When I awoke today— at noon— my husband gleefully ushered me into the living room. “We have Internet access!” he exclaimed.
To wit I replied:
You’re shitting me.
My husband is full of (sh)it. I learned the aforementioned fact the way all nice girls do: after getting married. I inspected our hub and lo, the light was on! I have been crying against the dying of that light for the last five days.
After emailing people like it was going out of style and taking my buddy Mikeypod on a walking tour of the Garden Spot, I sojourned down Berry Street. Between North 6th and 7th Street I found traces of someone else’s I.T. trouble.
I have no fucking idea what this person is talking about. But I hope the aforementioned “Cocksucker” ships the right disk soon. Nonetheless I find it very sweet. Indeed.
Dude.
Miss Heather
I can crack this code; they’re talking about what are presumably pirated copies of a hit TV series. Hopefully episodes 33-44 will turn up soon.