If a cow ever got the chance...

I'm using an ancient, ancient copy of Netscape Navigator (which won't display Lass's page, among other things) cause my internet explorer is really fucked up. Sometime on Tuesday I must have mistakenly clicked on a page that downloaded a whole bunch of spyware named SAH*Agent, cause all of a sudden there were these HUGE porn ads that wouldn't downsize or close, and it kept saying there had been a fatal flaw in "sah*agent", and ever since then Internet Explorer can't load any pages. None. I even downloaded IE 6 (1.5 hours, thank you very much) but to no avail. Oddly, I've been having big problems with my work computer as well (it says the drive is full; it isn't). The "helpdesk" chick is trying to "help," but given that I had to install a printer for her on Monday (and I know next to nothing about computers), I am not instilled with huge amounts of confidence. So any Internet I can scavenge right now is a blessing.

On my third Rob Roy (ignore that fucking lime, the only garnish for this is a maraschino cherry); it helps. Listening over and over to the Violent Femmes' first album, because sometimes the best way to let go of a feeling is to burlesque it into comedy. So I'm sitting here with my drink and some chili-lemon pistachios and Gordon Gano yelping about being so lonely he could crawl away and die. That helps too.

But I still want girlfriends. The kind you can knit fuzzy hats for (that they actually wear) and discuss the specifics of your period, and Camus, and Tofurky, and the merits of various sex positions. I have been blessed with this sort of girlfriend many times, but there's always a problem. Either they live in Oakland, or are moving to Austin (hi), or are obsessed with some French guy (to the exclusion of everyone else), or are obsessed with some complete idiot (likewise; also, this category and the previous one have been known to overlap), or are totally, innocently, and non-maliciously self-absorbed (but malicious or not, you still can't talk to them), or they are your sibling and there is too much history of scoring points at each other's expense. Something. I ranted most of this at Carlos this afternoon and he said "You could buy me a fuzzy hat, and I would like it. But I would never wear it, which would defeat the purpose." At least he understands. I wish he were my lesbian girlfriend.

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