Don't Like Technology? Take Prednisone.

Last November I slipped on a patch of ice and broke my wrist. I also tore a few things in my shoulder, which I just found out about thanks to an MRI. I am finishing up a course of Prednisone before likely having to endure surgery.

One of the fine side effects of Prednisone is what I call the Pink Rage. Your cheeks get a rosy hue, your blood pressure increases, and you become the Incredible Hulk. Especially when dealing with technology.

In my Pink Rage today, I had an idea that I would buy some rabbit ears for my TV, as I have put Dish on vacation so as to see just how much I don't miss satellite TV. I only watch about three shows a week, all on network television. So why am I paying this much money for religious channels, infomercials, and reality tv? I figured a pair of rabbit ears would do me just fine to get the local stations.

So I hop down to the local Radio Shack (I hate Radio Shack, it is nothing but cheap junk) and the manager tells me I can get local HD stations with this pair of ears. So I take the thing home and hook it up. Nothing.  I drive back and he says, "You do have an HD TV, correct?"

"NO!" I scream in a Pink Rage. "Just a giant behemuth of a thing that takes ten people to lift."

"Oh, I am sorry," he says. "You need a converter box to make your TV HD."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because they don't have those waves in the air anymore," he said politely.

"Just give me my money back, I'll live with what I have," I say to him and storm out of the store.

Honking at every driver that pisses me off (and getting numerous middle fingers waved at me), I go home and hook the Dish back up. Oh good, a free preview of the Western Channel. Now I can watch Maverick.

Just before I went back to Radio Shack to return the stupid rabbit ears, I tried to call my bank to find out how to put a stop to an automatic payment that is to come out next week. Apparently I had to tell the YMCA to cancel my membership two days ago, and now they will charge me for the next month anyway. That is criminal in my book. After being on hold forever, I try to end the call, but of course have 10 buttons to push on the damn iPhone before I can finally hang up. "That's it," I say out loud. "I am getting rid of this piece of crap and returning to my flip phone. Better yet, I am getting a landline again so I can use my rotary phones. Big handles, big dials, beautiful sound quality, brass ringers. EVERYONE wants to call someone on my rotary phones. God how I hate cell phones.

So I leave Radio Shack for the second time with some sense of optimism that my day might just get brighter, when I am cut off by about five cars merging onto my road. HOOOONNNNNKKKKK "YOU ASSHOLE!!!" I scream, my Pink Raged cheeks now a bright fusia!!! Some cigarette smoking bimbo in a Subaru flips me the bird in her rear view mirrow. I scream at her. What is happening to me?

Next I head to the vet to pick up my dog who had his teeth cleaned today. I told him I was having Pink Rage and it is best we just go home and isolate ourselves from humanity before I kill someone or they kill me. He just looked at me with groggy eyes. Aw.

Ok, so my next mission was to call ATT, the biggest funder of the Tea Party, to get my landline hooked up.  My cell phone carrier is Credo, the biggest funder of liberal causes, so I just cancelled out both sides of the karma equation. Cool.  Lucky for me, they are giving me a special deal, yes my rotary phones will work fine, and I have unlimited calling both local and long distance. No texting however. Duh. So Tuesday it is. I will once again have the beautiful sound of a real life honest to goodness telephone in my home!

Now the plan is to smash this computer with a hammer, as it overheats and is burning my hands as I type. The return button sticks and I have been pounding on it relentlessly. The Pink Rage is driving me to destroy all technology in my home, and I love it. Soon, it will be me, my guitar, my beagle, a beautiful old rotary phone and a short wave radio, comfy cozy. I can't wait.