Thursday, January 11, 2007
*Hangs head in shame*
I'm sorry, I'm sorry.I - I just don't know what to say. I promised you to blog every day and by the 11th Jan I've failed already.
But you see, it went like this.
Old computer restarted 21 times (it had obsessive compulsive disorder) when you restarted it.
New computer didn't.
Installed sound card on new computer.
New computer seemed a bit ditzy but coping (like me).
New computer has seizure. Will not restart.
When pulled plug, new computer refuses to talk to anyone and monitor and computer won't acknowledge each other.
Dad comes over, transfer data (including assessed essay for Monday) over to old computer, ready to take it back despite its social problems.
Dad leaves three hours later.
Data has not worked. Old computer has not dealt with new information well. Had created shortcuts to the New computer's drive (which is now in Tamworth, not Birmingham), instead of copying.
Huffy Dad comes back. Hands Mike drive, asking him to "deal with it." Possibly he meant me ("what's a hard drive?")
Mike "deals with it" from 9pm til now.
Essay is on memory stick. Will never let go of memory stick.
"I wonder what was wrong," I say, lounging on my bed post-trauma. "Ooh ooh will you come up with a cute analogy. The sound card and the computer didn't get on, and so on."
"No," Mike says.
"Please."
"Okay. The sound card was too big for Mrs Computer's slot and he tor-"
"Mike!"
by billygean.co.uk at 11:47 PM |
3 Comments:
The sound card was too big for Mrs Computer's slot and..he initialised her floppy discs with it instead. Afterwards, she got even by removing his plugin and trashing his hard drive.
Oh we could play this for hours...
I'm loving the analogy..
Must admit, I feel so priviledged to have an IT help desk type person at home..
(btw, James bought a new stick of ram for his laptop and I am now quite certain that my laptop is actually jealous. It keeps jumping on CAD.. James thinks I am mad and says computer is not alive but I know he is wrong...)
We must not speak evil of the 'puters... They know, somehow, and they will extract their revenge. Why do you think I haven't had a functioning printer for the last four years? Bitching about him to friends in pub, that's what.
NB/ Have we noticed we think our 'puters are male?
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