Waste

So I get a call from Randell my friendly CompUSA technician who informs me that he spent the better part of this morning watching Shark Tale on my computer proving that my DVD drive is in fine working order. Thanks numbnuts. How about trying a DVD-R in that drive since that was the fucking problem?!?! And then he says that the Firewire port that I can't seem to get to work consistently "checks out just fine too." Well, that was a wise move on my part. Allowing CompUSELESSA hold on to my computer for 4 days only to tell me that its all in my head and that they didn't do anything to resolve my issues.

What is the point of buying Apple Protection Plan if I can't just get a new drive or port when I say it's busted? I paid $150 for some country retard to tell me that "ain't nothing wrong"? When I challenged him on the DVD-R issue over the phone, he said that perhaps the DVD-Rs I'm using aren't formatted properly for my drive. Well, since Brother Mike, a certified Apple technician himself, is the very person who provided me said DVD-Rs, I tend to think that isn't the answer. I'm not sure what to do now? Buy a new fucking computer just to get my ISight camera to work consistently and allow me to regain back all of my MP3s? Or just deal with it?

To vent my frustrations with this mess, I decided to upgrade my phone to the Razor phone after all. It's hot. Of course it hasn't rung yet, but when it does I'll hear the soothing voice of Ben Gibbard to alert me of a call. My little digital camera wound up busting on me recently, so the camera phone feature comes in handy.

And in closing tonight, I would like to paint a picture of my Friday night. Come home from work after 11 hours, immediately begin knocking back Mickey Lights, watch Janelle get tossed out of the Big Brother house and take with her my desire to fucking care at this point, make plans to hang out with a friend, have the same friend cancel those plans @ 10:30 PM, continue to drink beer, wander over to the local karoake bar wasted at around Midnight (sadly becoming a trend for my Friday nights...), get up and perform Radiohead's Creep which impressed the karoake regulars enough to ask that I sit with them, small talk while pouring Miller Lights down my throat, sneakily request Cruisin' (the Gwenyth Paltrow/Huey Lewis version) as a duet for me to perform with Trish the best female singer in the joint, bring down the house with our rendition, walk right from the stage to the door and across the street to my house, eat hot dogs/cheese curls until ready to puke and fall into bed naked and wasted. Ah, Southern Comfort.