She keeps Moet et Chandon in a pretty cabinet

Sunday night was supposed to be a night of serious blogging: Finish at least three posts in drafts and think of ideas for new ones. But instead my computer freaked out, as it often does, and Sunday and Monday was spent trying to figure out why it wouldn't connect to the Internet, why there was no sound, and why the classic restart option -- attempted no less than 10 times -- failed to work.

Thanks to my supreme Google-fu and an alarming amount of fellow 'net denizens with the same problem, the solution was found, implemented, and Francisco is back in service. (Until the next time he decides to act out like the surly toddler he is.) Of course now, at this point, there is no energy or brainpower left to intelligently blog so I resort to the writer's crutch: bullet points.

• Since writing about Anne Shirley, one of her blossoms has died. Hoping that's just the lifespan of an amaryllis and not a statement on my sickly green thumb.
• Last weekend, I tried on more than 30 items of clothing, and bought none. This weekend, a trip to Georgetown and trying on about 10 outfits, ended empty-handed. Sunday's trip to Target only set me back $14. What has happened to my shopping-fu?!
• Sunday the roommate and I went to brunch with/exclusively for bottomless mimosas. So many years wasted because of a disdain for orange juice; if only I had realized my glass was just missing the champagne.
• It's season finale time. "30 Rock" was amazing and the summer is going to be long and dry without it. "How I Met Your Mother" is pissing me off and it better stop being lame. Or else I'll still keep watching it but not happily.
• The oil spill in the Gulf is breaking my heart. I think every person that ever uttered or even thought the words "drill, baby, drill" should have to personally clean off a bird or sop up some of the mess from those wetlands.

Danger, danger

I got to work yesterday, turned on my computer, only to have it start showing weird error messages, including one that read, "This computer is corrupt and unreadable."

Corrupt and unreadable. Insert joke here.

All I know is nine a.m. is entirely too early in the day to already be corrupt and unreadable.

And it's never a good sign when the tech guy looks at the error and says, "Hmm, never seen that before."

Also, my second monitor at work is melting, no joke. There's about a one inch section on top that is clearly melted.

I wish I could make up the technological mishaps that happen to me, really. If I was truly that inventive and creative I could be making a fortune instead of spending a fortune replacing various electronic necessities.

F*** Technology

(I have no idea why I censored myself there, I clearly have no qualms with swearing seeing as how I routinely do so in front of children, churches, and old ladies.)

I have three posts in drafts that I can't finish because my personal laptop has yet another virus and the photos and notes I need to finish are on my dear, sick, Francisco.

So that means the count for this year is one real virus, one fake virus, one dropped and therefore broken external hard drive, two erasures of music on my iPod, multiple lost flash drives that have since been found...on top of last year's three cell phones and a rain-damaged digital camera...on top of college's five to six replaced hard drives, one replaced motherboard, and a replaced screen -- all on the same laptop...on top of three broken printers in five years.

And the sick part is I am an incredbily reponsible person. All of these items have a myriad of padded cases and permanent locations in my room. It all just reinforces my belief that I don't have good luck, I don't have bad luck, I just don't have any luck period.