Well Diana keeps rolling her eyes at me everytime I go off on a tangent about computers or any number of biological subjects (biochemistry is my all time favourite scientific subject). She swears that I make Willow look like merely a fidgety child and that I should be checked for OCD
What makes me uncool is that I am a total clean freak. I clean the silverware in restaurants before I use them, I check the table and the floor around me to make sure its spotless. I refuse to use public restrooms....erm...ok so I guess I AM Obsessive Complusive.
Anyhoo, I collect war comics, Anne Rice comics, Neil Gaiman comics and collect a ton of books...usually books written by only certain particular authors. I'm picky. I'm so obsessed with literature that I collect only limited editions of Norton's Anthology just for the hell of it.
BTW, I want to share a little take off on Edgar Allen Poe's [i:1ce3386620] The Raven[/i:1ce3386620] than a rather enterprising fellow computer geek wrote in a fit of pique:
[b:1ce3386620] Abort, Retry, Ignore?[/b:1ce3386620]
[i:1ce3386620] Once upon a midnight dreary, fingers cramped and vision bleary,
System manuals piled high and wasted paper on the floor,
Longing for the warmth of bed sheets, still I sat there doing spreadsheets.
Having reached the bottom line I took a floppy from the drawer,
I then invoked the SAVE command and waited for the disk to store,
Only this and nothing more.
Deep into the monitor peering, long I sat there wondring, fearing,
Doubting, while the disk kept churning, turning yet to churn some more.
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token.
Save! I said, You cursed machine! Save my data from before!
One thing did the phosphors answer, only this and nothing more,
Just Abort, Retry, Ignore?
Was this some occult illusion, some maniacal intrusion?
These were choices undesired, ones Ive never faced before.
Carefully, I weighed the choices as the disk made impish noises.
The cursor flashed, insistent, waiting, baiting me to type some more.
Clearly I must press a key, choosing one and nothing more,
From Abort, Retry, Ignore?
With fingers pale and trembling, slowly toward the keyboard bending,
Longing for a happy ending, hoping all would be restored,
Praying for some guarantee, timidly, I pressed a key.
But on the screen there still persisted words appearing as before.
Ghastly grim they blinked and taunted, haunted, as my patience wore,
Saying Abort, Retry, Ignore?
I tried to catch the chips off guard, and pressed again, but twice as hard.
I pleaded with the cursed machine: I begged and cried and then I swore.
Now in mighty desperation, trying random combinations,
Still there came the incantation, just as senseless as before.
Cursor blinking, angrily winking, blinking nonsense as before.
Reading Abort, Retry, Ignore?
There I say, distraught, exhausted, by my own machine accosted.
Getting up I turned away and paced across the office floor.
And then I saw a dreadful sight: a lightning bolt cut through the night.
A gasp of horror overtook me, shook me to my very core.
The lightning zapped my previous data, lost and gone forevermore.
Not even, Abort, Retry, Ignore?
To this day I do not know, the place to which lost data go.
What demonic nether world is wrought where lost data will be stored.
Beyond the reach of mortal souls, beyond the ether, into black holes?
But sure as theres C, Pascal, Lotus, Ashton-Tate and more,
You will one day be left to wander, lost on some Plutonian shore,
Pleading Abort, Retry, Ignore?[/i:1ce3386620]
Spice 
