I know you wish I’d refer to this more often, but oh my god, I’m Ashley Wilkes right now, returning from war. I’ve limped in, all tattered and worn out and possibly lousy. At least I don’t have that anemic Melanie hanging on me. There’s that.
Do you think when Ashley was off at war he had any in-the-trenches-what-choice-do-we-have gay sex? Not that Ashley needed that big of a push. Not that Ashley couldn’t have been enticed by a Hey, it’s Thursday and we’re in the conservatory scenario.
I realize Ashley is a cartoon character or whatever and this mulling is for naught.
The point is, I’ve been allegedly fixing my slow computer since SATURDAY. HOURS I’ve spent–HOURS–allegedly fixing this computer, talking to one guy at Apple Care and then talking to another guy who talks shit about the first guy, like when you go to a different hairdresser. “Well, I don’t quite know what Ryan was getting at when he told you to hooooo dee bhooo doo your heee deee bleee blleeee, cause what’d I’d do is….”
FIVE DAYS I spent, and just now I came in here, all PLEASE god, I’m not a praying man, but PLEASE god, just let my computer be FUNCTIONING, at least,
[I’ve referred to three movies already today]
and of course the screen was all: You have to do all this before you can even THINK about using your computer, and Apple Care said once I could actually sign in, to play with apps to see if the computer was moving at an actual rapid pace and not crawling like a computer in 1989, but what I did instead was stampede for my not blog because it’s been a hundred days since we’ve talked and you all think I’m dead.
They told me to play with my photos, so here. I slapped up the first one, and hey, clear. Hey, Claritin clear. It’s like my nerd mug shot.
What’d they get you for?
So the computer’s been broken, and I had to buy a back-it-up thing, which made me think of when Carrie Bradshaw’s computer crashed and everyone asked, “Didn’t you back it up?” and she was all, “WHY WAS THIS NEVER A THING TILL NOW?” and that’s just how I felt. Apple Care was appalled that I never backed up and I said, WHY DON’T YOU TELL ME TO.
So I went to sexy Office Despot or whatever, asked for if they had any pink backup things, got the “old lady be crazy” look that I get more and more often from those young
who all work at stores now, backed up my goddamn computer and that was my weekend.
Then also too, Alf has been here 45 days in a row to fix the wall I ruined by thinking I’d just benignly remove the hallway wallpaper, only to reveal the passage to hell.
I’d take an after shot to show you, but that would require unplugging the phone, going in there and photographing, plugging the phone back in, blah blah blah now it’s 3 p.m.
I feel like maybe all those hours didn’t do much to improve my computer’s speed. This thing is exactly six years old. I remember buying it at the Apple Store and it was so exciting. Here’s the first photo I took on this computer’s camera:
That was kind of fascinating. I just had to scroll backwards through time and look at all the pictures I ever took via my Photo Booth app. This was taken September 24, 2011. And it’s showing the image backwards cause I didn’t know how to fix yet.
October 1, 2011. Roger. Oh, June. June and your many dead cats. He was SEVEN MONTHS OLD here. That cat was enormous. He coulda kicked SD’s ass.
February 20, 2012. The gray roots are phenomenal.
Fuck off. Now with accessories! 4/6/12.
May 19, 2013. I’d moved the computer over.
January 22, 2015. Year abroad. Why must there always be an animal?
January 24, 2016. Back from year abroad.
September 5, 2016. What the…?
Christmas Eve, 2016. I have GOT to get Botox again. Look how good that eyebrow arch was.
March of this year. Your vaguely insane pal June, who just looked at 3484838 pictures of herself.
It may have been quicker to just get up and photograph the hall.
Anyway, so that’s what’s new. And old.
Also, this week at work is like to kill me, and I’m trying to prove I can handle it, so I’m continuing to have an Easter Island face on the outside, while screaming and ripping off my skin on the inside, which is trickier than it sounds.
This has resulted in all three nights this week of me coming home, feeding the pets, and flopping uselessly and vaguely migrainously on the couch each night till I can finally go to bed. Which is a rich and rewarding way to spend one’s evening. All of this week’s mail is just still on the kitchen counter.
Last night, I rented–for free because Amazon prime, which reminds me, go buy something on Amazon via my blog would you? Anyway, I rented Flashdance. I haven’t watched that movie in years, but I love it. I laid here motionlessly and watched the woman on Flashdance ride her bike to her welding job, then ride her bike to her dancing job, then go home and work out, then go work out with her friends for fun, then go have sex with her boyfriend, and really she didn’t pay much attention to her pitbull. The point is, I laid here and watched somebody do a whole bunch of things while I did nothing.
Anyway, it’s been good to talk to you and to make you look at me. LOOK AT ME. LOOK AT MEEEEEEE.