Tuesday, July 13, 2004

My fault

Yessssss! Sweet Jesus Gay, I'm back.

In the end, I have had to McGyver an internet connection out of my 10 year old laptop, a paperclip, frog modem and a section of my small intestine. It's painfully slow, and all the fonts look funny, but it's at least a connection.

Yesterday I ran home at lunch time to phone my ISP to establish if the problem lay at their end. Cue Telephonic Abyss of Death. The automated voice that greets you when you ring my server is so disdainful and depressing, it makes you want to stick your head in the oven. As if infertility and a wonky internet connection aren't bad enough, you have to listen as Automaton drones through the options.

Press 1 to speak to somebody who knows nothing about your problem, press 2 to be told that we have lost all your billing details again, press 3 to go straight into the Seventh Ring of Hell.

Finally, after 20 minutes on hold, I got through to a slightly more animated drone- that is to say he actually was a person rather than a computer voice, but that was about the only difference.

He went away and goosed my line or whatever it is they do, and came back to report that it was my problem.

Noooo, I wailed. Are you sure? They say it's a 50% chance either way that the cause is male or female. It can't be meee!

Well, he went on to say, it's working fine on this end. Are you sure you're not using any birth control, like a firewall or anti-virus software?

Of course I'm not. I don't even own any birth control!

Well, could you check?

I wouldn't know where to look.

OK, go to your clitoris and click on "run"…

My WHAT?

Your clitoris. Your S-T-A-R-T button.

Look, pal, I'm running a Mac here. Leave my clitoris out of it.

With that our conversation came to a frosty end.

So, dear blog readers, I am still none the wiser as to the cause of my internet woes. I have cleared caches, checked settings, looked knowingly at systems logs, done the Hokey Pokey and turned myself around. An insanely expensive computer should work. It does not. E.'s friend, a reputed computer genius is coming out to look at it this weekend.

One thing is for sure, like it or not, I depend on the internet, my friends at my message board (also known as Camp Control Freak) and the blogosphere for my sanity. Without it, I realised I am alone with my thoughts and fears about what is happening to me, and to us as we struggle to get pregnant. That's OK some of the time, but quite daunting as a permanent prospect.

I wonder if the Apple helpline people would blame it all on me, too?

5 Comments:

At 8:16 PM, Blogger JJ said...

Oh you crack me up!!! Will you be my best friend?

I was going to head over there and tell them you were disconnected, but you beat me to it.

 
At 9:40 PM, Blogger lobster girl said...

You are friggin hilarious. I MISSED you! Oh, you were only gone for two days? Alright, so I'm a stalker. I admit it. Let's move on.

Now that you've rid yourself of that bothersome section of intestine (who needs it? it's too long anyway), you can get back to the business of blogging. Thank God. And f**k those ISP f***kers for not being more helpful and blaming you.

Why do the women always get blamed?! It is not your fault your Mac doesn't work. It is not your fault you're not pregnant yet. Global warming is not your fault, nor is the state of the world's economy.

So there. Mwah! (big lobster smooch)

 
At 7:44 AM, Blogger patricia said...

This is a very funny post. I am additionally impressed that you managed to finagle an internet connection. I probably would have just sat on the floor and whined about how much I hate computers.


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At 6:34 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

LOL! Oh, I have so been there when they say OK, go to the start thingy, and then get all flustered when you say that, actually, Bill Gates is evil and you refuse to use his products.

I own lots of birth control - its in my bathroom cabinet, on the top shelf, in a box under a thick layer of dust. Two condoms, one patch, and one month's supply of triphasic pill. But I can't bring myself to throw it out for some reason. Perhaps I wish to preserve the illusion that, for me, unprotected sex on O day, and elevating my hips afterwards ISN'T a more effective form of birth control than all three contraceptives together, and that one day I might actually need to use them.

 
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