I think I’m making progress … then battle resumes
Can now even work the stupid new computer machine thingy, and still battle resumes. The only downside is that I had to call on the services of EdZilla who blew in, having just terrified our vicar by telling him how much she admired his sermons; and his wife’s cooking as well no doubt.
I had dropped off on her at Chateau Insane (EdZilla’s lair) what I thought was a copy, neatly stored on one of these wee things you stick in the computer’s arse; a memory prick. Only the wee bastard in question had memorised bugger all. Talk about a let down. So, there I was in mid-rant about early turd millennia technology, in general, and stroppy bloody computers in particular … EdZilla, wearing her primary school teacher, mark-three, look; cool as some several thousand cucumbers, took the stick. She stuck it in the hole, pressed a couple of tits, and ‘dragged’ the bloody icon across to the picture on the screen of the memory stick. It was all sorted. Calling me a brave little soldier didn’t help.
Hatred has it’s own rewards
I bloody well hate everybody again. Not that she was patronising at all, no really; well maybe just a wee bloody bit. Cow! Then she got my E-mail to work. I forgot to tell her the number of hours I’d spent with the computer trying to get it to work. Double cow! Then she had to go and e-mail my copy to herself; ‘so we won’t need the memory stick. will we?’
I am not a bloody child!
Mercifully she fucked off after a smug cup of tea and further observations on John v Technology. Ha bloody ha. Leaving me to let the machine know that any further collaboration with Edzilla would see it getting its rheostats rogered and its transistors trashed. Put that in your pudenda and smoke it!
by John J McCabe