Thursday, May 19, 2005

Hard drives and orgasms

The fucking world imploded on me this week. My cable went out Monday night, cutting off internet connection thanks to some dillweed in a backhoe. Then Tuesday night when I sat down and was sliding through some photographs out of sheer boredom I came across one of Katy that was all fucked up. Ten photos later I came across another one. What in the hell? I went into another folder and pulled up one of Mom and it was gone, too. Scrambled, like someone had chopped it up, then partially gray where it just vanished.

Holyshit! I’ve got a fucking virus.

I updated the Norton definitions and set it to running, then fired up the spy hunter and sent him on his way. I had 404 traces of Trojans involved, and not the good kind, but no viruses. So I shut the shit down and ran scandisk on the startup. That motherfucker went all night long repairing bad clusters. I could see the names of the damaged files as they scrolled across the screen and it made me wanna piss on something.

I don’t know what the fuck happened, but something within the last few weeks has been terrorizing my data and neither Norton nor the spy hunter came up with anything. which means one thing: my laptop is an ancient piece of shit.

The hard drive is 20GB, which was massive when I got it 4 years ago. I have 13 GB eaten up with miscellaneous crap. I’m low on RAM, intermittent wireless connection, and my LCD has had a crack in it since the day I brought it home. Around the house we affectionately refer to the machine as the Ghettotop. Jazz’s machine blows mine to pieces, but I gotta bond with mine, ya know? Can't just go replacing shit just because it gets a little cranky in its old age.

And then I discovered my downloaded porn collection had been corrupted. Oh, this motherfucker’s going down, bitch! I went to Best Buy last night and found one that makes Jazz’s look like a boat anchor. I dropped both of them off with a buddy and he’ll be transferring my precious data to the new one for me so I can get my shit up and running again.

I had a pretty damn funny post prepared for Monday, already typed out and everything. But lost internet connection, then lost the file. You would have laughed your ass off. Probably might have even nominated me for Blog of the Year. But alas, you’ll never know now. The mood has passed and I’m not the type to dwell so it’s on to the next topic I go.

Orgasm.

Did you know orgasm is rumored to bring on early labor? I told Jazz she can forget it. She ain’t getting another one from me until the oven is empty because I damn sure won’t be the one to bring it on early. And if I so much as I catch her thinking about masturbating I’ll tie her hands behind her back and publicly flog her. I even told her about the rumor I heard that orgasms are dangerous when carrying twins because of the compressions on their little heads. Brain damage, and all. It’s a rumor I started my fucking self, but goddamn that don’t make it untrue.

She won’t even let me take a photo of her anymore. She’s fucking huge. I look at her and wince. “Doesn’t that hurt?”

“Shut up.”

“Okay.”

She’s 30 weeks. She has an ultrasound scheduled today. I’m hoping to get out of going. It’s always the same shit every time. Now tell me there’s a monkey up in there and I’ll be bedside in a heartbeat. But otherwise, yeah, been there. Done that. Left my card(s).

Sarah’s a whiney pregnant chic. How do you tell a woman who keeps insisting her butt is getting big that, by god, yes, woman your ass if fucking HUGE? And getting bigger every day. She doesn’t even look pregnant but I’m worried her ass is gonna get wedged in my doorway and I’ll be trapped in here and they’ll have to pitch bottles of water to me over her head to keep me from dehydrating until someone can get the machinery out here to dislodge her. I bet she’ll make a popping sound when they finally pry her lose.