image courtesy of Anna Lefler
In hopes of winning a free pass to the Erma Bombeck Writer’s Workshop, I entered the 2010 contest. The criteria from the contest website:
All Entries – General Criteria:
· Does it have the voice of Erma? Erma knew how to portray the humor in the mundaneness of everyday life.
· Is it organized? Does it stay on topic and have well-developed ideas?
· Does it have a compelling lead? The piece should “Hook ’em with the lead. Hold ’em with laughter. Exit with a quip they won’t forget.”
· General criteria as stated above.
· Is it funny?
By Ann Imig
I’m losing my cool.
I don’t mean losing my temper. I mean losing any shred of coolness I once possessed. I scampered alongside the cool crowd in high school. I played enough lead roles in university theater to make me queen of the comedy/tragedy tattooed crowd. My thumbs have a recessive abnormality causing them to look like big toes. What could outrank toe-thumbs in coolness? Once rich in cool reserves, with age comes the inevitable prizing of practicality. Wearing a winter hat–even if I look like a triangle-headed dweebus–provides such cozy warmth. What concerns me even more than loosing my cool, is loosing my Tech-knowledge-ease.
As I approach middle-age, I’m morphing into a blinking twelve’oclock VCR person. Do VCRs even exist for anyone under 30? I meant TiVo. Do you say “A Tivo” simply “TiVo” or is it “DVR?” Before long I will use phrases like “the email” as in I tried to send you a message over the email. The mere fact that I still communicate via email? Paleozoic.
I try pushing my mental reset button, but it’s a hologram now and I don’t know how to use it. When purchasing an item, I still try to give the cashier my credit card to swipe. Confused, the clerk will point to the debit machine in front of me—eyebrows raised. I deserve it. We’ve swiped our own cards for years. This same clerk probably imagines me sitting in my car at the gas station, waiting for a pump boy to come out and fill up the tank. More likely, the eighteen-year-old clerk has no knowledge of this moment of full-service gas history. Stone age.
Does anyone else flounder in multiple-remote situations? I experience mild panic when pressing a power button results in no television, yet a ceaselessly blinking remote control. You know you’re a walking movie-night-faux pas, when your host has to remedy your remote. Remember the days of manually turning a dial to change stations? Sure, it was exhausting, but you didn’t have to fret over the pristine order of the remote control goddesses.
What exercises should I repeat daily to shore up my remaining tech-knowledge-ease? Solving crossword puzzles helps ward off dementia. Maybe I should time myself sending text messages, forcing myself to switch between all caps and lowercase. Perhaps my three-year-old can school me in the art of iPhone. Did I mention I still have a land line? Fossils here! Getch’yer fossils!
If I don’t do something to shore up my tech-knowledge-ease, my fossilized remains will show two huge thumbs, no “hip” bone, and will be filed under “Techno-saur.”
2012 HERE WE COME!