Every day I wrestle with myself over whether to try and use my housemate's ancient, horrible PC or not.
This thing is a Golgotha of a computer. You can tell, from the second you take in that dusty beige casing, that this bitch is gonna be trouble. In some indescribable, inconceivable way, it smirks at you. It giggles with evil glee as you tentatively boot it up. And it crashes as soon as the XP loading screen has finished. For a split second the pixelated text floating in the black void seems to read "Sorry for the inconvenience, YOUR COMPUTER IS FUCKED HAHAHA" before it seamlessly morphs back into the standard, polite, "gutted it broke please try again" screen.
Seriously, this thing means war.
When it eventually boots up, know this; it is simply trying to lull you into a false sense of security. The second you try to load more than one program at a time, it's Hello, welcome to Freeze City, population: You, dumbass.
If this thing's diabolical speakers an dhideous sound card worked, you would be able to hear its evil laughter. But, perhaps luckily for you, they don't, and you can't.
But deep in your heart, you know it's laughing. And the angrier you get, the more it laughs.
At night, you can feel its presence brooding downstairs. It's like a pressure on your chest; like walls closing in on you.
And you cannot escape. It's like that line from Hotel California - 'You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave'. (Cue awesome guitar solo.)

Anyway. In short, that's why I'm not online very much.