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So, the Bing family was the last in this nation to join the Apple community. When LittleMan Bing did a dance on my closed lappie in June, cracking the screen into oblivion, MrBing saved the day with a MacBookPro. It took me a while to adjust to the system and figure it all out (still in the process, actually). Not too long ago, I realized that if I entered iPhoto and clicked on "Faces," I could choose my name and it would automatically show a slew of photos including what this fabulous computer thinks is my face. All I had to do was click "confirm" and they'd be filed away in the MrsBing folder. This smartfuckingcomputer is going to save me a shitload of time, I can feel it. Before I discovered that this Mac was capable of face recognition, I was having to tag each person in each photo. No longer!
(The fact that this computer does face recognition for me is definitely a plus, but there is obvs computer error. For instance, my children look a lot alike, and you can click on either name to find a nice compilation of photos featuring both kids.)
Upon discovering this time-saving feature (have I mentioned how very much I lurve my MacBook?), I went through each face-folder and confirmed all correctly-tagged photos of my fam and friends. Here's where I fell so hard for this piece of technology, that I will never go back to PC: In MrBing's folder, I confirmed dozens of suggested photos of him before stumbling upon this:
Once this happened, it became quite clear to me that Apple has created a very special system. This beloved computer will be buried with me, I love it so. It just asked me if Robert Pattinson was my husband. And whether Jackson Rathbone shares a bed with me. And practically begged me to confirm that TomStu fathered my children. Never. Going. Back. To. PC.
DIED. I am confirming photos of my husband. This is not my husband. My treasured laptop used the face-finder program to find photos of my husband and presented that photo to me. For verification. Along this these, as well:
::nods enthusiastically:: Confirm. Confirm.
Once this happened, it became quite clear to me that Apple has created a very special system. This beloved computer will be buried with me, I love it so. It just asked me if Robert Pattinson was my husband. And whether Jackson Rathbone shares a bed with me. And practically begged me to confirm that TomStu fathered my children. Never. Going. Back. To. PC.
The love deepened when I entered my very own face-folder to confirm myself in the suggested photos, and these were amongst my pics:
Bah! There's not a chance in hell that I've ever resembled the beautiful Stew, but thank you, thank you, Apple.
Not even close on my very best of days, but I'm going to confirm this shit anyway. No one has to know.
Dude, Apple, I already purchased the computer, there's no need to butter me up. I LOVE YOU.
[Please note: I look nothing like Stew and my handsome man does not look like Rob. But I love Mac for its face-finding flaws and will continue to enter my folder on bloaty/PMS days, just to feel better. I highly recommend this system to anyone in the market for a new computer. Dew it.]
2 comments:
*jumps up & down* My shiny new MacBook is scheduled for delivery tomorrow. I. Can. Not. Wait. I'm sure my folder will be filled with pictures of hairy woodland creatures & many, many pictures of my cat. I would die if it suggested KStew. Then I would print the picture & frame it. Since my husband is always the picture-taker, I'm sure the 2 photos I have of him will get thrown in the Random Stranger folder.
Um, the title of the post made me snort wine through my nose. Then I read it. And nearly fucking pooped myself.
I REFUSED to use our Mac for a long time. And then my PC kicked the bucket and I got my very own beautiful MacBook (aka The Mactress - totally stole that). I can never go back.
I didn't know about this face recognition shit. I'm gonna try it. If the Macbook lumps me with fucking Lurch or something, it's gonna be dead to me. Just sayin'.
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