We can fix it. We have the technology.
Hear now the good news, o ye people of the intarwebs: my computer has finally been repaired. It turns out the CPU was bad all along. It's gratifying (and very, very frustrating) to know that if they'd listened to me in the first place I'd have had a working computer last fall. Better late than never, eh? Anyway, I get to spend the evening watching Lola and playing with the rasterbater (b/c I need yet another thing to hang on my overcrowded walls), which is always a good thing. Just think of all the anime I'll have crammed on the hard drive by this time next week! Instead of dancing for joy (although I'm tempted), I think I'll go buy myself some chicken nuggets & cheese fries.
Speaking of things for which I celebrated by eating chix nuggets & chez fries (as the cafeteria ladies called them in days of yore), I want the world (meaning those of you I haven't told already) to know that XP, amazing fellow that he is, sent me a dozen roses last Friday. I can count on one hand the number of times I've ever been as happy as I was when I went to claim what I thought was a package of horrible things only to find a dozen of the reddest, most beautiful roses ever. Roses by any name might smell as sweet, but roses from anyone else wouldn't be half as amazing. I think this makes it official: LA's got it bad.
By the way, clear your calendars of Halloween engagements. My birthday party (at my parents' house) will be the place to be that night - provided someone gives me a crash course in not throwing lame parties. I suppose that's why I'm dating the social equivalent of a mad scientist. Mixing homefolk and schoolfolk promises to be an adventure in chemistry. (See LA. See LA pun. Pun, LA, pun! Good LA.)
Speaking of things for which I celebrated by eating chix nuggets & chez fries (as the cafeteria ladies called them in days of yore), I want the world (meaning those of you I haven't told already) to know that XP, amazing fellow that he is, sent me a dozen roses last Friday. I can count on one hand the number of times I've ever been as happy as I was when I went to claim what I thought was a package of horrible things only to find a dozen of the reddest, most beautiful roses ever. Roses by any name might smell as sweet, but roses from anyone else wouldn't be half as amazing. I think this makes it official: LA's got it bad.
By the way, clear your calendars of Halloween engagements. My birthday party (at my parents' house) will be the place to be that night - provided someone gives me a crash course in not throwing lame parties. I suppose that's why I'm dating the social equivalent of a mad scientist. Mixing homefolk and schoolfolk promises to be an adventure in chemistry. (See LA. See LA pun. Pun, LA, pun! Good LA.)