This is exactly why we can’t have nice things

ironman copyMike says he can’t remember his dreams, but when he does, he’s sometimes running from the law. I imagine he’s not remembering why he’s on the lam because his subconscious is taking the fifth.

Ironically, those of us around here most likely to have something weighing on our conscience are also the ones with completely pleasant dreams we do remember.

“What’s that word for being in the middle of a dream where you realize you’re actually dreaming?” Jack asked me this afternoon.

I’d forgotten there was such a term, so I looked it up. It’s a lucid dream.

Anytime I have a dream where I realize I’m actually dreaming, I immediately try to do one of two things: fly like superman, or ask Tony Stark if he’s in the mood to come up to my place for a nightcap.

I certainly didn’t want this conversation with my kid to find its way to my explaining my dreams about a quickie with Iron Man, but the question came out of my mouth before I thought through where things could have led.

“What did you dream about?”

Jack said he knew he had been dreaming, because in real life he doesn’t have the iPhone he’d held in his hand. Then he dropped the subject. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief. No conversation about sex dreams with my teenager. Thank God.

Shortly after that, I read a story online about a guy who allegedly murdered his roommate and then asked Siri where to hide the body. Siri, always the jokester, was said to have given several options: swamps, reservoirs, metal foundries, or dumps. That information, plus some screen shots from his phone, were used as evidence in the trial.

I should note: whatever site it was on which I found this story, later admitted to getting some pretty significant details wrong, but that’s not the point of this blog. And besides, I was well enough into this idea by the time the story was debunked that I’m just going to go with the earlier version of reality.

Anyway, the story went on to note that, as a result of the alleged murderer’s illicit query, the iPhone gods have supposedly fixed things so Siri won’t tell you where to stash a body. I was kind of bummed I didn’t know she even had that capability. I’ve tried to tell her knock-knock jokes, but never thought to ask her where to hide evidence. I just wasn’t using my imagination, I guess.

The other thing is, now, if Mike’s going to be on the lam in his dreams, he won’t get any help from his phone.

It makes me wonder: what else has been ruined by the nefarious intentions of technology scofflaws?

The other night was neighbors’ night out in our ‘hood, the time of year when our ardent Neighborhood Watch chair orders us all to go out onto the street with lawn chairs, snacks and cheery smiles.

I thought about doing a little pre-neighbors’-night-out sprucing up of the front yard, just to keep up appearances …

… and I did look at the yard for at least a good minute, before I likened any effort I might expend to being the equivalent of putting lipstick on a pig. I settled for brushing off our canvas chairs and making sure our patio umbrella wasn’t hosting any spider’s nests.

Oh, I’m all into the extra effort when it comes to impressing the neighbors.

I set out the chairs and a folding table with snacks in the middle(ish) of the cul-de-sac in front of our house. I claimed one chair by setting my beer in the cup holder, and went back inside to yell at the kids to come out and be social with the neighbors, who were already congregating in the street, pretending like they didn’t notice my lawn needed water.

When I returned to my chair, I wondered if I should just leave the beer in the cup holder, or if I should even claim the seat at all, considering the uniformed police officer lounging in the chair next to it.

When you ask Siri about open container laws in Idaho, she feigns the same sort of ignorance she will now apparently exhibit if you ask her where to hide a body. This makes me wonder if someone’s tried asking her about public drinking before. Like, if you were to challenge a ticket in court, could they conceivably counter with screen shots of your phone’s browser history, proving you asked if Siri could do a Breathalyzer?

… Which makes me think someone must have indeed gotten to Siri. It may have been my husband when he borrowed Jack’s phone in a dream he can’t remember.

Stupid, murderous roommates ruin technology for everyone.


Somehow this all sounded better in my head. Whatever. You’ve gotten this far. You might as well vote. Thank you.


Photo by Do-Hyun Kim


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  1. So that\’s why Siri just tells me I\’m funny now, when I ask her where to hide a body! Mystery solved. What would I do without you, Beth?

    You should ask her about what the fox says. Siri is full of wonderful information.