Buffalo Gal

It was wrong in 1968 about whether Dexter Rindell was going to buy me an ice cream sandwich in the cafteria. (An extremely efficient system whereby you could "go with" someone without actually having to speak to them - ever)
It completely blew it about making football cheerleading in 1975.
And it said my first marriage would "Absolutely" be a success.
So precedent sat clearly against placing fate again in the windowed orb of the Magic Eight Ball.
But when Google offered the digital version for my personal homepage -- I downloaded it without a second thought. Who doesn't need a little random reinforcement of decisions throughout the course of the day?
And my download was a kind one. "Yes, definately" the new haircut worked. "You may rely on it" that a weekend away was a good idea. "Without a doubt" a client lunch filled with questions would resolve well.
At 10 for 10 I started giving it bigger issues. I even threw in a few public affairs questions. It was quite sure the kids-at-press-conference-thing would boomerang back on Reynolds and that the Cardinals would not cinch in their first game back at Busch.
The combination of Google and my grade school oracle had apparently created the "Magic" that was only a copy line on the package box before...
The little black icon taunted me this morning as my bosses left the office for a client pitch involving a righteous issue and a great client ... people who I have worked with before and for whom I have tremendous respect and affection.
I really wanted this one.
With the choice of waiting the agonizing hours ahead or double-clicking fate -- of course, I grabbed the mouse.
"Reply hazy, try again."
When I leave the lights on in my car it takes the battery about 20 minutes to fire up again, so I assigned it that interval.
"Outlook is not so good"
But the business pitch was dead on. No other agency in town could touch on this this particular piece of business.
I clicked again.
"My reply is no."
Damn, I thought. You can't question Magic mojo.
The bosses looked so happy and hopeful when they came back. I wouldn't be the one to break it to them.
But at least I'd be ready when the call came.
It came quickly and decidedly -- we got the business.
I asked it if it should be deleted from my homepage - and
"My reply is no" popped up defiantly.
Like I really thought it would say "Yes."

Copyright 2006 Judi Griggs

Buffalo Gal Judi Griggs I'm a communications professional, writer, cynic, mother, wife and royal pain. The order depends on the day. I returned to my hometown in November 2004 after a couple of decades of heat and hurricanes. I can polish pristine copy, but not here. This is my morning exercise -- 20-minute takes without a net or spellcheck. It's easier than sit ups for me. No guarantee what it will be for you. Clicking on the subscribe link will send you an email notice when each new entry is posted.
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Previous Entry :: Next Entry Read/Post Comments (0) Share on Facebook		2006-10-09 4:07 PM There's nothing magic about that Eight Ball It was wrong in 1968 about whether Dexter Rindell was going to buy me an ice cream sandwich in the cafteria. (An extremely efficient system whereby you could "go with" someone without actually having to speak to them - ever) It completely blew it about making football cheerleading in 1975. And it said my first marriage would "Absolutely" be a success. So precedent sat clearly against placing fate again in the windowed orb of the Magic Eight Ball. But when Google offered the digital version for my personal homepage -- I downloaded it without a second thought. Who doesn't need a little random reinforcement of decisions throughout the course of the day? And my download was a kind one. "Yes, definately" the new haircut worked. "You may rely on it" that a weekend away was a good idea. "Without a doubt" a client lunch filled with questions would resolve well. At 10 for 10 I started giving it bigger issues. I even threw in a few public affairs questions. It was quite sure the kids-at-press-conference-thing would boomerang back on Reynolds and that the Cardinals would not cinch in their first game back at Busch. The combination of Google and my grade school oracle had apparently created the "Magic" that was only a copy line on the package box before... The little black icon taunted me this morning as my bosses left the office for a client pitch involving a righteous issue and a great client ... people who I have worked with before and for whom I have tremendous respect and affection. I really wanted this one. With the choice of waiting the agonizing hours ahead or double-clicking fate -- of course, I grabbed the mouse. "Reply hazy, try again." When I leave the lights on in my car it takes the battery about 20 minutes to fire up again, so I assigned it that interval. "Outlook is not so good" But the business pitch was dead on. No other agency in town could touch on this this particular piece of business. I clicked again. "My reply is no." Damn, I thought. You can't question Magic mojo. The bosses looked so happy and hopeful when they came back. I wouldn't be the one to break it to them. But at least I'd be ready when the call came. It came quickly and decidedly -- we got the business. I asked it if it should be deleted from my homepage - and "My reply is no" popped up defiantly. Like I really thought it would say "Yes." Copyright 2006 Judi Griggs Read/Post Comments (0) Previous Entry :: Next Entry Back to Top