How the Day Has Gone so Far

As if computers didn't annoy me enough, my ISP has come up with a new way for them to make me miserable. I now have a problem where I can connect to the Internet using IE or Firefox, but Netscape (where I have the most bookmarks, and which I use for email) refuses to work. It says it's resolving URLs, but it just sits there. I have to close all my Netscape windows and start over.

Someone should patent a monitor you can beat with your fists. I'd buy one tomorrow.

In other news, Marv is making it impossible to write. I was sitting here trying to gather my wits, which is hard under the best of circumstances, and the conversation in the room went sort of like this.

Marv: Want some bird toy?

Me: Shut up.

Marv: Want some bird toy?

Me: SHUT UP!

Marv: SHUPPPP!

Me: SHUT UP!

Marv: SHUPPPP!

Me: SHUT UP YOU IDIOT!

Marv: SHUPPPP YOU IDIOT!

Me: Marv...

Marv: What's wrong with you?

Me: I'm going to fry you and eat you.

Marv: Marv shut your fat ho-ole!!!

I finally took him out and swung him around by his feet for a while, and then I gave him a few WWE-style piledrivers using the top of my head as the canvas. And I trimmed his razor-sharp toenails, while he made completely unconvincing threatening noises with his beak and tried to wrap himself around my hand like a lump of warm clay.

He was quiet for a few minutes, but now he sees that I'm trying to write, so he's cranking up again.

This is one reason I bought a laptop.

I think I may to see Serenity today. I never get anything done on Tuesday anyway. Marv is raising hell, and the maid is asphyxiating me with the dreaded multi-purpose cleaner Fabuloso.

It's amazing how maids always know where you want them not to be. Example: the maid is three rooms away, doing laundry. You decide to change pants to run an errand. She's so far away, you don't bother shutting the door. You take off the old pants, and before you put the other ones on, you give in to a rare urge to pick your nose while simultaneousy scratching your ass, and you look up, and there's the maid.

The stories they must tell when they get home.

My theory about maids is that they're like the cloud diagrams scientists use to depict electrons. The electron moves around the atom's nucleus so fast, it's like a big cloud, everywhere at once. So no matter where you are when you decide to pick your nose, the maid will be there to watch.

I could win a Nobel for this.