It's been two weeks since my last major dose. I've been pretty much cold turkey ever since.

Sure, I've mooched off of my roommates when they weren't around. It's the advantage of having several other users living with me. Without them, I might be writhing half-naked in a cold sweat somewhere.

I've even managed to sneak a couple hits during class, until my professors call me out for "double-tasking." Not the worst chiding one could expect for ignoring the lesson in search of mere minutes of euphoria.

Despite the challenges, I'm really surprised how well I've held up since that fateful day at the beginning of the semester when my livelihood and my love was ripped violently from my hands.

It's at that time that a blunt realization came to me.

Hi, my name is Joseph Dolan, and I am a veritable Internet addict.

It's been two weeks since a couple drops of water -- pure, clean, ice cold water -- shattered everything I have ever known about college life. I couldn't believe that my once indestructible Lenovo ThinkPad T60 could chug an entire Miller Lite but still succumb to the minute leftovers of a midnight thirst-quencher. I absolutely panicked.

My roommate Steve and I performed emergency surgery. But after hours of trying to convince myself that everything would be OK and multiple cans of compressed air, I had to accept the inevitable.

My motherboard was fried. My warranty was void.

My life was over.

Since that fateful Monday, I have had almost zero access to the Web sites that shaped my days. No YouTube. No Google. No Gmail. No boards or blogs.

Total isolation from the world.

And in ways, you might say that my life has taken a turn for the better. I've been getting to bed earlier with the absence of late-night surfing. I haven't been waking the neighbors with 3 a.m. iTunes sonatas after having 12 too many at the Shandygaff. I've even managed to secure a part-time job to make ends meet.

But who am I kidding? I want my computer back, and I want it now.

It's affecting all aspects of my life. I can't charge my iPod or put new music on it. Walking to class in silence without the thrill of unheard approaching automobiles? Yeah, it sucks. Additionally, I have an online class that I haven't even started yet, one my roommate not-so-subtly reminds me every single day how far ahead of me he is. I've heard my teachers say "Do this on ANGEL" about 678 times already. Sure, let me get right on that, you freaking jerk. Let's kick a guy while he's down.

And I've heard the question "Did you get that link I sent you?" more times this week than I have heard or will ever hear for the remainder of my days on this planet. It's enough to make me scream.

Alas, I still breathe. I still get up in the morning. I still meander around in my free time, just with a TV remote as opposed to my mouse. As horrific as it sounds, I've adapted to life without the Internet. But it still blows.

I've gotten a job, God. I've paid my $610. Is my comfort so much to ask in return?

I promise to prevent these types of accidents in the future. And, as painful as getting up and moving 10 feet to the kitchen to drink is, I promise to stay far away from my computer with liquids forever.

At least without a spill-proof mug.