I just got back from the DMV, i.e. The Worst Place On Earth.

Actually, I experienced another place this weekend that would rival the DMV for that title: Micro Center.

I took my fritzy Macbook to the Apple Store on Saturday, and the self-assuredly dubbed Apple Genius told me that yes, I needed a new hard drive, and no, I should not have it replaced in house.  I appreciated his honesty, since his recommendation wound up saving me a couple hundred bucks.

But still.  He sent me to Micro Center.

What is Micro Center?  This horrible, horrible store full of electronics and screaming children.  It’s located in a terribly depressing section of Denver called the Tech Center - a place where every building looks the same, and the only signs of life are a 7-11, a Mexican restaurant, and, well, Micro Center.  They had what seemed like 75 employees, all walking around doing “things,” but I still had to wait in line for close to an hour.  Eventually, I made it out - with a new hard drive, and a desperation for flora, fauna, chipmunks - anything but technology.

I spent most of my weekend coaxing my Macbook back to life.  Just like an episode of “Rescue 911,” the process was harrowing - touch-and-go - and there was that crucial point when the music got solemn and uncertain, and I didn’t know if resuscitation was going to be possible.  But as of today, thanks to my trusty backed-up files, we are back in business.  My iPod overfloweth with Lady Gaga and Ke$ha.

I know.  Just… I know.

Because I hadn’t quite gotten my fill of spending a lot of money on things that aren’t fun to spend money on, and I am also quite fond of torture and anguish, I headed to the DMV this morning on the frozen roads.  $21 later, I am in possession of a wimpy piece of paper that doubles as my “temporary license.” Next up: Colorado plates.

Few things are as joyless as doling out sweet cash for things that bring you no happiness whatsoever.

I am spoiled, and I am the first to admit it.  Why, you ask?  Well, among many other reasons, I have two identical black Macbooks - one personal, and one for work.  Let’s be real: that is just ridiculous.  More than anyone could ever ask for.

But last week, my personal Macbook went kaput.  It’s broken - broken like… searching for a simile… broken like… my toe?  Except my toe has a fighting chance at mending - and I really don’t think that the computer will be resurrected.  I turn it on, and it pulls up a white screen.  That’s all.  It’s like the moment after Juliette hits the bomb with the rock, except it never skips to the credits.  Eternal nuclear uncertainty.

Get over it, Annie - right?  I mean, I have a WHOLE OTHER COMPUTER.  But my personal laptop held all of my iTunes, all of my pictures, all of my super secret documents that no one is ever allowed to see.  Most of it is backed up on an external hard drive, but I don’t want to put it on my work computer.  So there it will remain - locked up forever.

Mostly this is bad because I want to sync my iPod to my iTunes to get my new music and podcasts.  And not only can I not put them on my iPod, I can’t even access my iTunes at all.  I am SOOOOOOO BORED with my current selection of songs (I only have ninety million or something).  And Ira Glass is saying things that I might never get to hear - which makes me panic.

IRA!!!!  I NEED YOU!!!!!!!!

I had recently downloaded Sara Groves’ latest, “Fireflies and Songs,” but have no way of hearing it again.  Lady Antebellum has a new album released today.  The Handy Graham recommended Sarah Jarosz - and since he was the first one to tell me about eastmountainsouth, I trust him - not that it matters, since I can’t get my grubby paws on these songs.

Today, I have India Arie and Phil Collins on YouTube.  It’s all I have left.

For starters, I would like to pose a question.

What child IS this? from Annie Parsons on Vimeo.

So what is it?  A, or B?

Secondly, this weekend, Facebook really chapped my ass (a phrase that I have recently decided is very worth using).  I tried to upload pictures from the JAM House Christmas Spectacular – at which we had a fantastic time and packed our home with more people than we ever imagined – but the old ‘Book translated my vibrant images into dull, grey-toned disappointments.

See?

Why??  Facebook has let me down.  People need to know that my dress was not forest, but EMERALD.

That said, those two gentlemen flanking me?  The one on the left is my new friend Matt (SHOUT OUT), and the one on the right is Paul – or PZC, as he is known on this here blog.  Paul – besides being one that I outright avoided a goodbye with last night because it would have made me cry way too hard and so it was easier to pretend that none of this is actually happening – is the one who made a makeshift vocal booth for me in his closet when we recorded a song back in October.

Now, that song is finished – listen!

Lines of Love by annieparsons

That’s Matty Rineer on lead vocals – isn’t he great?  Actually… I’ve never met him, just recorded backup vocals for this song that he wrote and had already recorded the lead parts for.  So don’t take my word for it – he could be a psychopath.  And didn’t Pauly do a fantastic job with the recording and mixing?

On Saturday, multiple strong and manly gentlemen showed up at the house to help me load my pod.  Let me just say, I highly recommend the ABF ReloCube – as well as having generous and rugged man-friends.  In one hour – ONE HOUR – my entire life was packed into a 6’ x 7’ x 8’ box.

Day after tomorrow, I leave.  Ice storms are in store.  I hope the Honda makes it.  I hope I make it.  I hope I don’t spend Christmas morning in a ditch.

The secret’s out.

*via Carl - hi, Carl!

I know that I have mentioned that I despise the winky face.  And it’s true – the winky face makes me barf.  End of story.  Forever.

But there is another thing that has been weighing on my mind, and that is the smiley emoticon.

:)

See?  Ugh.

Now, I use the smiley in email communication – but only in it’s purest form: the sideways simpleton.  To me, it brings to mind an ironic, closed-lipped side-smile, à la Jim Halpert.

: )

Even that isn’t an accurate representation, because I had to put a space in between the “eyes” and the “mouth” just to prevent WordPress from hijacking my style and creating a monster.

Because if there is one thing that really irks me, it is when my simple, sideways symbol is – unbeknownst to me – translated into a big-toothed, yellow-faced, sphere-headed, body-less imbecile.  It makes me look like a moron.

- - - - - - - -

In other news, in response to an unexpected surge of administrative prowess, my friend PZC recently called himself “an organizational Jason Bourne (kicking ass but unsure where it came from and still not sure where I’m headed).”

I thought that was delightful.

On Saturday afternoon, just after discovering some sort of maggot larvae undulating in my bottle of cumin (do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for the opportunity to use the word “undulate” – and how this horrifying experience totally wasn’t worth the satisfaction?), I deactivated my Facebook account.

I am trying to give my spirit a fighting chance at being still.  It’s amazing to me how unaccepted that is in today’s culture.  But Facebook felt like it was adding to the noise and clutter in my mind, and is, thus, worthy of a hiatus at the very least.  That’s about all the explanation I am willing to give.

I am just now realizing that this means no one will get a reminder that my birthday is coming up.

WORLD: MY BIRTHDAY IS COMING UP.

I know that I’ll reactivate it sometime relatively soon(ish), but until then, if you want to find me, you know how.

Today is the day.  TV has switched to digital.

I still have not bought a converter box.  I knew that I wouldn’t get any channels this morning – not that I cared about anything more than “Good Morning America” (“The Today Show” will never compare); still, I flipped on the TV just to see what it looked like.

Y’all.

I STILL GET ABC!!!!!!!  Every other channel has disappeared.  But there in 13” glory were the Jonas Brothers singing for GMA’s Summer Concert Series.

No guarantee that ABC will still be there tomorrow.

Full guarantee that the JoBros will still be ridiculous.

All in all, things are good.  I am alive.  I am busy.  I am working hard.  And I am so, so thankful for this job.

Thanks for hanging in there with me as I settle into a new rhythm!

In other news, I think that my cheap earrings are infecting my earlobes.  Perhaps it’s time to invest in something other than cheap-ass Target jewelry?

And in OTHER other news, I can’t wait to go to T.J. Maxx and get cute organizational boxes for my desk.  They will sit beside the stuffed kangaroo and koala that are holding Australian flags, passed down to me from a new co-worker.

And as my final other news, did anyone else hear about the woman who had the commitment ceremony with the Eiffel Tower?  What the HIZ?

Welcome to my new little corner of the cyber-sky!

For those of you who are wondering, “How did Annie get her own website?” I must be honest and say I HAVE NO IDEA. When it comes to technology, I operate on a need-to-know basis – I surround myself with people who are only going to tell me what I need to know, and not another word.

Bless you, you geniuses.

To get this site up and running, I am indebted to:

- Lauren at WebExHosting, who spent hours creating this site, hauling over all of my blog archives, and making my dreams come true. She is my Web Fairy Godmother. Bibbity-bobbity-boo.
- Seth, my graphic designer friend with the best head of hair of any guy I know. He helped me with the masthead in exchange for a double batch of Monster Cookies.
- Ashley, my ultra-talented sister-in-law, for capturing my fabulous chair (and me!) in that sunny Kansas field.
- Emily, the closest thing I have to a little sister besides my little sisters, who designed the sweet paisley logo.
- God, for creating the internet.

So look around, and let me know what you think. Things might get tweaked here and there early on, but overall, I think it’s quite “Annie Parsons,” don’t you? Look at the top of the page – TABS! And come back all the time. You can find me here Monday through Friday, steady as the sun.

Celebrate good times, come on.

This is the moment you’ve all been waiting for. The triumphant, final alphabetic entry of Z – “zed” if you’re Canadian, or “izzard” if you’re Old English. And I know what you’ve been thinking: “Annie will probably talk about zebras. Or zest. Or zero.” But those are all too easy.

So then I started looking at unusual words that start with Z, and found some fantastic new terms:
zizz - a brief nap (only the Brits would call a nap a “zizz”)
zaftig - pleasantly plump (I’m looking forward to the day when “zaftig” is en vogue)
zonelet - a little zone (of course! how cute!)
zyzzyva - a South American weevil (this one will make me the Scrabble champion of all time)

But then it dawned on me: I have this friend. His name is Paul Zimmerman-Clayton. And he is worth blogging about.

Because there was this one time when our internet freakishly disappeared, and I, not knowing the difference between a modem and a router and a toaster, crumpled into a heap on the floor. “It’s hopeless!” I wailed. “We will never have internet again!”

Paul told me to pull myself together, and led me into the den where the modem and router reside. He told me the science behind them – or at least which lights should be flashing – and then quickly figured out that we had simply plugged them into an outlet that was wired to a light switch. Someone had turned off the light; our internet had no power source. He flipped the switch, and once again, peace, order, harmony, and blogging were restored to our household.

I was Clark Griswold, Paul was Ellen.

On Saturday, he found out that I had never really listened to the Counting Crows – because when they became famous, I was 12 years old and still obsessed with Amy Grant. And I’m still obsessed with Amy Grant. But yesterday, he presented me with my very own copy of “August and Everything After” to love and cherish – and I’m already well on my way. How have I missed out on them all these years?

When I recently found myself in a situation I didn’t want to be in, I asked Paul if he thought I could tell an outright lie to get out of it. He said that he could not endorse lying. I don’t know why. But he was right, and I listened to him.

He plays a lot of Tetris, which is weird. And he likes Robert Frost, which I don’t understand. But he’s studying for the GRE, and tells me about new words that he learns, which makes me want to take the GRE just as a (very expensive) vocab quiz. And he shares my incredibly nerdy love of solfege. And he’s a part of Running Club. And he’s one of my favorite people.

And it’s a good thing that his last name is Zimmerman-Clayton, because if it wasn’t, today you would have learned a lot about zalambdodonts.