Series of intensive frowning......

My computer this weekend coughed and died. I have been gasping for air every since in disbelief. I don't not care that it seems yank to depend on a machine so much, but if there ever was a time to say FUCK, ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! it was yesterday. The entire house was in my room, the dogs pacing, Mr. Morgan trying hard to fix what HE broke, and me in the corner..... mad, shifty looking and building a pipe bomb.

To his credit, I had asked him to come and help diagnose something that had gone out of my realm of understanding.... but when shit breaks, it of course always goes to "well it was working BEFORE!" You all are married, you've played that game of anger, frustration and thinking up ways to subtly get even. Little bottulism... kick to the back at 1 o'clock in the morning, sending the person to the floor wondering what the fuck just happened. That sort of aggrevated thing, take your pick.

He hauled his pc into my room to feed me my internet fix, but it's like .... not my computer. I feel like I am touching a strangers' genitals.

I want MY PC! Mr. Morgan does not understand this, says it's "just" a computer, but for full effect one needs to understand that I live at my computer. I have an overpriced lofty chair (he has one that vibrates....slip and trade?) and for Christmas I got a giant ass monitor. I watch dvd's on it before I'd go to another room, it's that crisp and large and perfect for a half blind bitch. Point is, I am set up in here enough to call it a storm shelter. When computer dies... I went through the stages not unlike grieving a death of a relative.

Denial - naw..... it's just kidding
Fear - is it fucking serious?
Anger - who did this!
Acceptance - Never.

For interest I post the following photo of Mr. Morgan's desktop. He was very itchy about me not fiddling with shit, but hi, I'm a fiddler. You broke my machine with my entire photo life on it.... I shall fiddle. I keep seeing him peeking. Wondering if a fiddle is in action.

Oh he's not a fucking pc crackhead either huh? I've been ragged for my desktop being a bit clouded.... but beat THAT. No shortage of shit to have there eh. I rest my case.

I phoned up DeBug Computers. Closed today, but I left a message indicating I'd be in to flop my most prized (almost) owned item onto thier good, and advertised care. I liked their ad.

Computer Frustation? it said ... I screamed YES!
Need qualified help? .... Oh my god yes PLEASE!
Looking for a specialist who won't mention he saw photos of your husband naked when he fixed your shit? .... where do I sign?

Below is just last week's fun. In truth I am very fuckign nervous my whole photo life went down with that pc. Let's all pray..... cmon, join the circle. Why I am grappling Bosslady's Daughter I don't know. You'd have to have been cuddled by her to know why it's a god damned good place to be. She looks midly entertained, but I attack often for loves.


-DM