The true meaning of boondocks



The true meaning of boondocks

I have been without free, easy access to WiFi since Friday morning. There are times that I can’t even get a signal to use my Blackberry. When I can log on I’ve been running through my Reader… you all are my crack and I am honestly amazed that I am having symptoms of withdrawal.

I wake in the middle of the night and instead of turning over and trying to fall back asleep, or find my book and read for a while, I grab that little gray hand-held devil and go skulking.

Even when I can lock onto a strong enough signal, for some reason I can comment on some few blogs and others reject my efforts. Don’t think I’m not wanting to leave my little love notes, I’m trying and it’s not easy. And! and! don’t get me started on how small the keys on a crackberry are or having to remember whether to hit ‘alt’ or ’shift’ to type a particular character. Day-um this is too complicated.

I am in the middle of the freakin’ woods in a home that has no cable connection and where the the only WiFi cafe in town is closed on Sunday! I had to sit out in stupid parking lot as my peeps roamed the aisle of Wal-Mart (which for some insane reason did not have access). I felt all levels of sketchy and hoped the local law enforcement department did not see me as a threat to the peace of the community.

Here I was sitting in a parked car, Neo cranked on the stereo, dressed in jeans and leather, typing away on a computer outside the closed Internet Café-slash-community church. I would have run me off.

Later in the week, when I’m at my dad’s ~ who hopefully still has his computer hooked up ~ I should be able to navigate a lot easier. I will be glad to get home. This no Internet shit is crazy.

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