The Password is F**k You

Published September 23, 2017 by WELCOME TO HEIDI

All I wanted to do was watch a little television in bed late on a friday night.  Simple enough.  There wasn’t much else for me to do last night as I had thrown my back out first thing in the morning doing a very difficult yoga pose I like to call – yawning.  Yes – as I laid in bed at 8am and stretched my arms over my head to welcome another glorious day on this planet living life and loving it – when I heard a snap crackle pop and it wasn’t my rice krispies. Here we go. Mother F-ing Shitballs. One day it’s tying your shoes and the next it’s yawning.  My first thought was – great – there goes another two or three days of not working out followed by – and now I can’t put anything in my mouth because I’ll blow up like a tick.  Facing a bad back and your body dysmorphia before 9 am is a lot for anyone.  For me it launches a bout of malaise that sends me to the online shops. New sweatpants to lie around in will help my back feel better right? I’m sure I don’t have these grey sweatpants. Or do I? Whatever. These look better. I’ll give my other grey ones away. (I never do) Watching tv in bed is a total luxury for me and I don’t normally turn it on except in extreme circumstances and this was extreme.  I decided I wanted to watch something on HBOgo but when I pulled up the app it was asking me to log in again. Fuck, shit, balls, why? I just logged in out in the living room like a week ago don’t you smart tv’s talk to each other because if you don’t you re not very fucking smart. And so began the worst game I always have to play in my house called – what’s your password? It all starts with the login.  That’s usually just my email address so that one isn’t too difficult.  Sometimes it’s just my name so if I get the email thing wrong I just go straight to name. Then comes the password.  Mine is usually one of three passwords. Basically if you figure out my code for one you can hack your way into all of my poor life choices and weird shopping orders.  It was midnight and I was kind of tired but I really wanted to make this happen and so for about twenty minutes I began the arduous task of typing in different combinations of log ins and passwords.  This is not easy using a remote.  In fact – its torturous.  I’d rather try on all my skinny jeans that don’t fit me anymore than do this. I’d rather stare at my cellulite naked for thirty minutes than do this. Though that may be more difficult now as I’ve purchased the fascia blaster. Yep. I’m the one. If you want to go into a facebook hole for about three days – watch videos of fascia blasting and you’ll buy one too. Basically my facebook page is targeting me with ridiculous things that I just have to have.  Dumb pore tightening masks. Hair pills that don’t work. Underpants that don’t show lines. Vegan leather shoes. How does it know? Mark Zuckerberg is a mad genius.  So,  I type away and nothing. Crap. Then I do the one thing I hate to do – ask to reset my password. They send me the email and here we go again but first I have to answer a security question. What’s the first street I grew up on or whats the name of my first dog. Both of these are crippling because I can’t remember if i put in the name of the first street I lived on that I loved or the first street I lived on and did I use the avenue or boulevard part or did I just type the street name and my dog question – was it my first dog as an adult or my first dog when I was a kid?  It’s now 12:45 and I’ve broken out in a cold sweat and I can’t remember anything and everything is failing and now I’ve been locked out of my own account. Damn you HBOgo.  Now what? Let’s try Hulu. Again – the password game begins. Again I fail. Again I have to reset my password but this time I don’t get locked out because one of my choices resets everything. Hooray. Yippee. I’m a genius!!  Now – lets write this one down on a pad before I forget. So I get out of bed and head for my office but unfortunately I stop in the kitchen because now it’s officially saturday and I’m only allowing myself to smoke pot once a week and that once is saturdays and so I smoke a joint and before I know it I’m eating four bagels with vegan cream cheese (I’m not a total loser) and then I’m back in bed and I’ve totally forgotten what the password is.  Looks like I’ll be playing this game again next week. Sigh.

 

One comment on “The Password is F**k You

  • Leave a Reply

    Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

    WordPress.com Logo

    You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

    Google photo

    You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

    Twitter picture

    You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

    Facebook photo

    You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

    Connecting to %s

    This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

    %d bloggers like this: