Friday, June 17, 2011

Move over, Anthony Weiner ... Technology is not my friend, either

Sunday morning found me helping a friend at an art fair sell her felted wares. In between customers, we were discussing Anthony Weiner's ... um ... shortcomings in the cover your ass (and in his case, appendages) department. I said, "I wouldn't want him to be my representative. He doesn't even know how to tweet on Twitter. What a Twit!"

Then Technology Karma bit me right in my assets.

Two women (whom I didn't recognize at the time) came into the booth and said, "Kathy! How are you?" I said I was fine while flipping through the Rolodex in my ever-faltering memory in hopes of placing who they were. Nothing. One of them asked about my family. We dispensed quickly with the niceties. Then the other asked how things were going with my boyfriend. BOYFRIEND. Haven't had one of those in about 16-plus years. (It was at this point that my felting art fair friend stopped talking mid-conversation with a would-be customer to hear about my boyfriend. Trust me, it's hard to quiet her down when she gets on a roll about needlefelting.)

"Ummmm, I don't have a boyfriend." I held up my wedding ring as evidence. That didn't stop this person. "How long have you been married?" "16 years." "Are you sure?" "Unfortunately, yes." Was I sure????? Was this going to be one of those moments a la Dallas where I step out of the art fair booth unmarried with a boyfriend and the past 17 or 18 years have been a dream? More importantly -- IS THIS BOYFRIEND CUTE?????????????

"We saw you at a Mexican restaurant a year ago with your boyfriend. You were soooo excited! I've been wondering how things were going with you two." Well, probably not very well if I couldn't even remember this guy. (And a side note: I have many, many digestive issues so I would not, under any circumstances, be on a date at a Mexican restaurant unless I was just there for the Margaritas!)

By now the questioning woman is being elbowed by her companion telling her that it must have been a different Kathy. The questioner said, "No, it wasn't! So, Kathy, how is your son?" "The kid is fine." Probably will upset his world to find out his mother is having a fling she can't remember (nah, probably not -- he knows my memory is quickly going.) She then turned to her companion and said, "See, it is the right Kathy. I KNEW she had a son." The companion quickly said they had to be going. Nice to see you. Hope to see you again sometime, but not at a Mexican restaurant with your boyfriend because you are so trying to cover your tracks now, or at least that was the expression on her face.

They left in a haste. My artsy friend was left cracking up and saying how surprised B.O.B. was going to be. I was left wanting to know if he was cute and why couldn't I remember him. If I'm going to have an affair, it damn well better be memorable.

Oh, this was too good. I had to post this to facebook. I had my trusty Droid in the pocket of my cargo pants. My fingers started typing away ... and then the booth was filled with people. I put the phone in my pocket without locking the screen. Oh, Anthony Weiner, move over, this is where it gets embarrassing ...

The phone has a touch screen. From the movement against the fabric of the pocket, I started friending people on facebook. I "think" it friended EVERYONE on the recommended list. When I pulled my phone out later, it was no longer on the screen I had left it at. I didn't think anything of it until I started getting confirmations from people who had accepted my friend request. People I didn't know. People I hardly knew. Then it dawned on me ... I had POCKET FRIENDED PEOPLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Most of them, I was very happy to be friends with. One, a co-worker, not so much, just because we spend all day with each other. We had agreed from the onset of working together that we would never friend each other. She found it odd that I had friended her. So did I until the giant light bulb went off in my head.

Now I have Pocket Pals on facebook! At least my technological misfortune won't lead to a walk of shame right out of the House of Representatives.