Dear John.

To my dearest Dell desktop-

I hate you. You stink. Tomorrow is my last day at the office and I'm sure you are happy to see me go. Sure, sure...you'll have some other poor girl under your spell soon enough. Chained to you everyday. Victim to your constant demands of "This network is no longer connected. Click here to troubleshoot" and "Your new password does not meet the criteria of: containing at least 6 characters. Must contain at least 3 alpha characters. Must contain at least 2 numeric characters. Must contain 1 cup sugar. Cannot have been used in the last 12 months. Cannot contain person name or network name. Must be written in blood."

I only hope you'll be gentle. Accomodating.

I'm not really sure where we went wrong, you and I. Is it because I [not-so-secretly] love Apple products? Did you find out about the sweet little MacBook I go home to every night? It was nothing personal, I swear! Mac is just so much younger, faster, sleeker. You understand, right?

Things started out so well. You automatically opened Outlook every morning without me asking and sometimes, you even let me go an entire day without having to Ctrl+Alt+Delete Internet Explorer to within an inch of its life. You even put the toilet seat down.

I understand sometimes the mouse didn't always work properly. I know, I know...it's never happened before but I never told anyone; I mean, it happens to everyone. But then you started to make the keyboard malfunction. Usually in conjuction with the mouse. That was a little much. I know you absolutely reveled in making me crawl under my dank little cave of a desk, to reconnect all your useless chords. But I always came back. Bastard.

I tried to make things work. Really. But when you contracted that virus, I'd had enough. Honestly, where had you been?! Were you trying to make a fool of me? Covering my desktop screen in dozens of pop-up adds for "Hot Sexy School Girls Now!" and "Masturbation Station!" You disgust me.

So. I'm done. It's not you, it's me....ok, actually, it is you. You're the one with the issues. But let's face it: I'm going to Costa Rica next week and I don't want to think about you anymore.

I hope you'll be happy and find someone that appreciates you.

Big kiss,

P.