the pieces of my life

Remember those horror films and stories of old, in the days before Caller I.D. and cell phones? The babysitter/cheerleader/helpless pretty blonde girl of some sort is alone in the house and she’s receiving threatening phone calls? She calls the operator who researches the calls. The operator calls her back and yells, “Get out of the house. The calls are coming from INSIDE the house!” At this point, mayhem and death usually ensue.

While no one in my house is trying to kill me (at least not overtly–Pie is clearly playing the long-game here on driving me to madness and perhaps death), I did have my own experience with this.

I received one of those lovely Facebook messages recently:

Hi Jenny,
We detected a login into your account from a new device named “Firefox on Linux” on Sunday, November 30, 2014 at 7:38pm.

Operating System: Linux
Browser: Firefox
Location: Arlington, MA, US (IP=00.000.000.000)

Note: Location is based on internet service provider information.
If this was you, please disregard this email.
If this wasn’t you, please secure your account, as someone else may be accessing it.
Thanks,
The Facebook Security Team

“Huh,” I said to Adam. “That’s odd.”

“You should go change your password,” he said. “Just to make sure.”

I clicked on the link that read “secure your account.” And I received a message that read (I’m paraphrasing here), “The I.P. address is the one you are currently logged in on. Are you sure it wasn’t you?”

The calls were coming from inside the house.

I asked Adam, “Did you try to log in as me?”

He shook his head. “No, not me.”

I had my suspicions at this point. “Doodles!! What the hell are you doing to my accounts?”

“Me?” His poked out of his room with his customary “hey, I’m lying” wrinkle of his forehead. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Did I mention that just a week before this, he asked Adam, “What does [the password I use to log onto my computer] actually mean?” Adam warned him he shouldn’t be messing around my stuff.

I didn’t think much of it, because I knew he was doing something, I just didn’t know what. And then I found out (and he doesn’t know I know, unless he’s smart enough to read this blog occasionally just to find out what I DO know!) that the little bugger had taken one of Adam’s old laptops (and I mean old–think ten-year-old IBM ThinkPads, heavy as a sack of bricks), installed Linux on it, and is trying to infiltrate my accounts.

What does he think he’s going to do? Post a status that could embarrass me? Doesn’t he realize that 1) I embarrass myself so much that there’s really not much he could do to make it worse and 2) payback is a bitch.

I’m sort of torn about what to do. Do I confiscate the laptop? Or be impressed at his skill? I figure this is the story he’ll tell about how he got started, either when he’s the CEO of his own multi-billion dollar company or from a jail cell trying to explain how hacking led him to a life of crime.

And in the meantime, if there are any truly odd Facebook or Twitter posts from me, you’ll know I was hacked. By my own son. Freakin’ doofus.

I took Adam’s phone because he has Spotfiy on it, and I had a sudden craving to dance to George Michael with my children. But then my children were sent to bed because they were being annoying. This annoying thing runs in the family.

Adam: Can you hand me my phone?

Me: What if I want to listen to music?

Adam: You’ll have to wait because I need to upgrade my iPhone to IOS 7.

Me: What’s that?

Adam: Didn’t you hear? Apple announced it’s new operating system today. I’m going to upgrade to it.

Me: I want to upgrade.

Adam: You can’t. I’m registered as a developer so I can upgrade. You can’t. You’ll just have to wait for the masses to get it. Besides, you’re not a beta kind of person.

Me: Yes, I am!

Adam: Nah, you say, “Oh, this isn’t working!” and I say, “Because it’s beta,” and you say, “Make it work!”

Me: That’s not true! And besides, why do you get it? You’re not a developer? You’re product.

Adam: I am everything. Understand?

Oh, I understand. I understand better than he thinks. This “I am everything” crap is going to be pulled out… well, daily. He is welcome to be “everything.” And when you’re phone crashes, I’m going to have a glass of wine and enjoy my IOS 6.

Hey, guys, how do you like my new iPhone 5? What? You can’t see it? That’s because my freak of a husband left for a business trip last week and FORGOT TO ORDER MY PHONE! Of course, I’m probably one of those morons who would have fallen for this:

But really I’m just cranky because my smoke alarm system HATES me (yes, it’s an all-caps kind of day). Adam was–again–on a business trip (who knew someone working for a travel company would have to travel so much?) and the smoke alarms decided to f*ck with me right at bedtime. One of them would beep. Which one? I couldn’t tell. Because when I ran to look, nothing would happen. So I’d leave. And it would beep again. Sometimes it beeped at 15 minute intervals. Sometimes at 3. Once it was about 25 minutes, luring me into believing it had stopped. So I frantically chased beeps. I finally figured it was the hall smoke alarm, so I took it down. I went to replace the batteries, only to discover we are out of batteries. So I took the old batteries out and left it on the table, and finally went back to sleep. Ah, sweet sleep. BEEP! @@%$##@! It was the wrong detector. It was the one not one foot away from the hall detector in the guest room. Back out, put one on table back up, take out new one. Back to bed. Ah, sweet sleep. “Mommy, my throat hurts!” And in crawls the little one.

This morning was the eternal debate: Is my child healthy enough to go to school? Do we factor in that her class picture is being taken at 8:30 a.m.? But… But… Ah, but what if it’s strep? My guilt gets the better of me, and I make Adam swear he won’t let Doodles out of the house on picture day with crazy hair and I run Pie to the doctor for the 8 a.m. walk-in hours, making sure we’re 5 minutes early so we’re first, and I get her a strep test, and we find out she’s fine, and I haul her butt to school, arriving 3 minutes before it’s class picture time and before I’m on duty volunteering for picture day. Yes, that was a run-on sentence. Because it is a run-on sentence kind of day. I guess I’ve moved on from all caps.

But now Pie is chipper and fine and running around the playground last I saw her. Doodles’s hair was almost laying flat. I got to work with a photographer who really didn’t seem to like kids very much. And now I’ve got one hour to figure out our back-to-school picnic dinner, what we’ll be bringing to tomorrow’s block party, finish up the work I’m supposed to get done for a committee meeting on Sunday, and, oh, write a novel.

People wonder why I eat so much sugar. Thank goodness it’s Halloween time! I wonder if the Switch Witch will bring me an iPhone 5 this year. Damn, I want an iPhone 5!

Bear with me folks; over the next few (what? days? weeks? minutes?) somethings, I’m going to be changing my blog around. I need to find something that’s a better fit for me. I hate this layout, but I’ve been too lazy to change it. However, sitting around with a wicked cold on a rainy day seems like it could be a good time to play around a bit. Sorry if things get a little wonky….

I can now get AppleCare to take care of my, um, accidents! It says specifically in this article, “So if you drop your iPhone in the toilet, which happens way more than you think it would, don’t fret.” Oh, I know how much it happens! You go to sit on the toilet, the phone is in your back pocket, it slips out as you pull your pants down, it falls into the toilet. Easy breezy!

Of course, Adam pointed out that the new AppleCare will be $99. And, he wrote me, “Of course for $99 we could also buy you pants with a button in the back.”

Harumph.

Tuesday
Me: Have you ordered my iPhone 5 yet?
Adam: You know they may not announce an iPhone 5. There’s talk that it’ll be a iPhone 4s.
Me: I. Want. My. iPhone. 5. NOW!
Adam: Okay, Veruca.

Tuesday afternoon:
Other people at dance class were talking about phones, so I jumped in.
Me: I totally want a new iPhone.
Friend at dance class: What are the new features that you’re interested in?
Me: My favorite feature is that it hasn’t been dropped in a toilet.

Wednesday
Adam: So seriously, do you want me to order you a new iPhone 4s?
Me: YES!
Adam: Which one do you want?
Me: Any one that hasn’t been dropped into a toilet.
Adam: Yet….

It must be spring. The air is warmer. Birds are chirping. The boy is begging to ride his bike. I dropped my iPhone in the toilet. The girls is asking to go about in just a bathing suit.

Wait, what? No, no, no. I definitely did not wear my capris with the shallow back pocket and, upon pulling them down to do private things, allowed my phone to fall into the toilet. Of course not! I did that last year and who in the hell who be so incredibly moronically stupid to do that kind of thing twice? Seriously? Not me. Absolutely, totally, and completely not me. Which means this conversation with the boy did not happen this evening.

The boy: What are you doing?
Me: I’m putting my phone in a bag of rice.
The boy: Why?
Me: Um, because…
The boy: Why?
Me: I dropped it in the toilet.
The boy: Again?!
Me: Maybe.
The boy: You really should get a cheaper phone. You keep dropping them in the toilet!
Me: Harumph.
The boy: And if you get a cheaper phone, can I have the iPhone to take apart?

But of course there is no iPhone to take apart. Because I absolutely, definitely, for sure didn’t drop my iPhone in the toilet again! How much longer till the iPhone 5 comes out? (And, just to be clear, I went to write, “How much longer till the iPhone 4 comes out,” and the boy said, “You have an iPhone 4. The iPhone 5 is what you want.” Can you say, “his father’s son?”)

Yes, my husband did go by the store today for an iPad 2. The AT&T store was supposed to get in a shipment, but alas, they had not. They could order one for him… that would come in two weeks. No thanks, he said. He’s going on a business trip overseas and he’ll simply buy one when he returns.

He didn’t want to deal with the mall lines, so he came home without one, much to the distress of my children. “The iPad 2 came out today?” the little one asked with wide eyes.

“Yes, it did,” he said.

“And you didn’t get one?”

“No,” he told us. “And, you’ll be disappointed to hear that the St. Patrick’s Day version of Angry Birds came out.”

“I want to play it!” yelled the boy.

“Too bad,” I said. “Daddy is going out of town.”

“So? Can’t I still play it?”

“The iPad goes with Daddy,” I told him.

“Harumph,” both kids said.

“You can play it when I get back and I get my new iPad,” Adam told them.

“Who gets your old iPad?” they asked.

“I do,” I said to their disappointment. Until…

A thought occurred to me. “You know,” I told them, “just because Daddy’s going away doesn’t have to mean anything. Daddy isn’t the only one with a credit card.”

“So?” asked the boy.

“So, we have a whole week to go buy us a new iPad 2. And then Daddy is the one stuck with the old iPad.”

And, once again, I am the most loved parent.

No, not my kids. My husband. Getting ready for a trip, he’s got all his toys laid out. His Galaxy Tab. His iPad. His Blackberry.

And what’s wrong?

“I can’t find my iPod! My old-fashioned iPod! Damn, I guess I’ll have to go without it.”

Poor man. Not enough gadgets for a six-hour plane ride. What will he ever do?

Doodles: So you went to film school?

Me: Yes, I did.

Doodles: And you studied acting?

Me: No. I studied filmmaking. To study acting you went to acting school.

Doodles: So what did you study?

Me: Directing. Screen writing. Editing. Animation.

Doodles: So how come you became a regular writer?

Me: When I got out of school I realized I liked regular writing–prose, it’s called–more than screenwriting.

D: Did you show your movies to the public?

Me: No. Just to my class.

D: How come not to the public?

Me: There was no way to do it.

D: YouTube.

Me: There was no YouTube when I was in school. There was no Internet.

D: What do you mean?

Me: I mean it hadn’t been invented yet. There was no Internet. No e-mail.

D: So how did you get in touch with people?

Me: I called them.

Pie: Or you could write them a letter!

Me: That’s right. I could write them a letter.

Doodles: But no Internet!

Me: Nope. None. No YouTube. No e-mail. No Club Penguin.

Doodles: Wow. Just wow.

Wait till he finds out we had only four channels and we had to watch shows when they were live on TV! Bring towels, though. I think his head might explode.