Face it, we're already cyborgs.

Well, maybe we don't have our tech devices actually attached to our bodies mostly --- yet.  But the devices have become so imbedded into our lives, it's the same thing.

Got home last night, and there was no internet connection.  No cable.  Most aggravating, no telephone in which to call the cable company and find out what's wrong.  A year ago, I would've been shit out of luck.

But I have the cellphone that Linda thrust into the my life (and which I constantly forget to carry around or answer, frustrating her no end.)

Turns out, Linda had doubled paid on her store account, instead of covering the house account.

Whipped out my credit card and got the service up and running in about an hour.

But, boy, did the house feel empty there for awhile.

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Meanwhile, Blogger has switched to a new look, which I hate.  When they did this awhile back, they left an option for switching back, but apparently not this time.

So my animal part rebels against my tech part.

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I finally got around to watching the videos of Gangnam Style and Call Me Maybe.  So, you know, I'm only half a year behind. 

But Linda is always at least a year or two behind.  So I thought I'd short-circuit the inevitable question a year or two from now.  (Who's Bieber?  Who's Paris Hilton?  Who's Lady Gaga?  Who's Snooki?) and show her the videos.

We have a running joke in our house:  "Dancing Fat Man!"  Linda is always tickled by anything with a dancing fat man.  (I'm pretty sure that's why she fell in love with me -- some early date I got drunk enough to do a little dance.  I guessing...)  It's amazing how many dancing fat men you see once you become aware of them....

So I knew she'd absolutely love Gangnam Style.

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So she walks into the Silver Moon bar last night, and there they were playing "Gangnam Style."

"I wouldn't have known what it was!" she marveled.

Wait.  Did I bury the Lede? 

Linda and the Silver Moon bar? 

Our nephew, Max Brockman, plays in the indy band, The Good Hurt.  Here's the Sources review of them:

"The Good Hurt is like when your stomach is sore from a laughing jag or how your belly feels after a Thanksgiving feast. More to the point its how your ears feel after listening to tracks like Only in Your Mind and how your body feels after dancing to Blowing Up Tryin’ 2b Somebody. The Good Hurt is an unsigned self managed band from Manchester, England that  generates infectious beats and writes intelligent lyrics delivered in a sexy English accent by frontman James Lanman. Their sound draws from California pop, alternative rock and Motown funk. Listen to a few tracks off their debut album You Are Here and you’ll understand why they’ve played impressive venues like Slim’s in San Francisco and the Bitter End in Manhattan and at music festivals like SXSW. This is one of those rare opportunities Bendite’s sometimes get to see a band on the rise in an intimate venue for only $5. See you there. Silver Moon Brewing,  9:30pm".

I didn't know about the English connection, I thought they were based out of Seattle.

Anyway, I was really tired last night, but fortunately my son Todd was in town on his way to a rafting trip at Hell's Canyon.  (Todd lives my alternate reality life, you know, where I actually do stuff.)  So they went to represent the family.  And yes, I do kind of regret I didn't screw up my courage enough to overcome my agoraphobic leanigs.

I have their C.D. and I like it -- the kind of music I listen to.

Anyway, Linda went in support and brought me back a nifty The Good Hurt t-shirt.   She loved the music, but ....I was waiting for it....."It was too loud." 

Sigh.