I'm currently in the market for a new laptop. My current one, or "Old Faithful" as I like to call it, has been showing signs of dementia of late. In her colossal eight year lifespan she's been upgraded, expanded and pushed to her very limits each and every day with my giant graphic and media demands, my music and video libraries, my photo folders and home videos and useless applications I've acquired gleefully, used once then never gotten around to removing. She's charged my iPod, allowed me to make phone calls, send inane instant messages to my boyfriend regarding the current state of his penis and to finally watch that infamous Pam Anderson/Tommy Lee video (seriously, what was all the fuss about?)
Sadly she's not long for this world. I mean "Old Faithful" here, not Pam Anderson. I believe she'll outlive the cockroaches in any apocalypse.
Christmas is no time to shop for a laptop. If you're thinking about it, just don't. There are laptops everywhere, advertised in shiny letters. You read specs until your head is spinning, then, when you make a decision - this processor or that, this hard drive capacity or x amount more for the maximum, this screen or that - the computer you finally select is not available. Anywhere. Infuriation.
Much as I have a childlike excitement for my impending new companion, I'm sort of dreading saying goodbye to "Old Faithful" and the good times we have shared. The time I Photoshopped my boss's head onto that of a jackass, for example. A jackass that was in the midst of depositing the remains of his lunch, from his rear end.
The time I Photoshopped my boss's head onto a tranny prostitute and gave him ruby red lips. I wasn't at all fond of that man, perhaps you can tell?
The time "Old Faithful" caught a nasty virus from some research I was doing into online fetish porn sites. I'm not even kidding either, it was for an article I was writing, not personal interest. That research was eye opening in its hideousness. There are certain things you never want to see being done to a vagina. "Old Faithful" will attest to it though. You can get diseases even from online whores. I'll go back to being somewhat vanilla in my sexual tastes if I can go back to unseeing most of the stuff involving bodily fluids I witnessed during that article.
Then there was the time I dropped "Old Faithful" on my own foot during a foolish foray with some rum and some stairs. She isn't exactly a slimline lightweight either. She's like the girl in gym class who won every event - sturdy, stalky, freckled, athletic and built like a brick latrine. Nice personality and accommodating but you wouldn't want her sitting on you for long. I checked "Old Faithful" over thoroughly and anxiously but she was okay in her tank-like perfection. I limped for three weeks and had to endure months of my colleagues calling me "Kaiser Soze".
Still I'm excited for a shiny new gadget to corrupt and fill with my fine files. And maybe this time she'll actually be portable without a forklift and three sturdy men.
Or "he". I'm an equal opportunities tech buyer, you know.