From The Ashes ...

My Tale Of Woe


I try not to complain about the things that happen to me. The people yes, but
the things, not so much. Largely because I fail to see the point.
Shit happens. Truer more concise words were never spoken. So when it
happens to me I pretty much process it, shrug, make a little mental
"well how do you like that" and walk away.

For example. Last week I left my laptop at work. At first, I didn't
really pay it any mind. My office door is locked. But upon further
consideration I began to remember how many times one of my mewling
hunchback underlings can come rapping at the door to tell me that one
of the bartenders "is mean". Then I remembered the wooden folding chair
I bought that didn't survive its first month. And the full length
mirror that was cracked completely in half and left hanging. Mysteriously,
no one knows how or when it happened. Equally mysteriously, no one felt
the least little urge to replace said shattered mirror, preferring instead to
run the risk of slicing open an artery in your groin if you got too close while
tying your tie. "Sorry, I can't accept your schedule request, I'm
bleeding out right now." I finally replaced it myself after I couldn't
stand it one. more. day. Add in one more shattered folding (metal)
chair and a ripped up threadbare footstool and I suddenly feared that
leaving my laptop in a high traffic destructive area was probably a
mistake. Still, I opted to leave it. I let a day and a half go by
before returning to work. A half hour later I turned on my box.
Nothing. At least on-screen. I heard the little fella cycle through the
set-up so I knew the hard drive was working but the display was shot.

"That sucks," I thought.

I did inquire to Jabba The Drunk if he could remember my laptop getting
dropped or knocked off the chair. He claimed no knowledge but did in fact
confess the next day that he opened the door pretty quickly and knocked it pretty
good. That could have done it, but then again, it could have been the two times
last week when I stuffed it in my backpack and biked 40 blocks with it
bouncing around in there. At that point, "the how" that brought us to
"the what" was already unimportant to me. I had moved on to what is. So
on Saturday I brought my poor damaged box to a repair shop on 14th near
6th. They advertised that they fixed most major brands, and I decided
that it was probably a loose connection between the computer and
screen. I explained the problem to the repair "boy" who promptly hooked
my laptop up to a monitor (I embarrassingly forgot you could easily do
that) and confirmed the drive is fine, and dignosed a display problem,
possibly the LCD. All the while he's unscrewing things and removing the
keyboard, so naturally I assume he's going to fix it right then and
there. Instead after a few minutes of fiddling with things he informs
me in conspiritorial tones that he's taped his cell number on the back
of my laptop and to call him later tonight. He says he "knows a guy"
who can fix it for me probably for "around $30 or $35 dollars".

"WTF?" I'm thinking, "Isn't that what you do?"


Totally confused now and possibly mixed up in some Al Qaeda plot of
some sort, I thank Mustafah Akbar, the computer repair boy who doesn't
repair things, and head home. So for now, I'm stuck doing all of my
writing back at home. I do the monitor trick at work but I have truly
grown to loath my HP Omnibook 900 with the maddeningly jumpy cursor.
How many $35 blowjobs will I have to give out via Craigslist ads until
I can afford something else? That's the least of my problems.


Last year I bought a bike. The man and his bike were inseperable for
most of the summer until that fateful day when my poor bike friend was stolen
right out of my (usually) locked building. I told you recently about how, through
my brother's generosity and a little creative financing, I was able to replace the Toy's 'R Us bike with a pretty sweet upgrade.What I didn't mention was that three weeks later it was stolen. Right from in front of my own place of enslavement. I was out in the field picking green beans at the time. I was really disappointed but otherwise non-plussed. I mean I wasn't happy but it seemed ridiculously ridiculous and ultimately unfixable. So I silently bid a heartfelt goodbye to Bertha, slightly amused that I was sorrier to see this Bertha go than the real one. Determined to soldier on, I jumped back in with both feet, returning to the We 'B Toys (because there was no way I was coming up with the pesos for a full replacement) and secured
another under $100 bike that had two wheels and brakes and 21 gears and
really, for my puposes what else do you need? Apparently, you also need
a tire pump and extra seat padding as I discovered after two weeks with
my new friend, who I named simply #3, as I thought should disaster
strike thrice, it would be less painful if I didn't let it get too
close by granting it a formal name. Good thing, too. Since a day after I
began accessorizing #3, it was swiped from outside the rack at my gym.
And all I got to show for it was a blowjob. But that's another story.
Funny, because the night before I had popped into my gym with The Hellcat for a quick workout.
We were in the locker room when he he looked on, bemused at my tiny...
travel lock I had picked up at CVS for $2.29.

"You're a very trusting soul, aren't you?"

"They're just things."

And it's true. They are only things. They're my things. I like my things. I
would prefer that people would stop taking my things. And I don't
understand why some people are able to be so morally bankrupt that they
can just walk up and take a thing. And I don't truly want to. But
they're only things. And I can replace them. Or not. It's only as
important as you allow it to be. That said, I'm done with bikes for now.



In other news...

Despite the rule change, alas, I remain too old to become an American Idol. Thank god,
I would probably dissolve into an alcoholic mess before the season ended. Maybe America would enjoy that.

From time to time I recommend software or tech I've been using. If you're
sick of IE as your browser just 'cause they get boring, or you're
worried about the porous and worm vulnerable fashion in which IE was
built, try downloading Firefox. I've been using it exclusively for the last two weeks and I'm hooked.
It easily imports all of your Internet Explorer bookmarks, it's a tiny,
fast little download, has a popup blocking feature plus great extra
"extensions" that allow you to customize your toolbars, or you can
download "skins" that completely give your browser window some unique
characteristics. Try it. Tell 'em Mustafah sent you.