Warning: This could take a while.

Yesterday I was on such a high that the powers that wish they were decided to take me down a peg. And boy, do they know their stuff!

So. I was superhappy for reasons that cannot be mentioned here. Suffice it to say they involved furniture, ice cream, and Rover. But I was happy. Earlier, I’d bought a shiny new toy as retail therapy for a crappy day, but that’s another story.

So here I was was, banging on my keyboard, sharing my glee with one *M* when suddenly haiya: the words are missing. See, I have this…condition. I talk faster than I think. And I think faster than I talk. which means when I’m excited, [or speaking Swa] I tend to stammer. And since I spend so much time online, I stammer when I write too.

[apparently, talking and writing are two different brain functions, which is why smooth talkers can’t do loveletters  for jack, while the Brontes and Shakespearettes of this world can’t say anything past “wsup” without blushing. **Hint hint, cough, cough, I wasn’t faking it my dear**]

Typersomnithingimie – where I type faster than I think, and spell slower too. Which ends up with me writing stuff like ‘aks him to rember liek taht fastre’. Of course those in the know [wink wink nudge nudge] know that I sometimes type like that for other reasons…**blushing**

Anyway, when the words got illegible, I figured it was an attack typersomnithingimie. So I deleted and typed again. Same effect. Then I typed reeeeeaaaaaal sloooooow, to make sure I got the words right. That’s when I noticed it – the damn thing was typing backwards!! I would type james, and the screen would show semaj. Seriously, I’m not kidding!

Of course there was no one with me to explain this phenomenon [or prove it happened, just like no-one but my brother – who is stuck somewhere in Siberia – and princess – who is as loopy as I am, so her word holds zero street cred – can prove my watch ticks backwards.] And of course as one 3 would say, in response to another one of my endless technorants, computers only do what you tell them to. But seriously, I’d like to know just what I told my computer to get it to go debinary!!

After a few minutes of backtyping, the thing just hung, as in stood completely still !! I banged on it a while longer, called it a few names, then long-pressed the off thingie with the pretty circle design and went home, where I tried to get back online.

First, my comp spews out some jargon about configuration whatsit that I can’t understand. All I know is that the screen is blue and it’s supposed to be black. I am troubled. It’s gone DOS on me!! I see something that says F10, save changes and exit, Yes or No. Yes.

No. I’m still here.

Okay, set default, that looks good . Yes or No. Yes.

Bilaz. Okay, I long-press the offdot thingie and put it on again. Still blue, with white borders. Creepy. Now it says date. 02/01/1988. Okay, I’ll change it to 29th january. But nooooo, each time I press 29, the thing just makes this annoying buzzing sound. WTF! I unplug and replug the thing. No luck. [Of course I now know, like as of a few minutes ago, realise the date was written American style, and that the o2 was for month not day, DUH!!]

Eventually, the thing feels sorry for me and re-windows itself. I have no idea how, so I hope it won’t ask for seconds. But apparently, my internet account is low [or something] and the shop was out of top-up cards, groan.

I tried again and the signal was too low, just one bar, even after I sprinted all around the house, clung to the windows, and waved the pretty egg-shaped CDMA modem thingie in the air for better network, nada. Just how many internet thingies are there anyway? Sijui 3G, sijui Edge, sijui WAP, sijui GPRS sijui whatwhat. What do all those things mean? I just want functioning gmail !! And now my chair is leaning left. All ye IT people, stop laughing, this is serious.

So after that cyber-therapy session backfired, I decided to try retail, and went to unpack my shiny new toy. Alas and alack [good grief, I can still remember that phrase?! ] the shine was not to be. It’s got the wrong plug!! So I have to call my friendly neighbourhood cab driver, the same one who drove me to get my toy in the first place, to drive me back for replugging.

Of course the shop turned out to be closed, so the cab fare was wasted, and I have to drive back today. I will effectively have paid three times the cab fare required just to have my new toy. Groan. It better be worth it!!

Then we get home, after falling asleep in the ride, to realise that we have homework. First, princess is distracted by one Walker Texas ranger [my little one takes Chuck Norris over Jack Bauer any day. I think it’s the cowboy hat and red hair. Good girl!!] So she refuses to make a link between boy and toy. It was a spelling assignment.

Then she gets bright, sneaks a sip of my malta, decides she doesn’t like it, replaces the can and pretends like nothing happened [except for asking why on earth I bought a six pack of nastiness. Answer, hehehe, because I knew you’d hate it and leave it all for me, mwahahaha. Plus, I love the stuff] Result: when I open the can for my drink, it’s flat. Argh!!

And finally, Nelly’s mathenglish homework. I have to teach her how to write 564,876,987,785 in words. Twelve times. Now this is easy peasy for you or me. But to someone who speaks very little Engish, and can’t difrerentiate 19 and 90, it gets a little tricky.

I figured I’d try explaining it in Swa and then translating. Okay, so…laki tano sitini na..no. Milioni tano, elfu sita, laki nne na….no. Bilioni mia tano sitini na nne, milioni mia nane sabini na sita…argh forget it. It’s easier in English. And if you can say that in both English and Swa, I dare you to do it in mother tongue. Or French. Or Thai. Or all four. Only then can you comprehend my two hours of agony. AND I lost my pretty tiny taped-up flash disk. How I wish it wasn’t so pretty and tiny, then maybe I could locate it somewhere in the mess that is my bedroom! The memorial service will be held in a shop with lots of ice cream, chocolate, and blackforest cake.

Oh, oh, one more. It’s really hot in Dar at the moment. So hot that my hairdresser has devised an annoying new hairdo to make his work easier by keeping the locks neater for longer. He ponies them up in string. It looks much nicer, professional even, but it itches like…like it shouldn’t!

So, after three weeks of looking neatly professional [refer to FB] and missing my usual rougher look, I decided to let my hair down. Think one sharp, tiny, girly pair of scissors, one tightly wound black string, and one massive head of black hair, and picture the results. Hair down…sure…down on the floor!!

Princess found me bawling and mourning, and only my precious one can cradle my head and say with a completely straight face “Don’t cry mummy, it’s just one hair”.

Parting shot. Kindly decipher the following conversation, coz me, I can’t stop laughing. WTIWG is some weirdo that I work with.

WTIWG : So I have to go home now.

CB: This early?

WTIWG: I have to go wash my clothes.

CB : [only just manages not to burst out laughing]

WTIWG : You see, I don’t have a wife.

CB: So you think wives are for washing clothes?

WTIWG: [mumbles some inaudible reply]

CB: You realize that’s a very chauvenistic attitude.

WTIWG: No…I mean yes…

CB: Okay, so why are you telling me all this?

WTIWG: Well, you see, I know you had a very bad history with that man…

CB: Aha?

WTIWG: And you know, every woman needs man to take care of them…

CB: Aha?

WTIWG: And I really want to help you out, you know?

CB: Aha?

WTIWG: And you see, you have such pretty hands…

Have a good weekend all.