White Oot

I will admit that I am more than slightly neurotic. I dig routine. There are so few things to hold onto in life that if I establish certain stupid paterns and the like it makes all the uncontrollable stupid shit seem less chaotic. Katie has learned that many of these patterns are stupid.

I park in specific spots in the parking lot.
I cannot leave the kitchen light on when I am not in the kitchen.
When one drinks a bottle of soda, one should return the fucking cap to the bottle of soda from which it came after a drink. Just take it off when you want to drink again. Its not a fucking ornament.
I set my alarm for only odd numbers.

I could go on further but I feel that I am dangerously close to locking and unlocking the door a certain number of times a la As Good As it Gets. So here is the deal. Now that I have to go to this computer desk in order to check my emizzle and such, I have noticed that Katie has an absurd amount of white out. Its sitting in this little organizer box thing that is right next to the monitor and there are like four fucking bottles of it.

First of all, who the fuck uses white out. I havent whited anything out since like the 8th grade when I used to type up my Science outlines on my mom's electric typewriter. The fact that we had an electric typewriter is absolutely absurd. The usefulness for such a device escapes me. Electric typewriter, mind you, does not simply refer to a typewriter which uses electricity to power the paper striking mechanism, what I like to call the typedy-do, but rather a word processor with a built in printer. The printer, however, instead of being one of those sweet little numbers (I believe they are called "dot-matrix" which should demonstrate to everyone which computer generation I find myself most at home in, since I would refer to other printers as "the really fast ones like they have in libraries" or "the shitty fucking squirty one my parents gave me that I can shoot up with more ink like in that infomercial") that my Apple 2E had is instead like a typewriting ball (like the fucking thing that pounds out MTV NEWS on the screen and is all spinning style) that just goes by itself. You had to print something like four times because at least once every time you tried the stupid machine would like punch a hole in the paper and jam up. While it did not require you to apply the necessary force to actually stamp the letter onto the paper, it still ate nut. It was a computer on which I could not play lemonade stand. Lemonade stand was a sweet game wherein you ran a lemonade stand and monitored its growth by purchasing more sugar and lemons, advertising, this kind of shit. The absurd thing about the game lemonade stand was that even though there were only four graphics involved (a lemonade stand on a sunny day, a lemonade stand on a cloudy day, a lemonade stand on a rainy day, and an abandoned lemonade stand, for when you lost) the game took up two of those big ass floppy disks. The type which are actually floppy, you know the gig. Not these motherfuckers we got now, all firm and shit like Angela Lansbury on ecstasy.

Second, how does one end up with four bottles of white out. If I had wanted to white something out, for reasons I cannot yet imagine, it would have taken me years to find a bottle. I am sure there is probably one in my box of office shit, which, since Katie has reorganized the office/random shit/empty box room, I am unable to locate, but that would have taken a while. White out is something that one only has for like an hour or maybe a day. After that its like, "I know I had some white out yesterday. What the fuck did I do with that white out. Fuck! I need to turn this paper in and though I could print another copy of this page, I would prefer to indicate that an error was previously here and has been disguised by a mound of white paint. This seems only rational." Having, like being able to find, or even fucking have at hand FOUR BOTTLES of white out seems like a Hurculean effort to me.

Now however, this is pissing me off. There is so much fucking white out in this thing that it is pushing other useful stuff out of the organizer and generally being all assy. I am sure that I could just like throw 2-3 bottles away and no one would care, since its not like anyone has ever used an entire bottle of white out. Or I could create some elaborate funnel method and combine them. Thank god that I discovered this late on the night before I go back to work. If this would have attracted my attention like Sunday night, we would only have two bottles of white out right now. On the downside, it would probably also appear that there had been many fixed typing errors in my bathroom sink.

Peace,

MB-K