I had one goal for last night: transfer all of my Eminem cd’s onto my pretentious iPhone so that I had more than 7 songs at my disposal. Of course, given that PC’s suck at everything, the hard drive crashed during the music transfer process and the computer is now essentially dead.
I’ve been planning on getting a MAC anyway so I considered this a blessing in disguise. But then I had a dark, profound and crippling thought: my book is on this computer.
Panic set in. Not the “oh this is horrible and it will take awhile to get over this” type of angst. This was “I will definitively kill myself in the most horrific manner possible using, simultaneously, a gun, knife and crossbow”.
Because I am prone to freaking out over relatively minor inconveniences, it took two Glenlivets to remember that I had sent copies of the book file to my stepfather and ex-girlfriend. For reasons that I won’t go into here, neither of them are speaking to me at the moment, so I’ll have to make amends with them soon. Given that I’m not all that bright, I’m actually impressed that I even sent it to them in the first place. That’s forethought, my friends, and it’s what this guy is all about (points to self).
So once I have a MAC I’ll return to the B-Sides series. Until then I’ll be trying to retrieve files off of
the abomination known as my PC. Screw you, Dell.