The day I met Larry David

I have an announcement to make. No, nobody's pregnant. Why does nobody ever guess that?

I have gathered you here today to announce that for the first time in my life, I have... wait for it... a laptop.

It's a hand-me-down, which was pretty much dead. So I guess that makes it more of a throwaway. Remember when you were young and you would cruise the city streets looking for an old couch someone had set out on the curb that you could pick up after dark and carry back to your place so that you would have an actual piece of furniture? Well, this laptop is my present-day couch on the curb.

I should start off by saying I'm no computer expert. Well, to some people I am: my family, most girlfriends, LJ, everyone at work. My knowledge of computers is similar to my knowledge of cars, in that I know enough to think I can fix what's wrong, and can usually at least attempt to fix it without making things even worse.

As I stated, this one was pretty much dead. The lights would come on, but the operating system would never load and the screen was blank.

A few weeks ago, skating right through that gray area of the - quote - "law," I was able to procure a Windows CD. After several hours over a couple of days, I managed to get something on the screen which resembled Windows, but seemed to only have about 10% of the familiar Windows components installed. For example, the Recycle Bin was the only icon on the entire screen, there was no wireless adapter showing in the control panel, and there was no sound. You know, minor things like that.

Well, what is the point of having a computer with no internet? So I set it aside and decided a new laptop was probably going to be my only option. Day after day I would see it just sitting there in the living room floor, calling to me. (Obviously not literally, as the sound still didn't work.)

Normally, I give up rather easily on anything I can't figure out within a couple of hours. Well, other than golf and girls. But once in a great long while, when the moon and Uranus are both aligned in the third quadrant of the red sun, my propensity for giving up easily is matched, yea, superseded by my stubbornness and unwillingness to admit defeat.

This normally only happens when I'm doing something I think a man should be able to do -- such as installing a car stereo or finding an intended destination without stopping to ask for directions. It happened again this past Monday night. I turned on the laptop to try it one more time.

And wonder of wonders, it worked! A more complete looking Windows came up, though there was still no sound or wireless adapter. So yesterday I consulted a friend who's a bit higher on the computer food chain than I. And through some website that seemed legal, if not entirely in English, I was able to download the necessary drivers.

After umpteen hours of mental sweat and only intermittently wavering dedication -- which is probably the most I've ever worked on any one thing in my life -- I had a working laptop, with Windows, and access to the internets!

Amazing laptop, how sweet the sound! It once was dead, but now is alive. Had no sound, but now can speak. Not that I'm some kind of computer messiah. Not even an apostle. Just one of the multitudes. Sittin' near the back, munching on some loaves and fishes, and spittin' 70 wpm on his slightly used Toshiba.

To say it has been a long and arduous process would be an understatement. Actually now that I look up the definition of "arduous" I guess it's not really that much of an understatement after all. Maybe even an overstatement. Let's call it a labor of love.

Now I can get online anywhere and everywhere! The bed, the couch... OK, so just the bed and the couch, but still! I can surf the 'net AND watch ESPN at the same time! I haven't been this excited about technology since I first played Oregon Trail. I mean, I'm blogging from bed, people!

Did I ever tell you about the day I met Larry David? Well, I always thought the day I finally meet Larry David would be the happiest day of my life. But I was wrong. It's this.

The only possible issue I can foresee is motivating myself to ever move from this position.

"Cause even on a slow day, I can have a three way, chat with two women at one time. I'm so much cooler online..."

To caulk or ford?

Remember how it felt? Holding the reins. In control. Cruising cross country in the ol' Conestoga. Fording rivers. Repairing wagon tongues. Living off the land. Knowing everyone was depending on you.

I can only be referring to the Oregon Trail. No, not the major migration route used by pioneers traveling westward across North America over 150 years ago. Rather, I'm talking about the computer game based on that route.

I believe I was in middle school the first time I was introduced to the game. Who knew so much fun could be contained on a simple five-and-a-quarter inch floppy disk.

To me, the best part about Oregon Trail was the primitive navigation system on the Conestoga. It gave the date, weather, total distance traveled, distance remaining, distance to the next landmark, as well as how much food you had remaining. It even had that little map you could click on to see exactly where you were. The Conestoga was the Tahoe of the 19th Century.

Oregon Trail was educational as well as entertaining. It forced me to make choices, real life decisions. At least, they would have been real life decisions had I lived in 1840.

I learned that all farmers are poor, four oxen can pull a wagon faster than two, and squirrels are harder to shoot than buffalo, though buffalo provide more pure poundage of food.

On my way to the Willamette Valley, I also learned about death. Few things up to that point in my life were as heartbreaking as reading "Jimmy has died of dysentery" across the screen.

Best I could tell, dysentery and cholera were likely the two leading causes of death for Americans in the 1840's, with drowning a close third. Heck, I wouldn't even know what dysentery was if it weren't for the Oregon Trail. And I'm confident that knowledge played an integral role in my upbringing and development.

As with most things I ponder, certain questions eventually arise. And Oregon Trail is no different. For instance, what was the deal with this message: "You shot 1958 pounds of food, but were only able to carry 200 pounds back to the wagon."

If I'm in need of food, I'm bringing Annie, Mary, Little Susie, and Jimmy all off the wagon to help carry it. Well not Jimmy, bless his heart, may he rest in peace.

Either that, or I'll pull the wagon right up to the carcass. And if it won't hold all the food, we'll just camp there a few days and eat. We've got to rest anyway. Mary has a broken leg, and one of the oxen got lost.

"We lost a lot of steers that day, and four or five good mounts. But when all the boys rode into camp, we knew that's what counts..."