I think my laptop is dead.
Angel ,'Conviction (1)'
Spike's Bitches 40: Buckle Up, Kids! Daddy's Puttin' the Hammer Down.
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risqué (and frisqué), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
Welcome home, Suzi.
Poor Kristin. The laptop is dead, long live the laptop.
So sorry, Kristin. It's sad. I hope it just needs a rest and is fine in the morning.
Whenever I hear/read the word "linguists"
oh good. I'm glad it's not just me. I won't tell you what "runt" brings to mind.
This is not looking good. My tech support is out to sea, and the laptop is making pitiful spinning sounds. No screen. One little start up chime, but then nothing but the sound of a dying drive. Shit. I have a lot of data on this drive. Also, no money to buy a new laptop right now. Did I mention shit?
shit
Did I mention shit?
That certainly sucks.
Of course, it does help that your SO can build a computer from parts lying around the back of his truck.
Sean and I have determined that it is not merely dead, it's really most sincerely dead.
Time to hit the genius bar to hopefully save my data and possibly go a lot more into debt. (Because ND may be good, but even he can't create a Mac laptop out of spare PC parts.)
Ah, March.
Kristin, looks like you should've dated a pie-maker instead.
...aw, man. Suddenly I'm pining for a Pushing Daisies Pi Day ep.
Goooooooood Morning Vietnam!
Today has been exhausting and I'm less than four whole hours into it.
Em got into bed with us...again...around 2 or 3 a.m. Then she would randomly sit up and ask me incomprehensible things. She'd poke me in the shoulder and say "Daddy? Daddy? DADDY?!"
"Mmf, flrgle, what Punkin? What is it?"
"Daddy? Can we shaph do sobba wik wik in a minute?"
"...sure. Go back to sleep."
Some time later:
"Daddy? DADDY?!"
"Punk. What?"
"Daddy?"
"Yes, Punkin'? What?"
"Daddy?"
"Emeline. What?!"
"Daddy? Can we yab to the mow mow for a little while?"
"Go back to sleep."
"Daddy?"
"Sleep! I command you!"
And so on.
This morning it was "Return of the Revenge of the I Don't LIKE Pants!" For about, I think, eternity. Sobbing while getting dressed. Sobbing while brushing her teeth. Sobbing while the Empress put her hair in ponytails (something Daddy is, apparently, fundamentally incapable of doing). Sobbing down the stairs. Sobbing into her Corn Pops. Then she cheered up!
"Daddy? Can I watch TV?"
"No, Punk. We don't have time, we're leaving in a few minutes."
Sobbing while putting on her boots. Sobbing while putting on her coat. Sobbing in the car.
Then I get to work and the payroll server is down with a critical hard drive error. So I got that goin' for me.