zombie.

I already knew I was too big for Victoria’s Secret. Well at least, I was before, and I had a pretty good idea that I still was. So I don’t even know why I went into VS. But even when I did go in, I don’t know why I didn’t let the girl help me. If nothing else, she could have measured me. But it doesn’t matter, because I didn’t have money to buy new bras anyway. Especially since I got some (albeit the wrong size) last week at WalMart. But then I went into Lane Bryant. I was more confident here, as I was fairly sure that they would have my size. And so when the girl asked if she could help me, I said yes, and got her to measure me. “33… so you would get a size 34 band and….. triple D.” The band size was a lot smaller than I expected (w00t!) but the cup size didn’t surprise me. So she proceeds to show me the styles and colors of bras they had, and said “let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll open a fitting room for you.” I didn’t really have any intention of buying anything, although they were having a buy 2, get 2 free sale, but I looked anyway. And lo and behold…. It took me awhile to figure out but I soon realized that Lane Bryant doesn’t carry any size 34 bras. The smallest band size they carry is 36. And while some say you can go up a band size and down a cup size (aka 36DD), I can tell you from firsthand experience, it definately doesn’t work that way. So I’m too big for VS and too small for LB. Lovely. I started looking at specialty bra’s online, and they *start* at like $50/bra… I want to cry. I love my boobs, but honestly… if it’s not one thing, it’s another.

Breakfast
Fruit and yogurt parfait~3

snack
100cal bar~2

I imagine this is what a person would be like if they died and were ressurected. Cold. Sterile. Lacking life, character. Devoid of memory of anything that had happened before. Reduced to only the most basic functions. Biblical references aside, when a person dies, they are meant to stay that way. What can you hope to accomplish by bringing them back?

Sasha died. I watched her. In her last hours, I tried to nurse her back to health, but to no avail. She couldn’t locate her hard drive. Is this what “brain dead” means?

Sasha–my laptop. 12″ PowerBook G4. Don’t laugh, this is serious!

I took her to the Geniuses at the Apple Store, hoping that they knew of some kind of advanced medical technology I had no access to. They tried again, the same methods I had already used, and like me, failed.

The hard drive is failingthey told me. Worse! It was my fault! Or at least partially so. They declared her dead at 4:37PM EDT yesterday, and asked me Do you want to reinstall? You’re going to lose everything Yes, yes! Bring my poor sweet Sasha back to life! I know I’m going to lose my files, but I need her to work again! Now this is only temporary. She might last for awhile but the hard drive is still damaged. You’ll need a new one soon. Brain transplant! Le gasp! Yes, yes, of course. And so she was resurrected.

And now she stares at me blankly. In an attempt to put as little stress as possible on her weakened brain, the technician didn’t load iTunes, iPhoto, or the majority of my available fonts and languages. Not that it mattered anyway. My pictures, my music, my files–they’re gone. My programs–those that didn’t come with the OS–gone. I can’t even see the font on this very diary. One of the most basic of all fonts–Courier New– is no longer loaded onto my computer. I could change her background from the default blue to the rainbow I had before (one of the presets on the computer) but it feels like it would be pretending. This isn’t Sasha anymore. This is just the shell that once was her.

They told me all i have to do is replace the hard drive, but to have Apple do it would run me at least $700 or more because of the case damage. But I could buy one and either install it myself or take it to a CompUSA. But I was already thinking of getting a new computer–I’m about due for an upgrade anyway. In fact, I had just told Carlin I was thinking of getting a new computer, and not 30 minutes later, Sasha began her decline into oblivion.

Sometimes people look at me funny when I tell them I’ve named my laptop. Other people name their cars, why can’t I name my laptop? But I don’t think I could ever name a non-Mac. Now I’m not one of those crazy Windows-is-EVIL-use-Mac-or-DIE! people, but I do like macs. Windows and Mac both have their upsides, and their drawbacks, and my attraction to Mac, I admit, is almost purely aesthetic. Mac’s have character.

I looked at Sony Vaio’s and Dell Inspiron’s, and while they are nice, I just can’t imagine naming one. I can’t imagine a Windows-based computer becoming an extension of my personality the way Sasha has over the last 2 years. And I can’t justify replacing her with a non-Mac. I would buy a hard drive and do the “brain surgery” MYSELF before I would trash her for a Dell

I’ve already told Sasha that I’m going to have to pull the plug. I don’t think she understood me entirely. Hopefully she doesn’t go all Night of the Living Dead on me.

It makes me so sad to look at her. To console myself I’ve been looking at new MacBooks. See this one? I hope to have him by the end of the summer. I’ve already named him Zeke.

13.3-inch widescreen display
1280 x 800 resolution
2.0GHz Intel Core Duo1
512MB memory (2x256MB SODIMMs)
80GB 5400-rpm Serial ATA hard drive2
SuperDrive (DVD±RW, CD-RW)<B