During this past finals week, which is when it usually happens anyway, my computer decided to break. Not in the “breathe and reboot” sense, but in the totally, completely, inexplicably gone retarded way that is only meant for people on Satan’s special list (confirmation, at last!). This malfunction warranted the always disturbing journey to the Apple store, where you’re not only made to feel inadequate by overgrown high school dweebs in sleek black clothing toiling in an atmosphere that tries in vain to simulate a late-night lounge in South Beach, but also told that your over-priced computer is a prettily-packaged p.o.s.. A week later my computer was returned to me, cleaned of my hard drive and free of any sign that I had used it the past two-and-a-half years.
In the Apple store, when “Joe” told me that a “hard drive wipe” was a slight, but distinct possibility, I laughed it off. How bad could it be, I wondered. What are the chances, I scoffed. God, I really am stupid. I grieved and I mourned. Gone were the 1200-something songs I had legally acquired through means I won’t divulge (I’ll see you soon Abba and Sinead!), the emails I had saved and intended to get to, the Madonna music videos I had downloaded and secretly danced to at night. What smarted the most, though, was the loss of the away messages I had amassed in my time with my iBook. I had always prided myself in my away messages, thinking, perhaps too loftily, that I was something of an Auto Response Artiste. I collected random quotes, amusing aphorisms, witty one-liners, and put them on display for the world to see.
And yet, so many of you, my adoring public, were not privy to the fruits of my labor. So here, in memoriam, are a few of the best, the brightest, the deceased (a.k.a. what I could salvage from the annals of my mind). You might also note how fun it is to take quotes out of context. R.I.P. darlings!
“Are Smurfs supposed to be anti-Semitic?” – A friend
“I love your sweatshirt. Did you get it at a place or a thrift shop?” – One fool to another in Wohl
“This is a low class store. Compared to where you’re from, this place is like the country. These people don’t know Dior, they don’t know Blahnik.” – Matthew, my favorite shoe salesman at Neiman Marcus
“Trust your dreams…that’s how I ended up with my Gucci sunglasses.” – Me
“Something in my room smells like cheese…do you think it’s my cancer? It kind of smells like aged Roquefort, so to counter the smell, I am dancing around my room to Britney spraying that damn pear spray everywhere.” – Me
“Honey, you know I love you more than my luggage. And you know my luggage is Louis Vuitton.” – Let’s be honest, I wish it was me.
Confucii (kun-few-shy) n. 1. Dutch devils living under my bed with operatives stationed in Communist China and Bellefontaine, Ohio – Courtesy of the Abnormal Psychology Language Game
And, for your reading pleasure (a month too late), my favorite New Year’s Resolutions:
1. I will stop putting more effort into my away messages than I do my school papers. That is bad, very bad.
2. I will find a deeper spirituality. I will start with Lambuel. (Note: For the uninitiated, Lambuel is the lead of a cast of characters who promote Jesus in all his love!)
3. I will be one of MTV’s Rich Girls.
4. I will use the term “f.o.b.” more frequently.
5. I will incorporate Hate Scrabble into my life as often as possible.
6. I will start my papers before the morning of the day that they are due. I will work for my grades!
7. I will stop using Shift + F7 and I will learn the word.
8. I will stop insisting that the “reality” portrayed in Sex and the City is plausible and I will set my sights a little lower.