In Which Technology Is A Big, Fat Jerk That Is Really Asking For A Punch In The Throat
- I thought I lost my camera at the lake and launched a frantic search.
- It was found on the floor, but someone had kicked it so hard that the memory card had popped out. Thankfully, both the memory card and the camera were unharmed.
- When we got home, I set up my iBook so that I could upload the pictures from my camera.
- I somehow managed, against the laws of physics and all that is good, to pull a glass of water through the air parallel to the floor from a few feet away and dump it onto my iBook.
- The iBook screen lost its horizontal hold, and then the body of the thing made some slurpy noise. I cried.
- I turned it upside down and felt water run out of its side. I cried.
- I tried to use the Palinode's netbook. It froze up in some limbo state between powering down and restarting. I cried.
- I tried to use a really tiny netbook we've had sitting in a cupboard, because surely one piece of equipment would work. It refused to recognize my camera. Then, it froze. I cried.
- I started writing my piece for MamaPop about that jerk Bernie Madoff on my tiny netbook. My computer froze halfway through, and I lost half my article.
- I rewrote what I lost, the computer froze at the precise moment my article was due to be pubished, I lost half my article again, and I cried.
- I tried to call the Palinode to help me with my frozen netbook, but my cellphone was dead.
- I went to the Palinode's office to use his computer so that I could send an e-mail explanation to my overlords at MamaPop, but our internet cut out. I pulled on my hair with my fists.
- When the internet cut back in, I restarted my netbook, wrote the last half of the article for the THIRD TIME. I chewed through the skin on my lip.
- I tried to publish my article. The internet cut out. I got up, paced the apartment with my hands in my hair, and yelled "I CAN'T FUCKING BELIEVE THIS SHIT, MOTHERFUCK."
- The internet cut back in. I published my piece on MamaPop. I took double the suggested dose of ibuprofen and snuck a cigarette in the living room.
- I hated myself for sneaking a cigarette indoors. I hated Bernie Madoff more than I thought was reasonable. I told my cat, Onion, that snuggles were for suckers.
- I decided to try feeling hopeful. I powered up my iBoook. It gurgled in this very distant-sounding and depressing way. The screen looked like bleeding watercolours in shades of grey. I cried.
- I turned the iBook on its side in front of a fan. I sniffled.
- I watched Dr. Phil. I hated his guests. I hated him more. I felt a little better.
- I ate more cheese than is probably healthy.
- I tried to publish this entry. My netbook powered down with no notice for NO APPARENT REASON. I gritted my teeth.
- I am unreasonably paranoid that I have pissed off some lesser god in charge of electronics. I'm developing a fear of the fan I have aimed at my iBook.
- I wish we had some alcohol in the house.
- Would you believe that my mouse just stopped working at the end of that last point?
- Because IT DID.
IN THE LAST 31 HOURS, A CAMERA, TWO LAPTOPS, TWO NETBOOKS, A CELLPHONE, AND A MOUSE HAVE THWARTED MY ATTEMPTS TO COMMUNICATE. I AM NOW AN IRRITABLE PARANOIAC. AWESOME.
UPDATE: If you read through the comments, you will find out that MY WEBLOG'S RSS FEED BROKE FOR THIS ENTRY. This string of technological badness is so ridiculous, that it's funny now. Oh, except for that part where my iBook is still completely and quite alarmingly borked. I'm letting that baby dry out for a week before I lose hope, though.
You know, my laptop died last year before BlogHer, too. Hmmm.
UPDATE, THE SECOND: And now I hear that the left side of this entry runs off the screen. I've tried to fix it. Is it fixed? I'm waiting for the letters to start falling off this netbook's tiny keyboard any minute. If I go stroke myself with magnets or eat pennies, will all this technology start working for me again?