The Friday Frontbum Episode 7.2 : Spite in the Suburbs

SO here we stand at the end of yet another week. Or shall I say weak. ‘Cause this was a rather lame one for me, myself and I, personally, as it were. (Check those commas, Vaps)

So – your fucking modem/router packs up and goes to where ever dead fucking modem/routers go when they die. I had some good times with my Netgear Super Wireless Fucking Modem/Router, so I’d like to believe that it went to fucking modem/router heaven. Damn all these slashes makes me feel like a killer. Anyway, where was I. Oh yes. So it dies.

I get home on Monday night. The Bat’s foot is tapping in that hier is kak way. “The internet is dead. I need the internet to do my work. Why is the internet dead.” When questions start sounding like statements, I get nervous.

I investigate. “Honey its not the internet that’s dead, it seems our modem/router is the problem.” She sneeres wickedly. “Ah, so sorry baby – my mistake. Thanks for the correction. Would you be able to fix the fucking router/modem by any chance?” (Here it is christened anew) “No honey, I cannot fix it. It. Is. Dead.” I reply, while my mind is moving at the speed of light. I can see the future. I don’t have the receipt for the damn thing. I had it, but I know I don’t anymore, I just know it. Fuck. I’m screwed.

Tuesday 6:30pm. I’m down a thousand bucks, and I get home and unpack a brand new modem/router. Test it with my laptop. Fucking A. Hooked up in 5 minutes flat. Now to connect it to her desktop.

Wednesday 1am. I’ve googled every fucking modem/router problem on the internet. The thing doesn’t work on her machine. Her foot has been tapping all night. I’m tired, despondent and oh so lonely. There is no love in the world, and consider just ending it all, maybe going for a midnight walk through Hillbrow. Gassing yourself is so WWII, after all.

Thursday 6pm. I’m down 1500 Rondt. I could propably have solved the problem with 50 bucks, ‘cause I’m pretty sure her computer just needs a new ethernet card-type-thing. Pretty sure – therein lies the problem. I need to be totally sure. So I bought a R500 rand wireless USB connecter. She gets home. I pre-empt her question:

“Honey, the internet is alive again.”

“Oh thanks baby! You’re so clever. What would like for dinner?” She smiles warmly.

“Revenge” I think to myself, “I would like a little revenge.”

In a little while, its pub-lunch time, were me and my good friend Mr. Ice-Cold-Amstel will plot our vengeance (we always come up with the absolute best plans). So all is not yet lost.

Yours in cold-eyed calculation
dex