In an effort to be adult-like and prepare for the next hand surgery, I’ve begun trying different talk-to-text programs on my computer. Dr. Barre (the hand surgeon) has already told me there would be no cheating this time – I have to keep these fingers still for 10 days at the very least. I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to type with a dead Frankenstein hand, but it makes being coherent kind of difficult. Sprinkle in a few post-surgical pain killers, and you’ve got a recipe for disaster.
(Side note: I can feel Todd’s angst rising as I go on with this and talk about how terrible my typing skills are going to be for two weeks. Sometimes, being the boss is hard, especially when you’re editing a dead Frankenstein hand typist, who likes to throw in bad words occasionally, just to make things interesting. Sorry, TD. [It’s OK, not too-too worried, I guess. –ed.])
So while we’re talking about an effort to be adult-like, I’m pretty sure I don’t have to tell you the string of words I uttered for my first talk-to-text test, and I can’t type them out, because I don’t have a dead hand yet and I don’t even have a post-surgical painkiller excuse, but here’s what the computer-demon typed: “Ship, duck, hell, dam, battered.”
“Don’t you talk to me like that, you filthy thing!”Hmm. Clearly TD had a hand in developing this product. So I decide to go on to my most common exclamations that can be used in the company of children.
Me: “Oh my Lord!”
TD’s Computer-demon: “On my lowered!”
Me: “No, you stupid dork, Oh my Lord!”
TD’s CD: “No you sit on fork on my lowered!”
Me: “This ain’t even gonna work.”
TD’s CD: “This paint Stephen gone a work.”
Me: “Shut up, you damn fool.”
TD’s CD: “Shut up you damn fool.”
Me: “Oh, now you got it? When it’s nasty? You’re fired.”
TD’s CD: “Oh now you got it when it’s nasty you’re fire.”
Me: “Don’t you talk to me like that, you filthy thing, I’m a married woman.”
Unfortunately, George could only hear my part of the conversation, and had no idea what was going on, but became acutely interested when I mentioned being a “married woman.”
“What the hell’s going on back there?”
“Nothing. Todd’s got a computer demon living inside my talk-to-text, we’re not going to get along.”
“Did Dills talk ugly to you?”
“No babe, the talk-to-text is being nasty to me.”
“Wait. Aren’t you telling it what to say?”
“I am! But it’s not listening right.”
“What does Dills have to do with this?”
“He’s going to suffer when my hand is operated on. I feel bad.”
“Pfft. We’re all gonna suffer when your hand is operated on.”
“Because you’ll miss how much help I am to you?”
“Oh yeah. That’s exactly what I was thinking, I’ll miss your help.”
And although I feel like he might have been telling me a filthy lie, I left it at that. Sometimes, translation is hard.
