FAKING IT
I bet you were thinking this post was going to be about something TOTALLY different, didn't you?
Get your mind out of the gutter, man!
I might have mentioned this already, but my laptop died. My four year old laptop's mother board just up and got fried. Listen, I am not sure what a motherboard does, but it's catastrophic when it dies. Want to know how I know this? Because it wouldn't do anything. Nothing. Zero. Zlich. Nada.
Plugged that sucker up (that's what they say around here in Kentucky -- back home in the Mitten State we refer to that as "plugging it in" but whatever), and that puppy wasn't doing a dag-blasted thing. Now, I am no computer expert, but even this teacher with her numerous degrees could tell that something was gravely wrong with this laptop. This four year old laptop; have I mentioned that?
So, I packed it into my truck (another Kentuckyism ... back in the Mitten State, we would say, "I put the laptop in my truck -- my four year old laptop) and motored it on down to Computer Surgeons (not even joking here), where they, assumedly, did surgery and discovered the motherboard was DOA ... along with the rest of the pieces and parts.
Once the fatal diagnosis had been made, I wanted to make sure that I could retrieve my very important files, ie, the manuscript that I couldn't remember backing up that last time I wrote anything to the file. Y'all, sometimes, even with all my various degrees, and I am butt-smacking dumb!
That brings us to this evening, when I had to ask a friend to drive me to Versailles to retrieve the "no longer with us" laptop. I was also supposed to be retrieving the important file that my last known manuscript was on. However, dude never received the message, and because I sweetly explained that I am currently having car trouble (Tony the Mechanic is seeing more of my truck than I am these days!!!), and that I probably wouldn't be able to get back down to their fine establishment until Friday or Monday, Dude said, "Want to extract the data yourself?"
This is where the point of the whole story begins y'all, because, 'fore I could help myself, I agreed to do it.
"All you need is a something something cable."
Okay, there was an actual name for the cable, but seriously, my brain translated it as something something.
So, Dude goes to get the cable, leaving me at the front desk thinking, "How hard can this be?"
I'm going out on a limb here and saying VERY. He started talking in a different language, y'all. I mean, FOREIGN COUNTRY sorta stuff. I heard "power source" and "USB" and "small screw driver." Nothing else computed. And yet ... AND YET, when Dude said, "Does that make sense?" I gave him a thumbs up, said "COOL!" and thanked him for his time.
I faked it allllll the way to the front door of that building.
I'm banking on their being a user's manual and lots of Google questions online y'all.
Get your mind out of the gutter, man!
I might have mentioned this already, but my laptop died. My four year old laptop's mother board just up and got fried. Listen, I am not sure what a motherboard does, but it's catastrophic when it dies. Want to know how I know this? Because it wouldn't do anything. Nothing. Zero. Zlich. Nada.
Plugged that sucker up (that's what they say around here in Kentucky -- back home in the Mitten State we refer to that as "plugging it in" but whatever), and that puppy wasn't doing a dag-blasted thing. Now, I am no computer expert, but even this teacher with her numerous degrees could tell that something was gravely wrong with this laptop. This four year old laptop; have I mentioned that?
So, I packed it into my truck (another Kentuckyism ... back in the Mitten State, we would say, "I put the laptop in my truck -- my four year old laptop) and motored it on down to Computer Surgeons (not even joking here), where they, assumedly, did surgery and discovered the motherboard was DOA ... along with the rest of the pieces and parts.
Once the fatal diagnosis had been made, I wanted to make sure that I could retrieve my very important files, ie, the manuscript that I couldn't remember backing up that last time I wrote anything to the file. Y'all, sometimes, even with all my various degrees, and I am butt-smacking dumb!
That brings us to this evening, when I had to ask a friend to drive me to Versailles to retrieve the "no longer with us" laptop. I was also supposed to be retrieving the important file that my last known manuscript was on. However, dude never received the message, and because I sweetly explained that I am currently having car trouble (Tony the Mechanic is seeing more of my truck than I am these days!!!), and that I probably wouldn't be able to get back down to their fine establishment until Friday or Monday, Dude said, "Want to extract the data yourself?"
This is where the point of the whole story begins y'all, because, 'fore I could help myself, I agreed to do it.
"All you need is a something something cable."
Okay, there was an actual name for the cable, but seriously, my brain translated it as something something.
So, Dude goes to get the cable, leaving me at the front desk thinking, "How hard can this be?"
I'm going out on a limb here and saying VERY. He started talking in a different language, y'all. I mean, FOREIGN COUNTRY sorta stuff. I heard "power source" and "USB" and "small screw driver." Nothing else computed. And yet ... AND YET, when Dude said, "Does that make sense?" I gave him a thumbs up, said "COOL!" and thanked him for his time.
I faked it allllll the way to the front door of that building.
I'm banking on their being a user's manual and lots of Google questions online y'all.
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