Dear Little Red-headed Man at the Computer Store,

Last Friday my darling Boo visited your fine establishment (cough*WestWorld Apple* cough) and brought you my beloved laptop computer to repair it’s mysteriously blackened screen. You were beside yourself with delight to have something to tinker with as you spend the bulk of your day twiddling your thumbs as everyone knows Macs are darn near indestructible except when placed in the greedy hands of a certain blonde Canadian Redneck.

You fawned over my husband as you peered into the inner realms of my precious baby and made promises of gold star service, speedy computer recovery and the delivery of the ever mystical two-headed unicorns as a bonus.

You work with Mac products every day, therefore my handsome husband took you at your word and believed you would set right his beautiful wife’s world which had spun upside down and inside out when she discovered the darkened screen and the impending prison sentence of being tethered to her mighty if not painfully slow desktop computer.

With me sitting at home beside a candle I kept lit for my precious baby’s speedy and safe return, my husband handed over my laptop and went on his merry little way to await the arrival of our new two-headed unicorns.

Time passed agonizingly slow as I waited for the day I could swoop in and rescue my beloved from your diminutive little clutches.

Dear red-headed man, you promised its safe return by Tuesday morning. Since I was bedside with my beautiful Jumby at the hospital enduring all sorts of torture and pain I was unable to pick up my precious laptop. But trust me Mr.Red-headed man, it was never far from my thoughts.

(You try spending your days locked inside a pediatric hospital room waiting for your child to be safely returned from a six hour surgery without a computer to feed your wi-fi addiction and then you can judge me.)

So it was with a spring in my step and light in my heart as I drove myself to your fine establishment FAR AWAY FROM THE HOSPITAL where my baby boy lay broken and bleeding and needing his mommy.

I endured rush hour traffic to be the first customer to knock on your door and retrieve my precious computer and still make it to my son’s bedside before morning rounds were made and he woke up and noticed my absence.

With a flourish of glee I rang the little silver bell sitting on the counter to summon you from your hidey hole.

“Hi, my name is Tanis Miller and you are holding my laptop ransom. I’m here to rescue it.” I chirped merrily while smiling my most winsome smile. Dudes like that I find. Especially computer geeks.

“Do you have the service order?” You didn’t even look up to see my charming smile or how I stood with my shoulders thrown back highlighting my perky boobs.

“Um no. My husband must have forgot to tell me,” I smiled even harder to you.

“Phone number then,” you yawned at me, clearly blind to my beauty and special brand of charm.

“1 800 REDNECK,” I droned automatically while trying to peer at your impressive fancy computer screen.

Taking a few seconds to scan the screen which you adjusted to ensure I could not read any of it’s top secret info, you pursed your rat thin lips together and finally looked up at me.

“Sorry. Your computer isn’t ready yet.”

That sound you heard was my heart breaking and sanity shattering.

“What do you mean my computer isn’t ready yet?” I gasped, slightly panic stricken.”You promised it would be fixed by Tuesday and it is now Wednesday,” I cried as hysteria creeped into my voice.

“I’m sorry maam. My computer says your computer isn’t ready.” You were clearly unimpressed with the panicked female act I was using so I decided to switch tactics.

“Well can you tell me when it might be ready for pick up?” I asked with a hint of annoyance in my voice. (All right. It was more than a hint. I was dripping with aggravation by this point. I wanted to smack the freckles right off your pasty white face.)

With barely a glance at your computer screen you informed me you had no idea when it would be ready to go.

Imagine me ripping my hair out by its roots and kicking and screaming like a toddler having a temper tantrum. That is what I was doing in my mind Mr.Red-headed man, as I spoke to you with deadly calm. “Well then can I speak with someone who MIGHT have an idea?”

“Nope. Sorry. I’m the only tech here this time of day,” you replied while clearly having no idea of the imminent danger you were in at that very moment.

“Can you at least tell me what is wrong with my computer then?” I huffed indignantly.

“Haven’t the foggiest,” you murmured as you stared at the computer screen to avoid the stabbing daggers shooting out of my eyes.

“That.Is.Not.Good.Enough.” I gritted through my teeth.

“Well it takes time to sort through these things,” you bravely explained to me like I was mentally challenged.

“Yes. Just like it takes time for me to drive to the furthest corner of the city to pick up my computer at the crack of dawn. The computer you promised would be ready by Tuesday,” I snapped. “Time that I am losing because I am unable to take care of my business because I don’t have a computer.”

It was then that you and I locked horns and danced around one another in a duel to the death.

It was while I was stabbing you with a dull butter knife in my mind that I noted you were a a short little man, barely coming up to my chin. It was then I noted how I could snap you like a dry twig in between my muscular thighs.

You simply stared at me, laughing silently at my frustration as steam poured from my ears. You knew you held all the cards and you knew I knew it too.

I loathed you and your beady little eyes as I stuttered out, “This is unacceptable.” Really I meant, ‘I am going to make you moan in agony you sorry little troll.’

You smiled an evil little grin and cackled, “Someone will call you when it’s ready. And I’m not giving you your two-headed unicorn now because I don’t like your attitude. Bow down to my power Wench!”

I stared at you and I knew I had a choice. Walk away with my pride at his feet or make a stink and get my laptop back with a Portugese operating system installed.

“I’ll be back,” I whimpered, er, whispered. “I really need my computer,” I said as I tucked my tail and turned away empty handed.

“Try using your blackberry. You can send emails that way,” you laughed as you waggled your teeny tiny little boy fingers at me.

Ya. Thanks for that tip you evil little Red-headed man. It’s only taken me two hours to peck out this post with my freakishly large man hands and these stupid little buttons.

You better have my computer ready for me tomorrow. One more day sitting in this hospital jonesing for my Internet fix and I am holding you personally accountable.

I promise you, I will use my Blackberry. As I shove it up yer arse and beat you senseless with my freakishly large man hands.

Signed,

A Loyal Mac Lover Who May Have Developed a Twitch.