mrsveteran (mrsveteran) wrote,

A Safe Place

I'm sure that not many of you know this, but I, among my other amazing and wonderful talents, such as being able to trip over my own feet and the ability to sing the lyrics from Gilligan's Island to the tune of "House of the Rising Sun," happen to be a security GOD.

(Or "Goddess," if you wish, but let's not be sexist.)

That's right. If you have any valuables, I can make sure that they are never stolen, because I have a sheer talent for that kind of thing.

In fact, I put things in such very, VERY safe places, that I, myself, cannot find them!

Yes, it's true. Even as we speak, I have spent the past twenty minutes searching my house for the book I was reading yesterday. It is in such a safe place that I have not yet discovered it.

Now, you can say what you want, but THAT'S security, man. To tell you the truth, I usually put down the book I'm currently reading in one of three places. I distinctly remember yesterday, as I put it down, thinking, "If I put this book down here, I will never find it. I probably should put it in one of the usual three places."

But I didn't.

And so, it is in a safe place.

Charlie is good at this too, but not as good as I am. Generally, when he's wandering through the house, muttering and cursing with multiple uses of, varying tenses of, and emphasis on, the word "fuck," I'll ask him what's going on.

"I'm looking for my fucking DSM IV," he'll snarl.

"Well, do you remember the last time you had it?" I'll ask.

You always have to ask this when someone can't find something. I'm not sure why. After all, if they remembered the last time they had it, then they'd just go there and find it, now wouldn't they? I think it's just one of those quaint American customs like tying garlic to your door to keep the vampires out. The obligation to ask this question may, in fact, be in the Constitution, but I'd have to double check on that.

At this point in the conversation, Charlie generally starts muttering things like, "Well, I know I had it at blah blah, and then I was looking at it for yadda yadda," whilst squinching (a sort of cross between squooshing and squinting and scrunching) his face into different thoughtful configurations.

(Which reminds me: I really need to buy a video camera.)

Finally, he'll turn to me and say, "Well. It's in a safe place."

Of course, me being the security GOD(ess) that I am, I'll usually, at this point, take a glance around the room, lift up a stray paper towel or something, and say "Is this what you were looking for?" somewhat in the same tone as a stage magician uses to say, "Is THIS your card?"

And of course, it is. So, as I'm sure you can see, I am much better at these security things than Charlie, because I can find the things that he puts in a safe place.

In the past, I have applied my elite security talents to the spam problem (by completely deleting Charlie's email account) and to the issue of network security (by flash-frying my router to death with a massive charge of static electricity), accomplishing the task of not only making Charlie's email completely spam-free, but also preventing any hackers (or anyone else for that matter, including us) from accessing our network.

100% spam prevention. There is no one -- NO ONE -- who can come up to that level of security genius. And if some (well, okay, all) legitimate emails are lost along the way, well. Isn't that a small price to pay when you think about it?

So, at this time, I'd like to announce that I am available for security consulting on a freelance basis. Give me a call anytime.

Oh, but be sure to leave a voicemail. I have a cordless phone which currently is in a very safe place.
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