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just your average... er... correction: just your normal... correction: me. |
Other people's computers just don't work right. Mine? It smokes. It literally sits there in the corner with a cigarette hanging from its bottom lip, no matter how many times we tell it that's unhealthy. It seems to think it's a beatnik. And that binary is poetry. What's really sad is when it gets its midi-files up and running and there's a lone bass being plucked while it spews out random numbers. It started innocently enough. I let it make snapping noises when I wrote poetry in Word. Then it went downhill from there. You should see the beret it's got -- a ten-gallon one with a microchip pattern. Then came the black outfit. I told it that spandex would not work.... ::sigh:: It's not pretty. Every time I write a paper on the computer, I have to manually edit out random direct addresses of "man". And it has a habit of formatting my lines for me. The worst part is, I can't seem to convince it that beatnik is not its thing. I get messages like "Stop it, man, you're crowding the creative flow." I'll probably get used to this all eventually, but I'm sorry. The sunglasses just look ridiculous. |