Never Gonna Fall For

The old laptop turned an antique two and began slowing waaaay, way down. The browser quit whenever I opened Haloscan. I was having a tough time being a belle of the Blog Ball, doing my own work and working on the family store's website. If it's possible, at this time two weeks ago I was even testier than usual. When I turned to trusty Siobhan for help wrangling a new laptop, things went side saddle.

Siobhan: I can't! I've got errands until ten every night until I leave Friday morning at 4 a.m.
Tata: Your selfishness is unbelievable! Think of the poor salesdude in the Apple store confronted with me, an overheating G3 with Miss Sasha's wedding video stuck in the disk drive, and a freshly minted credit card for this purpose alone. Imagine that psyche in terrible crisis!
Siobhan: Sob!

I promised her misery when she returns this Saturday but it made no difference. Siobhan's been on blood thinners since the pulmonary embolism in February. Perhaps you recall this golden moment in Poor Impulse Control.

(Dreamy woo woo music. Enter careening clown car.)

Tata: Wait, when should I panic?
Siobhan: When I stopped breathing in the ER and sliding toward the floor, twelve years of voice training and fright combined in a potent cocktail of pride and self-preservation. I screamed, "I CAN'T BREATHE!" annnnnd - curtain! That would have been the moment to panic. My doctor keeps saying, "You nearly bought the farm!" and laughing. I'm thinking of killing him.
Tata: Can I panic when we're the darlings of CourtTV?
Siobhan: Yes. It's natural to shiver in the presence of Nancy Grace.

(End dreamy woo woo music. Even clowns fear Nancy Grace.)

Drinking while on blood thinners makes you either a cheap date or a patient with ER frequent flyer miles, so Siobhan's been sober since before the last snowfall. Liquor manufacturers begged her to reconsider but rejoiced when she declared that for the first three days of her summer vacation everyone would have to raise their own hell, she was diving into a martini and swimming the channel. And while I am aware that she's probably just sobered up today and started issuing apologies, that didn't help me last week. So: fine! If she couldn't go shopping with me, the least she could do was write flashcards for when I tried talking to the other humans in my funny Moonman language, which she did. It took all afternoon. Finally, I was prepared and growling; I went. The experience was in retrospect disappointing. The stuck disk remains stuck. The recalled and overheating battery remains in place. I bought a firewire cable and moved my own data, and for the first time in my computer-owning history, Apple can fucking bite me. But I have this ginchy new laptop that actually does what I need it to do. My brother-in-law Dan, recipient of the erstwhile fantabulous thermoMac if he ever returns my calls, can prise that disk from the bitey drive with a monkey wrench if he chooses. We fear no warrantee!