Posted in Anxiety, Blog, Depression, Humour, Life's lessons, Sarcasm, Swearing, Tales from the Cabbage Patch, Uncategorized

my laptop is an asshole and other assholey stuff

I love technology. I like gadgets and apps and buttons on things and computer programs that make my life easier. Electronics and the like don’t intimidate me; I enjoy the challenge of figuring things out. It’s all fun and games for me until technology decides to be an asshole and turn its back on me.

I am going to be using the word asshole a lot in this post so if asshole is not a favourite word of yours, you may want to skip this altogether. It has been a rough several weeks here in the Cabbage Patch with all that asshole elephant poop stinking up the patch, the asshole technology turning on me, and don’t even get me started on the multitude of asshole patients that have been coming out of the woodwork lately spreading their assholery all over the office. I’ll save those assholes for a blog post of their own.

Still here? Great. That means we are either like minded people or you perhaps enjoy the fact that my asshole brain has no filter these days due its exhausted, depressive state and you get a kick out of reading what I may type. (By the way, if my asshole brain doesn’t soon kick its depression to the curb, I will be looking for a new one. Brain, that is, not a new asshole. That would just be silly. Nobody needs more than one asshole in their life.  If they can put a man on the moon, surely to goodness, they can put a better brain in my head). Or maybe you hang around because I say the things you wish you could say but because your better working filter stops you from saying assholey things, you leave it to me to say them. And that’s okay because that is what I like to call ‘teamwork’. 

So back to the technology in my life turning on me. Three weeks ago, this happened:

Yep, that is what is left of my iPad after dropping it on ceramic tile. I know, I know, I should have had it in its case but sometimes assholey things happen. Like when you don’t think the ceramic tile will turn against you and take it out on your iPad, smashing it to smithereens. I was heartbroken, not just because I loved my iPad, but because my sons bought it for me a few years back. Dammit all to hell.

This morning when I tried firing it up to take a better picture of it, technology decided to be a smart ass and tell me that I hadn’t backed up the iPad in three weeks.

No shit, Sherlock, is what I replied in a huff. Notice how it didn’t mention that it’s impossible to back something up that is broken. I mean, look at me for instance. There is no backing up this brain during its assholey depressive state. 


Last weekend, my wireless mouse died. It was a long time coming, unfortunately, which means it died a slow and painful death and not only because it had some corrosion in its battery compartment. That poor mouse put up with a lot of abuse, too. It had been dropped too many times to mention and often went flying off my lap desk across the laminate flooring ending with a thud against the wall. It had lived the last month of its life freezing its innards because its battery cover had fallen off during one of its flights across the floor never to be seen again (it’s probably with my mind in the Bermuda Triangle). Come to think of it, I am lucky that The Wireless Mouse Protective Services didn’t come in and remove the mouse from my home. Dodged a bullet there but I am still going to refer to this piece of technology as an asshole because that is the kind of mood I am in and no mouse, wireless or not, can tell me otherwise.

On Monday, the mega-pixies or the mega-trolls or whatever asshole hocus pocus technology runs the inside of my laptop decided to wage a war of unprecedented terror and mass destruction. Without my wireless mouse, I was at the mercy of the most sensitive touch pad in the history of the technological world. I kid you not. No matter how many times I adjusted the settings for the touch pad, the settings always reverted back to their original factory settings. The touch pad will force the screen to zoom in and ZOOM OUT, zoom in, ZOOM OUT, zoom into the tiniest itty bittiest text and then into the HUMONGOUSLY BIGGEST text I have ever seen and it is THE MOST FRUSTRATING THING EVER. Not only do those assholey mega-pixie/trolls mess with the zooming, they also change to keyboard from English to French whenever it wants. I can be happily typing along on my merry way and “BOOM” all of sudden I am typing en Francais. IT’S DRIVING ME MAD, I tell you. MAD!

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

I was working on the most brilliant post of my blogging career (ok, maybe that is an exaggeration but it adds to the assholery of this sad, sad tale) and before I knew it, the text zoomed into tiny itty bitty letters, then ZOOMED OUT to HUMUNGOUSLY BIG ones and then, after maniacally zooming a couple of more times, “BAM”, if it didn’t mother-clucking disappear on me altogether!!! Yes, my post was gone. Gone. GONE!

And before you ask, yes, I did save it repeatedly while writing it. Despite my best efforts, the assholey mega-pixies and the assholey mega-trolls sent my most brilliant post ever into the Bermuda Triangle.

Those assholey mega-pixies and those assholey mega-trolls also followed me to work messing with my laptop there. It wasn’t enough to torment me at home, the pixie/trolls decided that they would mess with only THE MOST INTEGRAL FUNCTION of the office, ABEL, which is the appointment scheduling and office billing computer program. 

Without it, the office would descend into chaos. There would be no way to schedule appointments for the patients, who would quickly turn assholey without being able to see their beloved Dr. Who. More importantly, there would be no way to electronically submit the office billing to the Ministry of Health which means that Dr. Who would not be paid for his services. And, who am I kidding, the real catastrophe would be that if Dr. Who was not paid, then I was not going to be paid. Hell no! Not on my watch/payroll schedule.

I put the fear of the technological gods into those assholey mega-pixie/trolls by changing my desktop wallpaper.

Nobody, not even asshole mega-pixie/trolls wants to see what I’m like after my last nerve has been frayed. ABEL ran smoothly after that, let me tell you.

But, you know what? It hasn’t been all that bad. Sometimes all it takes is a little thing to turn your frown upside down into the biggest most appreciative smile you’ve had in a long time. Look at what I found:


Take that, mega-pixie/mega-trolls. Instead of walking on sunshine, I’ll be walking on assholes wherever my mood takes me.

I am woman, hear me roar.