Me: I wonder if the PlayStation Network is back up yet. (clicks)
PS3: Sure, just sign in and — Whoops, gotta do a software update.
(Half an hour passes.)
Me: (clicks again)
PS3: Sure, just sign in and — Oh dear, looks like you’ll need to change your password. Hackers, you know. From Russia. Nothing to be done.
Me: Okay, here’s a new password.
PS3: Now type it again, please. Just to confirm. Can’t have you getting your new password wrong, can we? Terribly sorry for the trouble.
Me: Why are you showing asterisks instead of what I type, anyway? Do you think the Russian hackers are in my living room? Oh never mind. Here you go.
PS3: Okay! PSN coming right — oh, sorry, this won’t do at all. For security you need to have at least one letter and one number in your password.
Me: Couldn’t you have told me that before —
PS3: It’s for security.
Me: Is it.
PS3: Oh yes. We take security very seriously here at Sony. Very seriously. Very, very, very, very —
Me: Shut up. Here’s my password. It contains five letters, six numbers, eleven ampersands, and the complete text of On Beyond Zebra! just to be safe.
PS3: Hilarious. Now type it again, please. Can’t have you —
Me: Yes, yes, I know. I’m only punishing myself, because this onscreen keyboard of yours is so annoying.
PS3: What are you talking about? I’m 1080p.
Me: Who cares. You’d be just as annoying in 3D IMAX Smell-o-vision or whatever.
PS3: Sick burn, dude. Just type the damn password.
PS3: Okay, now agree to this 50-page legally binding contract that you can only see eight lines of at a time, and we’ll be on our way!
Me: I think I could adopt a child in less time than this is taking. A white child.
PS3: Look, just fucking click Agree already, will you? The last 45 pages are pasted from an IKEA catalog anyway.
Me: Fine. Agree.
PS3: Whoops, down for maintenance. Bye!
Me: (goes to Denny’s)