Blonde Moment

…Posting this is actually pretty embarrassing, dear galleons. However, seeing as I tend to share my idiocy with others on a regular basis, I figure I might as well share this gem.

I actually think my constant self-deprecation is a function of my extreme narcissism. Because I even find my stupidity awesome.

Yesterday, Karla 3.0 died a spectacular death, if having what amounts to an epileptic seizure and then just giving the fuck up can be considered spectacular. After leaving the bar last night and climbing into my car, I plugged her in and tried to turn her on. She started quickly and violently flashing between a black screen and the regular start-up Apple screen. She would do nothing else.

Upon returning home, I plugged her in, hoping that would stop her from being a massive cunt. I noticed that Ghiert wasn’t registering Karla’s presence, but I had company all night and couldn’t spend the time cussing at my technology and trying to fix her.

In the end, there was nothing I could do for Karla, anyway. She had been giving me signs for weeks heralding her coming demise. I had just been hoping I’d have more time.

So, I find myself sans iPod. Which is a fucking travesty, to be sure.

And now we get to the moment of sheer, fuck-all amentia.

I wake up yesterday, still in mourning, sadly contemplating the coming silent drives to work and class. After a few seconds, I realize that I could burn a CD, seeing as (for once) I have blank CDs in my possession.

Thank god for my bizarre habit of making mix CDs, I think to myself. Wandering into the bedroom, I grab the stack…

Only to remember that my car is too old to have a CD player. And I don’t own a Discman or the adapter for the Borgia’s cassette player, so my CD plan was out.

Groaning, I trudge back to my couch to watch Doctor Who. I am dreading the drives in silence.

What am I going to do?

I am going to die, that’s what.

I start to get really emo.

There may have been tears.

I’m an amorphous blob of sadness, squelching my way to the bathroom and back.

Even the Doctor’s latest adventure is failing to cheer me up.

I become aware of how pathetic I am.

I don’t care.

I need my music.

And then it finally hits me:

My car has a fucking radio.

O RLY?

You don’t get more blonde than that.

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