ‘Go fuck yourself.’ Did I get that right?”

   Anyway, I was convinced by Ouisa to go ahead and get Siri anyway (Ouisa’s like a cartoon drawing of a devil on your shoulder whenever you’re wondering whether or not to buy something), because she can do so many amazing things! You can text without typing! You can look for directions! You can have her play a song from your phone!

   While I was working this weekend, I let the kiddos I watch play with Siri for a while (a truly annoying thing to listen to) and I started to feel kind of bad for her. One of them was telling her she was stupid and the other was saying "I hate you, Siri!" (what have I done to these children, btw?) and Siri’s responses were sort of calm but hurt. She kept explaining that she hadn’t done anything wrong or that she didn’t understand why they would say that kind of stuff to her. The whole thing made me feel kind of weird, like how when I was a kid I use anthropomorphize my dolls and toys and worry myself to death making sure they were all in comfortable positions at bed time (I'm talking even toy tractors or Lincoln Logs...I was a weird kid). I started irrationally defending Siri to the kids, saying stuff like, “Hey, that’s mean! Don’t say that!” I was aware as I was speaking that I sounded insane, but I genuinely thought maybe Siri would get fed up and turn into a murderous monster like HAL in 2001: A Space Odyssey. Maybe she’d smother me in my sleep or—far worse—trap me in an elevator. How was she to know it wasn't me talking to her but those devious children?

This is Siri all bent out of shape because people were being mean to her.

   I put Siri into a random Google search just to see what kind of technology I was actually dealing with and found something shocking:

Something Shocking

   This article talks about how when you ask Siri for an abortion clinic or a pharmacy with the morning after pill or a RAPE CRISIS CENTER for gods sake, she gives you none but instead directs you to pro-life pregnancy counseling centers. What’s even more disturbing perhaps, it seems that she willingly gives out info on Viagra or “penis mightier” drug sources. So…she’s apparently only opinionated about women’s sexual health issues.

   This made me feel a lot less sorry for Siri. And a lot of other things started falling into place, too.

   For instance, if you ask Siri where to dump a body, she’s full of suggestions from metal foundries to crematoriums. And that seemed funny as hell to me at first. But since she doesn’t have any advice about where I can get a rape kit, it seems fucked up that she’s so eager to help me dispose of a corpse.

   Also, when I asked her who was the fairest of them all (yes, I’m a dork, move on), she asked if she was talking to Snow White. But when one of the kids asked her, she basically said, “You are.” Huh? She’s MY Siri, so how come she’s nicer to other people?

   And she keeps popping up when I don’t want her services (also eerily reminiscent of HAL) and asking what she can help me with. She can help me with minding her own goddamn business!

   She has her uses, don’t get me wrong. I’m learning how to talk to her so that she understands and actually helps me rather than frustrating the shit out of me. It’s a lot like a dating-type relationship. I repeat myself ad nauseum, she doesn’t understand. I get mad and she gets confused. I apologize and try again, she’s turned herself off. Yep, we’re dating alright.

   I will continue to be nice to Siri, despite our fundamental philosophical differences, because she scares the hell out of me. But iPhone I will love forever. Beautiful iPhone. IPhone, iPhone, iPhone. 

Siri is the Devil.

*This is a quote from Siri on my iPhone. Hmmm...
More news on Siri...

"To know how to dance is to know how to control oneself."*

    I make a lot of lists. It’s a longtime habit which started in high school, when I would channel my classroom boredom into either a. filling out and decorating my assignment book; b. making an alphabetical list of the United States and then putting a check next to the ones I’d been to; or c. making lists of anything from plays I’d seen to books I’d read. I’ve always made lists, and, based on what I’ve just written, it would appear that I’ve always been boring. Okay!

    This evening I read over my most recent “to do” list and decided to share it with you, because apparently I need attention or perhaps I just thought you’d find it amusing, as I did. 

My most recent to do list.

Here is the breakdown:

1. I think this is pretty self-explanatory. Note that I spelled “ants” like “aunts” because I suck at spelling words—even words I already know.

2. My car is squeaky clean, thank you for caring.

3. I haven’t dropped off my rent check yet, but I have to do it before I leave for Omaha.

4. Linked In: I did that thing where I accidentally invited everyone I’ve ever emailed to join me on Linked In. I did the same thing when I joined Facebook. It’s kind of great, because now I have a ton of people viewing my sad little resume on Linked In. But it’s also kind of awful because I invited people I don’t really know at all, and people that were cc’ed on emails I received back in 2005, and people I’d rather never see or speak to again for as long as I live. But alas, so far none of the psychos I’m avoiding have responded. Fingers crossed.

5. I got into Pasadena City College! But all the classes I wanted were already taken. Boo.

Numbers 6 through 9 are kind of self-explanatory.

  10. I have begun taking an Arnica supplement because my tendency to run into things is much too obvious: I am covered in bruises. I hope this works.

  13. I bought a turkey leg at Disneyland today and only ate half. But it cost $9 so I thought I’d bring it home and finish it here. But then I left it in the trunk. And I don’t feel like going down to the garage to get it.

      14. AT&T is the devil and I hate that company more than words can express. I don’t owe them $16 because I shut my service off 2/3^rd of the way through the month. So I only paid $32 of my bill out of principle. But they’re the world’s worst pieces of shit, so they might send that bill to collections and destroy my credit just because they have time for crap like that, even if they don’t have time to answer a goddamned phone call. So I fucking paid it.             AT&T: 14. Lacey: 0

     16. I wanted to buy diatomaceous earth, which I obviously misspelled in a serious way. But it isn’t at Target and I really don’t think it’ll be at Trader Joe’s, so I guess I won’t buy it because those are the only places I shop. Also, I was feeling way too guilty about giving those ants a long, torturous death. Even though they might still eat my face off in my sleep. I am a perfect, Mother Teresa-type person.

     17. I want to figure out what people do with their free time on TV shows as a basis of comparison. Maybe through diligent study, I can find better things to do with my free time besides watch people on television. Circular logic, I know. But this is how my mind works. Unfortunately, from watching TV I've learned that people with spare time usually read legal briefs, drink one never-ending glass of red wine, bust criminals on the Interweb, or engage in sexual intercourse. Hmmm...this isn't helpful. No one is ever seen flossing, doing "girl" push-ups, or figuring out the best place to put the fan. Weird.

    Yeah, so the rest of that list is pretty basic stuff.  Just thought I’d give you a voyeuristic treat by showing you that I’m just like the rest of you sickos, except I have lists. I'm so great.

*This is a quote from Swing Time (George Stevens, 1936), one of my favorite Fred Astaire/Ginger Rogers movies and one that I watched while making this list the other night (I may have also cried a little bit while I was watching it, even though it is in no way sad). I know it has no bearing on this post, but since I can neither dance nor control myself, it seems like it'd fit anywhere in here. I'm such a narcissist. You don't have to read this blog.

"I went to sleep with gum in my mouth and now there's gum in my hair."*

           Sometimes I’m afraid that I’m turning into one of those angry bitches that make everyone uncomfortable at the bank or supermarket by yelling and demanding in an unreasonably loud tone of voice.

            I know I’ve mentioned before my hatred of Wells Fargo, but yesterday was an onslaught of customer service garbage handling the like of which I haven’t experienced in a while.

            I awoke to a text from my roommate telling me the Internet was down and AT&T wouldn’t help him fix it because he didn’t have all the proper “security information.” (Yes, I’m sure AT&T protects our account information like they’re the goddamn Secret Service.)

            So I called and was transferred THREE TIMES, repeating the same information and the same codes to four different people before some woman told me, exasperatedly (she’s exasperated? At least her Internet works), that she couldn’t give me any information without the three-digit code at the end of my account number.

            “Well, all that information is online. I don’t receive paper bills because AT&T told me I should go paperless! And now I’m all green and saving the planet and you want a code that is only available online. I’d like you to tell me how I’m supposed to get that code for you when MY INTERNET IS DOWN. I can give you my social security number, I can give you my driver’s license number, my numerology number, my phone number or my bra size, but other than that, I can’t do anything because I DON’T HAVE THE GODDAMN INTERNET.”

            Two additional phone calls, a frantic search through my filing cabinet and several sessions of methodical head banging followed by quick tears of frustration later, I was informed that they would certainly reactivate my Internet service—in two to four hours. Thanks, AT&T! Until then, we’ll just do some shadow puppetry and bang out a game or two of charades before work.

            Then I went to the pharmacy where they informed me that only one of my three prescriptions was ready, even though I dropped them off yesterday. I tried to just buy the one that was ready but they kept telling me that if I could “just wait ten minutes” the other two would be ready. “I DON’T HAVE TEN MINUTES! NOBODY CALLED ME TO SAY THERE WAS A PROBLEM! THE WHOLE REASON I DROPPED THEM OFF YESTERDAY WAS SO I WOULDN’T HAVE TO KILL TIME HANGING OUT AT ALBERTSON’S!!”

            There was a time in my life, not too long ago, when I would have meekly agreed to just about anything a customer service representative said to me and then gone home and cried and passive aggressively suffered the inconvenience and discourtesy shown to me. But now I bang fists and wave arms and shout and embarrass people to the point where they want to call their managers just so they don’t have to talk to me. And then I go home and cry. (Yeah, yeah, I cry when I’m frustrated. Sue me. If you dare.)

            I’m not sure it’s an improvement.

             I will say that I’m getting what I want more often.

            So I had my two prescriptions and my Internet service and I was feeling all inflated from having made several people (who were just doing their terrible, thankless jobs) feel sufficiently cowed and horrible and I headed to work.

            That’s when I saw a man with only one arm jogging up the hill for all he was worth.

            And I felt like shit. Here I am crying and yelling because the pharmacist won’t give me my ACNE medication (that’s right. It wasn’t even a prescription I desperately needed like insulin or Prozac. It was for my damn skin.), and this guy’s out for a jog with ONE ARM. I just ruined a bunch of people's days while Mr. One Arm decided that he was going to go for a jog and having just one arm wasn't going to get him down.

            The lesson in all this is that I am aware that I am a bit of an asshole and I’m working on it.

            “And that was the greatest lesson of all.”**

*Quote from Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by Judith Viorst. One of the best children’s books ever written. 

**The second quote I may have heard somewhere in a Christmas movie or completely made up. If you know the source, fill me in. (Yay! I just ended two sentences in a row with prepositions! Woohoo! At least I have two arms!)

***On a completely unrelated topic, today is the anniversary of the death of John Lennon. A moment of silence.