COMING TO TERMS WITH LEFT-HANDEDNESS

Do these come in a left-handed version? Or am I doing something wrong?

So there I was, lying face down on a muddy footpath, unable to move.


"At least it's not even 4am yet," I thought to myself. "No people, no traffic. That should save  me a bit of embarrassment. Now, if I can just pick myself up and dust myself off before anyone sees me, I'll grab my scooter, carry on to work and we can forget this silly incident ever happened."


Except I couldn't. I couldn't pick myself up. I couldn't seem to move at all.


"No people," I thought. "No traffic."


Then I realised what the problem was; there seemed to be a laptop on my head. My bag had come flying forward when I had, landing on me heavily as I skidded down the hill like Superman, except, as I was about to discover, not quite as invincible.


"No worries, I'll just shove that laptop off and I'll be on my way. Hope my computer's alright."


Shove shove I didn't at all. In no way. No shove. Bugger.


No people. No traffic.


"Why can't I move, dammit?" I think I actually said that one out loud. I was getting a bit frustrated now. There seemed to be something wrong with my right shoulder. I tried to move it with a little more intent. "AAAAaaarrrgh!" I said, definitely out loud this time. Then there was a bit of heavy breathing, possibly some snivelling and probably a whimper or two. I was going to need some help here, trouble was...


No people. No traffic.


Perhaps I could ring someone on my awesome Nokia Lumia 800 Windows phone. Well I could... except my phone was in the right front pocket of my coat which meant at that particular moment I was lying on it.


It was about then I realised I'd just have to accept it; I was now left-handed. I'd rather not think about what happened immediately after that, needless to say there was huffing, puffing, screaming, yelling, crying and a lot of stopping to put my head between my legs so I wouldn't pass out. I'd like to describe my 1 and a half block ascent to work as a heroic struggle of mind and determination over pain and adversity, but I probably just looked like some drunken hunchback dragging a scooter and a laptop bag up a short rise.


So many questions... Why didn't I just leave the scooter behind? Why was I on a scooter at 4am anyway? Am I an idiot? Some questions I can answer, some remain a mystery. The point is, I got to work, couldn't move, they called an ambulance, I went to hospital, my shoulder was dislocated and now it's RElocated.


I've been left with my right arm in a sling and an 80% chance of popping the bloody thing out again. Needless to say, I'm now being fairly careful how I go about my day. Who knew how difficult left-handed tooth-brushing would be? Obviously the left-handed bum-wipe has netted mixed results and as for my left-handed shaving efforts, I'm just relieved to have avoided decapitation so far.


While I was still able to construct my regular Sunday morning treat of poached eggs on toast this week, it was a humbling experience to have to ask the Domestic Manager to cut it up for me so I could actually eat it. See those headshots on either side of this post? Believe it or not, I cut my own hair to achieve that eye-catching style. My recent left-handed efforts are somewhat more avant garde. I've never heard amputees talk of their unique sock application challenges. It's obviously a cross they've been willing bear in stoic silence thus far, but now I'm breaking that silence, man. Putting on socks with one hand is virtually impossible! Why don't they make them with some sort of hoop at the top for easy access? It's like they're not hollow at all. Damn you socks! Why must you keep returning to your original 2-dimensional state? I almost had a big toe in there then but no, there goes righty-sock, catapulted across the bedroom like a deflating balloon.


Then the ultimate knock down of my last few remaining pegs; the tomato relish jar. 


I'm not really what you'd call a man's man. I'm no fighter. I'm not outdoorsy and to be honest, I'm just as happy with a cocktail in my hand as I am sucking on a beer. But one thing I can do, is open jars. (Insert Tim Allen style man-grunt here) Imagine my horror when the Domestic Manager tried to uncap the relish the other night (obviously without success) and DIDN'T EVEN GIVE ME THE CHANCE TO OPEN IT! She just put it back in the fridge where it tormented me all weekend, every time I opened the door. Today, I decided I wanted relish, so the Domestic Manager had another go. Still no joy. Now was my chance. She protested. I insisted. She relented. I took the jar. I failed completely. She had another go. Off came the lid.


"I must've loosened it for you," I joked in an obligatory way, but I did not relish the relish.
It tasted bitter somehow, as I adjusted my sling and looked ahead to my new life as a lefty.

In the wrong hand, this could be a murder weapon

WHY DON'T THEY LIKE ME?

This is exactly what I was afraid of. Only 26 people like me. And that's out of the whole world.


Up until very recently, I was a devout Facebook sceptic. That doesn't mean I didn't believe Facebook existed. I knew it existed. Many people I respected and trusted claimed to be using it on a regular basis. But I was really only taking Facebook's existence on faith, given I hadn't personally experienced it.


That movie about it was pretty convincing though. I'm not sure if you could ever really take anything Justin Timberlake says seriously, but I've seen that bloke who played Steve Zuckerberg in some other films and he's always come across as pretty sincere.


So I had reason to believe Facebook was a real thing. But I was still sceptical. Sceptical... and suspicious. I was sceptical about what people said it could do, and suspicious about what I thought it was trying to do. People claimed it was the ultimate networking tool. Essential for promoting your business, your brand, your holiday snaps.


On the other hand, I believed it was, in fact, a giant cyber-brain, sucking up all knowledge and stealing everyone's identities.


My theory may have been slightly paranoid.


Somewhere along the way, even the Domestic Manager set up a Facebook account. I said something like, "Ha ha! Let's see how you get along without your identity, once it's been stolen!" and I sat back to watch her knowledge being sucked up. I sat quite a long way back, not sure just how powerful the suction would be.


But it turned out Facebook didn't suck. Well, not for the Domestic Manager anyway. Each day she woke up with her identity still completely intact. As for her knowledge, it seemed to actually increase, as she caught up with people she hadn't heard from in ages and was kept up to date by all her favourite businesses, brands and personalities.


"There just might be something in this Facebook thing," I thought, still maintaining a firm grip on my identity, just in case. Then glennzb tv came along and I decided to dive in, take the plunge and really launch this thing with a splash. (WARNING: never take your TV into a swimming pool. Certainly not without unplugging it first)


I took a deep breath, double-checked my identity was securely velcroed in place, and created my own Facebook page. I thought I'd done all the right things; I used a whacky and creative montage as my cover photo. I secured glennzb as a unique url so I'd be easy to find. (Who would have guessed "facebook.com/glennzb" wouldn't have been snapped up years ago?) I even started writing insightful and stimulating blogs so my thousands of Facebook fans would be rewarded for their intense browsation of my page.


I then clicked "publish" and waited for the likes.


And waited...


...and waited.


I got worried. For the first time ever, I Googled myself. I couldn't find me. Oh god, this is exactly what I'd dreaded - I'd only been on Facebook 51 seconds and already my identity had been stolen. So I resorted to begging. I emailed friends, relatives, the Domestic Manager. "Please like me," I said. "You don't have to actually like me. Just like me."


That helped a bit. My page clawed its way up to 15 likes then stalled completely. 15? Surely more than 15 people would like me. I would have thought more than 15 people would stumble onto my page and ACCIDENTALLY like me - just while looking for the "Go Back" button.


Then I posted another glennzb tv episode and Facebook asked me if I wanted to "promote" it. I didn't know what that meant, but by this stage I was desperate. I clicked "yes" shouting, "Promote me! Promote me to the world! Promote me hard! Promote me long!" Like I say, pretty desperate. I have no idea how Facebook did it, but suddenly, 25 likes and I was on a roll. Just 5 more likes and I'd have access to "insights". I had no clue what they were, but I wanted those insights, goddammit.


I may never attain them, however, for I have now been sitting in "like limbo" for days. 26 likes out of the whole world. Does that mean the rest of the global population doesn't care at all? I feel lost. I feel alone. I feel cast adrift in cyberspace. Why was I ever tempted to put myself "out there" in the first place? Was it vanity? Was it delusions of grandeur? Was it just that I had a bit of time on my hands? Damn you Facebook! You promised so much but your settings and options are so cryptic! There must be a knack to this, but I think I missed it.


Like some mildly unpopular 12 year-old nobody's picked on their bullrush team because there was an odd number, I've been left sitting on the sidelines of the virtual world, watching the others deliberately letting themselves get tackled. (I know you don't really have teams in bullrush, but it was the first cool playground game that sprang to mind)


Mind you, at least I still have my identity...

ARE SMART PHONES JUST MAKING US DUMBER?

"There must be an app for that."

You hear those words every day and more often than not, there is. 


My phone is a Nokia Lumia 800, and it's very smart indeed. It has the interweb. It has my email. It has Twitter, Facebook and Youtube. It knows some people in my email address book also like me on Facebook. Not only that, it knows some of those people follow me on Twitter too. It's very good at making those sorts of connections - something I'd never be able to keep straight in my head.


I used to get lost when people gave me directions. Now my phone tells me how to get there... and how to get home again. I used to forget the odd appointment. Now my day's calendar appears right there on my lock screen.


I wonder what the weather will be like next Thursday? There's an app for that. I wonder how many km's my run is? There's an app for that. I wonder what my father-in-law and his wife would look like if they swapped heads? Yes, there's actually an app that does that too. I've used it. It's hilarious. But it's quite disturbing too, and not just because you should never transplant your father-in-law's head on someone else's body.


The really disturbing thing is, I didn't even have to use my imagination. I just downloaded the app and it did it.


I'm a big fan of not thinking. Especially after about 11am. I'm just too tired by then. That's when my Nokia really kicks into gear. It can do all my thinking for me, you see. It can tell me exactly the right time to go to bed and how long I should stay asleep. My phone now knows what I should eat, when and where. And what, when and where my friends will be eating today too.


Oh, and when I say friends... I'm pretty sure they're real people. I mean, I've never met them or anything but they seem to like me and we have heaps in common... Whoever they are. Wherever they are. I wonder what they look like? I'm sure there's an app to generate a portrait of them.


That'd be great. Then I could use an app to mix up a collage of them all and with this other app I've got, I can upload them into the cloud so they can all see themselves.


Is there anything there isn't an app for yet? I doubt it. Maybe there's an app that helps you come up with ideas for new apps. Again, thinking... creativity... ingenuity... so last century.


There must be an app to remind people to turn off their bloody phones when the go to the movies, the theatre or the gym, or is there a self-perpetuating app rule that prevents that kind of negative phone non-use?


Speaking of people at the theatre, next time you go, count the number of patrons fiddling with their phones right up to the moment the lights go down. I guess the people they came with aren't nearly as interesting as the ones who they're chatting with from somewhere else.
Why did they bother coming at all? Surely they could've just streamed it online. Or better still, watched the show as it was performed on Broadway when it opened. That'd save driving into town and looking for a park - if you haven't downloaded a good carparking app that is.


Is there a Number 8 Wire app, just for us here in New Zealand? Hang on, I'll look it up... ...Believe it or not, there's not. Oh my god, I think I just had an actual idea; Number 8 Wire, the app you use when you can't quite find the actual app you need. How come my phone didn't think of that for me?


Maybe that's coming in the next upgrade.

WORLD'S FIRST HIGGS BOSON DENIER

Could this be an image of what the Higgs Boson might look like?... Probably not

Does this whole God Particle thing not just seem a bit fishy to you?


I know it's just a movie, but in Angels and Demons, when they use the Large Hadron Collider to capture dark matter, they bung it in a bunch of jars - a bit like when mum used to make marmalade.


Where are the jars of dark matter? That's what I want to know. I'm not saying I expected hand written labels and little gingham hats on top but I thought we'd get something. A photo. A video. A black hole causing the end of life on Earth as we know it. Something.


Instead, we seem to be more than happy to take these wonks at their word. Sure, it's not every day we see nerds of this calibre break down and cry because their alleged discovery is just so damned universe-defining, so it's pretty compelling stuff. I just have this nagging doubt they're making the whole thing up. Like the moon landings.


I mean, when was the last time science discovered something decent? Fire? That was pretty cool. Electricity? Yep, also turned out to be quite useful, and not just for scorching Ben Franklin's kites. What else? Radio waves? Where would I be without them? But dark matter? The God Particle? Higgs Boson? Who's naming this stuff? George Lucas?


Let's face facts, these guys (and they seem to be mostly guys, which is probably why it took them so long to find this thing in the first place) these guys were Science's last hope at discovering something even niftier than nuclear fission. So they spent, according to some estimates, $8.5billion building a 27km tunnel so they could smash sub-atomic particles apart, hopefully without destroying the entire planet in the process.


That's a lot of pressure to come up with the goods.


So rather than admit they'd wasted a lot of time, a great deal of money and quite a length of tunnel, I can't help wondering if they just... faked it. Who would be able to tell the difference? How many quantum physicists do you hang out with? For all we know, that silver-haired bloke welling up in the lecture theatre wasn't even called Higgs - could've just been some method actor who can cry on cue. I'm not even convinced Stephen Hawking is a real person - if I had a brain the size of a planet, why would I settle for a computer voice that sounds like something from an episode of Doctor Who? (And I'm talking Tom Baker era Doctor Who here - nothing recent) It's so weird that voice - why does it have an American accent? He was born in Oxford. Even the GPS on my phone does accents. Mind you, there's not much the magical Nokia Lumia 800 can't do. I wonder if it has a "Find the Higgs Boson" app. Probably.


And that's exactly what Science has failed to do with this thing; make it have an effect on our everyday lives. Unless we get a smarter phone or a bigger TV out of it, I don't think we'll have a lasting love affair with Higgs, or his Boson. They just haven't made anti-matter matter.

Probably doesn't look anything like this either...

WHY DOES MY CAT HATE ME?

I'm no animal lover. I admit it. I'm not the kind of guy who'll stop in the middle of his run to pat a "cute" dog. Actually, most of the time, I'm not even sure there's any such thing as a cute dog. Unless your definition of "cute" is actually a bit dim, smelly and a tendency to drool inappropriately. Like I say, not really an animal lover.

But that doesn't mean I'd cross the road to kick one either. In fact, I wouldn't even cross the road to avoid one - imagine the time that'd add onto my run. I'm reasonably fit, but I'm not Superman. I can't be deviating off course at the sight of an out-of-control chihuahua - I'd never make it home.

So let's just say, I'm not a dog person. Does that then mean I'm automatically a cat person? Not if my relationship with our cat is anything to go by.

She seemed like such a normal kitten. Soft. Trusting. Playful. You know, all that usual shit. But somewhere along the line, she decided I was the enemy, to be avoided at all costs.

She'll do tricks for one daughter. She'll play stupid games with the other. And as for the Domestic Manager, come snuggle-on-the-couch time, suddenly there's only one lap in town. Do I get any love? Do I get a bundle of purring fluff on my lap? Nup. Not so much as a sideways glance.

It's like someone spread a rumour about me in catland - as though word's got out I'm some kind of devil-worshiping puss-sacrificer. (I'm not, by the way. As religions go, that one sounds a bit high maintenance to me)

I've simply been ostracised. By the cat anyway, The rest of the household just thinks it's funny. I've tried feeding her treats. being the first one to let her in out of the cold. I even rolled around on the floor the other night, making non-threatening cat noises. That got a pretty good laugh too.

So I give up now. Maybe one day I'll get my own cat who'll love me for who I am. Sadly, in this case, a bit like Tom and Katie, there are obviously irreconcilable differences. She just hasn't told me what they are.