The Measure of a Geek

So, I lucked out today and my computer exploded. PFPPFPFFFFT!!! I was sending an email about a coworker's going away party, and it all went to hell.

I hate PCs. This shit never happens on my Mac.

But, as I have stated before, I luuuuuurv Timbuktu (the process by which the I.T. guy gets to violate your machine remotely while you look on in a daze)! I called I.T. "Someone needs to Timbuktu my ass! My shit's BUSTED!"

Dialogue Box: "Chris" from I.T. wishes to Timbuktu your ass. Will you allow?

As Beck would say, Hell Yes. Click!

Chris, it turns out, is funny. Not such a great phone voice (I detect a bit of a New York accent), but he has a pleasant chuckle and he likes my desktop. (It says "I Heart Nerds.") I'm thinking he's thinking I'll relate to him.

The arrow starts flying every which way. Fascinating! I can watch what he's doing and flirt over the phone at the same time. I really am a great multi-tasker. I see an opportunity to play my Damsel in Distress card. "What's all that?" I ask innocently.

"Geek stuff." Yes, please. Keep talking, Chris. He obliges, "Blah dee blah dee blah dee blah you don't ever want to go into this and mess around by yourself blah dee blah dee blah." I really am not processing what he's saying. I just am loving being Timbuktu'd.

He's in the Start Menu. "Do you have this set up any particular way? Do you prefer this order?"
Hot, right?

"No, just do whatever you need to do," I say sweetly. Because I'm sweet. Except when I'm a bitch.

"Ok, so then you don't mind if I a l p h a b e t i c a l i z e it?"

Alphabeticalize? ALPHABETICALIZE?

Thanks for the cold shower, Chris. I totally just lost my boner. What a waste of my computer exploding. I think I accidentally led the poor chap on, though, because even when we hung up and my computer was laboring through AdAware, he kept talking to me via the notebook. But it was too late. This Timbuktu was done.

I've said it once and I will say it again. To be the perfect Geek, the right balance of G vs. Eek needs to be achieved. In my poor friend Chris's case, a little too much Eek and not enough G.

The only thing hotter than being a Geek, in my opinion, is being a Geek with good grammar.

In other news, there's a celebration going on here at the agency. The Art Buying department has "installed" an "art" exhibit. They are serving champagne and wine.

The last time I rocked out at work, I encountered several coworkers the following day who delighted in detailing their interactions with me verbatim. I do not trust myself to go down there and be respectful of the "art." I enjoy art. But the process of drinking at work is tricky. You need to drink as much as you can without becoming an idiot. It's free. You need to take advantage. But you also don't want to do anything asstastic. And I really don't see myself quickly working up to a buzz and then having something constructive to say about a life-sized plaster sculpture of a small boy, wrapped in barbed wire, cradling his penis and standing on building blocks, titled, "Now I Know My ABCs."

"He looks quite young to know his ABCs," I might say, elbowing my companion.

"I didn't know my ABCs until I was about 12 or so."

Hardy har har.