This is the perfect example of everything wrong with Microsoft.
You see that? A security update for the tutorial videos. How in the hell do you make insecure tutorial videos? The engineers at Microsoft are finding a way.
Tag archives for computer repair
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Symbolic
Thursday, July 5, 2007
Can anyone tell me
Can anyone tell me why that thing is taking so long to do its stuff? What's that? Yes, I am a technical professional. Why do you ask?
Thursday, January 4, 2007
Two things that drive me buggy and one thing that doesn't
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The city's trash collectors. Because they're contracted union employees, they get paid days off for major holidays, right? This week they decided not to take off for New Year's Day. Apparently they decided they didn't want to work Saturday to make up for it.
Normally a holiday will put off everyone's trash pickup by a day. But not this week. The fuckers didn't take the day, and didn't tell anyone. Lots of people were caught unprepared when the trash collectors scooted through their neighborhood a day earlier than expected.
The arrangement the city has for trash pickup is such that if it doesn't fit in your trash can, it costs extra to pickup. Our issued trash can will fit about three bags of trash, which sometimes isn't enough for one week, let alone two. Each extra bag requires a $1.25 sticker affixed before it will be collected.
Those pricks who changed their schedule without telling anyone are going to cost us an extra five bucks next week. Bitches.
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Me. I drive me buggy.
The other day I had a very awkward exchange with a customer where I had to admit that I may have lost his software. I apologized profusely, but passed the buck to Goat about resolving my fuck up to the guy's satisfaction. And I don't feel bad about that buck-passing bit. Goat's supposed to make those decisions.
Anyway, I turned my workstations inside out. I dug through the trash. I called every customer who'd picked up a machine any time after the guy with the lost disk dropped off his. Those were some embarrassing calls. "Um, yeah… could you check your laptop bag this…"
Retard that I am, I didn't really lose the guy's software. His CD was sitting right next to one of mine. I picked up his disk and filed it away in my rack by mistake. Even though I could distinctly remember putting away what I thought was my CD, I was completely unfazed by the fact that same CD was still sitting out.
I may be an idiot.
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Keith Ellison, first Muslim in Congress. Had you seen any of the news stories about people bitching that he was going to take his oath of office holding a Qu'ran instead of a bible? Twits like Virgil Goode shouted things like "American values!"
Ellison is a beautiful, beautiful man. He took his oath of office holding the Qu'ran owned by Thomas Jefferson. How sweet is that? That's pretty goddamn clever on his part.
Friday, November 24, 2006
It's not just me
It's been suggested by several people that I might be a little hung up on the dick lately.
Totally not true. It's just that I'm surrounded by penis imagery.
In case you're wondering, this particular piece of hardware is a cockenballs assembly.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Scattered observations from a very strange day
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If ever you're looking to sell or give away a Pomeranian puppy, you may want to consider not magic markering your tiny little sign:
Puppy
Pombecause passing motorists such as myself may misread that as:
Puppy
PornSaid motorist may then briefly consider calling you out of morbid curiosity. Said motorist would be disgusted, yet completely entranced. This is assuming said motorist did not read again, realize his mistake and chuckle while mentally calling himself a retard.
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The psycho burnt lung lady? Yeah, she's far more weird than she originally seemed.
Apparently her lungs are so sensitive that she was unable to use her shiny new laptop for a considerable amount of time. She says the new plastic was giving off an odor that kept her from breathing. So she left the laptop at a friend's house to air out for the better part of a year.
Whether there's any truth to that or not, she now has a laptop. Last Thursday she brought it by to discuss a problem. She made an appointment to return yesterday for service. Friday she stopped by to see if I could work on it early. I could not, so she stopped in yesterday for her scheduled appointment.
She was wearing the same clothes on those three consecutive business days.
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Stopping by my house in the middle of the day because it's raining and The Bunny may need our only umbrella (conveniently located in the trunk of our car) may occasionally cause Bunny's head to explode.
Ok, it's probably not me bringing the umbrella that caused her head to explode, but goddamn did she have an impressive headache. I think I could actually see her skull pulsing.
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On returning to my office, I got a good eyefull of the crazy burnt lung woman's car. I'm pretty sure she's living in it. Her blue Delta 88 was stuffed with a fantastic amount of objects. Piles of clothes, old newspapers, food and a lot of things that looked like plain old trash were crammed into every nook of the passenger compartment. There were even stacks of junk on the dashboard.
If she's living in her car, how important or relevant can her internet access really be? Wouldn't most people sell that laptop to scrape up some rent money? And wouldn't living in a rolling refrigerator box cause problems with dust, mold and a variety of other lung busters? When she talks about those lung problems, I think she's full of shit.
Oh, and lest I forget, I'm pretty sure she's crazy. I mean really crazy. Unbalanced. Unstable. Disturbed. Fucking nuts. When she finally stormed out of my office, angry that I was unable to produce a lunar eclipse on demand, I was thrilled by the thought that she's probably too unsatisfied to ever return.
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A snippet:
The Chicken: Dad?
Me: Yeah?
Chicken: Did you ever shoot with that bow and arrow in the garage?
Me: Yeah, buddy, I used to shoot that bow all the time.
Chicken: Did you ever… target it at… shooting stuff?
Me: Yes, I've gone target shooting with that bow.
Chicken: Did you used to shoot targets a lot?
Me: Um… yeah, a fair amount.
Chicken: Was that your hobby?
Me: Yeah, I suppose it was a hobby.
(pause)
Me: What would you say is my hobby now, Chicken?
Chicken: Um… smoking?
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
I think…
…I need one of these t-shirts.
Not just for daily wear, but also so I'm ready to be snarky and ironic even in undeath. The way movies usually work is that you've got at least a few hours after being bitten by a zombie before you become one yourself, right? That's plenty of time to get home and put on my shirt before my death and eventual reanimation.
I'd really need a shirt like this I think. After all, I wouldn't really be able to get this message out without it. Unless I could be one of those super rare talking zombies. Which would be pretty cool.
And while we're on the subject of zombiewear, why is it you never see zombie movies where one of the walking dead is wearing a Misfits t-shirt?
For a while, pretending to be dead was part of the Misfits schtick. Doesn't it seem like a natural match? Sounds like a no-brainer to me. (ha! I kill me!)
Thursday, July 6, 2006
Note to self
When testing the ability of a customer's computer to play audio CDs without error, I must remember to never blindly click the Play button until I have first visually verified that the CD they've left in their drive is not a Christian pop band.
Eww.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Not every post deserves a clever title
Yesterday I had one of my semi-regular customers visit. This guy's got a strange set of circumstances happening. He's a white guy. He's unmistakably Caucasian. Yet he and his New Zealander wife (love that Kiwi accent) live on an Indian reservation. The guy paid for his service with a check. His bank is in Ohio, but his address on the check is New Mexico.
Me: New Mexico?
Alan: Yeah, I teach at Western New Mexico University now.
Me: Really? Kind of a long commute.
Alan: Yeah it's a three day drive.
Me: Umm… ok.
The guy is keeping his house in the mid-west and driving back and forth to his job in New Mexico. That's easily the longest commute I've ever heard of.
My mom called me at work yesterday saying she wanted to stop by to see me. Immediately I was thinking mama drama. You know the expression. If it's not one thing, it's your mother.
But no, there was no drama. My mom was sorting through her great piles of junk and found something of an heirloom: my father's "yearbook" from when he went through basic training for the Navy in 1968. After apparently wrestling with the idea for two months, she finally decided to give it to me.
I'm so glad she did.
My father looks so young in those photos. He was only 19 or 20 then. Those pictures were from years before I was born, before he'd even met my mother.
Somebody stole our damn trash can. The company contracted by the city for trash pick up provides specific trash cans for us to use. Three different sizes are available, each at a different rate. I came home from work yesterday to find that some bitch had switched our large size can for a medium.
So… Michael Douglas stole my trash can.
I've been getting hammered by comment spam this week. In just a few days I've had at least 500. My filters have caught all of them, but it's still annoying. I do find it somewhat entertaining to read some of them. It's odd the kind of things that spammers think will catch your eye. Here are a few examples:
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drunktv free scat movies amatuer video
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fuck my drunk wife fucking drunk moms drunk yoda
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free tranny pics pregnant model reverse gangbang
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fat grannies gay teen boys brunettes nude
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horse cumshots athletes foot amateur masterbation
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forced anal drunk bitches japanese anime porn
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camel toe rate dog breeds daddy daughter sex
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mardi gras history anal vibrator amateurindex
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free bondage pictures lesbian manga gay oil wrestling
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mc pee pants girl peeing drunk girls flashing
Ok, first of all, how do these spammers know I'm so into transvestite grandmother anime foot scat porn? And second, how do they know my secret rapper name is MC Pee Pants?
Monday, May 1, 2006
Pleasant condescension
Timber Lobbyist Woman: Hi, Fish.
Me: Good afternoon. How are you today?
TLW: Pretty good. So it wants to work ok for you?
Me: Yup. Couldn't find a thing wrong with it.
TLW: I hate it when it does that.
Me: Bird says I'm supposed to tell you a story.
TLW: Oh, yeah?
Me: It's a wonderful fairytale called "The Boy Who Cried Wolf."
TLW: haha!
Me: So if you want to grab your blankie and your teddy and curl up in the big chair, Uncle Fish will tell you a story.
TLW: haha!
(pause)
TLW: Yeah, ok, I gotta get back to work.