Goodbye Lenin!

Overload, overload, overload
Comin' up to the

Oh Stylo...
Go forth, blossom in your soul

Mmm, pump that bass, bare your soul Womack - I got a letter to write.

Dear Skype,

You've been around for a while now. You were there when I was in college, racking up huge bills with dial up (for entirely legal reasons). You helped me crank call tech support when the yanks manned the controls. You were my first option after that worthless excuse for a communicator, Y! Messenger began blocking calls. When I moved stateside, my roommies made gratuitous use of your free 60-minutes-on-sign-up to make a year's worth of calls.

Your webcam support helped me stay in touch with loved ones, even if it meant them sighing in resignation over my piercing. As time dragged on, you got ambitious. Like a man going through midlife crisis, you tried a fancy toupee and a corvette. By that I mean shiny graphics and pointless "hints" and "features". And like every 50 year old man accustomed to going through 6 packs of Bud lite, you got fatter, slower and stank of excess. I let you stay, like a burnt out hippie uncle crashing in the basement, laughing or crying for no reason at all (in your case, just crashing). I was somewhat grateful, you did help me see my lady love twice a day, and wake her up every morning for the low low rate of 9 cents a minute.

But off late, it's just not working out. You try on new updates oh so often and need my intervention all the time. You always want your friends Y! toolbar and the FF extension to hang out with you. When you're not looking, they totally cup my balls and that gets me all riled up about spyware and shit. Like a creepy racist grandpa who could never come to terms with inter-ethnic marriage, you simply can't handle Windows 7's new hotness. You stick around in the toolbar no matter how many times I close you, and the old trick of using compatibility mode to fool you doesn't work anymore. You started as an IM program, and even chat on your bloated interface sucks these days.

So, even though we go back to way back when, I must ask you to pack your bags and head to the shelter. I heard they serve pea soup on Mondays. My uninstaller will help you move out tonight.

Love,
T

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4 Weeks, and I'm back. With stories. And a lady :)