Sunday Mr. Zoom woke up to the following sentence by his wife:
"I've got internet VD!"
Turns out that I'm fairly compulsive with my need to convey information the very moment that Mr. Zoom appears to have reached consciousness. Or walked through the door.
Saturday night I had busied myself with the internet after Mr. Zoom went to bed. I was browsing blogs with the "next blog" button. Turns out there's a one.thousand.percent chance that when doing this in the wee hours of the morning - like 2 a.m. - that the "next blog" will be porn. Loud porn that runs little sound files that make you feel like You've actually stumbled upon Caligula's Myspace account. Username Priapus.
After hitting two or three of these in a row, my computer started protesting with a little warning box on my task bar "Your computer is infected! Click here to fix it."
I followed instructions, but the little warning wouldn't go away. I gave up and resolved myself to the fact that Mr. Zoom would have to fix it when he woke up. Hence, internet VD.
"Don't worry Zoom, I'll fix it." he said. Which he did.
Too bad he can't fix my biological computer.
Last night after watching a show off of the cheater tivo, I got to thinking that I hadn't seen him watch a particular game show recently.
I, of course, had also forgotten the name of the show. But no matter, I proceeded to speak the question I had for him assuming the name would just occur to me in time. Which it didn't.
"Did they stop making that Who Wants to Guess a Million Dollars in the Suitcase show?"
Mr. Zoom giggled and said "Deal?......"
"OOOOOOOOOOH yeah! Deal or No Deal."
Then I totally lost interest in why I'd asked in the first place and moved on to whining about not wanting to go to bed yet or something.