I THREW IT ON THE GROUND.
You know what I hate?
HP POWER CORDS!
You know why?
Because they break easier than a leg under a dropped piano. All the time. This is my ...third one with this particular laptop (and we won't even get into the laptop. I have no backspace key. I haven't for 80% of the time that I've owned this laptop.) and it too is on it's last leg.
At first there's just a flicker. The screen gets dimmer and you fiddle until it's back to normal. No harm, no foul power cord.
Then it happens again. You get wary. You've been down this path before. Trying to delay the inevitable you soothe your lovely laptop and try to be careful with the power cord.
But it's too late. The process has already begun. It might take awhile, weeks, months but then you finally get to that day when it flickers and you fiddle, and it flickers, and your heart jumps into your throat going "NOT AGAIN! NO NOT AGAIN!".
Through maneuvering and a good deal of engineering you figure out a way for it to continue to provide that life-sustaining power (because honestly, going without this computer and the internet is pretty much the end of the world). It results in you having to stand on your head, while gurgling and offering your firstborn on top of a pile of textbooks- but by jove you've got it.
Until you don't. So then you try on top of the chair, next to the stairs with three apples as a pillar and your second born as well.
HP Power Cord is not appeased.
By this point you've already started looking online for a replacement. It knows. You ebay, you google, you stare long and hard at the shady Chinese shop that looks okay but just might not be the brightest idea even though $12 dollars is one sweet fucking deal.
Since y'know, in the store it's $80 fucking bucks and that's if you're lucky. Paying for such is unfeasible unless you A) Get a job B) Beg your parents for money C) Become a hooker.
Unfortunately, your potential as a streetwalker is limited, especially since you have to resist the urge to go 'OMNOMNONNOM' in the midst of fellatio.
So then you wait for it to die. That point of no return where you cling to your iPhone and man up to what will likely be 'Option B' since most jobs in the market right now want 82 years of experience and you to be bilingual with whales.
It's the waiting that's the hardest part in this war.
I hate you HP.
I hate you so much.
HP POWER CORDS!
You know why?
Because they break easier than a leg under a dropped piano. All the time. This is my ...third one with this particular laptop (and we won't even get into the laptop. I have no backspace key. I haven't for 80% of the time that I've owned this laptop.) and it too is on it's last leg.
At first there's just a flicker. The screen gets dimmer and you fiddle until it's back to normal. No harm, no foul power cord.
Then it happens again. You get wary. You've been down this path before. Trying to delay the inevitable you soothe your lovely laptop and try to be careful with the power cord.
But it's too late. The process has already begun. It might take awhile, weeks, months but then you finally get to that day when it flickers and you fiddle, and it flickers, and your heart jumps into your throat going "NOT AGAIN! NO NOT AGAIN!".
Through maneuvering and a good deal of engineering you figure out a way for it to continue to provide that life-sustaining power (because honestly, going without this computer and the internet is pretty much the end of the world). It results in you having to stand on your head, while gurgling and offering your firstborn on top of a pile of textbooks- but by jove you've got it.
Until you don't. So then you try on top of the chair, next to the stairs with three apples as a pillar and your second born as well.
HP Power Cord is not appeased.
By this point you've already started looking online for a replacement. It knows. You ebay, you google, you stare long and hard at the shady Chinese shop that looks okay but just might not be the brightest idea even though $12 dollars is one sweet fucking deal.
Since y'know, in the store it's $80 fucking bucks and that's if you're lucky. Paying for such is unfeasible unless you A) Get a job B) Beg your parents for money C) Become a hooker.
Unfortunately, your potential as a streetwalker is limited, especially since you have to resist the urge to go 'OMNOMNONNOM' in the midst of fellatio.
So then you wait for it to die. That point of no return where you cling to your iPhone and man up to what will likely be 'Option B' since most jobs in the market right now want 82 years of experience and you to be bilingual with whales.
It's the waiting that's the hardest part in this war.
I hate you HP.
I hate you so much.