Now that the new living room furniture is in place, it was time to start shopping for coffee tables. Ours are old and mismatched and bear too many dings and cat scratches to be serviceable.
After our nightmare replacement of windows, and doors, and floors…. I thought this would be a breeze. I didn’t want anything special, just one rectangle for in front of the couch and two square side tables in a medium wood finish. Drawers or no drawers. Stylish or plain. Traditional or modern.
I was leaving my husband at home… so I knew finding something to please me would be much quicker.
Did you have a make believe friend when you were young? An invisible playmate to keep you company and act as confidant. I didn’t, but it seemed harmless enough.
Until now.
Welcome to the digital age when your fake friend might be a tad tricky.
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An AI companion?
Count me out.
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See?
Tricky.
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Autoeroticism and stabbing as conversation stimuli may be more than most people are looking for in a digital friend.
I always enjoyed that. Mostly because I liked posting pictures of myself with a waistline. Ah… those were days.
But a memory popped up on my FB page the other day and I thought it was too fun not to share.
My husband was the second of 9 children. His mother was a mere slip of a woman and I often wondered how she stayed sane. Yes, it was a different era… but that’s still a lot of kids.
All but two were born in Maine as the family moved to a dairy farm in western Connecticut when my husband was 8.
7 of the 9 siblings are in this photo with his mother, the rest are cousins.
For those of you who don’t know, I used to have a blog series called Name That Crap where I would drag some ridiculous old piece of junk out of my husband’s cellar of horrors and make my readers guess what it was.
It was fun, and some of your answers were a riot.
Fast toward to the other day when I saw CNN playing the same game.
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Ancient Roman Name That Crap!
I’m in.
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Let’s do this…
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Not a tool, okay.
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I’m going with Julius Caesar’s personal Rubik Cube.
Now you.
Name That Roman Crap!
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Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.