Dec. 13, 2003 - 8:37 a.m.

It's been a tough slog through Computerland this week for DangerSpouse. Shortly after posting my last entry, my home computer decided it was too good for its drives and wouldn't recognise any of them for long stretches of time. I was busy typing up a typically hilarious account of my latest hijinks when a little blue error box popped up with: "Windows cannot find Drive C. Please (series of unintelligable instructions) and try to restore it. If this doesn't work, it may be a sign your hard drive is about to go crashing into the World Trade Center." (I bought my CPU before 9/11, when that was still possible). What I find almost as disturbing as this pronouncement of impending doom is that the CPU had to find Drive C to send me the message that it could not find Drive C. Then the computer shut itself down - it apparently was able to find the "off" button - and now will only boot up long enough for me to either leave a few harassing notes at my favorite diaries, or download a 10 second free porn sample at World Sex. Guess which one I choose most of the time?

Normally, having my Nixon era home computer not functioning is neither suprising nor an inconvenience. I'm big on stealing my employer's time, so I surf at work. But early this week one of the Sports Guys was in my studio editing audio and accidentally wiped out a couple of INI and .exe goodies. Sports Guys are on the lowest intellectual rung of the radio ladder, so I had a feeling something like this might happen when I agreed to his request. However, I figured our crack engineer would be able to rectify any errant keystrokes his proto-simian fingers bashed out. BUT, our one and only engineer has the week off. So now my work computer is condemed to mimic my home computer til Monday, earliest. That means no posting regular diary entries until then, at least. (I'm able to post today because although I'm at work, I'm in my Saturday studio, uncontaminated by Sports Cretins).

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Guess what? NewWifey(tm) is sick! I know I've mentioned previously that she embodies that Mid-Western work ethic I find so repungnant, and would drag herself to work in the final stages of typhus. But this time something has knocked the snot out of her (a good 8 pounds of it at last count) and she's missed three whole days of service to The Man. I fully expect Alien Baby to burst through her chest wall any day now. Anything less and she's faking it.

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Hey, do you know who was the most listened to radio traffic reporter in the United States of God Bless America for a few days last week?

No, it wasn't you, Motherfucker. You're not good enough.

It was your humble narrator: DangerSpouse.

I've now been designated the Official Drive Time Pinch Hitter by the suits at 1010WINS radio. I already grace their airwaves 6 days a week, but not during drive time. This now means whenever our regular Morning or Afternoon Drive announcer takes off sick, on vacation, or to fight another paternitiy suit or something, DangerSpouse has the awesome responsibility of telling listeners whether the Lincoln or Holland Tunnel will get them to their faceless cubicle on time.

I hate it.

I should be honored, but whenever this happens they yank me off my usual stations. The stations where I get to tell jokes and be journalistically irresponsible. 1010WINS is the most listened to all-news station in the US (according to their promos, anyway. Take that for what you will) and they expect me to behave accordingly. It's very trying. Damn this overabundance of talent that makes me so desireable!

(Plus, they don't even let me use my real name. My family and friends, uncomfortably familiar with my lack of ethical concerns, think I'm lying when I tell them it's me they're hearing. Swine.)

Well, leave 'em laughing, as they say. So I leave you with this joke I found in a 1974 issue of National Lampoon:

Why do mice have such small balls?

- Because very few of them know how to dance.

Are you laughing? Scratching your head in confusion like a Sports Guy? Either way I'm leaving. But I'll be back when I find Drive C. Wish me luck.

Ciao fer now!