Somebody Stop Me

I have now broken my work computer. Because I am awesome.

I booted up on Monday to check my email, and got the blue screen of death. The error message read something like, "Beginning dump of physical memory… will also be dissolving your brain and selling your house to alcoholic chimpanzees.”

That last bit I made up. Chimpanzees can’t buy houses. They have terrible credit.

Anyway. Of course I got the error message on Labor Day, when the office is closed and our tech support company is closed. So screwed. This is two computers in three weeks. Go me.

Our personal laptop is still not back from Best Buy, although it survived the coffee incident (thanks for the advice, Dad) and has been fixed and is being shipped out today. My work laptop was the only way we had to get online. I am taking two online courses this semester. We bank online. We do not have a television. We need internet access.

So, we had to unpack the desktop computer we boxed up months ago. We were mere MILLIMETERS away from getting rid of this computer, because, aside from its functionality as a magnet for clutter, what the hell do you use a desktop computer for when you have wireless internet and a laptop? Flower press? Sticker holder? A place to line up your little plastic green army men?

As we pulled the computer back out of its dusty box, I am sure I saw it smirking.

Me: Hello again computer!
Computer:
Me: Computer! It's us! Your old buddies!
Computer: Oh, hello there, shallow humans.
Me: Right then. Want to um… help us get on the internet?
Computer: Byte me.
Me: Sorry about all the packing up and cobwebs. But we didn’t forget you! You were always in our hearts. Now can you get us online?
Computer: Sure. Here you go.
Me: Uh… can you access any other site aside from the Wonderful World of Lentils?
Computer: Oh… my hard drive is so stiff and sore from being in that box for months… I’ll try, but… wow, I could really use a massage. And a martini.
Me: Look, I really need to get online, like, NOW. Save the guilt trip for Chris.
Computer: …Memory failing… things are getting dark… what’s that you say? You sound so far away. It’s…so…cold…

Do you know how expensive a computer massage is? I’ll let you know right after I fix this martini. Damn technology.