Rage Against The Machine

Technology has a bitch, and her name is Ariel. I can't survive the daily task of living without my cell phone, computer, handheld, ipod, microwave, vibrator...and they all have me by the (figurative) balls. When do they all fail, inexplicably, for no conceivable reason? WHEN I NEED THEM THE MOST.

Take voice mail, for example. I'm doing 80 in a 25 mph zone trying to make an appointment. My cell phone beeps--I have 1 new message. What the Christ?? The fucking phone never rang! I hit vm, # and my code.

"I'm sorry, that is not the correct password." Oh, really? It's only the same one I've been entering for the past five years, you cow. I enter it again, narrowly missing sideswiping a school bus.

"Sorry you're having trouble," voicemail bitch chirps, then hangs up on me.
At this point I throw the cell phone out the window, and then drive over it several times to make sure it and voicemail bitch are truly dead. I've gone through several phones and boyfriends in this fashion.

Work--It's 9:56, almost time for the big meeting. My proposal for new Post Its looks fabulous--I may be promoted to SENIOR Staff Assistant! I hit Print. A paperclip icon that looks seriously stoned pops up to tell me "Printer not responding." I dash over to the printer. Seems fine. I dash back to my computer. The paperclip has now dropped acid and is attempting cartwheels across my screen. I hit Print 80 more times and the computer decides it's time for a virus scan. I decide it's time to pay homage to my homies in the picture above and do what I do best: kicking the fucking shit out of inanimate objects. Join me, won't you?