Splendiferous

WordPress doesn’t know whether or not the word “splendiferous” should fall victim of to the wrath of the red squiggly. It’s a word, goddammit! Look it up.

Websites these days, I’ll tell ya.

Anywho, my computer has been fixed, which means I can spend more time rotting my mind with pointless hullabaloo while I wait for bedtime to roll around. It’s truly a luxury, the Internet. How I have gone so long without it really rattles my brain. It wasn’t my fault, either. I have no hesitation in placing 100% of the blame on the very laptop that is currently flash cooking my ‘nads. You see, it took a shit about two months ago. No warning. I tried turning it on one morning and it’s like, “Nope. Fuck off. I’m dead.” Perfect timing, Sony Vaio. Juuuuust perfect. I had just sold my XBox and all of my games. A new Nexus 4 was coming in the mail directly from Google, so there was another two weeks of panic. The microphone and pop filter I bought hadn’t even been used yet. My blog had to sit dormant for so fucking long that I began to lose hope. Many nights I cried into my pillow thick, sauce-like tears. Then, like a true hero, my good friend Landel decided he would take a look at ol’ Black Beauty. A few Red Bulls and a snip of the blue wire later (I’m assuming)  and voila! He fixed it! It may have taken him two months, but holy duck fuck it’s currently working like a ten-year old in the lacing department of a Nike factory. Here’s a photo of the beautiful man right here:

And the diagnosis was.....

His diagnosis…..

Where would I be without him or the Internet, you ask? I’d be in a dark place, that’s for sure. Had my laptop taken a ride down the highway to electronic hell, I would be in a world of despair. Here’s how I see it going down:

  • I wake up to go to work two hours early. Shirtless and covered in sweat due to constant nightmares, I stumble into the bathroom to relieve myself, as is the usual routine for your everyday man.
  • My urine splits into two streams. The reason is unknown for so long. (A doctor would eventually diagnose me with a narrow urethra and persistent tract infections because, hey, why not?)
  • I brush my teeth using a tube of toothpaste that has lost its cap. Normally a pet peeve, I have given up trying to locate it. It’s more than likely underneath the cabinet where the sink pipes hum, covered in dirt and webs.
  • I throw on a bunch of dirty clothes because I haven’t been able to go to the grocery store for soap. The people there stare at me because my eyes are a constant red from too much sleep and/or weeping.
  • I go to work. There’s a new girl named Barbara who, as she lets everyone know, is quite the morning person. “HI! I’M BARBARA!” she exclaims. “WHAT’S YOUR NAME?” I grab her by her seasonal turtleneck and whisper, “You’ll never be loved.” I enter my office. I slam the door.
"HAVE A GOOD DAY SIR! SEE YOU AT COMPANY SOFTBALL SIGN-UP!"

“HAVE A GOOD DAY SIR! SEE YOU AT COMPANY SOFTBALL SIGN-UP!”

  • A stack of paperwork waits for me. I disregard it. I open my top drawer and pull out a shitty Amazon MP3 player. I forgot I only loaded one song on it before my laptop died. It was…
  • Fuck.
  • I chuck the MP3 player across my office and pummel my head on top of the paperwork.  A staple pierces my forehead. I let it slide.
  • I doze off for what seems like hours until someone knocks on my door. It’s my boss. He tells me I’m fired for sleeping on the job. I’ve been doing it for a year, I think. Why now? Is it the snoring, I wonder.
  • “This is your replacement, Barbara.” She comes in behind him and smiles as I stand up to leave. “BUH BYE NOW!” she blurts out and throws me a crazy fast double-wave with her bubbly jazz hands.
  • I retrieve the MP3 player from the floor and listen to that godawful song on repeat all the way home.
  • I step through the front door. A wet cat approaches me as I close it behind me. I never had a cat. I decided that he’s mine now. His name is Jack Stormcastle.
"Shelter me, human."

“Shelter me, human.”

  • We cuddle on the couch and listen as the birds chirp to bring the evening in. I smell like sweat from my afternoon nap. Jack Stormcastle smells like pond water and dead possum.
  • I begin to drift away into sleep as I hear the cat start to purr. I press my face into matted fur and quietly mutter my new mantra: “I….love the nightlife….I’ve got to boogie….on the disco….*sniff sniff*….raaahhh-oooound.”

SCENE!

See, I told you life without a computer would be a bloody terrible thing. Luckily, I have friends that love me enough to fix my problems. Now if they could just learn that it’s OK for one guy to give another guy an oiled back massage, I’d be much more content. Life would be, dare I say, splendiferous.

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