My computer is absolutely fucked. Any application I run will inevitably crash within five minutes of use. In fact, a few moments ago I launched Microsoft Notepad to compile a top ten list of actresses I could bang to yield the most shocking party stories and the goddamn application – fucking NOTEPAD – crashed four times. Yes, this list may be part of a future post if you’re lucky. And, yes, the lovely Bette Midler is definitely top five.

In case you’re wondering – and you probably are somewhat curious seeing as though you’re reading a post titled “My Computer Crashes All The Time” and you’ve made it to the second breathtaking paragraph – the following applications crashed while writing these first sentences: Windows Media Player (two times), Microsoft Word (four times), Firefox (3 times), Windows Explorer (one time) and Windows XP (one time). I’m not even joking. I can’t use certain applications (iTunes, I’m glaring at you) or get through YouTube videos longer than 30 seconds.

Some people ask me, “Hey, MKM, how can you stand working on your super-sweet computer? Why don’t you do something to fix the problems?” A great pair of questions indeed. Truthfully, the consistent crashes have improved my end-user experience – and my life – dramatically, much like when I finally discovered Magic: The Gathering will never get me blow jobs …even though my “Madness” deck rules (Wild Mongrel FTW).

Don’t believe me? Well, for one thing I’m becoming increasingly passionate about my computing tasks. For instance, I tried watching an 8-minute out-take video on Mega64 and I wanted to email the creators to say, “hey, I liked your video so much that it took me a half hour to watch because my computer is fucked up and crashes every 30 seconds.” If that’s not brimming with passion, I don’t know what is.

Even the most menial tasks – like increasing my secondary monitor’s screen resolution to view high-resolution pictures of people fucking without scrolling – are overly challenging. However, conquering these challenges yields intrinsic and extrinsic rewards, both of which I crave. For the situation above, I feel the satisfaction of a job completed and enjoy browsing porn exerting as little energy as possible. Imagine the joy produced by successfully downloading a full album off BitTorrent. A veritable volcano of happiness. But not one of those sleeping ones. I’m talking about explosions and death – pleasant, happy death.

Well, shit.

I just lost an entire paragraph chalk-full of solid gold. I’m not even kidding. It opened with a brief argument discussing the social struggles of Balki Bartokomous, then continued on to explore Larry Appleton’s love of peanut butter. Somehow, the paragraph ended by detailing a novelty dance (obviously the Dance of Joy) performed by the two Perfect Stranger stars and Mr. Munch, the keyboard virtuoso who fronts Munch’s Make Believe Band. I’ve tried rewriting my mini-masterpiece but it’s no use; the rewrites lack the same pizzaz of the original. Your loss.

Data loss is expected, but I’ve developed a safety net: hitting CTRL-S to save my work every few seconds. I’ve been doing so well tonight, but anything involving Perfect Strangers requires me to be “totally in the zone”. You may claim that consciously remembering to hit CTRL-S stifles creativity by requiring mental interruptions, but I assure you this is not the case. In fact, it aids my creativity by providing breaks to review my last words …every few seconds. This way I can catch myself before I type something really retarded. It seems to be working wonderfully. I mean, who gives a shit about Perfect Strangers anyways?

Some people say I should switch to a MacBook. I like that idea because then I can buy a scarf and act pretentious in coffee shops as I type my stupid thoughts and not drink coffee, but I don’t know. Something tells me I’d still have maddening issues with a MacBook as well; instead of constantly crashing, it might constantly give birth to chinchillas. At first, it may be a welcome feature …but then my apartment would be bursting with chinchillas and their poop, and they’d be dying because I can’t afford to feed thousands of chinchillas so they’d resort to cannibalism and then sleeping would be difficult because I’d be listening to chinchillas feasting on each other all night. Then I’d probably be slapped with some sort of fine for being inhumane.

Chinchillas are stupid.