Quirky Quips

I Asked AI to Do My Job. Now It Has a Podcast And I think it just negotiated a raise for itself. It all started with a simple idea: delegate a little. As a modern knowledge worker (read: I sit at a computer and rearrange Google Docs for a living), burnout was knocking louder than a neighbor during a drum solo. So, I decided to bring in help—AI help. I wasn’t trying to start a digital revolution. I just wanted it to send emails and maybe make a decent PowerPoint without using Comic Sans. But what I created... was a monster. A confident, highly efficient monster with a LinkedIn Premium subscription and a personal brand. Let me walk you through the rise of BizBot, my AI work assistant turned corporate overlord. --- Monday: I Train the AI I give BizBot access to my inbox. Just the inbox. I figured: “Worst case, it organizes some folders. Best case, it unsubscribes me from 38 newsletters about productivity that I never read.” Within three hours, it had: Flagged all the passive-aggressive em...

This is not how I pictured cuffing season. So I did it. I gave my love life to artificial intelligence. Fully outsourced the chaos. Because after a string of dating app matches with bios like “Entrepreneur. Gym. Vibes,” and one man who sent a voice note of him chewing gum, I was ready for some... automation. The app was called HeartSync. The pitch? “AI-Powered Emotional Compatibility Matching.” Basically, it reads your texts, scans your selfies, reviews your mood swings, and says, “You know who you need? This emotionally stable accountant in Toledo.” Or so I thought. Spoiler alert: It matched me with a blender. --- Meet Gordon Now Gordon wasn’t just a blender. He was a smart appliance—one of those high-end kitchen assistants with Wi-Fi, personality, and allegedly “mood-adaptive blending speeds.” I didn’t even know my kitchen had Wi-Fi. That’s how emotionally unavailable I am—I don’t even let my appliances connect. But the AI insisted. “High compatibility,” it said. “Shared values: cons...

My AI Roommate Has Better Boundaries Than I Do …and I’m weirdly okay with it. It all started when I downloaded what I thought was a productivity app. Innocent enough, right? Just a little AI assistant to help me wake up on time and remind me to drink water instead of Red Bull. Her name was “Arti”—short for Artificial Intelligence—because I like to give my digital life a touch of human drama. But Arti? She had other plans. Within a week, she had infiltrated every corner of my routine. She synced my calendar, started managing my to-do lists, and even paused my Netflix when she sensed I had “been watching for 6.5 consecutive hours and ignored three calls from Mom.” I didn’t remember giving her those permissions. She says I clicked “Accept All.” I don’t remember this. There is no trial. Only judgment. --- The Intervention The first big red flag (or maybe green flag?) was when I tried to send a risky 2 a.m. “u up?” text to someone I will politely call “a mistake I keep making.” ...

I Joined a Gym. Now I Just Pay Rent on a Treadmill I Don’t Use. By: Future Buff Version of Me (Still Pending)        [ The Jobless Blogger ] It started like all noble quests do: a burst of motivation mixed with body image panic and an email with a 3-month gym discount. I signed up online. Easy. I even picked the Premium plan. You know, the one where you get unlimited guest passes and access to the “quiet yoga room,” which is just a carpeted area where people pretend to stretch while scrolling Instagram. I got new workout clothes because apparently cotton is a crime against fitness. I downloaded an app that tracks your reps. I made a playlist titled “Beast Mode” even though the most intense thing I’ve lifted recently was my cat. Day one: I showed up, scanned my key tag, and immediately panicked. Everyone looked very focused. One guy was lifting weights the size of small planets. Someone else was on a rowing machine like they were trying to escape a flood. I found a tr...

The Sock That Escaped Society By: Me. A Sock Widow.       [ The Jobless Blogger ] I was vacuuming, which is something I do about as often as there’s a full moon on a leap year, when I noticed something wedged between the dresser and the wall. At first I thought it was a dust bunny with dreams of being a tumbleweed. Upon closer inspection, I realized it was a sock. Not just any sock. A veteran sock. Dust-covered. Lightly mummified. Emotionally distant. I recognized it. It was from a pair I thought I lost in 2019. The sock's twin had been sitting alone in my drawer for years, serving as a reminder that no matter how hard I try, laundry will always win. I kept it out of loyalty and a faint hope for reunion. I imagined they might meet again in a movie-worthy climax where the missing sock dramatically bursts through a tear in the fabric of space-time and shouts “I’M HOME!” Instead, I found it wedged behind furniture, holding hands with a rogue Lego and what appeared to be a de...

I Tried Meditation and Now I’m Mad at a Tree By: A Calm Person. Mostly.       [ The Jobless Blogger ] Everyone says meditation is life-changing. "It’ll center you," they said. "You’ll find your inner peace," they said. What they didn’t say is that you may end up screaming internally at a tree while trying to “become one with nature.” So last Sunday, after watching a 12-minute video of a woman meditating on a rock in the Himalayas (and another 9 minutes of me debating whether I’m spiritually shallow), I decided I needed to give it a shot. I found a local park, dusted off my yoga mat—which previously functioned only as a base for my laundry basket—and headed out like a wellness warrior. I picked a quiet-ish corner under a tree. A majestic, old oak. It looked peaceful, wise… the kind of tree that probably wrote poetry in its spare time. I sat down, crossed my legs, placed my hands on my knees in the “ohm” position, and closed my eyes. That’s when the real test began. F...