skypepooAhhhhhh….the wonders of technology. As I have previously mentioned, I am a technology junkie. If it’s been invented, I’ve owned it, tried it, or at least read about it. There have been some tremendous achievements, and some not so tremendous ones, to be sure, The internet has been a tool that has enhanced much of the use of today’s cutting edge technology. And today, I present you with: Skype!

For those not aware of it, Skype is an on-line program that one can use to call another person via the internet and chat, face to face, via webcam. It’s an extremely useful tool. My son and wife recently used it to consult with a world-renowned expert in autism who resides in Montreal. Instead of travelling to see her, they regularly speak via Skype. It’s not only a time saver and money saver, but after an initial physical face-to-face, Skype is essential to their professional relationship. Depending on your computer equipment, and your connection, it is practically seamless and incredibly clear.

And therein lies the problem.

Being a doofus of incredible proportions, one can only imagine what kind of trouble I could get into with such a thing as Skype. Yet until recently I had managed to avoid these pratfalls. All was well in our Skype-iverse. We had managed to have normal calls with incredible people via internet, and everything was cool. Note the word ‘was’.

You see, on one of their recent chats, while this lady, Isabelle, was having an agreeable conversation with Anne, I was completely oblivious, off in the background, doing what I do. I had been listening to some good music, and I was merrily spinning, lurching, and break-dancing away, having had an awesome day. And as I, twirling like a spinning dervish, in my own little world in my t-shirt and underwear, spun into earshot, I hear Isabelle ask, ‘Is that your husband dancing in his underwear?’

Yes. It was. And yes. The cameras are THAT clear. And why should I, little old me, deprive a world-renowned expert in Autism a little bit of afternoon delight? And so, my dancing waned. A little les effort was involved now. A little less grunting. A little less spinning. It was epic. It was like watching a balloon slowly deflate. And as poor Anne signed off, she wondered if she would ever see Isabelle online again.

It is unfortunate. I find that because of such innovations we must cut back on our day-to-day tom-foolery. Dancing in one’s underwear in the privacy of our own home should be an inviolable right. Because of cell phones, we can no longer pick our noses in safety while driving, lest it be posted to Youtube. Now Skype has been brought into our own homes. I guess I’m going to have to wear my good underwear from now on.

The good news is that Isabelle has not dropped us from her list of call-backs. It would appear that this situation is not uncommon to her. One can only imagine, then, just what the cut-off for Skype calls is? I have a little bit of time to prepare for our next call from her….perhaps a tu-tu?

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