grrgoyl

One of these days I'll go to the grocery store to find they've stopped carrying yet another favorite and thoroughly taken for granted item, and on that day, I mean it, I WILL JUST SNAP.

I'm drawing a blank right now but trust me, there have been tens of products over my lifetime that I bought regularly that can't be found anywhere anymore.

The most recent casualty in this list is my Ice Java. This is a Nestle product that was discontinued in the States in 2008. It's still made and sold in Canada, and don't imagine the thought of trying to find myself a Canuck penpal just to hook me up hasn't crossed my mind.

It's a coffee syrup you mix with milk for a delicious chocolate-flavored caffeinated beverage, and it got me through many a long, sleep-deprived RGIS January. It's not as caffeinated as true coffee, but enough to give me a caffeine headache on the days I skip it. And since it's zero grams of fat, I was planning to drizzle it on everything I eat (just kidding).

I've been ordering it online in semi-massive quantities, delivered to my door like I lived on a grocery loading dock. It was working quite swimmingly until I went to place my order this week, only to be greeted by the message "discontinued/out of stock." WHAT????

Frantic Googling ensued, all of which turned up only the desperate pleas of other addicts engaged in a similar search, some a few years old. Nestle's official company line was that sales were too low to justify the shelf space, which seemed hard to believe in light of the public outcry I was seeing, but I won't pretend to understand all the intricacies of the dog (food)-eat-dog (food) world of product marketing.

There were bottles being sold on eBay to be sure, but for around $10 a pop and my least favorite cappucino flavor. I'd rather drink a can of Coke every morning.

So my next Google search was for someone who might have duplicated the recipe at home. This gave me some hits on a recipe site, which seemed simple enough. I had found what I was looking for -- if it was actually a success remained to be seen. /suspense

At this point I suppose I should make it clear that I don't cook. Or bake. If pressed with simple enough instructions I suppose I can make do, but all the cooking in our house was done by my Navy father, who didn't invite assistance. Tery, ever the smarmy one, told me to pretend I was in Potions class with Professor Snape. So I set up my Snape cardboard standee in our narrow galley kitchen and started collecting my ingredients.

I had actually two recipes, slight variations of each other, which made me uneasy -- as a noncooker, I like to be told "go to the store and buy exactly this thing." I'm not comfortable with improvisation.

So one recipe called for Dutch baking cocoa. Another specified Ghirardelli's unsweetened: which is how I discovered my grocery store no longer carries Ghirardelli's cocoa powder. Remember back at the beginning when I said one day I would just snap? This wasn't the day, but it did make me ponder the possibility the universe just plain didn't want me drinking Ice Java any more.

I settled for Hershey's special dark cocoa powder, which at least had the word "Dutch" on the package. However, I couldn't resist hopping across the street to Safeway, which doesn't have a lot of selection but sometimes carries odd things King Soopers doesn't. Success! I bought both to be safe.

Let me be specific: I had bought everything else I needed at Kings. At Safeway I only got an 8-ounce can of Ghirardelli's. As I paid for the tiny can, I heard someone ask, "Do you need help out today, sir?" Naturally, not being a "sir," at least not for many years now (this happened all the time when I was in college) I didn't look up. When it was apologetically changed to "ma'am" I realized they were addressing me.

In his defense, he was obviously slightly mongoloid, but I still couldn't resist a sarcastic, "With this one little can? No, I think I can manage." I know, I'm a brute. Later telling Tery this story, she said she would have answered, "Yes, thank god! I barely staggered up here to the checkout with it!" Guess we deserve each other.

I got home and excitedly started my Potions class. I used the Hershey chocolate first since that seemed more readily available and I didn't want to get hooked on the Ghirardelli recipe only to have THAT disappear from the country too. Everything seemed to be going well and Prof. Snape was looking on approvingly, until the final step, that called for two tablespoons of instant coffee crystals.

The fact that I was going to such lengths to not lose my chocolate caffeine fix should be evidence enough that I'm not a coffee drinker. Can't stand the stuff. Absolutely vile. But sadly an apparently crucial ingredient in my beloved chocolate caffeine drink.

All the coffee drinkers of the world will probably answer with a deafening "DUH" when I ask, did you know there's a big difference between instant coffee crystals and ground coffee in a can? Don't take my word for it. Try dumping two tablespoons of ground coffee into a previously delicious chocolate syrup and see what happens. If you don't want to, I'll tell you: you get a big yucky clumpy mess of chocolate-coated ground coffee.

In my defense, King Soopers doesn't even carry instant coffee, so I was just trying to find the smallest can of ground coffee I could (note: This may not be true. Tery insists they certainly do. I insist just as hard it was the first thing I looked for, if for no other reason I didn't want a big honking can of coffee sitting around if it didn't work out. The world may never know the truth) (EDIT: The truth exposed! They do carry it. Somehow I didn't make it to the tiny 4-foot section further down the aisle past the 20-foot section of ground coffee. I'm usually more thorough (and observant) than this. I blame it on a lack of caffeine). Thank god Tery got home, ordered me to throw my horrific mess out (I was still hoping the coffee would dissolve while cooling in the fridge) and marched me out the door to Safeway for a jar of instant. I licked a stray spatter of chocolate syrup off my professor as I passed.

This had a much more desirable result. It comes close to the original drink, except the chocolate is wrong. Here's hoping the Ghirardelli's makes the difference.

~*~

As if life isn't already unfair enough, what with having gallstones and being terrified to eat anything, and my favorite morning beverage only being available in Canada, my damn computer died last week.

Not dead dead -- it would power on, then hang on the Windows XP logo screen. Thank god I had the new Windows 7 machine so I could at least work, but due to the aforementioned hardware kerfluffle, I spent three not-fun days operating my work software with keyboard commands rather than my pedal.

I searched the internet for a solution, where someone had posted a big fat lie about "repairing a Windows installation" from the boot disk. I had the boot disk, and saw the option, but selecting it seemed to only bring me back to previous menus repeatedly. The only option it would accept was a total re-format. It broke my heart to do it, but I didn't see where I had much choice.

Fortunately I had already moved most of my really important stuff to the Windows 7, including about 7000 nephew baby pictures that Tery would have had my hide if I lost.

Of course, my Windows software is from 2004 or some similarly long-forgotten era, so just reinstalling all the critical security updates is practically a full-time job in itself. And to my dismay Firefox has mysteriously stopped working -- the browser itself works, but all of my lovely add-ons give me error messages. Finally I (very reluctantly) removed it and trudged back to stupid Internet Explorer, which isn't as fabulous but at least doesn't tempt me to waste half my day uninstalling and reinstalling it in an utterly futile bid to get my add-ons back.

I even gave Google Chrome a try, hoping it might be close to Firefox. Did you know that Google Chrome isn't compatible with the Google toolbar? Madness.

I also was without my pedal for three days because did you know when you do a clean install of Windows, you lose your sound drivers? Me neither. I lost a day trying to track them down before it occurred to me to just go to the manufacturer's site.

I really hate computers. It seems the more I learn about them, the more difficult they become.

Remember when I said I was going to try to start writing shorter, more digestible entries? This is not one of them. But since I'm so super nice, I'll cut for length so the boring doesn't take up your whole f-list for a day.

( ::We need ANOTHER new computer:: )

ADDENDUM TO ADDENDUM: You started out in Austin, Texas, Win 7 Prof. What the hell are you doing in Utah???

*~*

( ::Everything must go! Especially this guy trying to rip me off:: )

~*~

I won't cut this or else you'll miss out on the pretty photos.

I'm excited because after watching "Cats 101" on Animal Planet, we suddenly realized what breed our Schminky Minky is (remember she was found in a garage with a litter of babies, no official credentials on her). She's a Norwegian Forest Cat!

Now when you rattle off such a grand-sounding title to people, they look at you like you've lost your mind and started thinking you're King Louis XI (or your cat is). But the thing is, she fits the description to a T.

Physically they're known for their long coats (it's cold in Norway. Though frankly it's a bit wasted when she spends most of her day on the softest bed money can buy), particularly their full neck ruff, big bushy tail and tufty toes (that was the point we perked up). Their faces are equilateral triangles with big eyes and tufty ears. Built sturdy, they're the distant cousin of Maine Coons (I've always thought she was part Coon). Emotionally they're calm, confident, intelligent and faithful. I don't think I need to add any more to that statement.

A Google image search turns up lots of examples to back my claims, but I chose this one to show you:



For comparison, here's Mitten:



Totally unrelated, after rewatching some Firefly, I decided I couldn't go another day without Jayne's cunning hat. Fortunately eBay is crawling with them:

A Super Bowl party is a damn lonely place if you don't care about sports. I went to Tery's bar, City Pub nee Toby Jug, for the promise of a free half-time buffet and the chance to see Ryan (which I never miss). It was loud, boring, and the only food that appealed to me from the buffet was a hotdog and nachos with toppings. In between a shouted and only partially-heard conversation with Ryan I caught myself watching the game, which was ludicrous given the fact that I understand only the bare minimum of how it's played and really absolutely could not have cared less who was playing, let alone winning. I left immediately after the half-time show to spend a much more enjoyable evening alone at home.

~*~

I heard back from the IRS once and for all. The good news is they agree that I don't owe them $2000. The bad news is the last line of the letter was something to the effect of, "You may have gotten off easy this time, but we'll be back, my pretty." Lay off, Mr. Taxman. Have you run out of Enron executives to investigate?

~*~

I hate computers. I love them, but I hate them. My ability to make any given program/hardware work falls somewhere above that of my father (at the 0 end of the scale) and below my friend Gerry, who bandies about lots of fancy terminology but doesn't by any means know enough to make a living at it (or maybe he does and just enjoys the thrilling inventory life instead).

I want to use my cheap, no-frills, secondhand laptop basically for two things only: to read Snarry at night in my bed, and to occasionally write a journal post for days like today when I'm sick and tired of sitting at this desk. I had achieved both goals handily when I got my brother-in-law's wireless modem card working for awhile. Then, stupidly, I unplugged it for some reason and when I tried to use it again weeks later it had stopped working.

I fiddled with it endlessly, tormented by the knowledge that it had worked fine at one time so should logically do so again. If it had never worked I would have stopped much, much sooner and wasted much, much less time. But nothing I did would establish a connection (well, specifically it APPEARED to have a connection, but every page I visited produced an "unable to find server" message).

Fine, I thought. I'd go back to the old days of using a floppy disk to transfer data (the laptop has a CD drive but not a burner). Until I looked more closely at my new desktop and only then noticed it didn't HAVE a floppy disk drive. It has no less than 4 different openings for presumably various sizes of memory sticks, but floppy disks, nada.

My choices then were to go back to eBay in pursuit of either an external floppy drive to retrofit my new desktop, or an external memory stick drive to upgrade my laptop. You see, this is why I HATE computers. Nothing can ever be simple. I then thought I had reached a compromise by buying a USB data transfer cable, which arrived yesterday. What the auction failed to mention was that to use this deceivingly simple tool, one needs to set up a network. I don't know what I was expecting. Probably what I always hope for with my computer and rarely get, that I could plug in a "plug-and-play" device and it would magically start working without requiring any extra effort from me.

Network. The very word makes my blood run cold, because it was a word I encountered repeatedly in my exhaustive efforts with the modem card, and I never once found a simple, straightfoward, plain English explanation on what it is, how it's used, and how one creates it. And, as far as I can tell from spending about an hour on it last night, it's not possible to establish a network between a brand new desktop running Windows XP and a laptop of indeterminate age and limited capacity running Windows 98. If it is, I don't want to know because I'm sick of playing with the damn thing. Sick to death.

Simple. I want things simple. Back to eBay I went and bought an external floppy drive for my desktop. It's also USB "plug-and-play" but claims it only needs drivers for Windows 98. (Drivers. Another word that raises my hackles.)

~*~

Speaking of computers and Snarry, when I got my backup disk from the good people at Action Computers, one of the things they saved was my own humble effort at a Snarry story. I went back and reread it, and it rekindled my interest in writing it. It wasn't as bad as I remembered, and I also forgot how fun it is to write dialogue for Snape (who is almost as snarky as me). I'm toying with the idea of eventually posting it on one of my Snarry communities (if I can ever think of an ending). The only thing preventing me is the fact that those people gush over just about everyone, regardless of talent or lack thereof. I would honestly prefer it never see the light of day to having insincere praise heaped upon it. So far the only person privileged enough to read it is my beloved Bear, who never talks to me but I love her anyway. Maybe I can entice ohdeve...I mean, yammerhead with it. He's back and he'll never admit it, but I suspect he couldn't resist the allure of the Snarry.

~*~

Finally, I keep putting off writing this because I've been trying to limit my posts to one topic, but since this is a miscellaneous dump I'm including it here.

A movie review 18 years in the making, ( ::Die Hard:: )

This movie has undoubtedly stood the test of time, especially in comparison to two movies I've reviewed in the past: The Lost Boys which came out the year before and is now hopelessly dated, and Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves that came out 3 years later and is retarded and dated. With its story of a terrorist attack on a skyscraper, it could be argued that it's more relevant than ever. So, Alan Rickman + Bruce Willis (not an annoyingly horrible actor like other action heroes) + still a great story + with still pretty decent effects = 4.5 out of 5

Oh Lord, what a day.

It all began when my computer died, for good this time. It's been terribly cranky about waking up in the morning for about 6 months now, but today it was well and truly DOA.

My plan was to bring it back to Micro Center based on the phone tech support guy's belief that it was just the power source and therefore an easy fix. On my way I had to stop for gas first, where I encountered my second problem. When I finished pumping, the trigger was stuck on the nozzle and it wouldn't stop. I panicked and, quite stupidly, pulled it out of the tank, dousing my coat with gasoline. GodDAMMIT.

I got to Micro Center and disappointingly was told that the power source was fine, but the motherboard wasn't passing the message along to power up. The guy assured me that replacing the motherboard might cost almost as much as getting a new machine, but they wouldn't know anything for sure without running diagnostics. Fabulous. So I ponied up 60 ill-afforded dollars just to have them diagnose the problem. Then, even though I had stripped down to my sweater, the guy 20 feet away behind another register asked the room in general, "Why do I smell gas?" I red-facedly explained I had had an incident at the pump.

I stopped to pick up some cables in a (probably useless) attempt to bring my crappy old laptop up to snuff so I could at least work in the interim (where another sales associate sniffed the air suspiciously and I had to own up to my condition yet again), but I couldn't resist swinging through the sales department to price new computers, where I saw a brand new unit with all the trimmings I needed for only $450. Thank God computer prices have dropped so much. I retreated to my car and discussed with Tery, deciding it made no sense to try to fix a nearly 4-year-old machine when new ones were so cheap.

So it was across the street to an ATM to empty my savings (*sob*) and back into the store (after changing into a clean sweater I had in my trunk) to cancel the work order and reclaim my much-needed $60. Out again with the old CPU, back in again to buy the new one.

As I stood at the register waiting for the clerk to count the sizable stack of $20's, someone tapped on my shoulder and offered to shake my hand. "How are you today? I'm the store manager. Just wanted to thank you for shopping with us!" Okaaaaaaay. Either he's a VERY friendly store manager, or my admittedly erratic behavior set off some warning bells on the security cameras. I wouldn't be at all surprised (or offended) if each and every one of my $20's received the counterfeit pen test after my departure. Nor would I be surprised if I was heretofore referred to as the "gas girl" (though that MIGHT offend me).

So here I sit with an awesome new machine. Everything would be shiny if I could stop thinking about all the stuff I've lost. All the downloaded music, all the family photos, all the very valuable internet bookmarks that I used for work, not to mention a fairly impressive collection of Snarry fiction and art (which, I'll confess, I wasn't too keen on the tech support folks at Micro Center catching a glimpse of). This is even worse than a system crash because the data isn't destroyed, just inaccessible. Does anyone know anything about transferring data from one hard drive to another by using the same CPU? (or, for that matter, the best way to get gas out of clothing? Everything still reeks after two laundry cycles.)

Yesterday I finally got a full day off (not for lack of RGIS's attempt to take it away, but I've been clinging to the thought of it like a life buoy). I was going to clean the house, burn a DVD, watch some movies, maybe fool around with some new audio conversion software I just got (analog recordings to CD). It was supposed to be nice and relaxing and enjoyable.

But the gods must have picked up on my plans, because halfway through the day my computer crashed. It just locked up, rebooted itself, and came up to a pleasantly-worded but completely unwelcome DOS screen that said so sorry, but Windows started unsuccessfully. It helpfully gave me several options, a few safe modes, returning to my "last known good configuration," or starting Windows normally, all of which only brought me back to the same DOS screen.

Not knowing what else to do (and feeling vulnerable, scared and alone without the Internet available to help me), I tried the emergency recovery CD that came with my computer. I balked at hitting "OK" when it explained that it would have to delete the "user partition." I called my brother-in-law, who I perceived (falsely, it turns out) to be a computer whiz. After a couple of hours of internet research he didn't have any other options for me. Poop. So I went ahead with the recovery CD, praying it would just affect Windows and not all my applications and personal files. But since I was praying to the same gods who thought it would be fun to crash my system in the first place, they just sniggered cruelly behind their hands.

After about an hour it was up and running again...in the pristine, virginal state in which I bought it. >: (

Gone were lots of Very Important Things. Photos (including wedding pictures we hadn't bothered to print out yet). A folder full of reports I had meticulously saved from extremely difficult doctor dictations for future reference (thank god the rest of my work material is on the company's server). A folder full of downloaded music (mostly Tery's, so not such a big deal there). Text copies of snail mails I had sent to friends and unnumbered miscellaneous fun pictures and programs I had received from friends. All my Quicken financial records (my backup floppy proved unreadable for restoring purposes). All of my beautiful applications, of course, though most of them not a big hardship to reload.

Switching from AOL to Comcast ISP turned out to be a two-edged sword. I didn't have to spend an hour reloading any software (AOL), but I had lost all my IE bookmarked websites, most of which I didn't bother to remember the addresses of because that's what bookmarking is for.

I won't lie to you, there were tears shed. And some gnashing of teeth and tearing of hair. And a fair amount of assuming the fetal position. I can say with pride I resisted the urge to wail, however.

A computer crash is a lot like a house fire, I had time to realize while waiting for multiple programs to reinstall. I know because our house burned down when I was 8, and all of my childhood possessions were reduced to smoldering, charred pieces of unrecognizable debris. It was traumatizing at the time, but at least I didn't lose really important things, like financial records and wedding photos. Granted rebuilding a house involves a little more than sticking a disc in a tray and clicking on some buttons. But like a house fire, in a computer crash you don't realize everything that is missing until you try to resume your normal activities. That's when stuff that you've been taking for granted isn't there anymore and you sigh as you add it to the list of things that eventually need to be replaced. Like special fonts you've downloaded. Settings that have returned to their defaults. Websites that no longer recognize you. (As I'm undergoing today) a constant barrage of Windows updates being downloaded and installed, interrupting your work. Programs you've been using for months reverting to their trial/evaluation status and needing activation codes again. Losing access to your LJ tags (which I just now noticed. WTF?????????)

I am reminded of that corny (but beloved) 80's movie, Electric Dreams, when Miles' computer literally controls every aspect of his environment, from dimming lights to making coffee. I'm not THAT dependent, but a dismaying amount of my everyday life is inextricably tied into my computer -- which I didn't realize until I didn't have it anymore.

Computer problems really, really SUCK. Needless to say my next purchase will have to be backup software, because I can't go through this again.

Speaking of AOL, a few days ago I received a letter from them threatening to cut off my service if I didn't provide them with valid billing information. Lo, almost three full months to the day after I cancelled my account with them. Sheesh, AOL. Now you're bordering on the psychostalkerish. I told you, WE'RE THROUGH. Would you PLEASE try to move on?? Maybe you need counseling or something. I'm hiding my pet rabbits, just to be on the safe side.

Me: I'm sorry, AOL. It's over.
AOL: I will NOT be ignored!!!


Edit: Solved the LJ tag mystery at least. I thought I was logged in, but wasn't. This illustrates perfectly what I mean by daily routines that didn't require maintenance before a computer crash.

Joke: What's the difference between America and Canada? Canadians think there's a difference.

Well evidently they think right. I know this because today I spent another 20 Minutes Of My Life That I'll Never Get Back on the phone with yet another Clueless, Making-$17-An-Hour-To-Do-Nothing techie over my email issues. We went again down her little checklist of possible solutions, most of which looked discouragingly familiar. She asked me AGAIN how big the email was. Apparently there is a way to check actual MB size (not that my mail falls even remotely close to the MB category), which unfortunately involves clicking on the mail in the "Sent" folder. I think my patience was stupendously admirable as I explained that I couldn't do that, as I CAN'T. SEND. THE MAIL. (is anyone even LISTENING to me over there??). With each failure my voice took on an even more smug, self-righteous, been-there-tried-that tone (purely against my will, I swear). She said they would check it out on their end, as it was entirely possible the problem was with them and not me (which I am almost certain of, based on Operation: Delete and Reinstall being a resounding disappointment), but for now I should try the AOL Canada website to send my mail (which worked like a charm because, like everything else, it is better made than American products). I asked when I should call back if I still had the problem, and she laughed and said I could call back as often as I liked. And instantly realized her mistake when I made it clear this wasn't nearly as amusing to me and I certainly had better things to do than chat with Tech Support all day. I kind of regret being so harsh, only because it earned me no less than four apologies for the frustration in embarrassingly quick succession.

Her last words to me were, ironically, "Thank you for using America Online." I thought that demonstrated a remarkable level of hubris, because if I can't do something as basic as send email (did I mention I'm paying $24 a month?) I very well might have to go elsewhere for my internet needs (which I say all the time, then always come crawling back to AOL. Damn their user-friendliness.)

HateHateHateHateHateHateHateHate

Call me old-fashioned with unreasonable expectations, but when I spend $150 on a piece of software, I expect the damn thing to work. I don't expect it to do my laundry or feed the cats, but I do expect it to do what it promises and what it is designed to do.

This was not the case with the subject of my complaint.

One of the biggest rationales (I mean, reasons) for buying my new computer was to use the spiffy new kits I saw that promised to let you transfer analog VHS tapes to DVD. Perfect! Not only do Tery and I have hours of camcordered footage from early in our relationship (some of it quite hilarious and entertaining), but my newfound love for Alan meant getting a lot of his earlier material which was only available on VHS. It would sadden me to no end to watch any of these tapes slowly deteriorate over the years like a dying, fading family member, so I was very excited by the prospect of saving these things on DVD, which, while retaining the substandard VHS quality, would nevertheless not degrade any further.

I went with Adaptec's VideOh! capture card and Sonic MyDVD software (packaged together) based on the salesman's recommendation (plus I am SUCH a sucker for products so cleverly named). Serves me right for not doing any research and picking up the first thing I see on the shelves (unlike my friend Deb, who can't buy a toaster without reading at least two consumer magazines on them. She waited 5 years to buy her first computer before she realized that the Race Against Obsolescence was one she would never win.)

I won't even go into all the problems I had with the product as they are too numerous and technical to list. I visited the Tech Support website so many times that not only was I on a first-name basis with some of the troubleshooters, but I even got an invitation to Thanksgiving dinner at one of their homes. But to no avail, no sooner would I resolve one problem than a new one would pop up. It was all I could do to submit further questions without peppering them with a healthy dose of expletives. I was not in the least encouraged by the fact that the website had a "customer forum" littered with other casualties, people who had been fighting this battle longer than I, posting hopeless questions which invariably either didn't get answered at all or they were advised to buy additional software to supplement the Sonic package, or in some cases, told to go with a completely different company. I got to the point where I wouldn't even wait for an answer from the website, I would experiment on my own. One of my problems was solved by opening my computer up and moving the capture card to a different slot. It worked like that for a few hours, then it froze up again, and resolved by moving the card back to the original slot. I am no technogeek, but I AM fairly certain computer hardware is not supposed to be operated by constantly changing its position on the motherboard. I got to the point that I just stopped screwing the cover back on, because I would more than likely need to take it off again in a few hours.

Considering what a lethally impatient person I am, I really think I devoted more time than it deserved in dealing with this impossible software.

Today was the last straw. After fighting through all the obstacles noted above, and wasting at least 5 perfectly good blank DVDs on previous abortive efforts, and against all odds, I FINALLY got a video file to the stage where I could attempt to burn it. It went through its paces, looking very promising, then just at the final stage the DVD was rudely ejected and yet another error message appeared, "could not complete last command because" Jupiter was not properly aligned with Neptune or some equally meaningless explanation.

Tery just happened to be in the room at this moment, and for her sake I refrained from doing any actual physical damage to my surroundings. I just sat in the chair and gripped the armrests until I thought I might pull them off, uttering gutteral nonsense syllables of rage and frustration, then made several (pulled) punches in the direction of the monitor. She said the veins were bulging on my forehead. And needless to say, the cats had run for the hills (or the next best thing, the bedroom) even though in all my temper tantrums I have never done violence to either of them. My biggest rant was how it could possibly be legal for a company to even sell a product so riddled with problems. She of course had no satisfactory answer for me.

I calmed myself and sweetly kissed her goodbye as she left for work. Then I got dressed and headed straight for the computer store where I bought this piece o' shite. The store policy on opened software was an exact exchange for an identical item...well, THAT ain't gonna happen, so I had resolved myself to the unpleasant fact that I would have to bite the bullet and take a loss for the sake of getting some software that actually did what it was supposed to. I summarized my tale of woe to the salesman in that department who, upon hearing my system specifications, frowned and said there was no reason I should be having all these problems. "Well, tell that to my computer" I challenged him. But he gave me a ray of hope when he said I could exchange it for another unit, then if I still had trouble they would refund me and I could try something else. Huzzah! I wouldn't lose my $150 after all!!

So I rushed back home, viciously boxed up the original hellspawn capture card and installation disc, and flew back to the store. The pimply-faced clerk at the exchange desk was a little hesitant about taking it back, as I no longer had the original box (although all the components were present). It was then that I learned there are definite advantages to being a broad-shouldered, mean-looking, very-much-a-woman-on-the-edge. "Well," I said calmly but with an unmistakable you-really-do-not-want-to-argue-with-me tone of voice, "I obviously did not expect to have as many problems with this thing as I did. So I threw the box away." He cheerfully made the exchange and gave me back my receipt. I still wasn't satisfied, though. "Can you write a note or something that I already exchanged this thing once? Because I am NOT going through this process a third time." He gladly jotted a little note to that effect on my receipt.

I returned home, all the while chanting a bitter litany in my head...."There is NO reason why this one should work any better than the first one. There is NO reason why this one should work any better than the first one" but I was buoyed by the promise of store credit and the freedom to pick out something different once this one inevitably proved itself to be equally disappointing. I installed it slowly, following every instruction to the letter. It initially gave me an error message or two so I installed the update patch I had received for the original unit and the updated driver for the card. I even tried changing the slots one last time. The first effort to burn locked my computer up completely and I began to feel smug self-righteous vindication. In my mind I was already composing a letter dripping with sarcasm for my buddies at Tech Support: "PLEASE can I have the version that captures video AND burns DVDs now?" But I gave it one more go. And. It. Worked.

I couldn't believe it. So now another ugly scenario that I hadn't even thought of was occurring. I couldn't in good conscience return the product now, since it technically DID work eventually. Which meant I was stuck with software that would most likely continue to be unbearably hit-or-miss, undoubtedly cause me many more hours of frustration, but which might work occasionally if I played my cards right and made a virgin sacrifice or something.

We shall see. I made it very clear that it was here only for a probational period, and I WOULD return it in a heartbeat if it gave me much more trouble. I only hope computer software is as easily cowed as a rookie salesclerk.

Remember the good old days when all you needed to copy stuff were two VCRs and a $2 RCA cable??

-=Lainey=-