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Hi. We're in bed together. Yup. Just you, me, my Calvins, and my Star Wars bedsheets. And the soundtrack for The Red Shoe Diaries. Isn't this erotic?
Okay, okay, sorry, I'm not getting frisky. I couldn't resist. I'm playing with my new laptop. Okay, actually, technically, this isn't MY laptop. It's on extended loan. The owner seriously seriously doesn't use it so... Anyway, I'm just giving it a little test run.
I fucking love this machine. So far so good, although I ran into a few minor problems. I write my fiction with Microsoft Works, and this machine comes with Word. Not that I'm complaining cause I fucking love Word, but when I convert my documents to Works, stuff gets a tad fucked up. No problem when you're doing stuff for the Internet, but with printing stuffs out for school and scary publishers, it looks kinda bad.
Is there such a thing as a wireless modem that I can hook up to this thing so I can surf the Internet and check my email and update my journal in bed? Is this a stupid question? Forgive me but until now, a laptop seriously wasn't an option so I didn't even consider the subject. I wanna get everything to the point where I never have to leave my bed. I gotta install a gym in here.
Oh shit, you're kidding. The battery's on 20% already? Fuck. Wait. Lemme grab the a/c. While you wait, listen to track five on the Red Shoe Diaries soundtrack. No, really, you'll like it. There's a real pretty Spanish guitar on it.
Damn, this keyboard's kinda small yeah? Soft but... Quiet. It's kinda sad really. Ball And Chain owns a computer that's way better than mine, or this laptop for the matter, but I'm probably gonna be using this one, huddled in a blanket in the corner of her room, killing my lower back, cause when I use her computer late at night, either the light bothers her, or the sound of my keyboard clicking bothers her, or God knows what else. How can the sound of my typing be too fucking loud?
Crap. Okay, this is getting kinda hard. Mental note: old houses don't have that many power outlets. Shit. There's a lotta wires on my bed now. Second mental note: do something about that two inch space between my wall and the back of my bed. It's really kinda gross back there. And I found those pillows that The Stalker made for me. I'm actually scared to pull them out of there cause I don't want tumbleweeds of dust bunnies on my bedsheets. Although I ain't no Ball And Chain: changing my bedsheets every three days. But I should seriously clean this place up.
Would it have been easier to use the outlet by my stereo? But that means I have to get off the bed. Decisions, decisions.
Don't get me wrong, I'm seriously not complaining and so far, this machine seems a little more stable than my crash machine, but... I don't know. I figured laptops would be a little easier. Firstly, I didn't think the battery would go quite this quickly. Chip Douglas warned me that laptop batteries stink. "They say the battery lasts __ many hours. Minus that by three."
Then there's the case of this floppy disk. It's external. Is that the correct term? According to the directions, the cd-rom can come out and the floppy disk can replace it and I tried that, but for some reason, the computer doesn't turn on with the floppy in there. So me and the floppy are joined together by a wire this small. Me and my lap move a little to the right, the floppy comes crashing with us.
Oh and the "mouse." It's this little green knob between the "g" and "h" keys on the keyboard. Kinda hard to get used to.
Hmm, this keyboard's really kinda cramped. I think I'm getting carpal tunnel in my left hand.
But seriously, I'm seriously seriously not complaining. I hope I never have to give back this machine.
Speaking of carpal tunnel, something is seriously wrong with my ears. There's a constant kinda ringing. Not quite ringing, but almost. It's like I was in a metal concert, but the thing is, I haven't been around loud noises. I've had it on and off since Sunday. It usually happens when I just wake up. It feels like I drove the Pali and I need to pop my ears. But no matter how much I yawn, I can't get rid of it. Seriously strange. I hope I'm not going deaf.
Speaking of the aches and pains of old age, Princess Toadstool. Seriously, you are gonna be fine. You ain't in the minority. The removal of wisdom teeth is one of the most God-awful experiences ever created. When I got mines out, I thought I was gonna fucking die. Granted, I didn't cry, but I fucking may as well have. I got the shakes. Right after they gave me the numbing needle, I got the serious shakes. And I couldn't stop shaking. They had to wait for God knows how long for me to stop shaking. Then I kinda felt nauseous(sp?). But they lowered my chair all the way back and you know what? To get rid of nausea, recline yourself practically upside down. It works, seriously.
I remember I had no idea how bad it would be. As soon as I went home, I took the drugs and passed out. They were supposed to be painkillers, but I'm not sure if they actually killed any pain. They made me fall asleep instantly for eight hours so I wouldn't notice the pain. Not sure if that qualifies as a pain "killer." More like a pain "denier" if you ask me. Is that how you spell "denier?" It can't be "denyer." Fuck, that looks weird.
I love typing on this machine. I'm charging the battery now too. Is that why it's getting really warm around my crotch?
Oh, and food consumption during wisdom teeth removal recovery. Fuck, I must have lost twenty pounds during that period. I remember all I ate was orange-sicle bars, blue rasberry jello, and chook. I have no idea how to spell that. That's just how it sounds. And till this day, I refuse to eat "chook" cause that reminds me of tooth removal.
What the hell am I talking about already? I just wanna play with this machine. Oops, scrambled eggs. Be right back.
One "breakfast" later.
Okay, now the Sliver soundtrack is in. There's a sex movie theme going on here, isn't there?
Anyway, I just had a piece of my Baskin Robbins birthday cake with my eggs. You know what's totally strange? I love Baskin Robbins ice cream cakes, but I don't like having cake and ice cream, separately, on the same plate.
Oops, index finger scraped the green "mouse" knob. I think the instructions called it the "Accupoint." These fucking geeks gotta make a fancy fucking term for everything.
Shit, I gotta get to sleep. Ball And Chain and Co. are insisting that they take me out to dinner tomorrow night and if I know them, things are gonna go disastrous. On top of that, I gotta get out there early and I seriously wanted to go gym tomorrow (no, wait, today) and work on my back and biceps.
Okay, I don't want to sound like an ungrateful prick, but I am, so on I go. I kept telling Ball And Chain, don't take me out for dinner. I just wanna go movies and get a French soda at Borders. I mean, seriously, that kinda shit makes me happy. If anything, take me to eat at Sorabol, cause I fucking love the kim chee and bean sprouts there, but for some reason Ball And Chain fucking hates it. It can't be the prices cause the money factor's pretty fucking harsh there. She probably hates it cause I like it. Anyway, she insists that she has to take me out for my birthday. I know she just wants to use it as an excuse to eat at a fancy restaurant. And frankly WE can't afford it. I mean, yeah she's treating me to dinner at Nick's Fishmarket or whatever, but... Uh, gee, who are we kidding here? Our assets are practically pooled together already. I mean, all we need is a joint fucking checking account at this point. So in actuality, I'm paying for my birthday dinner.
sigh.
And CDNow may have ripped me off five bucks. I wrote them an email and they better fucking get back to me. It'll still come out cheaper than the stores, I think, but fuck man, it's principal.
And speaking of gotta get to sleep already, guess who I fucking ran into tonight. MICHAEL. In UH! Go figure. I'm walking past Manoa Gardens and I'm like, "Nah, couldn't be." Turns out, yups. He got hired as campus security so he was basically checking out a disturbance in the women's restroom at Sinclair Library. So I bummed off two cigarettes and a spritz of cologne from him. I swear, that fucking freaked me. Totally the last person I expected to run into, especially at that time of night. And of course I got height envy cause I was wearing the Nikes with zero sole. As soon as I saw him, I'm all like, "Hey, you wanna see The Hairy Editor for real?! He's right in there! Go look, go look!"
Damn, this real life barrier crossing shit is kinda trippy. It's like that Denzel Washington movie Virtuosity. I don't believe I know how to spell that but I have trouble with everything else.
Fuck, okay nuff already. I gotta sleep.
But I wanna keep typing.
STOP ALREADY!!!!!!!!!!!
Outside Providence was cute and all but it just wasn't my can of Mountain Dew.
The Hairy Editor called me inhuman for not being scared by The Sixth Sense. For the record, in this current slate of scary movies, Stigmata isn't the Exorcist wanna-be that the commercials make it look like. It's actually a hokey, fun, Catholic conspiracy film with a shitload of stigmatic blood. It ain't all that scary. Just thought I'd throw that in there for anyone who is hesistant about going due to frightening scenes. I mean, everyone should be able to watch the full trailer for The World Is Not Enough.
