Your Unemployed Daughter

photo credit: arthus.erea
I have a rather gruesome confession: I am a serial computer killer. Drowning seems to be my favored method of execution, followed by electrocution, and then forcible trauma via a blunt instrument (or floor). Sometimes I intoxicate my victims; sometimes not. It depends what I have in the house.

The thing is, I love computers. Especially my own. I use it daily, even hourly, except when I’m sleeping, and sometimes even then, in my dreams, or if I wake.

So what is this sickness about? Why, every other year or so, must I destroy another innocent machine? Why, oh why, must two things so essential to YUD’s life (liquid sustenance and laptops) be so absolutely terrible for one another?

The worst was that wild and woolly weekend several years ago when I didn’t even realize until Sunday evening that somehow an entire beer had been dashed at the brain of my MacBook the Saturday night before, killing it completely, and not without great suffering.

It was unsalvageable, it smelled like a frat house, and the “Apple geniuses” (did you know they actually refer to themselves as geniuses? I learned that today) wouldn’t touch it.

And before you go in and ask, let me tell you: AppleCare doesn’t cover water spills. Or beer, vodka, or Goldschlager spills. Or kidnappings in clubland.

I had to replace it immediately, mourning the loss of my old pal all too hurriedly while finishing a project that would eventually pay for the new computer (kinda).

So I suppose last night’s relatively sober incident with a water glass was a step up, a sign of maturation…. Yet, the results are the same. Hello, new MacBook Pro, goodbye old MacBook. You were good to me. You didn’t deserve what I did to you. We got along pretty well, didn’t we? We went a lot of places together. We even slept together a couple of boozy nights. God, I miss you!

And yet, after the successful transfer of my files and most importantly music, and the purchase of a new back-up device which I am so totally gonna use this time, I feel…not so bad. A little psyched, even, what with the softness of the keypad and swiftness of speed and how clean and shiny my new little friend is. I just want to hug it and squeeze it and hold it so tight and …

Shit. I’m the Lenny of laptops.

Help me, people.