The Universe is Against Me

OKAY SORRY PEOPLE--I DIDN'T KNOW THE DR HORRIBLE LINK DIDN'T WORK--IT IS FIXED NOW! GO CHECK IT OUT. NOW!

First--this is pure distilled reality tv show cliche awesomeness: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w536Alnon24.

Second--WHY IS MY CAT MESSING WITH MY HEAD? Don't let her fool you, with her little chirpy flights of fancy, and her desperate chase of the offensive shiny mice. SHE KNOWS EXACTLY WHAT SHE'S DOING. She likes to play these cute little games, where she pretends she can't walk and pulls her leg up like that one time when she had the infection, and nearly gave me a heart attack. She's a good faker, that one. Pretending not to walk, and chuckling at my deepening panic. She deserved a freakin' Oscar for yowling loudly, when I touched her stump. I was planning on going in to the vet to get more antibiotics, because, you know what, Nubs, I CARE. I care enough to put aside my financial devastation to get you your damn costly meds. I would do that for you. You, however, clearly think this is a funny game, because what do I get when I wake up in the morning? You chasing Gus. You jumping on the coffee table. You running around like a spooked Clydesdale. Well, you know what Nubs, I'M GLAD YOU HAD THOSE LAUGHS. I really am. I even called the vet today to discover my vet is no longer with them, so tomorrow I'm going to get a call from a random vet at that clinic and have to explain that my cat was JUST KIDDING.

Apparently my computer was just kidding too. I'm finishing this entry on it. On Thursday evening, I came home and found my computer cord dead, with chew marks all along it. I couldn't tell if the chewing was the reason the charger was dead or not, so I checked all the connections as well as the wall plug. I changed the plug and everything, before deciding that the cord had lived its life. I got electrical tape the next day in a vain effort to try to mend it, but it didn't seem to work. I've since been trying to deal with the fact that I couldn't have a computer until the next time I get paid, and then I'd have to shell out $70 for another new power cord for a computer that's on its death bed. But, when I came back from work today, the little green chargy light was on! What? Was it sleeping? I don't...I can't...I NEED A MOMENT HERE.

Is my apartment some freakish Lazarus Pit, where living and NOT LIVING things can heal themselves? Am I some sort of prophet? Should I set up a side business where I can let cancer patients just mill around the apartment for a few days until they feel better? Well, I'm not feeding them, I can tell you that.

Or, the more likely excuse, someone's messing with me. I'm ready for your parry, reader, and I can say that I know I'm paranoid. Sometimes paranoia is justified--like when SOMEONE IS MESSING WITH YOU. They want to make me feel crazy so they can disarm me and learn my secrets. Like--well I HAVE SECRETS OKAY.

What?

Why are you looking at me like that?

The computer broke me, okay.