Friday, August 08, 2008
Diary of Deprivation: 96 Hours Without Internet
The morning dawned dark and brooding. I should have known trouble was looming. And yet, I was blissful in my ignorance, trusting in the goodness of life, until I saw it: the solid red light signifying Internet failure, signifying nothingness and desolation. There would be no CNN.com for me this morning. And there would be no peace.
Calls were made to AT&T. The robotic voice could not help. I must trust that a reboot will save me.
It is not to be. The repair call is made. Someone will be in touch with me shortly.
I long to know what Brett Favre has had for breakfast. What did the NFL sanction for him this morning? Wheaties? Grape Nuts? How will I know if he's had his fiber? How??
Is the problem in my line, the phone company asks? No, I whisper. It is in my soul.
It has been 27 hours since my last e-mail contact. I may be missing out on discount Viagra or failing to sustain a Nigerian pyramid scheme. It is as though I have slipped through the fabric of society. Spam, I weep in the knowledge that you are simply canned meat to me now. Sweet, delicious canned meat.
I now have no dial tone. DSL cannot survive without dial tone. I am not sure I can either.
I try to watch TV to get my news and entertainment info but it is not the same. I can't read a story and then post about it. I can't fight with anyone about the merits of Bill Adama's mustache. Worst of all, I don't think I know how to watch TV without being online at the same time. I have evolved into a multi-tasker. And you know what Camus said: once you're a multi-tasker, you can never go back-er.
I have a nightmare that Angelina Jolie has more babies...and I don't find out until three hours after the fact. This is unacceptable.
I call AT&T on my cell phone and weep silently to their mechanized call system. The robot tells me to stop being such a whiny bitch. "Don't call me names I can't blog about," I sob.
I wonder if Jack Bauer ever faced a problem like this. Wikipedia could've told me. I never appreciated you until you were gone, Group-Edited Semi-Factual Reference Guide.
AT&T says the repairman is on his way. Could it be? Will I have my internet back? More importantly, will he make it before I miss another Yahoo video of kittens cuddling ducks? I just don't know.
He is here! He is here! Pressing my face up against the window and scratching at the glass is freaking him out though. Must refrain.
Sweet fancy Moses juggling monkeys on a unicorn, it is fixed! Huzzah! I gorge myself on Facebook (three new "friends"), Entertainment Weekly, IO9, e-mail, Television Without Pity, Wonkette, ESPN (Favre had the Wheaties and his bowels are fine). And there are panda birthday party videos on Yahoo!
Two hours later, have finished the entire internet. It was awesome. Am now predictably bored. Please God, let someone post on "The Greatest American Dog" board. Nothing cures cyber-ennui like a good old-fashioned fox terrier flame war.
I love you, Internet. Don't ever leave me again....
Posted by Liz at 7:20 AM