Uh huh, yeah yeah, I know.
I’ve been a bit scarce lately.
Well, scarce for me anyways.
My last post was on Saturday and I haven’t really stuck around so I could comment on each and every comment individually as is my “style.”
I’ve been tied up.
You see I had a vasectomy this weekend and they accidentally removed my balls.
OK, that’s not true.
In fact, none of it is true.
And that was a really weird thing to say.
What the hell? Is it because I’ve been absent from bloggery that I’m tripping so?
Well, I have been tied up. I was burying an old friend. An old friend I’ve known intimately since 2002. I’m sure it’s a “he.” His name is Compaq. How is that for devotion? How many other people you know stick with a computer that long when they have no financial reason for it?
Look man, I’m currently following a strict austerity program (have been for at least 3 years) and I’ve brought all my superfluous (and a lot of not-so-superfluous) spending to a grinding halt. It’s a radical and confusing departure from the lifestyle spanning my 20s through early 40s when I never met a dollar I didn’t love to spend.
Because of this, I’ve persisted in computing on an 8-year-old desktop computer and bulky monitor that has a smaller screen than the cock of many male porn stars.
This is a photo of the cast off cyber waste:
You see…I couldn’t hold out any longer.
Not when Chatroulette beckons.
It’s all about new, and different.
I’m a sucker for the “new” and the “edgy.”
Right now Chatroulette certainly seems to qualify. I want to get in on the action before popularity eats away at its novel seaminess. Only problem is that my 8-year-old Compaq would take to a webcam’s voracious computing appetite like Kirstie Alley would take to skinny jeans.
My old Compaq would turn to silicon mush under such an oppressive load.
Even Hulu is a nightmare for the Compaq.
Watching anything Hulu on that old computer proved agonizing. Every video was subject to random hiccups, pauses, speed distortions, scary sound distortions…watching Hulu on my Compaq was seriously turning into a ‘shroom-like experience minus the vomiting and radiant sunsets.
Watching the Compaq trying to playback an episode of Family Guy was like watching a very old man painfully make his way to the bathroom only to piss his pants right at the doorway. Pure agony. If computers could cry and shriek, my Compaq was doing it under the onslaught of Hulu.
So there was no way I could contemplate Chatroulette without first investing in some new machinery.
So off I trudged to Best Buy yesterday, and at 1:00 it was luxuriously empty and devoid of large families with noisy kids looking for cheap entertainment (as in, we’re too cheap to even splurge for lunch at Chuck E Cheese). I don’t like shopping, I don’t like asking questions; when I walk into a store, I have done my research and I know what the hell I want. Apparently that is an unusual and slightly unnerving customer trait for most “customer service” sales types because they run at you with a whole litany of scripts and rehearsed pitches and if you don’t fit the typical customer profile, they aren’t quite sure what do do. Should they be thankful or call the police?
So there I am, meandering into the quiet Best Buy, holding a printout of exactly what I want to buy. The reason I chose Best Buy was due to the fact that they are offering an interest-free financing deal which applies as long as you pay off your purchase ($249 or greater) in 18 months or less. No problem there, I could pay it in full now but if Chase Manhattan is willing to float me some free money, I’m an idiot not to bite. Pre-austerity David would not have concerned himself with interest rates. You wanna charge me 23% annual interest? Go right ahead, I’m going to walk out of here with my brand new fill in the blank! Charge me what you like because I’m a foolish consumer. Tell me how much, I’ll write the check. As long as I can have stuff. Stuff and stuff, lots of stuff, more stuff!
There is no such thing as “in and out” when you’re buying a computer.
And a monitor and a stinking webcam.
It’s hard to say no to all the warranties they offer. Happens everytime…eventually I give in and buy one. You never know. It’s all about fear. What if my new Dell explodes or unleashes a bolt of lightning from its virgin innards? When you’re forking out $1100, fear lives in your loins.
And how is it that $549 becomes $1100 so slyly?
OK, the Geek Squad inspected this, they turned it on, got rid of some excessive programs, supposedly sped it up, as the salesman proudly informed me. They even put a sticker on the box. Whoa!
The Geek Squad prepped my computer, I’m in business now! And it only cost me $70. A steal. And for a couple hundred more bucks, I’m guaranteed a free visit from a bonafide Geek in the next 2 years should my new computer decide to check out early.
My poor salesman.
Short Mexican enters store, send the junior salesman to help him! That no-disposable income bean-eating Julio, he’s just here for the A/C or maybe he’s casing out the customers. Send Tony!
Tony, my salesman was a really personable Asian dude about my height (ah, it’s a height thing!) but he was slightly spastic. He carried all the literature in hand and he rushed about like a madman servicing me. At one point he waved and sent a plastic sectional sign near the webcams flying up in the air. It took him a while to re-insert it into the holder. When it came time to check me out, his terminal shut down on him and would not come back to life. He asked for help but all his co-workers seemed shockingly disinterested. Even those who attempted to help seemed to have all the expertise of Geek Squad University flunkie. Finally Tony moved me to another terminal but the wand there didn’t work. And this was after he lugged the 3 boxes across the full length of the customer counter. He was really flustered and aggravated, but it seemed that the more obstacles presented themselves, the more he laughed. It was great! Finally, after the 3rd try, he led me to one of the regular cash registers where he proceeded to close my sale out. When he handed me the receipt, he happily thanked me and shook my hand, and it wasn’t until then that I realized just how sweaty the dude was. He was getting a work out, lugging my 3 boxes back and forth and the palm of his hand was soaked, as if he’d just washed his hands without drying. Perspiration dribbled down his forehead. Poor guy.
In the end, it was all worth it.
I can now fixate on a 22″ spread of Beatrice Dalle.
Interest free. I’m a blessed man.
I wonder if she’ll be on Chatroulette??