Word to the wise. And to your mother.

Have I mentioned that the one thing I hate most about being a computer tech (aside from pursuing past due accounts and having to perpetually be a fucking nerd) is telling people that their pictures, documents, anything precious, is GONE due to a hard drive failure. People need to realize that hard drives are like goldfish and Kennedies: They die.

Please remember to put anything important to you on two separate types of media, whether it be a hard drive and a thumb drive, hard drive and a burned CD/DVD... always pretend as if your hard drive is going to die that evening.

I have to tell someone that their stuff is lost today and I dread the conversation. I wish I could be like a doctor on TV: Put my hand on someone's shoulder, look them in the eye, and tell them "I'm sorry, I did all I could." Then walk away.

But no... it'll be somehow my fault. I may take some shit; and I'm really not in a shit taking mood. I'm still high as a goddamned kite from an energy drink I did this morning. I think it's like cocaine but without the bad conversation at 4am. I'm just amped. I should jog home.

"Gooch" you ask: "Because you're so amped up?"

No, because I'm fat. It was a non-sequitur. Keep up.

I gotta go. Peace, fuckers.

goochout.