I’m not much of a tech person.
I mean, I appreciate that it’s there, and I still am impressed every single time I turn on my iPhone that it’s just so fancy pants (also: I am impressed that I haven’t bedazzled the shit out of it yet. But have no fear, I will. Better yet, I will find someone on Etsy to do it for me) and I can work my blog mostly.
I’m the person who didn’t get an email address until my friend in college set me up with one (which is why it was sex_kitten23) and an AIM account until I started dating someone who suggested I get one (stinkybutt234) and I doubt I’d have a blog, twitter or Facebook page were it not for The Daver and his ever-expanding attraction to social media sites.
While I may not be into tech stuff, The Daver obviously is. So is my father.
My addict-like nature did come from somewhere and for him, he’s always been really interested in computers and as far back as I can remember, he’s subscribed to Porn For Geeks computer magazines by the truckload. Hey, you knew the orchid thing didn’t come from nowhere, right?
If nothing else, these magazines have made my father p-a-r-a-n-o-i-d about the security of his network. Because, yeah, the man has at least 3 computers hooked up there protected by a state of the art firewall set up by my engineer of a brother. His network is the Fort Knox of networks.
Which is interesting, because no one–not even my brother or Dave–can get onto it. I guess my brother is pretty good at his job.
What makes the situation even weirder is that my father doesn’t really house anything too important on his computers. He doesn’t work for the CIA or FBI or any of those cool acronym agencies. He doesn’t write novels or tomes of poetry. He doesn’t take gigabytes of pictures, painstakingly, lovingly retouching them.
He plays games. Reads blogs. Surfs the web. Occasionally reads my Facebook status, ashamed that he has a daughter who pollutes the Internet with her drivel. Wonders how to disown her.*
Reads up on spyware and how it means that the terrorists are WINNING and how reformatting your hard drive is a great way to solve all of the world’s ill’s. Reformats his hard drive. Figures he’ll call Dave to help him fix it.
Needless to say, waving the one piece of swag I kept from BlogHer–a Flash Drive–near the computer didn’t work. I had no idea what the password was and my mother was just as clueless and Dave just rolled his eyes. My father has locked us all effectively out.
Don’t worry, though, I haven’t forgotten about the picture I owe you for voting for me (you can still vote for me! HOORAY!), neatly locked away from me on my father’s computer, inaccessible and sad.
It will be taken care of, though, my friends. Soon *cackles wildly* o! soon you will see the Halloween costume that many of you won’t realize is a costume. Which makes it that much awesomer.
So, that makes me curious, Internet. Why don’t you tell Your Aunt Becky what your favorite Halloween costume was?
*Sorry Dad, I’m not going ANYWHERE. You see these grandchildren? THEY MEAN I OWN YOU.