#57, 5 ways in which I’ve been technologically inept

Being born the right side of the 90s, I think it’s fair to say I can navigate my way around a Skype call. However, things are not always clear-cut, and even though on the scale of caveman – technical support I rank at about apple store “genius” (far enough away from have-you-tried-turning-it-off-an-on-again to walk into a tech store without trepidation, but yet close enough to not want to touch anything for the duration of my visit) there were, and continue to be, things that utterly surpass my capabilities.

Here’s a list of five them (plus commentary):

  1. I can’t remember my passwords, for anything – ever. I guess it works in the sense that some of my accounts are so secure that even I can’t get into them. This also remains to be the (initial) reason I abandoned my myspace all those years ago, and why I can only access my twitter account on my phone. I’m also deeply distrustful of those applications that store ALL of the passwords for you because of reasons.
  2. I don’t understand e-mail etiquette, this has be exhibited in recent times (the last month) when I signed off an e-mail to my Msc project supervisor with the phrase “catch you on the flip” because my usual “many thanks” wasn’t applicable. I just didn’t know what to say and decided that spending twenty minutes thinking about it was just not conducive to a good time.
  3. Since the rise of cross-platform mobile messaging (i.e. whatsapp), I’ve forgotten how to send text messages, the XXXXXs no longer exist. The need to proof read no longer exists, everything is more-or-less real time messaging and I am never going back… Although I deeply consider it whenever my whatsapp subscription expires. Also, this means that on the odd occasion I do actually have to send a text message, it’s not one – it’s five in quick succession.
  4. I have to re-learn how to take a screenshot on my mac everytime I do it, because there’s no physical button for it and when I have to press more than one key at the same time my lazy brain doesn’t like it.
  5. For about a week when I joined gmail, I couldn’t figure out how to send an email, not for any other reason than being unable to locate the ‘compose’ button on my screen. My eyes just glossed over it even though it was right under the logo. I had to ask my sister.


I guess I’ll catch you on the flip,



#56, Treat Yo’ Self Day

Treat yo’self 2014 ~~~

In 2011, Parks and Rec showcased an idea for a day dedicated to indulging in all your desires, that day is called Treat Yo’ Self Day. This short clip explains the premise (don’t worry, it’s only 25 seconds long):

Last week, my bff and I (yep, I wrote bff and I don’t regret it) took it upon ourselves to do just that. Why? Because work sucks and exams are coming up. That’s why. And, okay, whilst we didn’t actually treat ourselves to any of the things that were listed, it’s only because Tom and Donna’s idea of treating themselves doesn’t directly translate to hers and mine. (Ours was mostly lipstick and chips, holler!)

To me, the idea of TYS day transcends buying nice things, eating “bad” food, and indulging in all of life’s luxuries. To me, it’s more about appreciating that you’re human and you need to be loved just like everyone else does. and for once everything doesn’t have to be about school/work/the kids/the cats/all manner of other things that need to be taken care of.

Really, TYS is a state of mind that should be adopted into our daily lives whether in the guise of a solitary cup of tea, or a quick cigarette for a mirco-unwind. (Or spending an entire evening wikihopping because it’s weirdly addictive and you’re learning so much about the world.)

However, I appreciate that this idea isn’t revolutionary. Obviously you don’t need me to patronise you by sitting here telling you that this is a thing you should take into account for your physical and mental well-being. But, we all have that friend who is always so wound up and so uptight but used to be a really fun person before we all grew up. And, if you think of your set of closest friends and can’t seem to place which one of you that person would be… Chances are it’s probably you.

So, this is just a friendly reminder to tell you that on occasion you must:

(thank you Tom and Donna).

#55, 3 things that are less fun than a (mild) toothache

I am currently experiencing some mild gum discomfort, and whilst I’m sure it’s nothing serious (and have booked a dentist appointment on the off-chance), I am getting really bored of it. In order to take my mind off my woes, I have compiled a small list of things that are less fun than a (mild) toothache:

  1. Stubbing your toe, universally unavoidable and annoying, stubbing one’s toe is one of the most common ways that a person will break or fracture a toe. (Ouch! It even hurts to type it) It’s also one of those magical situation in which people of all varieties react in exactly the same way: hopping around the room on one foot cursing furiously. But, don’t feel too bad about that because your profanity helps build up your tolerance toward pain.
  2. Waxing anything for the first time (or after a long time), hair grows, and that’s okay as long as you’re okay with it. But sometimes, on a sunny afternoon when you’re bored and you’ve done all of the jigsaws and eaten all of the ice creams, you might get the bright idea to wax something for the first time, or after a really long time. You will regret that.
  3. Growing out a bad haircut, maybe you didn’t explain it well, maybe it was that awful hairdresser’s fault either way, you are stuck with one messed up do. Kids are pointing and laughing. Babies are crying. You look like a mess. Your only real options are: a) buy a hat, b) wear clothes that are so bad they upstage your awful hair, c) realise it’s only hair that with either grow out, back, or have it’s colour fade to normal. Deep breathing; in through the nose, out through the mouth.

It’s fairly common that all people will experience one or all of these things in their lifetime. To stub-toe is human. Solidarity to all those with bad haircuts, stubbed toes, and that one missing patch of leg/back/chest hair.

But most of all, solidarity to those who are currently suffering with mild, or not-so-mild toothaches.


#54, people who want “just one chip”

Dear people who ask if they can have “just one chip”,

I don’t understand you.

I mean, I’m not averse to sharing. You can have many chips. We can share all the chips. But, you insist that you just want the one, and I don’t understand.

One chip is not going to make you full. One chip is not going to curb your craving for chips, it’s just going to make you remember how good chips taste. In the grand scheme of things, one chip is no worse than a handful of chips. The only thing that is achieved by asking if you can have “just one chip” is the mild annoyance of the person you nicked the chip off (i.e. me).

Please stop being the people who ask for “just one chip”, there’s nothing to gain from that accept for making yourselves and me both acutely aware that y’all want more chips but are now too afraid to ask incase it’s construed as greedy.

Can we give up the ghost? Can we just share the chips and have a nice conversation that isn’t filled with hangry (hungry-angry, it’s a real thing) tension?

Sending my warmest regards and hoping to resolve this issue at a social event nearby,


#53, 5 things that I lie about all the time

I’m not a saint, and I’m not a sinner. I would consider myself to be a normal person, perhaps airing on the side of kooky. But, for some reason unknown to me, like most normal people there are things that I find myself routinely lying about. But we all do it… right?

Five big untruths about @mediocreMayme:

I’m not 5″8. I think once upon a time, briefly, I was 5″8. But, my posture isn’t the best and last when I checked I was closer to 5″6.5-7 than I was to 5″8. Now, after spending most of my adult life going around telling people (when it very occasionally pops into conversation) that I’m all five-feet-and-eight-inches tall I can’t bloody well shrink again. what would people think? Fair enough, right? However, I can’t for the life of me begin to justify why I then go on to sometimes pretend I’m 5″9. Perhaps just to see if anyone will actually believe me (they don’t).

I didn’t listen to cool bands when I was young. I know I was a kid in the 90s and I love to pretend that I capitalised on that, but I don’t really think I had any scope of who Nirvana or Oasis were until like 2000. And, I definitely didn’t fully appreciate them for a good 2-3 years after that. And, even though my Pa has a kick arse taste in music that I’ve been subjected to in every school run since I was 4, if I’m honest until I was 15 it was nothing more than background noise to me. I was way too busy vomming everywhere due to having such severe motion sickness, or being the little shit who was downing Calpol straight from the bottle whilst Ma’s back was turned.

It does not take me fifteen minutes to get ready in the morning. I don’t think I’m a particularly high maintenance person. (I say that, and even as I type it, I think I’m probably that HORRIBLE type of human who is incredibly high maintenance but doesn’t actually realise it… let’s not dwell) It’s just, I’m not a morning person. It takes me a long time to do anything in the morning. I hit snooze a minimum of three times. It then takes me fifteen minutes to actually peel myself out of bed. Twenty minutes to get my coffee and brush my teeth. I’ve never been more sure of anything than I am about the fact that it most definitely does not take me fifteen minutes to get ready in the morning.

I’ve never knowingly watched a horror movie. But, like I don’t wanna seem like a sissy, so I pretend that I’ve seen the big ones, you know, with the well known plots. The Shining, Carrie, The Blair Witch Project, etc. It’s all faux. I’ve never seen any of them, and I very much hope to never see them. (I have, however, been duped into watching horror films that I didn’t know were horror films… Most notably when my Ma tricked me into watching the Birds. Scarred for life, Ma).

And, finally… Every cultural reference you think makes me cool I probably learnt off the Gilmore Girls. (some spoilers) Anyone who knows me well, knows that I adore the Gilmore Girls. And, I watched it through my formative teenage years, right? So, what do teenagers do best? Oh yeah, get weirdly obsessive about things. Not only did I watch every episode, every re-run, and cry when Jess and Rory didn’t actually end up together, but I also googled the shit out of anything I didn’t immediately recognise. This taught me a whole lot about some really bloody brilliant books, and whole bunch of cool music (from the Dead Kennedys to Sam Phillips) courtesy of Hep Alien (aka Lane’s band) and the generally awesome soundtrack. As well as introducing me to a pop culture smorgasbord from which I’ve built up my own personal tastes and style. I also think it might be the reason why I talk so fast and so loud. And, it’s definitely the way I found out how Sylvia Plath killed herself.

Now, the big question is… can we still be friends?

#52, what happens when I try to tell an anecdote


My name is @mediocreMayme, and today I’m going to tell you what happens whenever I try to tell a story. 

Step one: the trigger

The trigger is a spark in conversation that causes me to remember a thing that happened that time, that is sorta-kinda related to the actual subject of conversation, but also sorta-kinda isn’t. Usually, I’ll push on with it anyway. Unfortunately, the trigger usually occurs to me mid-way through someone else’s anecdotes. But, obviously, I am far too excited to contribute something funny, so I take it upon myself to interrupt and divert the attention on the (much cooler) thing I have to say.

Step two: the dread

The dread is carried forth in one of two ways:

  1. If the person is a new acquaintance and hasn’t experienced one of my off-the-cuff anecdotes, then there will be expectations. Like, the person will expect the anecdote to have a point, or follow a sensible chronological order. And, I live in dread of those expectations.
  2. If the person is an older friend, then they are the ones filled with dread. Dread that in the next 2-5 minutes they’ll be forced to listen to me trip over my words and not really contribute anything mindful to the conversation at hand.

Step three: the realisation

Some part through the anecdote I will realise I’ve forgotten what I was talking about… Approximately 30 seconds later, the other person will realise this too.

Step four: laughing it off

By this point, both me and the party privy to the anecdote will be a little bit embarrassed, and I will shrug and laugh it off and say something to the affect of “I guess you probably had to be there”. But, by then it’s too late, this person knows that in my spare time I brutally murder the re-telling of tales. The aftermath beyond this is usually much more forgiving and the conversation will either flow to other things, or continue the path it was taking before with my friends, and acquaintances, mercifully forgiving me for sometimes being such a drag.

*shrug* that’s just life sometimes, isn’t it? (:

#51, 8 things that are more difficult than they need to be

“Life is already difficult, why are you making it worse?” Is what I was thinking this afternoon when I managed to catapult a droplet of nail polish remover straight from the bottle into my eye in a display of the most phenomenal defiance of physical laws that I’ve ever encountered. Slightly melodramatic? Possibly, but an eye bath and a catastrophically fucked up set of nails later I got to pondering why it is that along these lines of mischief -that the universe hands out so readily to all us mere mortals- the easy way out never really actually an easy way out? In the spirit of defeat, here are 8 other things that should be easier to do than they are:

  1. Working out clothes sizes, I don’t know if this is exclusive to women’s clothing but there is something very traumatic about trying to work out what size you are in one store, and then why that size doesn’t work for the next store over. And don’t even get me started on the mystery that is “jeans sizing”.
  2. Getting glitter off your face, there’s a time in everyone’s life where glitter features heavily. Granted, for most people this phase of life is over by the time they are seven years old. However, for a few odd beans, myself included, there is still an occasional interaction with glitter – in it’s raw form, or in the guise of that sparkly eyeliner or shimmery highlighter. The reflects of which can always be seen days later no matter what nuclear strength cleansing balm is applied to one’s face in an attempt to rid it. (positive side effect: sometimes I feel like a pixie with her own little iridescent glow)
  3. Flossing, sometimes it hurts and it never gets easier but I’m scared that if I don’t do it all of my teeth will fall out.
  4. Peeling an orange, let’s put aside all the brute strength you need to initially get under the skin of an orange and focus of the actual peeling of it. Firstly, if I don’t peel the skin in one long strip I feel like I’ve “lost” (I mean, I still get to eat the orange, so I’m not sure what exactly I lost, but I lost). Secondly, sometimes the orange fights back in the same flight path as the droplet of nail polish remover we discussed earlier.
  5. Writing neatly (and quickly) in cursive, I was once told that my handwriting looks like “a monkey just found a pen”. Let’s just leave it at that, shall we?
  6. Getting someone to close (or leave open) the door behind them, oh you just popped into my room to ask about the thing? Or borrow some of that stuff? Cool. But, for crying out loud please leave the door however it was when you first walked into the room.
  7. Trying to train your cat to not do that thing that annoys you, cats are assholes.
  8. Replying to text messages, I’ll get to it today/tomorrow/a week later, and probably at about 3 am. If I feel like it. Sorry.