The Love Of All Things Shiny

I'm typing this from my room, where my fan is set at a high 3. The white keys beneath my fingers are uncomfortably warm and I play a complicated dance with them. Tap here. Tap there. Jump over to the spacebar and tap, tap, tap. Ignore the clock in the upper right corner of the screen: I know that it's 3, I know I should be studying, but don't mortals all have their vices?

It's just a computer la. Go back to your Physics textbook. Stop wasting your time trying to edit some Square article - you know you'll never get anything done with a wireless connection singing to you softly from the modem downstairs.

I swat the thought away and it sinks into the murky recesses of my brain. Now I turn my mind back to this notebook: my God it is slow. Computers like these make grandmothers in Sentras look fast. Such a sorry state you are in, you poor white thing!


Earlier today I borrowed it from the staffroom and proceeded to handpeck my way through 3 artices and a Firefox download. It was competent. Really it was! (Okay so Safari did crash, and my mouse did do cartwheels over my Chemistry homework, but other than that everything worked fine! Fine! And have I told you how the dock looks when you're opening files?)

There is a 4 second lag between what I type and what appears onscreen. The keyboard's getting warmer. I swear it's turning into a grill. God.

I dream that one day we will all wake up in hell, and find Satan toasting unsuspecting pirated movie buyers between iBook G4s. Steve Jobs is evil. Go find a PC immediately. I take my leave and try to ignore the sizzling bits of my fingers still stuck to the keyboard.

Judo For Girls

Oh, I just couldn't resist.