A Computer Savvy Girl in a Family of Farmers (a funny story)

my farm

I recently moved back to the family farm because I was sick of the city. In the city a term like “computer savvy” probably means a lot more than it does out on the family farm. While my brothers are cleaning pig poop out of the sty, I’m scrolling through Facebook. And while Father’s setting fair in the stable, I’m writing a blog post. Let me tell you it isn’t fair to be even a whit well-versed in the usages of a computer when most of your family are hicks (I know they’ll never read this). As soon as something technical to do with electricity breaks down or malfunctions, my family will come barging into my room with mud on their faces demanding that I get up to help them posthaste, ‘cus, as they put it, “I’m all wise in the ways of computer chips and such.” SMH and FML…

I decided to make this the topic for today because I’ve done enough complaining to myself over the past few years to write a damned book on the subject, and, for all I know, there might be a researcher out there wondering what it’s like to be somewhat savvy with computers when living with a troupe of god-awful hillbillies and cretins, let alone if they’re wondering if there’s even anyone out there who still doesn’t know how to turn on a laptop in 2018 (there is)!

I’m fortunate enough to still have a grandpa kicking around and, unlike my father who can be a little feminine with his feelings sometimes, he’s proud to be the man of the household, and I mean “man of the household” with all of its stereotypes attached. Every night at supper grandpa’s boasting about how he still makes all the hay and does all the pruning even though he’s over seventy and has arthritis in one elbow (God help him). “My other elbow is stronger than all the elbows that shouldn’t be on the damn table right now put together! Dammit, Harris, don’t make grandma come riding her wheelchair out of the grave to whoop your scrawny arse! Take that damn thing off the table!” is exactly something he would say, and has said on more than one occasion.

Just the other day, perhaps the reason I’m fuming more than usual right now (not the full reason, as you’ll soon learn), the same old man literally kicked down my door while I was sleeping to scream, “My electric razor stopped working! Can you fix it? I got church in four hours and I can’t go looking like the damned Bigfoot.”

I told him to do what every other old man is doing and stick with the old fashioned razor blade. He liked that answer and left me to my sweet, sweet miserable dreams.

The only laptop on the farm is mine and so you can imagine how annoying it is when one of your brothers, still pissed off about the shutting down of the local DVD store, wants to download a movie and, after lending the thing to him, he gives it back to you five minutes later looking tenfold happier and you notice a dollop of hand-cream on the space-bar… (nuff said)

A month ago I contemplated going back to church because I needed a means of releasing all this pent-up anger roiling in my viscera. Little did I know there were dozens of little old ladies with VHS players that needed fixing, and they magically knew of my amazing computer expertise. One little granny with a walker even said, “My grandson wants to watch Pokemon movies all day for his birthday and I thought you’d like to join him, considering you both love those Japanese cartoons so much.” Thinking of it now I wonder how the hell she knew I like anime (that’s a secret even my friends don’t know), but at the time I just, as kindly as I could, explained I was twenty years older than her grandson and Pokemon is nothing (I mean NOTHING) like the kind of violent Japanese cartoons I like to watch. She still didn’t understand so I went to the bathroom to scream into a hand-full of balled up toilet paper.

This morning the last straw was plucked from my sanity when one of my brothers, the youngest one (he’s still older than me), finished feeding the chickens and thought it would be funny to come up to me while I was eating breakfast and call my a “nerd” just because I was reading an article on my phone. I wanted to rush up and slap him in the kisser with a ringed fist but instead remembered my many years if self-training and called him redneck as a counterattack. Ah, it felt good to see his cheeks redden in rage. Apparently he couldn’t handle his own emotions so, while I was finishing up my meal, he snuck into my room and smashed my laptop screen with a hammer. Yup, he really did it. “Call me a redneck now!” is what he screamed when I confronted him. Oh, you can bet I did. Indeed, I called him a lot more than just a redneck.

Luckily Computer Repair Nerds was kind enough to make the trip up island to replace my laptop screen today (or else I wouldn’t be writing this). Already I feel a lot better getting this off my chest, and part of me hopes the said brother one day reads this. If you are reading this, dear brother, I just want you to know you were born a redneck and you’ll die one. Ah, yes, that feels so good. For anyone else reading this, I’m sorry. Surely you can understand. I guess there’s another reason why having a pet is good. Like right now if it wasn’t for my cat I’d probably smash my own screen all over again. *Sigh*

Well, there goes the confessions of a computer savvy farm-girl living with a bunch of morons. I hope you got a laugh out of it, ‘cus I sure didn’t.