Madison Hayes and Grandma Gert discuss whether to disconnect the tech or freely get the freak on.
Dear Fake Life Coaches,
My fiancé Jasmine controls all her stuff with apps and she wants me to do the same. I keep telling her no, no effing way. I always forget to change the few passwords I have, plus I’m a local news celebrity. My apartment is the only place where I can disconnect. The thought of attaching my safety zone to the cloud makes me itch.
That's why I rarely hang at Jasmine’s. Her appliances give me…performance issues. The dryer is always listening and her touchscreen fridge knows how to send picture updates. What if I’m getting down and dirty in my Khal Drogo costume and a crazed hacker posts it to TikTok? Who would take my tornado warnings seriously?
I thought Jasmine understood how I felt, but apparently not. Yesterday, she surprised me by hooking up everything I own to a hub service for my birthday. I found out the hard way when my phone fell out of my pocket and my Prius lit up like a Decepticon in the station parking lot. Let me tell ya, having Associate Producer Chad give you mouth to mouth on the asphalt is no way to spend your thirty-second birthday.
When I made Jasmine cancel the service, she refused to eat cake and ice cream and gave me the silent treatment, so I faked strep throat and called her an Uber. This whole thing has me wondering—is this a wakeup call? Should I end our engagement? I don’t know how Jasmine and I can ever live together.
Signed, Private in Portland
Boogie into this century, Private. They make security software and password reminders for a reason.
But Madison…Khal Drogo. Who needs electronics when you’ve got a hunky chieftain in the house?
Is Drogo going to adjust my grow lights while I’m running the twins to gymnastics? Is he going to start my SUV and turn on the air before I lug my cooler and lawn chair across the soccer field?
Just because it’s handy for you doesn’t mean everyone has to conform.
No, but Jasmine shouldn’t have to give up her creature comforts because Private is paranoid.
Private is still entitled to his privacy. The other day, I was playing Bad Baker Bette in my pasties and rhinestone thong for Amos, and I forgot to close the kitchen blinds. You know our neighbor Doug?
Don’t tell me you broke Doug.
Like a porcelain pie plate. Every time I see the dearie at the mailbox, his mouth flops open and closed like a rainbow trout and he speedwalks back into his house.
Sh#t, he was supposed to coach volleyball this season.
He’ll be fine once he gets a taste of my world famous peach cobbler. I’ve got a crate of extra-large succulent peaches just begging to be indulged. Served warm, that cobbler will be dripping down his chin.
Wow, uh, you might want to offer poor Doug something less intense, like maybe homemade tapioca. As for Private and Jasmine, there’s no need to call off the engagement. They can find a compromise.
I agree. This is just one of many differences they’ll have to resolve during their marriage, like who does the dishes and who takes the naughty costumes to the dry cleaner.
What is with you today?
Nothing, dear. Private and Jasmine should start with a discussion about respect and personal boundaries. She shouldn’t have forced her beliefs onto him without his permission.
And Private should beef up his knowledge of cybersecurity and passwords. Take a little control over the unknown instead of freaking out about it.
And if he’s still having performance issues in front of the dryer, they could disable their routers during playtime.
Seems unnecessary, but sure. Whatever helps.
I’d never disable our router. I wouldn’t want to deprive those hacker-peepers of a good bedroom tutorial. You know, Amos and I—
Oops, would you look at the time, kids are calling me, gotta run, bye!