Earlier this afternoon, I read about CDW's adventures in Texas with her husband and their encounter with a GPS. This moring, coincidentally, I was reading The Women's Colony , where an attempt was made to explain why men can't find things.
Being the proud owner of a finely tuned UTD (Uterine Tracking Device), I have long been driven to exasperation by the fact that the Husband, and now Chickenhead, can't find something even if it's staring them in the face. The Husband will paw through drawers, dig through the garage, search in long-forgotten cabinets for some little something that he just KNOWS was just here, dammit, and if he can't find it, then obviously, someone has taken it and moved it. And by God, if he can't find it, blah, blah, blah. Right about then, I reach down in front of him and produce the item he's been searching for.
Considering that the Husband is doing good to even make it out of the house, I was at first grateful that he bought a GPS device. 'This will be awesome', I thought. I was excited at the thought that we would be able to get somewhere without it being up to me to mapquest the address, print it off and all that.
We call our GPS 'Lolo'. I'm not sure why. Lolo is an annoying, smug little thing, and she doesn't hesitate to tell you what she thinks of you. I can hear the disdain in her voice whenever she says 're-cal-cu-lating'. Lolo says that a lot, because the Husband never takes her advice. No, he goes his own way, because 'Lolo doesn't know the shortcuts'. How does he know shortcuts to a place he's never been before? How does he know Lolo is going the 'wrong' way? And why did the Husband program directions for all the places he already knows how to get to? So now when we go to visit his mother, Lolo is recalculating her way down the highway, because the Husband doesn't have time to go by her directions. I'm not sure I even know why we got Lolo.
Lolo would be a greater help, I think, if she were able to remind someone (the Husband, for example) of all the crap he needs to take with him before he leaves the driveway. Lolo could list off his sunglasses, phone, cigarettes and whatever crap he feels the need to cart along with him. Why can't I program Lolo to show him where in the house the dirty dishes go ('turn right in three feet, and go directly to the kitchen), or where his 'lost' things are? Lolo can blabber at him all she wants, but I think I need to figure out how to get her to help me out a little, too!