I've been away a long time. Turns out Best Buy finally confirmed what I had long suspected... my shiny, honey colored, beautiful, beloved computer... my Juliet... was a lemon.
Thanks to Tex-ex's neurotic need to have the most Gucci of service warranties on all electronics purchases, I now have a new computer.
At least that's what I'm telling myself everytime I want to pitch this *tantrum voice* You-are-not-Juliet! computer into a wall.
Like when I goto log onto firefox, and the background is black with black font and I can't do a fucking thing. Or when I pull up the right click menu in firefox and that is white background on white font and the only thing I can do is shut it down and I have to open the windows task manager to do that cause I cannot find where to confirm the close cause the font is the same color as the background in the confirmation box that pops up....
Mind you this is after it works fine all night and I turn off the computer and come back in the morning to what is essentially a dead program since I cannot read anything on the screen.
Are ya gettin the visual of me loosin my everloving mind? As I uninstall firefox, clear the cache and SSL slate and start over with an entirely new install of firefox... replete with the xmarks and last pass add ons because I have years of saved shit on there that I cannot get into without these programs.
Yeah, you got it.... Fucking nightmare... over and over and over and over for two weeks plus.
But I'm not bitter. Noooooo
I miss her. With all her eccentricities and delicate constitution, I knew how to work her. I understood her programs. I knew what files were where, and most of all, I was fully cognizant and willing to work around her problems... cause I loved her.
I brought her in to be fixed, and essentially gave Best Buy the license to perform euthanasia.
And because electronics have a hidden message system whereby they talk to each other and exact revenge upon a person for mistreatment of one electronic device by the refusal to work by another electronic device, I have been targeted as enemy numero uno.
How shall I put it? The dryers at the laundromat have gone renegade and have all turned against me. And all is not a euphemism. Every single dryer I put my clothes into stops working.
I even fought with the manager the other morning, which really isn't my style anymore, but I kinda snapped because for the third visit in a row, the dryers have sucked up my quarters like starving Lestat on a morally corrupt person and spit me out much time and money poorer.
$5, in 5 dryers on three separate visits.
I was round the bloody bend.
And we all know shit rolls downhill, so I went rounds with the manager. Who finally, albeit reluctantly, reimbursed me for SEVENTY FIVE CENTS (not $5!) and made sure the dryer was working. Then he left and went back to the quickie mart next door.
25 minutes later while the dryer is still spinning, I check on it and IT'S COLD and *Gomer Pyle voice* suuu-prihze suuu-prihze suuu-prihze... not drying.
Shocker. Except to me. I told you these fucking dryers are conspiring and have decided that I am not worthy of heat or dry clothes or whatever, because I put Juliet to death. What I knew was; I was not about to pay to go home with wet clothes.. again.
So I went and got mister manager for the second time that hour, who now with a magnanimous change of heart *coughbitemejackwagoncough* because that dryer was not hot; the dryer that HE set and HE turned on and HE verified 25 minutes earlier as working after he put SEVENTY FIVE CENTS (not $5!) into the cursed, wretched, beast; so he chose another dryer for me, we swapped the clothes over and he fed the ravenous metal beast another three quarters.
Duh. I just enjoy arguing with people so veryveryvery much that I felt the urge to fabricate the quarter eating story about his precious dryers.
In my less enlightened state I mighta winged the roll of quarters at his head when he turned to walk away... Allegedly.
But I don't have time for jail or court, because, as it stands, I still need to find a copy of microsoft office 2007 or higher to install on my *tantrum voice* You-are-not-Juliet! computer so I can start back to school on the 25th. And I don't know what happened to my zemanta add on for this blog either, nor can I seem to find it. (ok, just found THAT one missing piece outta 1000!)
My sister would call it transition.
I call it a pain in the ass that I still have the presence of mind to be grateful for.
*screws on my Barbie smile and looks at Ken for confirmation*