Blonde Ambition #5: To Become Intelligent Enough to Navigate Around the Blatant Problems on Messenger...
Obviously I am doing something very wrong. There can't be any way in hell that the site administrators of Messenger intended that Messenger be so annoying. I'm not talking about 'oh, dear me, this is taking a bit longer than I prefer to load' or 'I'm a little confused, but lookie here, there's a help box that actually helps' level of annoyance. I'm referring to that extreme level of vexation where you aren't sure if you would rather go completely postal, tear out all your hair (even though it's your best feature) or bang your head against the nearest wall extra hard, feeling defeated, stupid and technologically impaired. I nearly did all three.
Seems to me that, like all social networking sites, Messenger has been having a bit of trouble lately. I gather as much, anyhow, by the enormous number of help cries left on the supposed help page. Let me get one thing straight, right here and right now: I can read English. I am actually quite proficient in the language, having spoken it for... let me see, just my whole life. But I read the instructions, and damn it, not only didn't I have a clue what needed doing, but all I could gather was that it was best that I do nothing and wait for the problem to fix itself. Is this Messenger, guys, or the Bush Administration? Doing NOTHING doesn't fix my problem, it just makes me more mad because it's right there in front of me, taunting me.
I tried to fix my own problem. Seems like the logical thing to do, yes? If the help page can't help you, you turn DIY-(definitely NOT)-pro? I think most of us at some time in our lives have secretly hoped that we know more about things than we think, that maybe it was just so boring that we forgot? I tried to fix the problem myself. I followed the link, waited and waited and waited.... and it took me back to where I just came from, only it logged me out, so I had to retype all my information. ''OK," I thought, looking increasingly crazy. The glare line was getting bigger and bigger the whole time, and that ball of impatience in my stomach was becoming too hard to ignore. I tried again, followed the links, held my breath in anticipation of a good result, and then... well, what do you know? "Gee, page I just came from, have we met before? You look veeery familiar?" Omg. Meltdown. And the worst part about it is that there is no obvious solution, even now, after numerous childish tantrums and a lot of loud sighing.
I even woke up a friend who is technologically minded, and made him walk me through all the steps to fixing the problem.
"This had better be really important," he menaced. "I have to wake up at 5AM." (It was about 11.30PM when I called him.)
"It's the most important thing ever," I said imploringly. "You have to fix it for me, I'm going to mad here! I can't even breath because I'm so mad! I'm going to go postal, and it'll all be your fault for not helping!"
He tried to talk me through the problem. I think the problem is fixed. I could see myself on the webcam, but by then the sexy man I wanted to talk to had logged off. I am well aware that chatting with a good looking man isn't really the most important thing ever... but it's up there on the list and seconded only by breathing, because to me, beauty is everything.
Just now, I went back to Messenger with much the same pained look on my face that you see on the faces of husbands who don't love their wives anymore. You know the look. 'OMG, kiiiillllll me!', and they look at you as you pass them in the street, all imploringly, like a Basset Hound? That was sort of how I looked when I attempted to navigate Messenger again, only picture a rabid animal that has done cocaine for six days straight and who has just sat through a whole bunch of infomercials. That's really more of the pissed off expression I had on my face. (By the way, I don't use cocaine, never have, never will, and drugs are bad, kiddies. That was an analogy.) What do you know. I logged in with no trouble, then realised that I still actually don't have a clue. So, Ambition #5: comprehend the indeterminable maze that is Messenger. Or at least hope the new system glitches iron themselves out soon. Anyone have any fairy dust?
Blonde Ambition #6: OMGGGGG Some Men Shouldn't Pursue Careers; They'd Make Much Better Sex Toys Than Polo Players or Whatever Their Job! Ambition #6, Ride the Hot Rider ;)
I love being in lust. It's the best emotion, it makes you happy, makes everything (even Messenger) seem totally bearable. Don't despair, I'm not about to get all quixotic and stupid. I just want you all to remember that men are great. Have you seen one lately? Sure, they have their annoying habits, but come on! They look so good. They smell nice (most of the time). Did I mention that they look great? They go with any outfit, and look especially good on bedspreads. Men are delicious. They just are! Unlike food, men won't make you fat. In fact, you'll burn off more calories enjoying your favourite man than by enjoying your favourite snack.
I love lusting. So, Mr-Wicked-Body, get off the horse (but keep on the riding boots, please and thank you, because they're so sexy) so I can get on you. Sorry to be so forward. You bring that out in me for some reason... It might be your looks, it might be your personality, it could well be the fact that you're as cool as ice and cocky as all hell, but there's something immensely addictive about you. That's why you're ambition #6
Ambition #7: Predict the Next-Big-Thing (Or in other words, the next Cambiaso)
OK. Straight off the bat, I'm not a fan of Cambiaso. Yes, he is a genius. Yes, he plays like nobody else and really knows polo. No, I still don't like him as a player, but only because he's overly hyped by everyone. I can't go a single day without somebody saying in a wistful voice, "I wish I was as good as Cambiaso." OK, don't we all? Wishing doesn't get you there. Hours of practice and a ton of luck might get a little bit closer. Right contacts help. Passively wishing gets you nowhere (but not according to the admin at Messenger - I jest).
I predict that the Next Big Thing in the polo world will be Lucas Torales. Why? Have you seen his game? There you have it, fifty on Torales, please. Of course, there's plenty of talent out there, and too many good up and coming players to name, all of which are just as good, but I think Torales will go far. Google him.
Ambition #8: I Want To Have One Night Out Where I Am Not Drunk From A Single Glass of Remy...
I've said it before, and I'm going to say it again. I'm not much of a drinker, and really don't consume that much alcohol. A bottle of brandy lasts me an entire year. That's because I'm a lightweight in regards to drinking. No matter how much I swear that this time I won't be drunk from a single drink, that this time I'll drink it so slowly that inebriation will be all but impossible, drunkeness still occurs. Why? Why, why, why?
Three drinks is a massive night out for me. One drink sees me laughing and dancing, having a merry old time and not being able to see straight. Two drinks sees me dancing on bars with eyeliner smeared on the side of my face, and either picking fights or doing enormously dangerous things (such as clinging to the wafer thin ledge overlooking a waterfall, being too scared to move because I can't see straight but being unable to avert my gaze from the enormous drop right beneath me - don't even ask...) Three drinks sees me being mistaken for the devil. I'm loud, I do things I would never dream of doing sobre. Everyone who has the ill luck to be in my phone book, on my Facebook friends list, on my email list or anything similar is likely going to be subjected to the worst kind of drunk dialling/emailing. The worst part is that it's just so embarrassing having to front those people in the morning sheepishly and tell them, "Sorry. I had three drinks last night, and I got a bit out of hand." The resulting smirks haunt me.
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