My beloved laptop is out of commission and I am forced to write tonight's entry on my parents' desktop. It is a lovely computer with a bomb widescreen monitor, but it's not MINE. This totally sucks. Apparently, Laptop was infected by a gajillion different virae and maleware and spyware whosywhatsits. (I have a feeling that the unprotected wi-fi network at work may be to blame-- however, the only other laptop that accesses that network is my colleague Annie's...and hers is a Mac. Macs are famously immune to a lot of this bullshit. Grr. Damn you, Steve Jobs, and your utilitarian brilliance!)
I am not exaggerating when I say that Laptop is my closest ally. I fall asleep next to it [I watch DVDs of The West Wing, or 30 Rock to fall asleep], and I wake up next to it [I don't get out of bed until I read the headlines and check my e-mail/Facebook/Twitter feed]. I write this blog on Laptop, I communicate with my friends and family on it-- it's absolutely my portal to the world at large. A dog has its nose, a snake has its tonque, a bat has its ears, I have my laptop.
On a related note, I want to know what the hell kind of circumstances leads to an individual writing code for computer virae and malware. Seriously. The prom queen thought you were creepy so now you screw with the personal information of complete strangers for fun? Daddy was a little cold, so you like to build Trojan horses to steal passwords? WHAT THE FUCK? I don't use creepy sites, I don't open suspicious messages, I keep a low profile for the most part-- so why am I suddenly victimized?
It should also be noted that this bullshit took place on absolutely the wrong f-ing day. I had intestinal issues this morning and afternoon [intestinal fireworks more like], I received very frustrating news from the wastes of space that operate the registrar's office at school, and I realized that I can't take my trip to Atlanta in April. Oh, yeah, and I have five figures of medical debt and a back that never stops hurting. All I want to do at the end of a shitty day is curl up, write, play Solitaire, and watch Sam Seaborn try to win a Congressional race in Orange County. It's really not too much.
I HATE computer nerds. Except Steve Jobs, my friend Eric, and the members of the Geek Squad. Seriously though, the rest of them can eat shit.
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