LIFE LESSONS

Can you please stop auto correcting me?

Is it me or is auto correct infuriatingly crap? The name itself is a misnomer, because it fails utterly to predict what my sausage fingers are trying to type. It has occurred to me that maybe it’s just too darn much to ask for a piece of software to accurately predict whatever half-thought is being cooked up in my slimy brain. But we are living in a time when sending people to space ON HOLIDAY is a real possibility, there’s talk of developing flying cars, we’ve discovered the Higgs Bosun (I should add that I was not personally involved) so I don’t really get why we can’t we have a predictive text system that doesn’t utterly suck. I fight with my phone daily over ‘and’, one of the most commonly conjunctive words in the English language because it overrides me and uses ‘abs’ instead. I assure you, I never, ever have cause to use the word abs. If I had a pound for every time I wrote ‘I’m on the cup’ instead of ‘bus’ I could probably afford to buy a car by now. I stopped bothering to correct auto correct when it insisted over and over again that my dear friend Maeve should herein be referred to as Obdue and I have no idea why it thinks ‘carbs’ is short for Carbamazepine. Maybe auto correct is evil and likes having people text their mothers to inquire if she’s free for a call but instead end up sending a message asking if she’s ready for anal? (this really happened, and no she wasn’t). I once got on the Tube (or the Tuberculosis as my phone suggests) and feeling inspired, and a little drunk, decided I’d pen a few lines of my untitled, unwritten and totally unwanted first novel. In the morning I went to reread it, thinking I’d written an opening line to match Austen or Tolstoy. Here’s what I wrote: “Not haunt tjveaxoukin yes, I do ashy a second slice or toast and Han. I’m hair beige shuffle.” It won‘t even let me curse, and I ducking hate it.