Technology has brought many gifts, but it has given me a basic dislike for Tennessee. Don’t get me wrong. Tennessee is a lovely place. I have been to Memphis and Knoxville and probably some other places I can’t readily remember. The people are nice and the food is good, but I wouldn’t shed a tear if they seceded or changed the state name.
Why? Because Tennessee precedes Texas in a drop down box. Anytime I am ordering something online (which is admittedly often) and have to fill out my address, Tennessee gets in the way. Instead of being able to simply type a “T” and move on, there is a 2 step process: “T” and THEN scroll down. Think of all of the time I would save if 1) I either lived in Tennessee or 2) Tennessee went away altogether. The first isn’t really an option. The second would probably require some paperwork. I suppose Montanans have it worse. (Or is it Montanites or Montanians?) All of those other M states do get in the way. Luckily there are only 14 people who live there, and they tend not to be complainers–otherwise they wouldn’t live there.
There is a third way, and I’m all about compromise. So, I hereby propose we change the spelling to Techsas. It’s the same principle as being AAA Auger in the phone book. It has benefits other than leapfrogging over hapless Tennessee. It’s still phonetic and could provide some primo marketing opportunities. I think we could even get Facebook to sponsor the change. Then you could check in all over the state at Facebook on Facebook. Or maybe they are checking in on you. It could get confusing, but would still save me time on nordstrom.com, which is all we’re after anyway.
I think if I were a superhero, that would be my name…Hypothetical Girl. I am the what-if queen. The more remote the possibility of occurrence, the better prepared I am. I have my audition song and outfit ready to go for American Idol tryouts. Never mind that I can’t sing and have no desire to perform whatsoever. But in case it comes up, I’m ready. As for practical matters, as a new mother, I could often be found without a diaper bag, snacks, toys, or the baby for that matter. But I knew what to do in case of a grizzly attack. I’m envisioning a superhero costume for Hypothetical Girl would be the Swiss Army knife of costumes, with lots of pockets and extendable tools. And definitely some bad ass jet boots.
It makes me wonder what my Native American name would be. Hypothetical Girl seems too pretentious. Maybe Girl Who Thinks Too Much While Not Noticing Angry Buffalo Behind Her.
I’ve been shamed into it. My good friend, Tall Curly Biscuit, and I were discussing our blogs the other night. She said she’d never read mine, which is understandable because I’d never actually publicized it. She gave me that look that said, “An unread blog is just a sad diary and the precursor to living with 23 cats and cyber-stalking Tom Selleck.” Point taken.
So, here it is, my alter-blog. I get to blog for work on all manners of things remotely related to a productive life, but here is where you get the grit, the raw wrigglings of uncensored thought. The mental spew, if you will. Not sure I would.
For those of you who wait in anticipation of my preferred medium: the annual Christmas letter, I’ll try to be good about sharing my particular brand of crazy often and unfiltered.