Saturday, April 21, 2012

Internet Speeds of the 90's Would Kill Me Today

I had some sort of 90's flashback yesterday. I was trying to download this ungodly large file. Like, double-digit gigabytes large.* The download feels like it's dragging. I feel inordinately impatient. The speed is going at 2 mb/s or something. The percent downloaded goes up by one every five minutes or so. I want to smash watermelons with a sledgehammer. I want to die.

Then I have my 90's flashback. I remember sitting at my crazy old corner desk back in the day (that thing is STILL in the same spot, but now it's got a bunch of junk on it, and occasionally I gaze in at the poor thing like a long forgotten toy from my childhood). I grew up during dial-up. I knew the tune of the dial-up modem like I knew all the words to every stupid Britney Spears song. I could've sung the aria of the "Dial-Up Modem Opera" true and clear, if it was possible for human vocal chords to actually make those sounds. As soon as the modem made a funny noise during its song-and-dance ritual of connecting to the internet, I froze, like a deer in headlights. I loathed that moment. When the modem finished its beeping, whooshing tune and I found myself connected to the world wide web, all was right with the world.**

I remember trying to illegally download the newest Backstreet Boys song, "Larger than Life." I couldn't buy the CD because I was a freaking kid and nobody would buy it for me. But I needed that song in my life more than I needed all my posters of Zac Hanson taped to my closet doors. The file was probably a few megabytes in size, unlike songs now with their epic sound quality weighing in at 9 mb or more. So let's say it was a 3 mb song. It took hours. Literally two hours at least. I bet that was one of the happiest moments in my life, when that song finally downloaded and I listened to this stupid song that was for some reason my only key to happiness.

So I'm looking at this 30 gb file I'm downloading now. It has 30 minutes or so left. It's going at about 2.5 mb/s now. That old Backstreet Boys song would have downloaded in a single second today.


* No it's not porn you fools.
** I'm not like, obsessed with the internet or anything. Like, come on, guys.

Monday, April 9, 2012

The Dumbest Moment of My Entire Life

It's Easter Sunday. I walk out to the kitchen to survey the progress of the ham in the oven, because a good ham is the way to my heart. Forget diamond rings. Can you make a good ham? Maybe we'll end up alright.

Anyway, I peek at this ham like the dad in A Christmas Story. I actually stick my hand in the oven in order to pry off one of the end slices, and my mother's pork senses activate in the other room. Just as the skin is melting off my fingers and I'm about to dislodge a delicious slice of sweet honey ham, I hear "ASHLEY GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF THE HAM."

Then I look up at the oven. It says 2:33 left, and I cry a little inside at having to wait another two and a half hours. The turkeys that are usually running around through the backyard are probably laughing their asses off at me. I trudge dejectedly out of the kitchen.

I come back later in search of a crescent roll, and I happen to glance at the oven again. The display now says 3:17. I stand for a moment, crescent roll sticking out of my mouth, completely flabbergasted. I chew the last of the crescent. I take a step out of the kitchen to find my mother's eyes already on me, just waiting to yell at me for getting at the ham again.

And then it happens. The confused expression is still on my face. I glance back at the oven. Then I say the dumbest thing I've ever said in my entire life.

"Why does the time left for the ham keep going up?"

She stares at me. Then I get it. Instantly I get it. But it's too late. The damage is done. This is normally something that would happen to my mother. Normally she says something ridiculous and I get to make fun of her for the next hour. And she's not about to let this go. Not now, not five years from now, not when we run into my boss in public, not when she meets whoever it is that I end up marrying.

"Ashley, that's the CLOCK."

Just shoot me now. Ah well, at least the ham was a salty sweet meaty dream of juicy deliciousness.*

*Don't even say it. I know what you're thinking. Barbeque ribs, am I right?