
I had it all planned out. After eating so much dinner that I actually got bored of the repetitive motion of moving my hand to my mouth, I publicly declared (on chat, at least) that I was gonna print out some old Sunday New York Times crosswords and work on them while laying in bed. And by “work on them while laying in bed,” I mean “work on them while laying in bed.”
But tragedy struck. The Commercial Appeal’s e-Appeal archives were down. I had an, uhh, rather…severe…reaction to this. After literally 45 minutes (I checked) of complaining about it on chat, tweeting about it on Twitter, emailing the e-Appeal company’s support team and even decoding the site’s URLs in a desperate attempt to pull up a crossword puzzle by hard-coding its PDF’s location on the servers (this is also how I find all the good internet porn clips), the archives were restored.
It was then, and only then, did I realize what an insane creature of habit I am, and how far I will go when the Internet pisses me off. Coming between me and my crossword puzzle turns out to be like coming between that kid from Better Off Dead and his two dollars. Who knew.
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