My Name is Quasimodem....

Prelude-...if you are aware of the work of Pavlov...feel free to skip!

The work that made Pavlov a household name in psychology actually began as a study in digestion. He was looking at the digestive process in dogs, especially the interaction between salivation and the action of the stomach. Pavlov wanted to see if external stimuli could affect this process, so he rang a metronome at the same time he gave the experimental dogs food. After a while, the dogs -- which before only salivated when they saw and ate their food -- would begin to salivate when the metronome sounded, even with no food present.

Step one of my twelve step program..

"My name is Quasimodem...

and I am a Netoholic"

The Net>"Hi Quasi"!

Quasi>My story starts with a simple intranet...

At first I just used it for business purposes, an email here and there. It was strange at first, but it's what you have to do to get ahead; it was expected. I hated my boss, never gave him the time of day but one day...(cringe) I added a smiley in the body of my message.

I think his name was Walter, a maggot-like, married son of a bitch who used to corner me by the water cooler. Truth was that it was pretty easy to smiley without looking his way, and the nightmares where I covered "him" with toilet paper, so not to conference him, dwindled. I think my therapist would call that disassociation.

So began my descent into Pavlovian Hell!

Emoticon Mania continued...

Until one day...

A single rope, highlighted in orange, dropped down with every click, tone and Micro-softic beep that came from my computer.

Menu
eat
sleep
drool :-} ~
get a life

So I drooled...

In any event, it was the only option available. What was I to do? I was hooked, trapped, dare I say, addicted.

I started to look like the maggot I swore I would never become, white, glistening and not moving too quickly. That menu haunts me still...and yes, if you must know, I was drooling before this meeting.

Forgive me.

I digress...

No longer were real friends enough. I surfed from site to site in the company of: teenagers and those who desire them, bored housewives in filthy homes, and men who use two fingers to type...at least that's their explanation for their sluggish typing skills.

Are you typing with two fingers, or are you just happy to see me?

Never mind the tortured souls...

Men taunted by Viagra who can't log off, women reduced from objects to gifs, and ....me, chatting it up with strangers, drowning in a pool of my own spit!

lmao!

Think I'm laughing?

Think again.

If I was really laughing my ass off, don't you think it would take me longer to get back to the keyboard? Heck, I came to the conclusion that I am not that amused or amusing a long time ago ...

Don't laugh... "you" aren't that amusing either!

rotflol!

Insidious!...

Employee of the Month-Tawny

As part of my therapy I have been advised to seek out others battling similar demons, which brings me here to you. Perhaps we could share some spit...after all, I'm way past the chatting stage.

Quasimodem