INTERNETS! *CLINGS*
We got Dawn's old TV yesterday because she wanted to get rid of it and we wanted a slightly less fail TV (may end up putting the old tv in my room to play PS2 games on; it's not that old and I really don't use the computer desk or my big laptop) and for some reason our modem decided to flip its shit because, mind you, we dared unhook the old TV from the cable.
Look, I don't know either.
Anyway, we rehooked the cable to the new TV, Amy did things that are like singing the rubber chicken song to the old modem, but it refused to work.
Amy proceeded to call and scarify a dude from Comcast customer service (it was late, she was tired, dude had never used Linux, and Amy does tech support for a living -- no lie, it was hilarious. You could hear his manhood shriveling over the phone) and Comcast came out this morning to pay a sick call to our modem.
Meg: where is that black modem from anyway
Amy: Comcast
Amy: and then I had to go buy a new patch cable to make it work
Meg: ahaha FAIL
Amy: but dude claims that modem can do up to 100mbit/sec
Meg: WELL LETS JUST SEE ABOUT THAT
Amy: yyy
Meg: by god it just hit 1M/s
Meg: jesus
Meg: 2.1M/s
Amy: yeah
Amy: I may or may not have also signed us up for the 30/mbit thing
Meg: ....
Meg: do you WANT me to torrent the internet? is that your problem?
Amy: <3
Meg: although seriously what are we going to do with 30/mbit
Amy: torrent the internet
Anyway in less hair-ripping-out news, while I was stuck (<--?;;;) with nothing but phone internets I downloaded a book called Lily Pearl and the Mistress of Rosedale off Gutenburg. THIS BOOK. It is a perfect fucking storm of terrible Victorian literature.
1. The heroine's mother marries and has a child at the age of, wait for it, FIFTEEN.
2. Her mother not unnaturally flips (although because she wants her to marry money, apparently) and promptly hustles her out to the middle of nowhere to give birth, whereupon she tells her daughter that the baby died at birth but of course
3. The baby has been raised by someone the grandmother paid to do so.
After a while sheer horror kept me reading. It's set during the Civil War and is nominally anti-slavery but of course all the black characters are like, I don't know, I'm just so filled with horror I can't even. Then the grandmother finds the baby at the age of 16 when she's been more or less adopted by some other Southern lady and stages a kidnapping (to like, put her on a ship to Europe so she'd either die or suffer some unnamed terrible fate such as white slavery dun dun dun) because the mother is like MOM YOU ARE LYING ABOUT THE KID DYING AREN'T YOU. Then she (the girl) miraculously survives and gets back to the States. Then the mother finds her husband in the middle of a hospital scene at I think Charleston.
Also, even though it's set during the Civil War, it was written in 1892 or something and all the pictures have the characters dressed in 1892 clothing, which is like. Someone writes a WW2 novel and yet all the characters are dressed in modern clothes. SO JARRING. Just like the constant pauses for mini-sermons. The lady who wrote the novel was called (by herself? her publicist?) The Blind Bard of Michigan, and no offense, dudes, but since when has Michigan ... yeah.
Anyway almost at the end. Touching tableau of mother-daughter reunion. They knew each other instinctively, which is a bit much to swallow even for me, because 1) the mother only saw the girl for like five minutes when 2) she was a newborn 3) SEVENTEEN YEARS AGO.
Oh Victorian novels, why can't I quit you.
Look, I don't know either.
Anyway, we rehooked the cable to the new TV, Amy did things that are like singing the rubber chicken song to the old modem, but it refused to work.
Amy proceeded to call and scarify a dude from Comcast customer service (it was late, she was tired, dude had never used Linux, and Amy does tech support for a living -- no lie, it was hilarious. You could hear his manhood shriveling over the phone) and Comcast came out this morning to pay a sick call to our modem.
Meg: where is that black modem from anyway
Amy: Comcast
Amy: and then I had to go buy a new patch cable to make it work
Meg: ahaha FAIL
Amy: but dude claims that modem can do up to 100mbit/sec
Meg: WELL LETS JUST SEE ABOUT THAT
Amy: yyy
Meg: by god it just hit 1M/s
Meg: jesus
Meg: 2.1M/s
Amy: yeah
Amy: I may or may not have also signed us up for the 30/mbit thing
Meg: ....
Meg: do you WANT me to torrent the internet? is that your problem?
Amy: <3
Meg: although seriously what are we going to do with 30/mbit
Amy: torrent the internet
Anyway in less hair-ripping-out news, while I was stuck (<--?;;;) with nothing but phone internets I downloaded a book called Lily Pearl and the Mistress of Rosedale off Gutenburg. THIS BOOK. It is a perfect fucking storm of terrible Victorian literature.
1. The heroine's mother marries and has a child at the age of, wait for it, FIFTEEN.
2. Her mother not unnaturally flips (although because she wants her to marry money, apparently) and promptly hustles her out to the middle of nowhere to give birth, whereupon she tells her daughter that the baby died at birth but of course
3. The baby has been raised by someone the grandmother paid to do so.
After a while sheer horror kept me reading. It's set during the Civil War and is nominally anti-slavery but of course all the black characters are like, I don't know, I'm just so filled with horror I can't even. Then the grandmother finds the baby at the age of 16 when she's been more or less adopted by some other Southern lady and stages a kidnapping (to like, put her on a ship to Europe so she'd either die or suffer some unnamed terrible fate such as white slavery dun dun dun) because the mother is like MOM YOU ARE LYING ABOUT THE KID DYING AREN'T YOU. Then she (the girl) miraculously survives and gets back to the States. Then the mother finds her husband in the middle of a hospital scene at I think Charleston.
Also, even though it's set during the Civil War, it was written in 1892 or something and all the pictures have the characters dressed in 1892 clothing, which is like. Someone writes a WW2 novel and yet all the characters are dressed in modern clothes. SO JARRING. Just like the constant pauses for mini-sermons. The lady who wrote the novel was called (by herself? her publicist?) The Blind Bard of Michigan, and no offense, dudes, but since when has Michigan ... yeah.
Anyway almost at the end. Touching tableau of mother-daughter reunion. They knew each other instinctively, which is a bit much to swallow even for me, because 1) the mother only saw the girl for like five minutes when 2) she was a newborn 3) SEVENTEEN YEARS AGO.
Oh Victorian novels, why can't I quit you.