The Inmates Run the Asylum

My father, the one who thought we were overreacting with out interwebs withdrawl last month, is now an Internet addict.

He's usually on the computer at least once a day, searching random, random things. Or catalog shopping. Or looking at dating sites. Or mail order bride sites. I've requested a Samoan stepmother.

As far as I know, he hasn't found the porn, but I've already told him not to find the porn because I don't have the anti-virus software and whatnot for that.

He is checking his own email now. He is hilariously bad at it, asking me beginner questions while trying to look like he already knows the answer, and I don't know if he knows how to send an email, but I kinda doubt it.

At least he's checking it himself now so I don't have to.

I've rediscovered playing Hearts on my laptop. If time wasting was a career, I would be a CEO.

Unfortunately, I think the game is rigged. I think the computer people I'm playing are bitter at life in general and take it out on me by ganging up on me and making me get the Queen of Spades three or four times in a row. They see me eating my oatmeal and the bile of jealousy rises in their throats and they punish me for their lack of tastebuds by causing me to lose rather spectacularly several times in a row.

Then, either out of remorse or to lure me into a false sense of security, they let me come in second or even win one.

Then it's back to beating my ass like a frat pledge.

I keep playing, though. I guess you could say I like the abuse.

Also, I'm frustrated because I can't top my best pinball score and I need a break.

Cracked.com has successfully wasted my time and eaten my brain.

That is all.