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Showing posts with label Blogger. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Blogger. Show all posts

Sunday, July 10, 2011

The Gentle Hum of Anxiety

The last couple of days were an involuntary internet blackout. Round about noon on Friday, there was a din of WTFs, Sonofabitches, Goddamnits, Dagnabbits, Mommy! and Fuck me's! coming from West end of Cartersville, Georgia, as thousands of AT&T customers tried to surf the web and got stiff-armed by the Broadband Not Available message.

I, myself, had just performed several happy pirouettes around the deck after having just posted for the first time in two years at PoliTits navigating Blogger's new format while my heart pounded at the possibility of being reunited with my stupidly deleted blog. I returned to my seat to post my elation at having my old blog back, I saw that a couple of friends emailed me about something called Google+ and when I tried to open the first email.....nothing. Loading, loading, loading. I tried another tab. Statcounter. Nothing. Another. Nothing. Another. Broadband link error.

About that same time, MathMan threw open the bedroom window and hollered "What's up with the internet?" I could hear commotion coming from the living room. Grumbling, I went inside, remembering to reach up and snag the leaping cat who desperately wants to return to her feral roots or at least track down the squirrel who licks the deck every morning to ask him why in the hell he does that. She started to claw me, but saw the expression on my face and thought better of it, jumping with one swift motion to the floor and disappearing behind the sofa.

Nathan charged up the basement stairs, his XBox controller in his hand. "What's wrong with the internet? I was in the middle of a game!"

Sophie, who was awake during the day so that she could attend a party at 1pm, shook her iPod Touch. "I was watching Roseanne, but Netflix just went out. Did you cancel Netflix?"

Chloe was alternately packing for a camping trip and checking her email for an important message. "What the hell?" And then more words I won't repeat here because she shouldn't be using those words in front of her parents.

A sound from outside drew my attention. I tugged open the humidity-sticky front door and was met with a wailing sound made up of the collective epithets, oaths, threats and smart remarks from all those disappointed ATandT customers who couldn't check their bank statements, water their Farmville farms or upload photos of their privates. One neighbor wearing two oven mitts and a pair of her kid's swim goggles, wielded a pair of kitchen sheers on the metal stump housing the Comcast cable hub.

"What are you doing?"

"I was in the middle of searching for a recipe when the stupid internet pooped out! I'm dumping AT&T for Comcast. Right now," she said, blowing her hair out of her face. "Listen, watch for the cops. They patrol around the neighborhood at about this time every day." We stay at home parents and involuntarily and voluntarily retired people know things like this. I looked over my shoulder checking for the Black and White.

Another neighbor was squirting lighter fluid on a pile of kindling on his front lawn. "Jerry, are you going to send smoke signals?"

"Yeah, right. Smoke signals. No, this is for lighting our torches so we can make a show of force." Assorted other neighbors assembled on his lawn, scuffing their feet in the gravel along the curb, trying not to trample the impatiens or tip his bird bath. They carried iPhones, Androids, and pitchforks. The neighbor one house over was dismantling his ratty old picket fence while his wife stood next to him tearing sheets.

"We can use these for torches, Jer! I'm sick of painting it anyway," he shouted over the crowd.

Oh, sure now they're ready to take to the streets. I wasn't going to waste this opportunity. If people were whipped up enough to protest, let them at least spend their on things that would help the greater good. "Listen, while you're at it, would you mind protesting Georgia's disgusting new immigration law, the Republicans who never mention the deficit when they're running it up, two and a half wars, our corrupt governor, and corporate welfare in a time of high unemployment and record profits?"

My neighbor shook his can of lighter fluid at me. "You're one of those commie pinkos, aren't you? I told Sue to keep an eye on you when you started hanging your laundry out to dry and you guys replaced your lawn mower with one of those push mowers. Real Americans ride their lawnmowers!"

Yeah, this was going nowhere. "Enjoy your mob, Jerry, and don't forget that AT&T doesn't support net neutrality. Add that to your protest, okay?"

"Net what?"

"Nevermind." I slammed the front door, glad to block out the racket.

"Well, the TV still works," MathMan said holding out the dvd of Social Network we'd gotten in the mail from Netflix. "Want to watch a movie after we take Sophie to her party?"

Later MathMan, Nate and I ate popcorn, drank root beer and watched the movie about how Facebook came about. Occasionally, one of us would reach into a vibrating pocket and pull out our phone to read a text.

"I know there's some message here about modern life," I said.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, while we're sitting here watching a movie about how Facebook was invented, most of my texts are from Facebook."

Full circle.

**************************

Just for laughs: First World Problems.

Monday, October 12, 2009

Dear Google May I Have My Blogs Back!


Dear Google,

Please let me have my blogs back. I was wrong to delete them, I know, but now I am sorry and I want them back. The truth is I am an idiot who didn't understand that one of her email accounts didn't have full access to the blogs in question. I thought I'd done everything right, but when I finally pulled the trigger, hoping to eliminate duplication, I was wrong. I killed PoliTits, Unglued, Have Camera Will Travel, and Unglued Blue.

I am distraught. Four years of writing gone in the push of a single submit button.

What I was trying to do was once and for all kill off DCup. Perhaps that was my mistake. She is me. I am her. We are. I only meant to delete her profile, it seems, but instead when I deleted my blogger account, I was denying her existence in irrevocable ways.

Gone. It is all gone. I dutifully completed the request for access three times. Still you deny me. You want dates of when I started using the account, what other applications I used and dates when I started using them. Seriously? I am nearing senility, off my meds, have three kids, five cats, a husband, a house, a full time job, two part time jobs, and was once a blogger who blogged in several places and often twice a day or more. You want me to tell you when I started using Picassa as DCup? Medic!!!!

I know that you are only doing your job, trying to protect the integrity of everyone's account, but please, where I can I appeal? You will not provide me with a way, other than the form, to contact you. And the form provides no space for evidence outside of the strict criteria you set. I am not going to get nasty with you, but I am definitely frustrated beyond belief. I mean, it's been quite a day already. I ate leftover birthday cake for breakfast. The rain and traffic were so bad this morning that I got part of the way to work and had to turn around and come back home to annoy a cat who had taken up her usual spot in my office chair. I haven't cried yet, but there's still a serious possibility that there will be tears before bedtime.

Is this really all that you're going to say to me? You know, after having completed the form three times, this response is losing its charm....
Thank you for your report. We've completed our investigation and cannot
return your account at this time. We were unable to verify that you own
this account based on the information you provided.

If you can provide additional information to verify that you own this
account, please visit
http://www.google.com/support/accounts/bin/request.py?ara=1 and submit
another report. Whether we can return access to this account depends on
the strength and accuracy of your responses, so be sure to provide as much
information as possible. If you're unsure about specific dates or
information, provide your best guess.

To create a new account, please visit
https://www.google.com/accounts/NewAccount

We apologize for any inconvenience and appreciate your cooperation and
understanding.

Regards,
The Google Team
You, dear Google, tell me that I cannot have it back because you cannot verify that those accounts are mine. Let me show you the evidence. How's this - a cut a paste from the emails I'm now getting. Even there, I am haunted by DCup....and this comes from you.

This is an automatically generated Delivery Status Notification
Delivery to the following recipient failed permanently:

Received: from mr.google.com ([10.103.64.19])
by 10.103.64.19 with SMTP id r19mr5113606muk.8.
1255374081337 (num_hops = 1);
Mon, 12 Oct 2009 12:01:21 -0700 (PDT)
Received: by 10.103.64.19 with SMTP id r19mr2642197muk.8.
1255374081321;
Mon, 12 Oct 2009 12:01:21 -0700 (PDT)
X-Forwarded-To: dcup84@gmail.com
X-Forwarded-For: lisahgolden@gmail.com dcup84@gmail.com
Delivered-To: lisahgolden@gmail.com
Received: by 10.103.137.5 with SMTP id p5cs254376mun;
Mon, 12 Oct 2009 12:01:20 -0700 (PDT)
Received: by 10.211.131.8 with SMTP id i8mr7574137ebn.68.
1255374080738;
Mon, 12 Oct 2009 12:01:20 -0700 (PDT)
Return-Path: <bounce-20-525598726@trakken.google.com>
Received: from smtp-out.google.com (smtp-out.google.com [216.239.33.17])
You see, because I had my newish email (lisahgolden@gmail.com) linked to my old one (dcup84@gmail.com), I am still receiving the bouncebacks after having deleted the DCup84 account.

May I pretty please have access to my google account again? I promise not to kill off DCup ever, ever, ever.

The problem may have arisen because in my infinite wisdom, I did at some point last year or maybe early in 2009, change the DCup nickname to lisahgolden (still under the DCup84 email address), thus muddling things further. I repeat - I am an idiot.

You don't really want to punish me for being a technological moron, do you? I mean, I know that you might think I'm cool (I am not) and that I was part of the crowd of people who tortured you in high school (I really wasn't! Promise!), but I was too busy being friends with everyone and getting laid to harass anyone that high school hierarchies define as uncool.

So please. I'm offering you the most information I can to prove that this google account belongs to me. And pictures as evidence. And my first, second and third borns. Five cats? The use of the Unglued tag Hot Married Sex. The lacy black bra avatar. Take it all, please, just give me access to my blogs.

I will delete no more. My cyber world will be as crammed full of stuff as my computer's recycle bin. Old pix, downloaded porn, draft after draft after draft of emails, letters, poems, screenplays and stories. None of it will be dispatched into the great beyond. You have my word. Heck, you can even have my favorite word - FUCK!!!!!!

Please reconsider your hardline. I will be forever grateful and will do a monthly post about how incredibly awesome Google is. And I won't tell you to go fuck yourself. Ever.