The Monday Kvetch Fest

I woke with a colossal headache — a headache which began it’s electric and vivacious life yesterday. You know what I attribute it’s longevity to? Nope, not my nasty Autumn sinuses and NOT my tumor ridden brain. I blame the server at work. My connection could NOT have been slower, buggier not even if it had taken a Quaalude or three with a Maui Wowie chaser. It did everything but tell me to piss off and leave it be.

I want what my computer was taking today. It was far more chilled out than I.

Of course, it could very well be that, like me, the computer is going through menopause — it is an older babe after all. Maybe it was having hot flashes (I prefer to think of mine as ‘personal sauna moments’), radical mood swings (what’s THAT supposed to mean?!) or was just feeling deeply anxious (no dear, the Macs are NOT making fun of you. You’re OK. Really. Just breathe deep and try to relax.). I need to be more caring and considerate of the old dear. Oh yes, truly!

Another thing, I only mention it but when, goddammit WHEN did the comics get so tiny? I actually keep a magnifying glass near the newspaper reading chair (oh c’mon, the chair was insecure — a title makes it feel better). Honestly, even the Sunday comics (the only reason we still get The Globe) has 6 strips wedged into one page. And the strips, besides Doonesbury, Rhymes with Orange and Bizarro that is, make the Readers Digest Laugh Lines look like gripping and hilarious social commentary in comparison.

You know, it's days like today, when I'm engaging in hand to pixel combat all goddamned day that I need a nice, big comics page.

And a martini. Sapphire, extra wicked dry, straight up with olives, thanks.