Saturday, July 30, 2011

E tu, modem?

This about sums it up.
All right.  I hate technology.  Okay so I love/hate it.  But I'm about ready to get the ultimate hate-on for it that will rival Caesar's Legion if it doesn't... stop... fucking with me.  This tale of tragic irritation began when we got our phone changed over to some "cable phone" bullshit, which just means it runs off cable internet.  MY cable internet.  In my room, on my modem.  My new modem, which is a douchebag.  Ever since we got it its been deciding to work only when it feels like it.  I have to do some fancy finangling to get it working again ... maybe.  Once again, if it feels like working.  So, I haven't got a lick of beta work done.  Okay, well, I got a little bit finished, but not any to brag about.  Since i use Google docs I can only work when I have an internet connection.  With it being constantly down, and for two days straight a couple days ago, I have little to show.  I'm writing this to let my readers -- and my beta peeps know that no, I have not forgotten about you or my stories that I am literally:

Having Technical Difficulties.

Someone shoot me, for this is getting hella annoying. Oh, and if we have to call the guys back in I'm going to have to rearrange all my chords and electronics so they can fix this shit, which means another day or two of cleaning the room with my computers in it and doing some organizing.  I have a very cluttered office.  >.>  This means more time I have to spend away from my computer and my work.  Pissed off doesn't begin to cover it.

Oh code cat, how I wish you were real...
Fuck you technology.  What I need is my own platinum chip to upgrade my computer systems.  Alas, that isn't real.  Where's a genius like Robert House when I need one... Or at least someone with a high "science skill."

F M L -- for the current moment.

(And somewhere in the netherworlds of imagination ghost Benny is smiling down and laughing quoting, "it was all rigged from the start -- yeah, rigged wrong."  Thank you, Benny, thank you.  Now go bother the Courier.  I think he/she misses you... I sure as hell won't.)