Fat Cat

No, this cat has not been photoshopped. It is really a giant, fat cat. No, it is not an American cat. In fact, it is an Italian cat. I guess all those lame Garfield jokes about lasagna are rooted in some truth. Read the story here:
http://www.ananova.com/news/story/sm_2809392.html?menu=

My First Internet

I got my first email address in college. The first week of classes I heard that there was an office in the computer science building where you could just walk up to a lady and ask for one. I remember walking up the stairs with my backpack. It was hot that day and I was wearing shorts. Now, as a thirtysomething woman, I can’t imagine wearing shorts. Or wearing a backpack. Or wearing both at the same time.

The office was a perfect square with a metal desk in the middle. All I had to do was write my name on a piece of scrap paper and my desired user name. I chose my middle name. Back then not everyone had an email address so I got my first choice. The campus server was named expert so I became priya@expert.cc.purdue.edu.

I had a computer in my dorm room. My Dad built the computer for me the summer before leaving for college, and I couldn’t check my email on it. I had to sign up for a one hour slot time in the dorm’s computer lab in order to check my email. One evening after dinner I changed into my sweats, grabbed my papers and books and headed down to the computer lab to check my email and finish some homework. As I unlocked the door to the computer lab I saw that four computers were vacant, and five people were crowded around the fifth computer. Seated at the nucleus was my good friend and fellow Biology major, Karen.

I joined the circle and checked out the screen while Karen explained what I was looking at: the resume of a Biologist in Peru. It was my first time surfing the internet.

This Peruvian Biologist had posted his name, address, telephone number and photos of himself. I understood at that time that this man lived in Peru and I was reading his resume from West Lafayette, Indiana. After graduation my flimsy resume would be competing with his for graduate school and jobs.

Karen clicked on a hyperlink and all five of us hung there, waiting, watching, the page loading as the Netscape falling star fell over and over again.

Do you remember your first time on the internet?