This Phone is a Trucking Place of Spit

"not encephalitis the email"

“not encephalitis the email” (Photo credit: marioanima)

Daily Prompt:  Take a line from a song that you love or connect with. Turn that line into the title of your post.

Today on Facebook, Damn You Auto Correct posted the “Baby I Lobe You” song, and it was all downhill from there.

This particular song on You Tube isn’t necessarily one I love, because I only discovered it today, but it’s certainly one I can connect with.  Because everyone who has an I-phone has at one time or another called it a fluffing piece of shut, if not worse.

Verse 1

When I said I wanted to kill you,
I meant to say kiss
When I said I was going to dump your bones in the woods,
I meant to say jump
And now you think I’m a psychopath
And our relationship is wrecked
There’s nothing I can do but put the blame on
Auto-correct.

Verse 2

You said whenever you miss me you smell my shits,
I think you meant shirts
My work was coming in slits and spritzers (sorry)
Spits and spurts
I said you were a whining spaz
When I meant to say shining star
Then I said I was going to pimp your ass
When I went to park your car
And now you think I’m a total dick
And I’m losing your respect
There’s nothing I can do but put the blame on
Auto-correct.

Verse 3

You said you like to fist with men in bars,
I think you meant flirt
Either way I think it’s safe to say
One of us is going to get hurt
I know that you don’t mind jazz
In a quiet little back street place
But you said in your message you quite like jizz
Except when it was in your face
And now it seems we’re communicating
In a brand new dialect
There’s nothing I can do but put the blame on
Auto-correct.

Middle Eight

These thumbs were not designed for typing
Maybe we should just have stuck to skyping
Now all that you can say to me
Is WTF and OMG
This song is one long apology, I admit
This phone is a fluffing piece of shut
This phone is a flecking price of slut
This phone is a trucking place of spit

Verse 4

When I said I like to use glory-holes,
I was trying to type coriander
I was looking forward to eating out
On your vagina
(Verandah, verandah, so sorry)

Now we’ve sent these messages
That we should have double-checked
There’s nothing I can do but put the blame on
Auto-erotic
Auto-erotic
Automatic
Autocratic
Sumo wrestler
Dodo forest
Dildo Carrot

Oh well, what did we expect?
We never should have put our faith in auto-correct.

Romance

Love does not consist of gazing at each other, but looking outward in the same direction. (Antoine de Saint-Exupery)

How do I define romance? Romance is a novel and a movie genre. They tell stories about people and events that make us believe we would like to have similar things happen to us in real life. But they probably won’t. These are stories of heart racing excitement and deep emotional desires and mystery and idealistic love affairs. The tales are intense and adventurous and crazy and usually end blissfully and happily with two perfect soul mates together forever at last. (Insert deep wistful sigh here.)

The idea of romance either genuinely appeals to people because they believe it can happen to them, or it makes people uncomfortable and pessimistic and skeptical because they are sure that only air heads take the notion seriously.

I married a man who really does not have much of a sense of romance. He doesn’t buy me roses or ride around on a white steed saving me from lonely towers, or sweep me off my feet with grand gestures and candle lit dinners and weekends in Paris. He’s never thrown pebbles at my window and proclaimed his undying love for me on bended knee for all the world to hear and see. I’m pretty sure he knows something like that would probably crack me up.

What we do have is an intimacy based on communication, deep friendship, respect for each other, sharing, and a more subdued kind of love that is long-lasting. Romance is a good thing at the beginning of a relationship, but in the long haul if you keep it up it’s going to wear you right out.

So yes, I’m one of those air heads that likes the romantic stories, the boy meets girl, soul mates bond forever fairy tales. The happy endings are so satisfying and lovely when all the characters finally get things sorted out and accept their fates of being hopelessly devoted to each other for life.

If you over-estimate the importance of romance in a relationship you will be disillusioned eventually. You don’t have to give up on it entirely, but it is best to be realistic and realize it takes some effort and maturity to make things work. Still, a lot of candle-lit dinners can’t hurt.

“Love is like a friendship caught on fire. In the beginning a flame, very pretty, often hot and fierce, but still only light and flickering. As love grows older, our hearts mature and our love becomes as coals, deep-burning and unquenchable.” (Bruce Lee)

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Trouble in Plinkyplonk Paradise

I’m having a problem with Plinky in the last few days since it refuses to complete a ‘share with your blog’ process, and thus I’ve been doing a bit of cutting and pasting instead.  Yesterday it asked me to describe my sense of humor.  Good Gawd.  If you have to sit down and think about how to describe the damned thing, chances are you don’t even have one worth talking about.

Today I’ve been prompted to share my professional goals for the next year, and then the next five years.  I would be thrilled beyond belief to be able to share my professional goals for tomorrow if I actually had any. I’m going to a professional conference to learn our professional code of conduct rules in a couple of weeks.  Kind of late in my ‘career’ to be making any major changes in that department.  How sad is it that we have to be coached in the art of treating other people with fairness and respect.

I live in a state of constant hope that tomorrow’s prompt will inspire, motivate and challenge.  And that I will rise up and hit the lofty heights of brilliance!  Or just have one minor little epiphany or something.  How’s that for a freakin’ goal.