Take time out of your day to help me name my GPS
When I thought that I had gotten that job in NYC, I splurged on a new demon*. I'd been coveting the idea of a GPS for a while, because I love-love driving my car. I had kept mine stocked with road atlases of the places I traveled in most and am fairly good at navigating and at finding where I am if I do get lost. But having a GPS removes the worry of straying off the map, the only bit of grit in the otherwise fantasmic experience of driving. The helpful shop boy explained that the difference between the two major competing brands was that one has better maps, locating ability, and interface, while the other lets you download funny voices (so you can get directions from Homer Simpson, or Mr. T).
After much deliberation, I went with the first, but I'm not sure I made the right decision. It comes with a male voice and a female voice in a plethora of languages, including three variations on English (American, British, and Australian.) I thought I'd probably go with one of the female voices, but they all turned out to be a bit irritating (I was hoping for something more Majel Barrett Roddenberry sounding) so I guess my navigation demon is male. And he's very secure with his masculinity, thank you very much; I made a GPS cozy (so I can walk around town with him in my pocket, if need be, without damaging the screen) out of the left-overs of the pink satin I used to make my regency ball gown for Jane Austen Con. And he wares it with panache; my mother always said that it takes a real man to wear pink well.
Now I just have to decide if he's American, British, or Australian (sounds more New Zealand, if you ask me), and then I need to Name him, because you really would not want anything messing around with your GPS. That happened to me when I was visiting Maggie in Ireland, actually. We named our rental car, but forgot to attend to the GPS, and so it kept trying to trick us into driving off the road. (Come to it, I wish that Irish was one of the voice options, but then again, I probably really would be driving off of the road half the time. He'd be all “turn left at Newberry street” and I'd be all “I love you, and I always have!!!!!” :::TREE!!::: <---That's a true story.)
*I refer to all technology invented during my lifetime as a demon, because I don't want to become used to it's existence, but would rather maintain a feeling that mixes wonder at it's abilities with a certain measure of mistrust.
After much deliberation, I went with the first, but I'm not sure I made the right decision. It comes with a male voice and a female voice in a plethora of languages, including three variations on English (American, British, and Australian.) I thought I'd probably go with one of the female voices, but they all turned out to be a bit irritating (I was hoping for something more Majel Barrett Roddenberry sounding) so I guess my navigation demon is male. And he's very secure with his masculinity, thank you very much; I made a GPS cozy (so I can walk around town with him in my pocket, if need be, without damaging the screen) out of the left-overs of the pink satin I used to make my regency ball gown for Jane Austen Con. And he wares it with panache; my mother always said that it takes a real man to wear pink well.
Now I just have to decide if he's American, British, or Australian (sounds more New Zealand, if you ask me), and then I need to Name him, because you really would not want anything messing around with your GPS. That happened to me when I was visiting Maggie in Ireland, actually. We named our rental car, but forgot to attend to the GPS, and so it kept trying to trick us into driving off the road. (Come to it, I wish that Irish was one of the voice options, but then again, I probably really would be driving off of the road half the time. He'd be all “turn left at Newberry street” and I'd be all “I love you, and I always have!!!!!” :::TREE!!::: <---That's a true story.)
*I refer to all technology invented during my lifetime as a demon, because I don't want to become used to it's existence, but would rather maintain a feeling that mixes wonder at it's abilities with a certain measure of mistrust.