At six o'clock this morning (fuck, that's early), my computer decided to throw a temper tantrum rivaling all two-year-olds' hissy fits in the destruction of my psyche.
Basically, the little bitch (yes, my computer is a girl) (a teen-aged, hormonal one that winces at the notion of being seen with me in public) decided no! It wasn't working.
After half an hour of bitching (and Aaron telling me to stop cursing at the damn computer) (pot calling the kettle black), I went to the basement to spread my verbal wrath on the modem and wireless router.
Hehehehehehe, I said router.
::blink, blink:: Wait. Was that funny?
Anyway, three hours later and I was about ready to pull my fucking hair out because hello, that shit is Aaron's responsibility. So I called him and he gave me a seven page list of Shit To Check Before Crying To Him About It and all I could think of was my obligation to NaBloPoMo and fuck, was I going to have to figure out how to post from the library? Because you all better believe that I would still uphold my obligation to NaBloPoMo from the grave if that's what it took.
Unless, of course, "from the grave" included unlimited amounts of chocolate-chocolate cupcakes and Legos and in that case? Fuck you all, that's one hell of a party right there.
Anyway, imagine my surprise when the shit that Aaron told me to do actually worked.
Amazing, right? That a man could be correct for once?