Dell, where you need a computer to buy a computer

I purchased my Toshiba Satellite in March 2004. This is when I was getting ready to deploy. I don’t do computers now so imagine me back in 2004 getting advice from everybody that “knows” computers. What do I do? I ask the person that I know knows computers, Klink. Klink told me exactly what I wanted and I found a computer that included (insert computer lingo here) and an internal wireless internet card. This was a big selling point for me because everyone else’s wireless internet stuff was sticking out of their laptops. I took my new purchase back to the barracks and everyone was amazed that I got a computer with exactly what was needed and an internal wireless internet card. Thanks Klink! I love my Toshiba but in computer years it’s been at Del Boca Vista for a while.

My mom has approached me three times about the computer I currently have. I’ve commented that I’m sure I’ve been virused again because it’s running superwayslow and I have neither the time nor the money to get it swept again. Honestly, I think once they get a hold of your IP address, you’re screwed anyway. Last time I got virused my computer went to Geek Squad. A week and $450 later I had my computer and fresh antivirus. It was as if the day my antivirus subscription ran out (and again, college student funds are few and far between) it all came back again (Norton conspiracy?). I went over to my brother’s house on Sunday to enjoy a little Lego’s Indiana Jones, spaghetti, and The Truman Show. Then my brother, my mom, and I sat down and talked about how crappy my computer is and how nice a new one would be.

My mom has a line of credit at dell.com so they are helping me purchase a new computer. I’m getting the Studio 15 in plum purple with matching plum purple wireless optical mouse. I’m also getting a new messenger bag specifically made for the Studio 15 that has a purple shoulder strap. I’m pretty excited about it.

I know you all tried to get me to come to the Apple side. My only argument here is that I’m paralyzed without a right click. They probably make special mice for the Apple that have right click capabilities but I’d really much rather stay with the PC style.

One thing I really wanted to touch on today is the question “Whatever happened to going to the computer store, grabbing the computer, paying for it, and taking it home?” As I was customizing my new Studio 15, I was at the computer with my brother and mom talking about all my different options as to hard drive capacity, processor speed, wireless capabilities, sound cards, screen choices for an hour. An hour? Are you freakin’ kidding me? It walks you step by step through all the options but, come on, I’m not a gamer, I’m probably not going to watch movies on it, and I don’t need AOL.

I’m still totally stoked about my new computer. I need to give it a name. I'll figure that out later but for right now...Go Bruins!

There are two types of people in this world

Those that like Napoleon Dynamite and those that don't.

It's on Comedy Central right now. I laugh.

A Response to Ashley's Post

Click and read here first.

Then click here and see what Dr. Cox has to say about it. Which clearly illustrates Jeremy's math.

I join in what Ashely has to say about the men who are in charge of this whole fiasco we call dating. I would like to point out that everytime I have ever initiated a convo with a dude that I wanted to get to know better it has always fizzled and died. Now, on those few occasions where I was the hunted, so to speak, it has turned into some style of a relationship.

I have standards that want to see in a man and I will not fold like a lawn chair. I've done that and let me tell you I was disappointed in myself.

I will also not compromise who I am: the God fearin', disease free, personality filled, fiercely independent, good looking, low maintenance, drama-free, strong willed, educated, political, Libra that lives by herself.

I'm not sure if it's men in Utah or men in general but when they find out I'm going to be a doctor they retreat. As they are running scared I see their tail between their legs as if I were some predator that just hurt them somehow.

I'm not sure if it's men in Utah or men in general but most of the guys I talk to have some type of savior complex. I don't need any rescuing.

Like Ashley, I am very satisfied with my singleness. I welcome it. It is really fun to be learning about myself day in and day out so I can be projecting those things in myself that I want to see in a potential partner.

So, yeah. Comment if you would like. It seems my ramblings are going into the void of the internet.

Preparations

With one week left in my summer break from school I am getting ready for the new semester (which starts on the 20th) by

Cleaning my apartment
Doing laundry
Going to the temple
Helping my sister move her stuff into her new classroom
Going to see Rogue Wave on the 18th
Reading my other new textbook for my Personality Theory class that I got for a fraction of the bookstore price at bigwords.com
Figuring out my new commute to Redwood High
Watching Michael Phelps win a million gold medals in Beijing
Wondering where the summer went
Reading the Book of Mormon and picking scriptures to ponder
Trying to catch up on sleep
Packing my bag the night before I leave for work
Evaluating my options as to when I can still volunteer at Chelsea Street
Asking my brother for a blessing
Looking at this picture of Jedi Squirrels

I really, really, really want the semester to start.

I've taken learning upon myself and started to read my Personality Theory textbook.

I'm a nerd.

The Olympic Post...everybody's doing it

Ah, the Olympics.

Every four years I am, along with my sister, inspired to get back in the pool. I love watching the swimming. While I was in high school our coach made sure we watched the Olympics. In fact, he would record it and use it as a teaching tool.

My mind was blown by the awesomeness that was the opening ceremonies. I think my favorite part was the printing tiles thing. The representations of the wind and water dropping into a calm pool. Then, much to my amazement, the little boxes came to their full height, the tops flipped open, and there were people in there. My jaw dropped. There were people in there? NO WAY!

I really like watching the Parade of Nations as well. All these athletes are here to be the best in the world. I really liked seeing those countries with fewer that 20 athletes. Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan, Ivory Coast. I like the fact that eventhough they know deep down that they probably won't get a medal, they probably won't set any world records, they probably won't even be televised but they are representing their country.

The tears usually cloud my vision not just for the United States but for everyone that is literally at the top of their game. I'm flipping between women's vollyball and women's weight lifting. I didn't even know there was women's weight lifting. There's an athlete from Turkey named Sibel Ozkan that is 20 years old and wants to be a teacher. When she did her last clean and jerk and knew she won the silver, she ran off the competition area and jumped into the arms of her coach (tear, she did what she wanted). China's Chen Xiexia won the gold and set a new Olympic recrod of 257.5 pounds. The hometown crowd was going crazy. I also found myself chanting USA, USA, USA, while watching the very close vollyball match between the US and Japan. I don't even like vollyball but the United States is playing and I want to see these women kick some Olympic ass.

For two weeks every fourth summer and ever fourth winter every American is dialed in and in agreement on one thing: the ability of our athletes to be the best in the world. How proud we all are when we see those men, women, and sometimes teenagers on the top of the medals stand crying and holding their hand over their heart while singing along with the Star Spangled Banner being played for all the world to hear. It doesn't matter what race, political affiliation, sexual preferance, hair color, income level, or relgious choice, we will be heard cheering on our swimmers, gymnasts, vollyball players, pentathletes, archers, boxers, track and fieldians, baseball players, and all other athletes so we can say to the world that we're pretty damn proud to be Americans.

Theme Checks

Not theme ties – that’s a different story all together.

My dad and his wife have theme checks. They are proud Cubs fans through and through. I don’t think my dad’s wife has a problem signing her name to a Cubs check. It’s actually pretty sweet.

I don’t have theme checks. They’re cool for you it’s just not for me. I use the ones I get for free from my credit union (college student). I don’t see a point in having theme checks. I figure why must my personality be put forth in a form of monetary security that 1. less and less establishments are accepting and 2. only me, the establishment, and my bank sees. As part of my job I see a lot of the returned checks. When one closes an account or bounces a check, those checks come back to us. Which begs the question: Why are people writing checks they probably know will bounce or on a closed account? I don’t know. Anyway. Let this be a lesson to you all to not bounce checks you write to the ward or Deseret Industries or LDS Family Services or LDS Home Storage, because I will see them.

The other day I got a returned two party check signed by the man of the house. Please don’t take this as chauvinistic. The man/male/husband must be in charge of the finances of the home. The thing is. It was an Anne Geddes check. Now. I don’t know many dudes that would go out of their way to purchase these feminine checks. This must be something he fell in on. But it couldn’t have been something he fell in on because it had his wife’s name printed on the check too.

What if this naked babies in eggs and flowers and dressed up as insects check theme was a compromise between Harley Davidson and potted plants? If it were me, I’d try to say something like, “How about some nice beach scenes, honey? Maybe wooded forests? Classic rock artists? Please not Anne Geddes. Anything but Anne Geddes.”