Tuesday, June 08, 2004

You win Spyware. I officially cannot access my Internet or MSN Explorer.

Thanks to you, I can no longer send my homework to myself using friend's TempBin invention.

Thanks to you and your Death Star friend, iMesh, I can no longer harrass my friends on MSN messenger.

I am ... alone.


I called my high-speed connection technician and he helped me connect to the Internet. We flirted a bit on the phone, sharing computer horror stories:

"One lady saw smoke coming out of the back of her computer, doused it in water, then asked us why it wasn't working."

"That's nothing. My friend told me to stop using my computer as a coffee table slash space heater."

The next thing you know (and by that, I mean 2 hours later), web surfing became a distant memory.

Needless to say, I'm at work right now where they use Macs, which suck because they don't have a right-click button on that little Zen rock they call a "mouse."


I just bought a baby spinach salad. Here's a tip for people who want to cut their fat intake in half (alright, maybe not half; maybe ... 1/30.)

Rather than smother your salad in dressing, dip your fork into a separate container containing that vinaigrette you've had since Thanksgiving's (where Uncle Robert became Roberta and your sister got drunk and told everyone you turned tricks at gas pump #4) before each bite. That way, you get all the flavour without (as many) calories.


I can't believe this bullshit. It's cram week and my computer fails me. I hope it gets sent to Abu Ghraib for some grade A military spankings.

With the things going as they are, it seems as if the only place people aren't having sex is in the porn industry.

Wait, no. They're up and running again. AIDS threat now at yellow. My bad.

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