Because it really is personal…

Here I am at my new home. It’s bigger than the onld one, or maybe it just seems that way because the furniture’s not here yet. I don’t like the banner, it was a slap-together job that took about 10 minutes. I’ll come up with something more appropriate eventually.

See, here’s the situation, why I’ve picked up and moved AGAIN:
My children visit my blog. I’m ok with that. They know I’m bipolar, they know I have ideas and opinions beyond the usuall Mommy stuff. The problem is, one of my kids, who shall remain nameless but he’s 19 and here on out shall be called “peckerhead”, doesn’t think real hard about how he gets to my blog. So, last week he posted a comment using a computer at work. Well, he also didn’t clear the history, so my blog address shows up in the drop down bar. The problem with this is that the IT guy at work is a nosy bastard, and a tattletale, and would be HIGHLY likely to go trotting his happy geek ass to the president (Sweet Daddio’s boss) with “hey lookee here! Sweet Daddio’s wife’s Personal Shit!” You know, all that really personal stuff that I need to be able to complain about, like mental illness and physical pain and angst toward living in a Small Southern Town, oh, and what an asshole I think SD’s boss is. Stuff that would not be the kind of thing one wants shouted out all over a cotton mill with an asshole for a president.

SD is stressed over the likelyhood of Cotton Mill readership. He’s stressed enough as it is, and I am loathe to walk into a place where people probably think bipolars ought to be straitjacketed and fed valium. So move I have.

Today will be spent trying to figure out how to move archives from one wordpress blog to another. Right now it looks like it would be easier to move them over to blogger, then to wordpress, because wordpress is telling me something about RSS feed and I have I know idea what that means.

I may do this today instead of cleaning #2’s room like I promised him, because he pissed me off a few minutes ago with his Socratic method of arguing. I can compete, yes I can, with that, but I don’t want to on just 1 cup of coffee and frankly, he was just doing it to be an asshole.

oh, and our other computer died. Something about a motherboard failure BIOS something-or-other. I have like…40G of photographs on that computer. I have been assured by the Socratic Asshole that if I purchase a $20 whatever the data on the hard drive can be recovered. That would be good. SD also ordered a new computer last night, should be in hmmm….Monday, I think. It’s Windows Vista Premium (the new one with the glitches fixed, apparently) and it has buttload of bells and whistles. You know, it’s amazing, how the price of these things has dropped. In 1995 be bought our first computer. 1.3G hardrive, Pentium2 processor, and it was $1000. Now, we get this HP Screamer with dual this and a hard drive the size of Cobb County and some kind of fancy RAM that’s like the NASCAR of RAM., and it’s half the price of that first computer. “Mom! Why didn’t you get an Apple?” Peckerhead will query. “Because,” I shall reply, “It’s $2400.” And while it’s nice to have $500 to spend on an emergency replacement, if I had $2400 it would be a downpayment on a new set of boobs, or set aside for a Hugger Orange Chevy Midlife Crisis for SD, not a G6 or whatever. Where computers are concerned, I want a Buick, not a Lear Jet.

But Rootie, you obviously have access to a computer now! Yes, I do. It’s a cranky old fart with a tendency to shut down BOOM right in the middle of something. It over heats, and there’s a line running through the middle of the monitor screen. Fine for emergencies, irritating as hell if you’re working on a project, or taking an online test to determine what color your psyche is.

Now that the Socratic Asshole and his irritated younger brother have left for school, amid screeching tires and mumbling from me about driving up to the school and taking his car keys away in an embarrassing and public manner, I am going to shower, do my excruciatingly dull and largely ineffective hip exercises, and let this cranky old fart of a computer cool down. Then I’ll decide if I want to clean SA’s room or not. Probably not, but a shower has been known to change my mind.