Tag Archives: freudian slips

What’s Wrong With Me? (Inevitably an Ongoing Feature)

Something happened tonight that is likely an indication of a larger problem/neurosis/obsession, as is the case with most (Freudian, I guess) slips.  It was similar to the time in high school when this kid Jake was reading aloud from a science textbook and accidentally replaced the word “organism” with “orgasm.”  But even though we all laughed at his expense, that really is an honest mistake.  Just two letters off, and on top of that, a sizeable number of organisms can achieve orgasm.  Some organisms even have pills designed purely to help achieve orgasm

But anyway, let me set the scene of my own slip.  I was at work, getting settled at my computer.  I consider myself a pretty computer-savvy individual, but this computer was misbehaving in ways that I just could not understand.  Ctrl-Alt-Del failed to help the situation.  Repeatedly clicking ‘Retry’ in the Error Message is always useless.  So, as much as I hate bothering the IT Guy, up I was forced to march to the IT Guy Spot. 

The first time was slip-free.  “I’m having trouble opening Crappy Application.”  Stuff is always going wrong with Crappy Application, so IT Guy is used to hearing this.  He followed me to my computer and proceeded to open Crappy Application on the first try.  “Sorry.”  He said something about having the magic touch and walked away.

Not two minutes later, I tried to open up Excel and another problem…a pop up message informed me that there was not enough disc space to open it.  So I’m like, fuck you!  I don’t want to visit IT Guy again!  I put it off, but eventually I did go back to IT Guy Spot, and the conversation went a little like this:

Me: Hey, sorry to bother you again.

IT Guy: What’s up?

Me: Now I can’t open up Excel.  It says there’s not enough dick space.  (Catching myself, but really thinking/hoping that IT Guy didn’t pick up on what I said…)

IT Guy: Say that again? 

Me: (Trying very hard to enunciate) Disc space.

IT Guy: Oh, okay.  That makes more sense.

Like I said, I really didn’t think my slip was so noticeable, but on the way back to the computer IT Guy said, “The first thing you said sounded more like a personal problem.” 

Anyway, I’m not easily embarrassed, but that was a doozy.  And not as understandable as the whole organism-orgasm thing. 

In other embarrassing computer happenings, a bunch of my friends have signed up for Match.com.    I have nothing to say on the topic of online dating websites, except that the culture they create is pretty fascinating/scary.  There’s this shame about even having to resort to creating a profile, there’s the whole necessity of using the most effective photos and copy to best market yourself, and then there are the eventual bizarre real-life dates that can result after the virtual courtship of winks and emails is completed. 

But okay, I admit it, I was on there a couple years ago for like, a month.  I went on a date with some NYU Grad student whose username was something about shark attacks.  He looked like A.C. Slater in the single photo he included with his profile.  So between the shark thing and the Slater thing, I figured, why not?  Anyway, that was my one and only Match.com date.  Not that it was even a terrible date, but most of the time I could just care less about courtship, the virtual kind and the ever decreasing actual kind. 

I know, I know.  I say that, but then I show up to work complaining to the IT Guy about not having enough dick space…

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The Local News is My Version of Hell

It’s a joke. A 30-minute disaster of a not-funny joke that makes my skin crawl in much the same way that my apartment is crawling with various infestations. Anyway, tonight I found myself watching the 11pm local news on CBS. I don’t know why. They suck you in with bizarre headlines and you think, “I simply cannot continue living life on this planet if I do not hear about that NYC firefighter who called in fake alarms to keep his station afloat with all these budget cuts threatening to shut it down.” Or something. I missed that report.

But luckily I did catch a fascinating report towards the end of the broadcast, just before Letterman (who had John McCain as his guest, WTF?). It was a “health” report from Dr. Holly Phillips about this not even all that new procedure called a “Y-Lift” that is “even better than a face lift!” It gets its name from the way in which the facial filler is injected into the skin–in a “Y” shape, apparently. A couple posts ago I said the American workaholic mentality was one of my least favorite things about this country. New idea: the American obsession with all things age-defying and anti-wrinkle tops that list. This is how Dr. Holly Phillips finished her important report (more important than all the other things going on in the world? fuck off, CBS):

There is a slight chance of having an allergic reaction to cosmetic fillers. To prevent this, ask your doctor to test a small amount of the filler on the inside of your wrist before injecting it into your face.

Do you hear yourself, Dr. Holly? “INTO YOUR FACE.” Best of all, though, was when it was handed back over to co-anchor Kristine Johnson who made this flub:

The cost of the wife lift procedure starts at about $4,500.

Pretty sure she meant to say Y-Lift…but I’m not going to open up that Freudian slip of worms. I’ll just move right on to the money thing. $4,500?? Are you kidding me? I was outraged at a man on a subway platform tonight using a $1 bill as a bookmark. Seemed like an unnecessary flaunting of wealth. So don’t sit there on your lumbar-supporting chair, misreading your teleprompter, and casually drop a figure like $4,500. We’re all going to be waiting in bread lines come New Years, but hey, at least our faces will be taut.