Happy birthday to me (part one)

"I don't know whether to laugh or cry".
This is an expresion you don't hear a lot in normal conversation. When people say it, usually it's because they've been wanting to say it, and they blow it on some situation that's not emotionally ambiguous. I honestly can't think of many times when the decision is really hard. let's look at the facts:

things it's okay to laugh at:
-The idiocy of small children. some people use the euphemism "cute kid stories"
-Fred Phelps
-Finally taking over the world (maniacly)
-Those stupid emails forwarded to you by the guy in accounting who really needs friends (but not too much; you don't want to encourage him)
-The guy in accounting who really needs friends (just be sure he's not around)

Things its okay to cry about:
-death
-taxes
-onions
-your inevitable mortality and the realization that your life is an elaborately constructed lie about your success, virility and happiness.
-breaking up with your boyfriend (applies to both men and women)
-another losing season (applies to men who have painted their bodies with colors not usually seen in nature)

as you can see, there isn't a lot of overlap. hearing the news of Fred Phelps' death might count, but laughing makes you an asshole and crying makes you the sort of person I'd want to hit with a moving van. But some things push people into cliche-land

My birthday is one of those events.
the day before I turned 19, my computer broke. as an individual who uses facebook as a substitute to real interactions with people, this was devastating. I called one of my geek friends, and learned that the problem would be easily fixed by re-installing the OS. it didn't work, so I said that I'd go to the apple store and get it fixed there. sadly, this would have to wait until Tuesday.
Fate: 1, Klaus:0

Technically the next day, but really later that night, I went out partying with a group of people I was facebook friends with. could have been a lot more awkward than it was, and I had an okay time. the problem was that the group was trying to find a particular party, which on a 4 day weekend can be a hard thing to do. instead we went to somebody's house and ate fast food. I had breadsticks. something about being really tired makes fast food amazing.
somewhere along the way, I lost my student ID.
Fate: 2, Klaus: .5

unable to get food or use the computer labs, I mooched off my roommates, using their computers and meal swipes to survive. I just know I've abused my mooching privileges. I haven't yet paid for laundry soap or ibuprofin all year. Fortunately for my ability to keep doing so, the campus quasi-police found my ID on Monday night.
Fate: 1, Klaus .5

Tuesday was perhaps the pinnacle of my ability to get away with stuff.
I have a bio class that can be summed up thusly: the planet is screwed and its all our fault. because of this, I can take notes AND register to vote AND apply for a job.
My application was supposed to include 3 sample photographs and a 300-500 word essay on what I found interesting about journalism. I could not deliver these requirements before noon. When faced with a task that requires more work than can be accomplished in a given amount of time, most people give up. These people get thrashed by people like me. I pull justifications from out of my ass, wheedle and beg the question in ways that would make most slackers bow down and worship me. What my application did include was a link to my flickr account, 60 words written on the back of scratch paper about student journalism, and 40 words on how I don't fill essays with bullshit. if this worked, it would rival putting a man on the moon.

after class, I dropped off my voter registration card.
"have you registered to vote?" asks the girl behind the desk
a sheet of paper drops.
"merry christmas" I say, walking away.

shortly thereafter, I arrive back at my dorm where I wait for the guy I bum rides off of to give me a lift to the apple store. he says that I should wait an hour because he only got 2 hours of sleep last night. does he nap during this time? no. he watches an episode of Lost online. eventually, we drive out to the apple store.

Certain people should not be allowed to own nice cars. this guy is one of them. at stoplights he'll pop the clutch, accelerate and slam it back into drive as the light turns green. you can actually hear the transmission begging for mercy. He's the only person I know who will accelerate up to red lights. we get lost headed out to the store, and he learns that he's had his gps set to 'minimize freeways' rather than 'maximize freeways'.
we can't get an appointment until later that night, so that means another drive that almost induces pants-shitting levels of terror.

Later that night I grab all the stuff I'd need to show for the guys at the apple store.
"what are you doing" says The Guy I Bum Rides Off Of.
"we've got appointments for later tonight" says I, your humble narrator.
"I signed up for tomorrow"
at this point, my brain went into full What The Fuck mode. I knew he signed up for tonight. signing up for tomorrow would be douchy. did he honestly sign up for tomorrow? or was he so dense that he did not know how to use a calendar? A little more arguing proved that I was right, he caved in and off we went.

Somewhere along the line, my computer problems went from "kinda fucked up' to 'very fucked up'. my geek at the apple store plugged in an external hard drive that contained some kind of macintosh magic and all kinds of wonderful and bizarre things appeared upon the screen.
"your hard drive is about to fail" he said. a solution would be to run downstairs and buy an external hard drive. with luck, and some more of that geeky witchcraft, they could save my data. I purchased a rugged external hard drive that sounded like you could run it over with a truck. my geek plugged it in and started my dying computer up. my machine whirred and made noises, but my geek gave me that look of concern that Morgan Freeman has perfected.

"I'm sorry. your hard drive has failed"
Klaus: 1, Fate: 9999