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I don't think yesterday's meltdown was the result of a virus. My hard drive is nine years old, and in that time, it's suffered a lightning strike and multiple power surges. It's ancient in computer years, and I think it's just getting ready to quit. It's been making ominous grinding and ratcheting noises upon occasion for years, but the noises have gotten exponentially worse over the past forty-eight hours. My faithful writing companion is on its last legs, and that sucks, but there's nothing I can do.
I'll copy my unfinished fics to a CD tonight and prepare for the worst. I have another computer with a more recent OS, so I won't vanish from the Internet, but I loathe writing on it because the keyboard is a white-on-black piece of shit from which most of the vowels have faded, and it only has MS Works, which I despise even though there's little difference. The truth is, this creaking relic from the nineties is my baby, and I will miss it.
Not the best way to kick off 2009, but I've still got it better than most, so I can't complain. That said, if anyone out there has an old computer that can still write and handle dial-up, drop me a line, and maybe we can negotiate a deal.
In happier news, I was watching the House marathon on USA the other day and heard the following exchange:
Foreman: Is she hot?
Cameron: She's in a wheelchair.
Chase: That doesn't mean she's not hot.
Thank you, Chase, for acknowledging that disabled folks can be sexual people, too. Just for that, I'd like to ride your cricket bat until my squish mitten dries out. It doesn't hurt that you're absolutely smoking hot.
Dear House,
I love you. Your battle of wheels(and wills) with the chair-bound Dr. Wittner was a thing of joy and beauty forever.
"You had to push forward on the joystick. How your muscles must burn."
For the absolute, motherfucking win.
I'll copy my unfinished fics to a CD tonight and prepare for the worst. I have another computer with a more recent OS, so I won't vanish from the Internet, but I loathe writing on it because the keyboard is a white-on-black piece of shit from which most of the vowels have faded, and it only has MS Works, which I despise even though there's little difference. The truth is, this creaking relic from the nineties is my baby, and I will miss it.
Not the best way to kick off 2009, but I've still got it better than most, so I can't complain. That said, if anyone out there has an old computer that can still write and handle dial-up, drop me a line, and maybe we can negotiate a deal.
In happier news, I was watching the House marathon on USA the other day and heard the following exchange:
Foreman: Is she hot?
Cameron: She's in a wheelchair.
Chase: That doesn't mean she's not hot.
Thank you, Chase, for acknowledging that disabled folks can be sexual people, too. Just for that, I'd like to ride your cricket bat until my squish mitten dries out. It doesn't hurt that you're absolutely smoking hot.
Dear House,
I love you. Your battle of wheels(and wills) with the chair-bound Dr. Wittner was a thing of joy and beauty forever.
"You had to push forward on the joystick. How your muscles must burn."
For the absolute, motherfucking win.
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