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2004-06-29 @ 2:43 p.m.
Ctl-Alt-Delete Wittykitty

I think I'm addicted to support groups. I am currently in two. One for survivors of sexual abuse and one for singles who have low esteem (or at least that's what I'm guessing the subject of the second one is. It's "A"s group and that seems to be the common denominator amongst all of us except for one married person).

I'm also in an anger management group, although our first group didn't happen, the second one started late, the third one also started late and ended early, and the fourth one I had a melt down beforehand and didn't go. And boy was I ticked, because they had free pizza and pepsi that day.

But the real group I need help from is a group for people who are mad at their malfunctioning computers. The modem I just replaced a month ago, is the biggest piece of Taiwanian crap ever assembled in any sweat shop on the face of the earth.

The damn thing has never really worked very well from the get go. I initially thought I had done something wrong when I put it in, but no. My workmanship was was the Taiwanian piece of shit inside that was at fault. That's right! Fuck you cheap workmanship.

Why do I say that? Because it is forever, fritzing on and off. The modem I mean, not me. Well, OK, I fritz on and off too. We'll just have to call my mother and blame her for poor workmanship.

At first I thought it was AOL. Checked out all that stuff...wire connections, modem connections, phone numbers I called from my area. They all checked out fine. But my computer kept disconnecting after like 5-10 minutes. And then it would be after 3-6 minutes. And then after like 2-3 minutes. And then it would disconnect almost instantly, and I would be sitting in front of my computer like some high tech Blanche Dubois screaming, "Why, oh why sweet Jesus? Why must you do this to me? This is my only connection to the outside world. Why do you have to take my computer?"

And then I would start throwing things. Ok, Blanche Dubois probably didn't have a computer, but the drama it was producing in me, was certainly on par with what she would put forth in a situation like this.

So I started writing my diaryland entries on Quark and then entering them very quickly on diaryland, before the computer modem would decide to throw its little hissy fit. And then it would either gobble it, throw in on twice or make it so there were no paragraph indents and one long blob of text.

Hey! I didn't write it like that.

So I am currently writing this on a nice, well behaved computer at a local library. Meet LAB07.

Witty: Hi LAB07!

LAB07: Beep

Witty: You are so handsome with your sleek black screen, and your silver lightweight tower. And're so stable. None of this melodramatic fritzing on and off, making Witty cry and scream. I guess in a way, this would kinda be like having a healthy relationship with someone, huh?

LAB07: Beep

Witty: Yeah, I know. How would I know anything about healthy relationships, right? I just came from Married Guy's house. Went over for kidlet's music lesson today and saw M.G. afterwards. He seemed kind of sullen. I asked him about his weekend down in the City, and most of his answers were of the two word variety. I told him of my aching back. He didn't offer much. I suddenly felt really unloved.

LAB07: Beep

Witty: I know you're not a shrink LAB07. I guess because its Tuesday and I usually see "A" today, I just felt like unloading a little. You could at least sound sympathetic.

LAB07: Beep?

Witty: I know, I realize people are sometimes in bad moods, but I have a hard time handling that. I usually think they're directed at me. Yeah, I know, that's stupid...the world doesn't revolve around me. You're right.

LAB07: Beep

(Witty looks reflectively at her new black and silver friend, who seems wise beyond their highly polished computer byte years)

Witty: You wanna go out for a Latte? I don't have any money right now, but I will gladly pay you Tuesday, for a Latte covered with cinnamon sprinkles today.

LAB07: Ctl-Alt-Delete Wittykitty

Witty: It's pretty bad when even library computers hate you.

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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty