Category Family

Dad Lost Google

By Sunday, March 31, 2013 9 Family No tags Permalink 0

images-1

 

Taken from an actual phone call:

“Nicole, I’ve lost Google.”

“Hi Dad, wait – what?”

When I tell people this snippet of parental awesomeness, the usual reply is “How can you lose Google?”. And most people expect me to say “Oh, he didn’t actually lose it, he just couldn’t find the shortcut.” But that’d make for a dull blog post.  Also, he actually lost Google.

In my Dad’s case, it’s easier to go over to my parents’ place to troubleshoot than it is to try and talk him through a computer-related issue on the phone. Mainly because this is what happens if I try to do it over the phone:

Me:            “Dad, click on Start, then Control Panel, then…”

Dad:           “Hang on, I’ll just try clicking on this over here…   No, now all the little symbols along the bottom have disappeared. Wait a minute, I’ll just…”

Anyhoo, I head over there, and where Google used to be, is something called “Alot”. Never heard of it? Me neither. It appeared to be a search engine, but when I tried to search for Google, in order to re-install it, it just took me back to the “Alot” home page.

Dad had deadest lost Google.

Finding Google turned out to be a remarkably complicated exercise, involving deleting Internet Explorer, installing Chrome and then reinstalling IE because Dad had never heard of Chrome, and therefore it must be the Axis of Evil.

Losing Google was Dad’s personal best when it comes to Parental I.T. Issues.

But there are other examples which rate pretty highly.

  • I once had to make an emergency visit to deal with an iPad problem. Apparently the screen wasn’t working – at least, not all the time. This turned out to be because Dad was poking the crap out of the screen, instead of tapping it. How that screen didn’t have little dents in it is a mystery to me, because OMG THE POKING!
  • I am a big fan of Paypal, but there should be a test for people like my Dad to confirm that it’s an appropriate tool for them.  The test would consist of one question, and it’d be this:

Q:            What is your preferred method of bill payment?

If the answer is “Cheque”, then you have no business using Paypal.

But Dad is a bit of an Ebay fan (because he doesn’t have enough crap), so he asked me to set up a Paypal account for him.  He has a credit card that he keeps for online purchases so there was no problem with that part of the setup. However, when I told him he needed to provide a “secondary account” as funding back-up, he was having none of it. Which was problematic – until he had what he thought was a top idea:

Dad:            “Nicole, put your account details in there, and if it ever needs to be used, I’ll just reimburse you.”

Me:            “Sure, that works.”

Because here’s the thing. If he’s attaching my bank account to his Paypal account, I should be able to use his Paypal account, yes? Yes. Good.

 

 

 

 

Stuff I don’t get

By Wednesday, October 12, 2011 16 The Councillor No tags Permalink 0

1. Rollmops*. There is no good reason for these.

2. Bank privacy rules. So they ring & ask to speak to The Councillor. I’m all “He’s not here, can I help?” And they’re all “Privacy regulations prevent us from talking to you. Could you give us his mobile number?” Seriously dude?

3. Enjo. I know it’s supposed to be amazing, but with apologies to the environment, I need chemicals involved when I’m cleaning. Or at least a chemical smell.

4. Foxtel IQ. Pausing live TV? Does. My. Head. In.

5. Why anyone needs to learn the recorder.

6. Why men have such a problem with coins.

7. Ears pierced with humungous circular thingies. Or things that look like miniature elephant tusks. Eww. Look outside – does it look like the Amazon out there? No? Then don’t put a dish in your ear

What's wrong with a nice pearl stud?

8. Why The Councillor’s sneezes are so freaking loud.

9. Boy-leg undies/swimsuits – they DO NOT suit every figure. I could give you photographic evidence, but you might be eating.

10. How my daughter can be “too busy” to eat her lunch at school. She’s 6. What the fuck is she doing? Her Barbie thesis?

11. Why are brandy snaps called brandy snaps? I made some last weekend. There was no brandy involved.

12. Personalised number plates with the model of the car. What – just in case I didn’t notice your car is a BMW318, you need to point it out with a plate that says BMW318? Wanker.

* Rollmops are pickled herring fillets, rolled into a cylindrical shape around slices of onion, pickled gherkin or green olive with pimento. Told you.

Ewwww

Tuckshop – there’s a reason it’s called “duty”

By Thursday, August 11, 2011 30 Family No tags Permalink 0

I’ve just arrived home after doing my monthly tuckshop duty at my son’s school. And by monthly, I mean those months when I can’t manufacture a plausible excuse for wagging. (BTW, being school-related, wagging is a totally appropriate term for getting out of tuckshop.)

Still, instead of looking at it as 6 hours I’ll never get back, I have decided to make productive use of today’s tuckshop duty.  For those who are new to it, I have prepared the definitive guide to doing tuckshop.

A couple of notes first:

  1. I live in Brisbane. We call it tuckshop here, which abbreviates nicely to tucky. You may call it canteen. Canteen has no acceptable abbreviation. Canty is stupid.
  2. Most tuckshop volunteers are mothers. I will be using the term “tuckshop mums’. Please look away if you are a Tuckshop dad/aunt/grandmother/gestational carrier…

So, here we go:

  1. There is a reason it’s called “duty”. Notice how it is referred to as “doing tuckshop” or “being on tuckshop”. It’s no coincidence that the same terminology is applied to “doing time”, “being on parole”…
  2. You will be filled with eager anticipation the first time you do tuckshop duty. You will be filled with dread every month thereafter.
  3. There are two kinds of tuckshop convenors. The first (and most common) is called Colleen or similar, and is scary as shit. Colleen has been there for 18 years, and anyone who suggests changes to the way things are done is, as my Grandpa used to say, suffering from stupidity. Colleen directs proceedings from a vinyl stool next to the pie warmer. Colleen will give a clip over the ear to any boy who doesn’t remove his hat when he enters the tuckshop.

    "Colleen"

  4. The other type of convenor is called Felicity or similar, and volunteered to take over  when Colleen retired. Felicity will name the tuckshop “the Classroom Cafe” and have a logo designed. Felicity will have the enthusiasm of a Masterchef judge – “Come on girls, let’s shake up this school!” As a result of replacing sausage rolls with quinoia wraps, Felicity will last one term.

    "Felicity"

  5. There will be one tucky mum who will drive you mental because she won’t shut up.
  6. Even though you totally support the Red/Orange/Green food system, you will be desperately disappointed that tuckshops no longer sell Space Bars, Boston Buns or Sunny Boy Glugs.
  7. Your child will appear at the counter 13 times for food for himself and his friends. This will come to approximately $79 by the end of the day.
  8. You will spend another $13 making up the deficit for kids who are 10c short for their lunch.
  9. You will be stupidly excited that you get to use the teacher’s toilet.
  10. You will spend an inordinate amount of time perving at the hot Year 6 teacher. He will have been born in the 90s.
  11. No-one will buy the homebaked stuff.
  12. At least 3 kids will bring in their orders after you’ve finished bagging them up.
  13. 1 order will have no money in it. Colleen will say “Bad luck. He has to learn.” Felicity will pay for it herself.
  14. 2 orders will have no names on them.
  15. You will have a hotdog for lunch.
  16. One smartarse kid will pay for a 50c ice block with a $100 note. Obviously you will give him his change in 5c pieces.
  17. The kids will call you “Miss”, and you will feel about 100.
  18. The money from the kids will be sticky.
  19. You will sell an apple Popper 200 times, but you will not remember the price.
  20. You will need a calculator to add up $1.70 and 90c.
  21. You will come away with important intelligence on teachers and other parents. And therein lies the reason for doing tuckshop.

What can you add to the list?

 

Would you like a puppy with that?

By Thursday, August 4, 2011 20 Dogs, Family, The Councillor No tags Permalink 0

So a couple of months ago I went to do the groceries, and I accidentally bought a puppy.

Can you blame me?

It’s fair to say that I am occasionally guilty of the odd impulse purchase. Maybe a bit more than occasionally. But I will admit I outdid myself this time.

Especially because there were a truckload of reasons why it wasn’t a good idea to come home with a puppy instead of the groceries.

1. There was bugger-all food in the house – breakfast the next day was looking like 2-minute noodles.

2. You know how there are dog people? I am not dog people. That’d be the Councillor (which was kind of what I was counting on…)

3. We already had a dog – Maxie, the world’s most annoying dog.

Maxie

4. Maxie was the result of the Councillor and Joe going to the movies 3 years ago, and coming home with a dog. For which I still haven’t forgiven him. I know, right? And here’s me doing the same thing.

5. He cost… umm… a bit.  More than the groceries. But he was a labrador (ok, allegedly a labrador) with a teeny bit of cattle dog in him. So he was a bargain. Right?

So in the true spirit of the impulse purchase I reminded myself of all the reasons we totally needed another dog.

1. Maxie needed a friend.

2. Nope, I’ve got nothing else.

So I arrived home with a black labrador. The kids googled “dog names”, and we named him Leo.

As it turns out, now that Leo is with us, he’s provided us with a truckload of additional reasons for not getting another dog.

1.  Leo is a Labrador. Leo eats like a Labrador. That is, his whole reason for being is to eat. Anything. In a nano-second. This includes Maxie’s food.  Maxie is a mini-foxie.  He’s all “meh” about eating.  We will put food in his bowl, and he will treat the bowl like a 7-11, swinging by when he needs a quick snack, knowing it’ll be open all hours. With Leo here, that system isn’t working so well for Maxie. He is learning it’s the quick or the dead when it comes to food.

2.  Leo will, literally, eat anything. Last weekend, he ate so much of the cane outdoor furniture that he vomited cane.

3.  Leo ate Maxie’s kennel.

Dinner

4.  Leo eats the washing.  And washing baskets. Pegs not so much – by then he’s probably full.

As the owner of a mini-foxie, it never occurred to me that I would one day need a strategy when it came to hanging out the washing.

As the owner of a Labrador, I now know that only a FOOL would hang a towel vertically. And that only a moron would let shirt sleeves hang down. But despite learning (quickly) to double-peg a sleeve, evidently labradors have super powers that enable them to leap to unimaginable heights to secure a tasty singlet. I know we’re supposed to avoid using the clothes dryer for the sake of the freaking planet, but at this rate The Councillor will be going to official functions in crop tops that were formerly business shirts.

5.  Leo and Max are outside dogs. Despite what they think. Unfortunately for the garden-proud Councillor, this means that “outside” now looks like a lunar landscape.

6.  Leo and Max like to play. Like toddlers however, it pretty much always ends in tears. Yesterday they were fighting over a stick, and I actually said to them “stop it or one of you will lose an eye’.

7.  Notwithstanding the outside dog thing, we appear to have created a routine wherein we allow the dogs to join the family in the living room for a short time in the evening. Because we are idiots.  When the dogs enter the house, it sounds like the Charge of the Light Brigade is coming across the timber floors. They run at the speed of light and literally – I’m serious – FLY OVER the coffee table onto the sofa. They are like canine F18 jets. Anyone unlucky enough to be sitting where a dog lands will pay the price. Especially if it’s Leo launching himself towards you. Because as The Councillor discovered to his considerable detriment, 18kg of excited black labrador puppy is NOT what you want hurtling into your lap at warp speed.

Leo was an impulse buy, yes. Were we ready for him? No. Did we need another dog? A hundred times no.

But is he a much-loved family member? Absolutely. And I haven’t had a single moment of buyer’s remorse. Except for maybe the cane vomit.

What was your most spectacular impulse purchase?

I am sooooo not an outside dog.

* I totally understand the arguments against buying animals from pet shops. Really, I do. But I honestly don’t believe that *not* giving pet shop animals a home is the solution to puppy and kitten farms. Whatever the solution, it can’t be leaving animals in glass boxes in shopping centres. We have always had rescue dogs, and I hope we will again.