Night 4; Drunk and in Charge of Technology

Well, the laptop has been scrubbed clean and the sucky Windows XP has been reinstalled (I'm a 98 SE girl, at heart, but I don't feel like re-installing again tonight, thank you very much). You know, that whole "restore and reinstall" label on the CD? It's a complete misnomer. There's nothing restorative about it.

So have I learned my lesson? If history is any indication, probably not. Can I just tell you how many times this happened to me in college, with a paper due the next day? Can I just tell you how many long, thoughtful missives I carefully composed to one client or another only to have them get sucked into cyberspace? Can I just tell you ... Ah, forget it. You don't care and neither do I.

You know what? I'm GLAD the whole thing is gone. I'm GLAD my laptop is a shiny clean slate. The whole thing sucked anyway. Dream Come True. What kind of a crappy name is that for a novel? It sounds like a Harlequin Romance. And I had this whole chapter about a character who lives out of a tent for the summer. How is she supposed to get clean? Bathe in the ocean? OFF THE COAST OF MAINE? It makes no sense. And this other dude. He's a fucking newspaperman at a small-town newspaper on an East Coast island. Hello? Steal much from E. Annie Proulx? (Holy shit, I spelled her name right without even looking it up.) It's been done, and it was called The Shipping News. Which, by the way, is a MUCH better title than fucking Dream Come True.

So I'm back to zero. Good. Bring it on. I'm like the Red Sox, down 3 and 0 against pure evil. I'm like Kerry, down 100,000 votes and refusing to concede to pure idiocy. I'm like ... I'm like ... I'm like some other underdog who refuses to give up in the face of adversity.

And it's not just the wine talking, I swear.

I am Gloria Gaynor. And I will survive, people. I will survive.

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