New laptop

Well, the day has arrived. I finally bought the long-awaited laptop. No more fans blowing hot air, getting hit by errant elbows or breathing secondhand smoke in the various internet cafes strewn about town. I was excited to hit up one of the many spots around here offering free wifi, which seems to be just about every other place. I opted for the cafe across the street from my hotel. I hope all the places around here aren't this slow.

Now I'm sitting here ready for a beer and ready to tear off somebody's head. I can't type without this overly-fucking-sensitive touchpad somehow moving the cursor to a previous paragraph, highlighting a section and deleting it before I can lift the offending finger. Fuck you! That did not happen in the internet cafes. And my connection speed was also a lot faster back in the olden days. I've got five bars, but it feels like one. It had better be because Windows is downloading the latest updates. It's been stuck on 49% complete for the past twenty minutes. Fuck you Windows!

I was in a good mood. And now - if you could see me now. I'm glad you can't. Muttering to myself when the cursor changes position and gritting my teeth. It's like someone keeps throwing sticks in my spokes. I'm just about to fall off everytime. You know, about to lose it. And now my battery is low, it's like the computer is rubbing it in. And this girl on the side wall is updating her blog. Everyone has a blog. It's such an original idea. As if we all have such captive audiences. And then there are these French people to my left who are having a good time. Fuck you for having a good time!

I'm going to have a good time later. I promise you that. I think it will be after I put away this computer and stop thinking about the ghost that keeps fucking moving my cursor. Nobody interrupts my flow like this. Nobody. I apologize for all the inappropriate language. If you are offended, I am really fucking sorry. It's like somebody is squeezing my swollen tongue and all the toxins are flowing the fuck out. It feels good to swear sometimes, doesn't it? Admit it. I'm feeling better already.

But I'm not done yet. I can feel the oil purging from the pores on my face even in this overly air-conditioned space. I need a good scrub down, if only I had a loofah. I can't believe that's how you spell that word. It just looks ridiculous. I've never wished for one of those before. I'll probably see a street vendor hawking them as I leave this place. I was just kidding. I don't want a fucking loofah! Get away from me. Don't you dare touch me with that.

I need to wash this terrible taste out of my mouth. No, not with soap, but thanks for the suggestion. I had a foul granny apple muffin and some sour orange juice to wash it down. No more Western food for me. Actually, the orange juice was pretty good. My bitterness must have changed the residual flavors. I need to get the toothbrush and toothpaste on that as quickly as possible. Well, I feel a little bit better. If anyone's listening, thanks for that. I still feel like breaking something, but the urge is not nearly as strong. At least it's a step in the right direction.