My old watch was a “geek” watch. It was big and shiny with lots of fancy parts. It had a beautiful round digital display and loads of features. It was solar powered; I had it for years and it never needed a battery. It had atomic calibration, so it always showed the precise time. It had a data memory of 315 characters, 5 customizable alarms with reminder text, automatic daylight savings, and world time.
I loved my watch, but it was time to get a new one. But how could I find a watch that could live up to my beloved Casio Wave Ceptor WV-100? I considered all the different technologies available in watches, but no particular one jumped out. I ended up settling for a no frills, low tech, plain and simple, only-tells-time analog watch. It doesn’t have super powers, it doesn’t run on nuclear energy, it doesn’t even have numbers. It just tells time. Approximate, plus-or-minus time.
I miss the technology, but I’m okay with it. It’s a well-built, good looking watch. The only problem is, it’s been so long since I’ve looked at an analog clock that I’ve pretty much forgotten how to tell time. People have always been so accustomed to asking me for the time and getting a precise, immediate answer down to the second. Now by the time I figure out what time it is, (um, let’s see…two, three…fifteen, twenty….five, six…3:26!) that’s no longer the correct time and they’re no longer standing around waiting for the answer.
If I were a genius, I would design a credit card with no rewards, an account set up fee of $29, a program fee of $95, an annual fee of $48, and a monthly servicing fee of $84. Then I would booger glue a fake credit card onto the paper, call it “WaMu” for whatever reason, and send it to a geek named Josh. That way he would write about it on his blog and my card would be famous.
I work for a music recording company, so I hear technical jargon all the time. Not just the usual stuff like hard drive and RAM, I hear some pretty serious stuff like DMX-4 and 24-80’s and all kinds of stuff with numbers and letters. And that’s just the beginning.
Of course, with myself being a graphic designer, I have my own jargon. But I try to refrain from using it, because the last time I did somebody thought I called them a dingbat.
I have a lot of friends. And I’m not sure, but I think it might have something to do with the fact that I own a car. Either way, I get a lot of people asking me for rides. One thing I find interesting is how the person who rides in the passenger seat usually seems to think that he has his own little brake that he can use when he wants the car to slow down. When I come to a turn or a stop sign or something, I have fun watching their leg get tense as they push their imaginary brake. It’s not like I drive very fast. I’m actually one of those geeky speed limit drivers. But with my luck, I would probably get pulled over for going three miles over the speed limit. I learned a lot from my older brother. I used to ride with him quite a bit and, well, he sort of showed me what not to do. And I always had fun pushing my own imaginary brake.
If you’re one of the many hopeless romantics with a crush on the famous Josh Meyer, then rest easy because there may still be hope for you yet. With an almost innumerable flock of those deathly attracted to him, Josh has become simply overwhelmed by the number of girls telling him of their or someone else’s feelings for him. Starting this fall is an all new series of The Bachelor, with who else but Josh Meyer himself to select one lucky bachelorette from the countless applicants. Josh, a self-described unsociable “geek,” has long cherished his carefree bachelor lifestyle. However, amongst the infinite hopefuls, is there one girl who can stop Josh in his tracks and inspire him to settle down? Don’t wait any longer; send in your application to firstname.lastname@example.org, along with a top-ten list of why he should select you and as much information about yourself as possible. Good luck, you’re going to need it.
I can bench press almost as much as my little sister. I have blond whiskers that grow slower than a White Cedar tree (holds the record for slowest growing tree). I can dribble a basketball with the skill of a Dodo bird. I have no clue how a car engine works; I took a geek test and it came out positive; I never get in trouble and I can’t stay up at night. I’ve never drank milk right out of the carton, gotten a tattoo, totaled a car, or been in jail. I never played sports in school and I don’t watch them on tv. I drive the speed limit, and my car wouldn’t go very fast if I tried. I don’t start fights and I don’t have any cool scars to show off. I’m shy and I’m scared of heights, blood, and the dark. I have a desk job and I like it. And to top it off, I make fun of myself in my own blog.
So please, don’t nobody keep telling me that I do things to be macho.