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4:52 p.m. - 2001-10-08
Fuckin' 'puters
My computer keeps crashing. I'm sure it's my fault somehow because last night I clicked on something that prompted a window that asked me if I cared to have my desktop restored. I didn't really know if I did or not becuase before this diary, I only used this computer as a self replenishing stack of porno magazines. It sounded like a good idea to me though, so I clicked on the response that looked like it indicated affirmative. Restoration sounds good. I've worked on Victorian house restorations before. Restore away little buddy.

Unfortunately, the second click prompted questions that used terms unfamiliar to me. In fact, I can't recall any of them to repeat. I was pretty sure I should just click on the top one. They probably put the right answer at the top so novices like me will pick it automatically, right? Good thinkin' Gates. That's why you get the big coin.

So, I picked the top one. Then all of my little icons,(that I somehow made disappear a few months ago), came back. Aha. Desktop restored.

I told Janey of my computer wizardry and hit the sack.

Now this son of a bitch is crashing every five minutes. In fact, this is the third time I've started this entry with; "My 'puter keeps crashing.", and obviously , I had no reason to start it that way the first two times.

You know what scares me about all this? I know that there is a three year old out there who can't read yet, but if his or her mom or pop were to read them this entry as a bedtime story they would pee their pants laughing at what a computer illiterate fool I am.

Well look, brat. Ima start using all fucking kinds of profanity and shit, so that your goddamn parents put your fucking ass to bed before the stories over. Off you fuck then. Off to bed early, you little shit.

A friend of mine has a two month old. It is incredible to me that his son was born after the release of the pentium four. You want to make me feel old? Remind me of the days of playing games on the apple IIe's in my elementary school computer lab. I am older than the home computer. Fuck.

This entry was originally supposed to be about other stuff. For example, my first day back at work in three weeks. I only worked three hours but got paid for the whole day. No work tomorrow.


That plus the fact that I made the favorite list of four journalers who I respect the shit out of has put me in a good mood. I know it may be against etiquette to talk about that stuff but fuck it.

My moms sent me an email this morning. She's scared ima get blowed up or given the bubonic plague. This is all she wrote;

Of course I wish you would come home.
Of course you won't but I had to say it anyway.
love mummy

I love that woman. She's not really a goof, not all the time anyway.

I have to go pick up Jane from work, so, to review this entry, I'm an old computer illiterate momma's boy slacker, who swears at three year olds, brags about people liking him, and admits to looking at net porn. And my girl's got me whipped.

I'm in a good mood.


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