Wednesday, July 27, 2005

I'm A Cyborg Not A Machine, Dammit

We all have a gazillion passwords we have to remember. And in a twisted effort to help us manage all of these bits of information, the Man has determined the TOP SEVEN things we all talk about in our blogs, around the office, at the dinner table, and in our sleep are:



My favorite what? Element? Okay, so when was the last time any of us looked at a periodic table? ...is this a trick question? Are you sure you didn't mean fruit or color or shape or philosopher? Am I supposed to have one? Dear god, exactly how far behind the Jones' am I??

Okay, okay. Calm down. There are others to choose from...

Jesus H. Christ. People actually have a favorite smell? Do farts count? Gasoline, maybe? Favorite smell. Hmm. If I have one, I most certainly won't remember what it is 45 days from now. Next.

Favorite song? You mean, now? Today? This morning? I listen to far too many new songs and keep having new favorites on a weekly basis. No, this will never do.

My mother's mother's last name before she got married to my mother's father one hundred years ago? Next.

My pet's birthday? WTF? How about something simpler like my pet's name? No, no. It would confuse hackers even more if we had to remember our pet's favorite smell... Jesus help me.

Ah, here we go. My first pet's name. Oh, man. My first pet's name. This question depresses me beyond words. I was only eight...poor little Dilbert, the hissing cockroach. I miss him terribly so. Yes, I want to be reminded of that terrible blender incident on a regular basis. No, I don't think so.

Okay, last chance. My combined score on the SAT. "IDIDNOTGOTOCOLEG" won't fit. I'm so screwed. What's a damn good score? Think. THINK.

Note to self: My secret four-digit PIN is now my combined SAT score.

Problem...solved.

8 comments:

Bennet said...

passwords?...I use profanity that way when I get pissed off because I can't remember the ****ing word during my fit of rage I'll eventually get it correctly...

Blog ho said...

what's in my pocket?

Marilyndrew said...

ho, we know that there is actually nothing in your pocket

you're just an easily excited kinda guy

my favorate smell is old books. you're welcome to steal it for your password

Sharon said...

the puzzle to my passwords is one I can never reveal even under oath. but it's a fascinating exploration you've introduced.

teenage faerie said...

i use the fibonacci sequence for all my passwords.

and i do short lines on my poetry because it makes it go faster.

DK said...

Ugly little troll, very ugly.

aughra said...

my favorite smell is where the cotton attaches to the roll on empty charmin toiletpaper.

Grady Cole said...

The copper crayon. Vegimite on rye toast. Grundle.
C8-H10-N4-O2 mmmm... elemental coffee.

About Me, Not You

I was christened Wannahockaloogy by our tribal leader. He was a bitter old man with throat cancer who believed that, to truly hock a loogie, one must not retrieve the phlegm from the throat, but from the soul. His weakened, delirious state made it easy for me to overthrow him and seize control. Now, I am the chief and I have internet access. Beware, delirious smoking populace. Beware.