Skip to content

It’s Probably My Fault, but Technology Sucks Anyways

March 5, 2013

 

dieSo, I’ve been sitting here for awhile wondering what in the hell I would write about next and nothing really appropriate (like that’s stopped me before) came up. What in the hell is wrong with me that I can’t find something to bitch about? Oh but I digress, I could find lots to bitch about. However, none of it you would find amusing and could be used against me in a court of law later. So, in other words I have nothing to write about. Fucking 5th amendment is a blessing…and a curse.

 

I know, I know. With all this veiled secrecy and shit, you may be asking yourself, “What has Helle’s panties in a bunch now?” And if you know Helle like I do, all you have to do is ask, because she will tell you. That’s the great thing about being 40 or over. You just don’t give a fuck what people think about you. Matter of fact, if may be the ONLY thing about being over 40 that is worth a damn. I truly could give two shits less what you think about me. Just ask that woman who gave birth to me.

 

And as for what has my panties in a bunch. For the last week I’ve been searching for this crappy little $9.99 USB drive that I bought at the fucking Trashio Shack that held EVERYTHING I’ve ever written plus some other stuff that just mysteriously became missing from its usual spot on the dining room table – you know that spot where you keep all your important shit. After searching high and low (i.e., every handbag and secret hiding place I’ve ever used, to include the dryer, the kitchen cabinet under the microwave, and the freezer – rob me blind, I don’t give a shit) that little technological thingamabob was nowhere to be found.

 

Until today. I found it. Hallelujah, praise the Lord, all of my life’s work was found! Can I get an Amen? And subsequently, can I get a big What the Fuck after I plugged the mother trucking thing in and it was EMPTY? Nothing. Nada. Zilch. The last 15 years of everything I’ve ever written – gone. As if it were all just a figment of my imagination.

 

I decided tonight. The epitome of irony is standing in a kitchen making pigs in a blanket for dinner while wishing you were as dead as your heart felt. Every fucking Oscar Meyer hot dog I gently rolled with a half slice of Kraft cheese into a soft, flaky Pillsbury pastry was just another dagger through my heart reminding me that life is just about being baked for 11 minutes in a 350-degree oven where you come out a little crusty and melted. I’m sure if I were a genius like Mark Oliver Everett it would make a great fucking song…

 

But alas, I’m just some middle-aged woman from Podunk who isn’t smart enough to back up her heart to an external hard drive you can get at Office Max for fifty bucks.

 

The End.

 

P.S. Never Google “I want to die” images.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Advertisements
4 Comments leave one →
  1. dena permalink
    March 5, 2013 9:22 pm

    Oh shit. That completely sucks. I would freak. One writer to another…there is still writing that exists…your blog…past newspaper/mag articles. You’ll find what you can and save it. What you can’t find and retrieve, you’ll let go. And there is the promise of more to write tomorrow.

    • March 5, 2013 9:38 pm

      You know, other than the stuff I wrote while my Grandma was dying, I could give a rat’s ass. I’m not sure I could ever get that raw emotion back again. But there were 2 books in progress on that fucking thing. Dena, this must be what Sister Francis referred to as Purgatory.

  2. March 5, 2013 10:59 pm

    I hate when that happens. Try this free and very good download. If you haven’t formatted the drive you should be able to get a lot of your stuff back.

    http://www.piriform.com/recuva

    Good luck.

  3. leslie permalink
    March 6, 2013 12:10 am

    Hope you can recover your writing.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: