Take a Break When Dead

Another day.

I didn't take a shower neither did I shave. Yeah, that's right, I'm smelly, but I really don't care. I go to work like this, but I do press a shirt and put on clean slacks. I have three day retread socks on because I haven't done my laundry yet, and I walked out on my Meds again today. Tomorrow I'll make it a point to pick them up. My pressure stays the same for several days before it starts to rise. I'll catch it on a swell.

I head to work and things are the same. Piles of paperwork to file, more stuff to enter into the computer and to mail. On my lunch break I check out my emails and read through them briefly. I'm put on a mission after work. I'm asked to go to the home of a client to deliver something, so I add that to my original mission. I'll tell you what the primary objective is:

Several days ago, when Bryan came and we were about to play 2142 he needed a file to upgrade his game. I had the file on my hard drive. So instead of him spending forever down- loading it from the Internet, I instead loaded it on a flash drive and handed it to him. Instantly his antiviral software pops up with a 'threat encountered'. What the fuck??!! I have a virus on my computer?

He cleans the viral threat and installs the file and everything is peachy on his side of the void. But for me, here I am with an infected system. Now that's, fucking great. As much as I use my laptop, that's the last thing that I need to deal with, an infected configuration. I'm pissed, but there isn't much that I can do about it now. I push the infection far from my mind for about a week and a half until I start noticing an unusual slowdown in my system. I check the system memory usage to see if a viral engine was indeed building up slowly there. There was no indication of that. Memory remained steady at 39%. But still there was the slowdown. Could this be some sort of hybrid virus? One that uses the cycles of the hard drive more than memory? Could it be growing on the tracks of the drive like a cancer, thus slowing down the hard drive and with it my virtual memory instead of system memory??

I was out of denial. It was time to do something. I promised myself that when I got paid that I would go and pick up a viral software package. Specifically Norton's Antivirus and Antispyware. Yeah, I'm plugging Norton's because it is just that damn good. You can go and use Computer Associates if you want.

After work, I get paid and make a bee line straight over to Staples and buy a copy of the software and then head over to Starbucks to get to work. My brother is there, and he watches as I install and scan my system for virii. The program does a complete job, rebooting , scanning my boot sectors, and boot system files, finding them free of infection, then it scans the files in the system. Then I move to my flash drives and scan them. I do a thorough job, being well acquainted with the action of virii from my years as a computer consultant.

Can you believe I don't find one virus? Not a one. I updated my viral signatures to the most current, and yet there still isn't hide no hair of a virus in my system. $44.00 gone to the shitter. I wanted to hear the little fuck scream as it's 1's and 0's are turned to all 0's. What a fucking killjoy. I am indeed pissed. I wish my brother well as I get ready to head downtown on my errand. Electra is there and she has a business proposition for me. As usual, she views me as a form of money tree that she comes and shakes whenever she needs cash. She's always coming up with a deal that I don't need to make a little money off me. I give in because I view her as a friend, but soon, if this does keep up, I'm going to start gouging her as a business partner. Our friendship can devolve to just that.

Her business plan today? She has found a metrocard with unlimited monthly passes. She will sell me 'swipes' for $1.75 instead of what I would be paying, which is $2.00 a swipe. Why I agree to this mental dreck I don't know, but I'm being nice. Maybe there will be a comfortable place for me in Heaven, because Earth sure doesn't have one for me.

I take care of business with the client and then head to the Box.

Did I ever tell you, well I know I did, but do you remember about the Assistant Administrator here named Del Toro, and how I knew that he and I were on a collision course? Well, guess what? He's fucking gone, baby, gone. That's right. He took a promotion somewhere the fuckbeat else. He's gone from my life forever. I'll not see him again for as long as I live. And hopefully, if I do, he'll have no power over me, so that I can tell him off.

That's what I would like to do one day. Meet all of the fucks that ruled over me, and tell them off. But that won't happen, they'll just pass onto obscurity and irrelevance. I'll not care to tell them off when I see them, I'll just not notice them. Fit and fine revenge if you ask me.

I head over to my bed and set up my laptop. I sit and answer emails and blog. I do what I do best. Write. What more do you want from me? You want me drunk? Wobbling? Angry? Looking for a job? Shaking a cup?

I'm going to write.

A friend told me not to stop. Not to stop ever. And don't have him run behind the limo. He makes me laugh.

But I'm not stopping.

Hobobob