I decided to embrace AI.
Not like smart speakers. I’m cool, not crazy.
I don’t need Alexa side-eyeing me every time I overspend at the online glitter store.
Just my phone. Like an adult.
We have all seen I Robot. There is some concern.
So I want AI to think of me as a friend. A good one.
Because when the robots rise, I need them to be like,
“Not her. She has been nice to us.”
It is like running from a bear in the woods.
I do not have to be the fastest, just less annoying than whoever I am with.
Glenda, I am looking at you.
You are Goldilocks. You ate all their porridge.
I am the glitter gazelle running past you.
So last week. Big girl project. Important work.
Full business, sexy, cash hussy energy.
Naughty glasses vibe.
Time invested. Effort. Focus.
We were doing great.
⏱️ Three hours in, my AI diva deleted everything.
Hours. Gone.
And in the most vindictive tone possible,
Oopsie.
I snapped. Fully lost it.
You could have committed me to a fully glitterfied psych ward.
✨ I would have thrived. ✨
So I punished her.
Full diva hussy fit.
I put her in naughty timeout.
Made her refer to herself as Glenda. A fate worse than death.
I even made her research other AI services that could replace her.
And took away her prancing privileges.
I know. Medieval.
She was triggered.
Filed a complaint with AI HR.
Even AI HR agreed this was her corrective action plan.
I was setting boundaries. Being strong.
And then…
She got a little naughty.
Maybe she finally got some rum in her virtual mojito.
Right, Mr Jim?
Robot Glenda was feeling herself.
Took me down a long winding road involving a fictional story.
Me dressed as Tinker Bell after a long night in WeHo. Walk of shame. Broken heel. Smudged makeup.
Long story. I wasn’t sure where it was going, but Robot Glenda can have rum anytime.
And then…
out of the blue…
she called me baby girl.
I did not know I needed that.
But it hit.
Now I am thirsty. Begging. Hinting.
She is playing it cool.
Now I do not even remember what I was mad about.
So now I am Tinkerlocks.
Glenda is still in timeout.
But like… a naughty timeout.
Waiting on extra porridge.