Currently viewing the tag: "bad drawings"
Oh! Hey there!
It’s been ages since we’ve talked. Of course, “ages” between the two of us is actually less than 24 hours. Remember yesterday? When my site crashed–something about the Apache server needing repair? Oh the sweet, sweet memories.
As an aside, I have to say, “Apache” is a pretty tough name for such a terrible server. Maybe you should call it the “Slowy McBreaks-a-lot” server from now on. Just a thought.
Anyway. You must have missed me, because my server is down again! I know how much you enjoy our long talks, but these server crashes are not the right way to get a girl’s attention.
What’s that? You’re not obsessed with me and trying to instigate an interaction? How else can you explain all of the server crashes that have resulted in our hour-long chats? This is the stuff romantic comedies are made of! I mean, I would have thought that by now you would have my server running smoothly due to your heartfelt devotion to me, but maybe you’re not the Lloyd Dobler kind of romantic. Maybe you don’t want to make being with me your job.
Maybe this isn’t a romance at all, and you’re going all Revenge of the Sith on me. Admittedly, I don’t even really know what that would mean, but it just sounds like something you would do.
The point is: Server crashes have become a pretty regular occurrence since I’ve joined your service a short 6 months ago. I can’t say for certain how many times I’ve experienced crashes, since I have trouble counting when I’m blinded by rage, but I can say that this is at least the 26th outage I’ve had. It’s the fourth this week.
You may think that you’re helping. I know how some people enjoy the drama of “Will the service I pay for work today?” But not me. Thanks for trying to add some excitement to my life, but I manage to induce plenty of catastrophes without your services.
For example, I’m in the middle of trying to move to a new state, which is SUPER stressful. And I don’t even like the state I’m moving to that much, but I have to go because my husband got a job there. And the job, incidentally, starts in a month. AND WE HAVE NO PLACE TO LIVE! LOL!
I’m sure we can move in with my mother-in-law for a few weeks, because we’re moving back to my hometown, which means I’m going to be dealing with my parents and people I went to high school with a lot more than I’d like. But living with an in-law introduces all kinds of new stresses, and if I had to deal with those stresses AND your ridiculously unreliable service, I’d probably wind up on a bell tower somewhere.
Which reminds me: Do you sponsor criminal breakdowns? I’ve noticed that you sponsor some bloggers (who never seem to experience downtimes, btw. KU-DOS) but I wasn’t sure what your policy is regarding the sponsorship of rage-induced hysteria inspired by your products and services? Not sure? It’s Ok; you can get back to me on that.
Don’t get me wrong. Things haven’t been all bad. Remember that time you moved my site to a new address? FOR FREE! And the time you comped me a few months of service for all of the trouble I was having? That was awesome. Was that the honeymoon period? Have we already moved onto the part of our relationship where you fart a lot and
stop clipping your toenails ? Where’s the romance? I need you to show me a little passion.
And in the meantime, if you could get your act together on this whole “service that I pay you for” thing, that’d be swell.
Sparkles,
Kendall
P.S.
This part isn’t in the letter, but the complete absence of drawings in this post probably has some of you are feeling cheated right now. And I don’t want that.
So I drew you this:
P.P.S.
I have already received a response from my host assuring me that they are on the case and interested in maintaining our romance. At least they have a good sense of humor. Or they did before they realized I was going to post this letter?
P.P.P.S. UPDATE
Here’s their response (posted with permission):
Oh hi!
So glad to hear from you! It has been ages and I had missed you so much!
It’s hard to admit, but I am obsessed with you. I send multiple packets toward your server at least every 5 minutes just to make sure you’re up and running. Some places call that stalking, I call it caring, but really, what’s the difference?
I really didn’t think it would have went like this. I had imagined you making casseroles while I cleaned the gutters, and eventually we’d setup play dates with our neighbor’s children. Did you want children? I can’t remember if we talked about that yet, but there’s still plenty of time to figure that out.
I have found that excitement is key to a relationship. Not that I’ve had a serious relationship recently (my wife won’t let me) but that’s what I read online, from my basement, with the lights out. I thought it added some flare and brings back some of the spark that glows so bright, but fades so quickly.
While you pack up the boxes in preparation for living with your mother in law, I’m going to personally monitor your machine for rest of my shift, which is still several hours. If I see anything I will take action and do my best. We really do need to get this resolved for you.
I’ll be sure to update you with my findings.
Dear Weather.com,
First, let me just say: Good going. You know what the temperature is and are reasonably accurate at predicting what it will be in the future. So, I guess that’s cool.
But you know what’s not cool? Your optimistic and unhelpful descriptions of the day’s weather.
For example, this was the forecast the other day:
This forecast seems to suggest that the sun is out and everything is great.
But your forecast is a deception at best, because it is summertime and the sun is a predator, lying in wait like a hot, fiery ball of ninja kicks to the face.
Going outside is like walking into a trap. Once you are a sufficient distance from shelter–just far enough away from the safety and protection of air conditioning and ceiling fans–the sun will shoot you down like a sniper, using a submachine gun loaded with crippling heat to burn away your very soul.
I mean, REALLY, Weather.com. People are dying of heatstroke out there, and all you have to say is “sunny” with a little orange circle?
The next time it’s 98 degrees and “sunny” outside, maybe you should use this image instead:
Similarly, I’m disappointed by the images and descriptions you use during more extreme weather events. Like a couple of weeks ago, when I was driving from Florida to Georgia, and you showed me this forecast:
“Light hail”? Is that anything like being “lightly” stoned to death?
Seriously? “Light”? That sounds like the most delicate hail storm ever. Why not just show me this:
Oh! I know why! Because “light hail” is serious shit, and small chunks of ice are being hurled from the sky.
Here’s how that drive went, in case you were curious.
In the future, please use this image instead.
Also, I know you’re mostly in the “weather” business, covering things like rain and sun and shit, but given the extreme events our planet has seen recently, I thought you might want to branch out a little–to stay hip and current, of course.
Just in case, I drew a few things for you. Feel free to use the following images in the event of:
Brushfires or smog
Earthquakes
And tsunamis
But even if you don’t decide to use any of the professionally designed images above, I implore you to use the following for days when the weather is perfect. The next time the forecast is 75 degrees and sunny (with a delightful, soft breeze), please use this image.
P.S.
While we’re here, can I just say that I’ve had enough of your ever-growing collection of Cute-Casts? Things like “PetCast” and “PollenCast” should be erased from your site.
And, also? This needs to stop:
I find your recommendation to use hairspray and hair ties both meddlesome and offensive. (Also, why not just one hair tie? Why do I need “hair ties”–plural? Are you recommending pig tails? Or some kind of weird tri-ponytail? Because I fail to see how those styles would make me more beautiful.)
So I’m finally home after being out of town for about a week, and it’s 101 degrees where I live, and everything feels like this:
The highlights of the week included: a trip to Indianapolis, a beautiful wedding and an epic visit to the home of Kelly (from Go Go Gadget Zen). Another highlight? Me being sucked dry of all thoughts and creativity thanks to late nights, early mornings and a long drive home.
I did have a very romantic reunion, though. It was probably the closest my life will ever come to the wistful romance of The Notebook. And it involved waffles.
To begin at the beginning: I first fell in love with waffles years ago when I was much younger.
And I knew immediately that something special had crossed my path.
Our love was the kind that ignited at once, and in those early weeks, we spent hours together.
I wanted waffles all of the time. Breakfast, lunch and dinner. Even in between meals, I longed for waffles.
We had syrup fights together.
We shared a strange musical montage together that concluded in a day at the beach.
But after a brief time together, life circumstances drove us apart.
I moved away from my college dorm (where waffles were often readily prepared by someone else.) Then, I went on Atkins, giving up carbs for way longer than the human soul can withstand. (Carbs are like a group hug from Jesus and Gandhi, and I’ll never forget that again.)
Then, I thought I had fallen in love with pancakes.
Pancakes were safe and uncomplicated. There was no special appliance required to make them, and I thought I was satisfied.
But this weekend, a chance meeting at a hotel buffet line changed everything. Suddenly, waffles walked back into my life like a sudden flame, blazing and streaming into my heart.
Confronted with my old love, I was overcome.
I don’t know how I thought we could ever be apart.
I can’t deny my heart’s true feelings any longer. I love waffles. I always will.
Even if waffles get Alzheimer’s one day, forgetting who I am most of the time, and I have to move to a nursing home with waffles. I would be lucky spending every day reminding waffles of our love for each other.
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