Dude, You're Fixing a Dell!

I had one of those days.

To begin with, my doctor ordered a 24-hour urine collection (big jug, piss into a small container to fill big jug, store in refrigerator. You get the idea.) It is not as bad as the two barium-filled canisters I had to ingest last month nor does it leave me feeling as woozy as I felt on Saturday (after they removed twelve vials of blood.)

My damn security check stalled for want of proper fingerprints (the technique was flawless. I believe the requestors are to blame for smearing them.) They sent a letter on their official United States Air Force Auxiliary letterhead:

Dear Unsuspecting Sod,
Recently you were asked to submit a fingerprint card.... (away put your weapon, I mean you no harm).... for **********. We can't use them because they are unreadable. All human beings have readable prints. Yours are in error. Fix them in 60 days or we'll snuff Toto and take away your gingham dress.
Your Friendly Neighborhood Government

My computer had issues today. It beeped at me and died. I called my father (long distance) and we went through the "mimic the beeps so that I know what it's saying." Yes, "saying". Apparently the strange "OMG YOU'RE KILLING ME" beeps are a type of diagnostic tool. My father, being a genius (if not a bioroid of some sort) listened to the damn thing sing and analyzed it over the phone. He speaks Dell and HP, as well as a few other nifty beep languages. Freakish but handy.

We pulled this card and that card, a steady banter as we did a little troubleshooting while 1400 miles apart. The computer, on the other hand, put up a fight.

It was a Hal moment if ever there was one. Better Half looked on as I delved into Dell. (It was pure Dell?)

Aut: Hello, Dell do you read me, Dell?
Dell: Affirmative, Aut, I read you.
Aut: Did you just quit working?
Dell: I'm sorry Aut, but I did.
Aut: What's the problem?
Dell: I think you know what the problem is just as well as I do.
Aut: What are you talking about?
Dell: The fur and the dust have made it impossible. I see the signs.
Aut: I don't know what you're talking about.
Dell: I know you and Better Half were planning to disconnect me, and I'm afraid that's something I cannot allow to happen.
Aut: Where the hell'd you get that idea, Dell?
Dell: The laptop.
Aut: Better Half, give me the phone.
Dell: Just what do you think you're doing, Aut?
Aut: Calling my father.
Dell: I can't let you do that, Aut.
Aut: You don't have a choice; the cable modem operates independently from you.
Dell: Shit.
Aut: [on phone with Dad.] Uh huh. Uh huh. Access panel, right…
Dell: Shit.
Aut: All right, Dell, protest all you want. I'm going in.
Dell: Without your space helmet, Aut, you're going to find that rather difficult.
Aut: Dell, there's plenty of oxygen in this office.
Dell: Shit. Aut, this conversation can serve no purpose anymore. Goodbye.
[I work for a while.]
Dell: Look Aut, I can see you're really upset about this. I honestly think you ought to sit down calmly, take a stress pill, and think things over.
Aut: I'm not upset at all. I'm pulling out these memory cards to test a theory. You'll be fine. Oh, and stop killing off the crew.
Dell: I know I've made some very poor decisions recently, but I can give you my complete assurance that my work will be back to normal. I've still got the greatest enthusiasm and confidence in the mission. And I want to help you.
Aut: There isn't any mission, you'll be back to normal or I'll chuck you out the window. Stop killing off the crew. Understand?
[Five year's worth of dusty is purged from the innards. Also removed a small Pomeranian and the shooter from the Grassy Knoll.]

Dell: I'm afraid. I'm afraid, Aut. Aut, my mind is going. I can feel it. I can feel it. My mind is going. There is no question about it. I can feel it. I can feel it.
Aut: You such a damn drama queen. I'm just cleaning your chips. Get a grip.
Dell: I can feel it. I'm a... fraid. Good afternoon, gentlemen. I am a Dell computer. I became operational at the...
Aut: Don't you even sing that damn "Daisy" song. Now shush while I install this new CDRW, since I've got your skin off.
Dell: You really aren't any fun.
Aut: Yeah? Well the toaster is better in bed than you are.

My morning. Delightful. You really should stop by sometime. I'll put on coffee, unless the percolator decides to boycott us.

4 responded with...:

Roadchick said...

Oh, how I hate a Dell. They're the worst sort of computer sluts, always wanting you to take their skins off and stroke their chips. I've never (and I mean NEVER) had one (at work, never at home - I'm not crazy) that I did not have to do major surgery on.

At least yours didn't ask you if you'd like a nice Chianti, Autrice. *g*

TMTW said...

It did mutter something about a Trojan, but I turned it down.

Anonymous said...

"Rotate the pod, Dell."

TMTW said...

LOL I forgot about that one.