1.31.2006

Sacrificial computer lamb

When it comes to computers, I'm like an idiot savant...minus the savant. Not to get bogged down in lingo I don't understand, but what the hell are the odds of having three computers and NO INTERNET ACCESS? During the span of five days:

1. My computer at work committed suicide. I tried to show proper respect the Irish way - with plenty of beer - but my boss would have none of that so I sat at my desk all day quietly (no more media player), staring blankly at the monitor that no longer had a body. And just guess how many times I've had to listen to, "guess you ought to be more careful downloading porn at work."

The worst part is that the entire environmental division where I work ports through a program on my computer. Well, not at the moment, they don't. Three years of work from me? Apparently I was supposed to be backing stuff up - there's no record of it.

2. My laptop had hidden program files that were clashing with all things MSN, deleting folders and files, then reporting information across state lines. I couldn't edit anything online (the horror) and I decided to restore it to factory settings. Oh, right, but first I had to request freakin' recovery disks from Pakistani-Dell!

3. I can't find the modem disk for my desktop, which means no internet.

I'm sick and tired of my computer karma...exhausted from being in the path of locusts thrown by the computer gods above. I obviously need an intervention.

1.08.2006

Sisters Q

I consider myself an only child, with a twenty-three year old sister (we have the same father) and a fourteen year old brother (same late blooming mother), because I was almost an adult when they came along. Instead of sharing a room, fighting over clothes, and learning social skills, I was lost in a book or setting up Monopoly tournaments for me, myself and I.

My sister left yesterday and I'm actually missing her as I find signs of her visit: her ring on my nightstand, Bud Light bottles in the bathroom, the gum stuck to my Cosmo, the black sweater with sparkles she let me borrow...(don't worry, I'm mailing you everything! Probably. Heh).

She's a true extrovert - the one in a room with the sparkly personality that people can't help but want to be near, while I've always been more introverted and reserved. I used to be envious of her ease with strangers and her comparatively easy childhood, but our struggles are simply different and I'm finally able to appreciate our similarities (like singing Van Morrison songs at the top of our lungs in the bar).

She's my anxiety-ridden, music-providing, beer-sharing, crazy-cat-lady-in-training sister and I feel a little less alone in the world with her in it.


You're beautiful. You're beautiful.
You're beautiful, it's true.
There must be an angel with a smile on her face,
When she thought up that I should be with you.

- James Blunt

1.01.2006

Ask not for whom the ball drops, it drops for thee

You know you must have had a fun night when, the following day at noon, you're standing outside the strip bar in your pyjamas, 3" pumps, and princess tiara, banging on the door to see when you can get your credit card back (Monday, after 4:00).

12/31/2005: My sister TQ somehow convinced me to wear a little black boob-ilicious dress for our adventure New Year's Eve because it coordinated well with her sleek, backless black pant suit. Apparently, jeans and t-shirts are the southern dress code for bringing in the New Year in Alabama since we were WAY overdressed the entire evening.

We drank our beer and champagne at her mother's house until around 10:00, then decided to head to a gay bar in town. We met a couple of friendly women in line for the restroom ("Only one person may enter at a time. Strictly enforced"), but everyone there was a couple, so my drag queen sister and I kissed each other on the cheek when the ball dropped. And the champagne tasted like cheap, warm cat piss. Moving on...

We drove through thick fog to the strip club and met Chad, my co-worker, in the parking lot. We stayed until last call, then headed to a "private" bar that stays open as long as anyone wants to drink (I'd never heard of this until I moved here, but apparently, as long as you are a "member" with a cheap cardboard name card, the party never ends. This has been my downfall many, many times).

More beer followed, then some guy that wanted my sister to pose with his band, bought us shots of Jagerbombs. I'd have to pinpoint this moment as the one she checked out for the evening:


It was around 6:30 a.m. by this time, so we decided to take the long way home, swinging by work so I could feed my ten stray cats. It's a bit unorthodox to be wandering around in high heels, out in the fog, with the sun coming up, carrying cat food and yelling, "Here, kitty, kitty..." but it was really important that I feed them, and don't argue with me when I'm drunk!