A few months ago, in (what passes for me as) a fit of rage, I posted a definition on the Urban Dictionary website (urbandictionary.com, oddly) for the name of my brother's fiancee, Noel, on the site with a lengthy and scathing definition. It pretty much attacked everything about her and made me feel better. I know about their screening process and "inside jokes" are supposedly rejected in the review process, so I never actually expected it to make it to the site. And I proceeded to forget all about it. Until today.
Facebook is a wonderful tool for me to look at, because many times my friends' statuses jog my memory about something I either did, forgot to do, should have done but decided to put off or had simply refused to do but (upon being reminded ofsaid "something") had a change of heart which caused me to do whatever it was about which I had refused. Today my friend's status referred to a new favorite non-word ("Rumsfail," if you're curious). That reminded me of my post and I went on the site immediately to see what had become of it. I found my definition and was pleased at once. In a rare act of nostalgia, I read through it, grinning all the while. Until I noticed one sentence missing a comma at the end of the third paragraph (I tend to ramble).
My happiness dissolved at once and I tried to edit the post, but I couldn't for the life of me remember the password for the account I'd made, so any possibility of that was dashed.
I guess the moral of this story is to always use the same password for everything, despite what the Internet security people say about hacking. In retrospect, if they got the password to my online banking, it really doesn't change anything if they get the password for my Urban Dictionary account as well.
Three cheers for bad foresight. Also, enjoy this:
(I do so enjoy kitties).
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment