Broad band My ass |12:13 PM|
If you're coming here from broad band my ass, fear not. This site's E/N status will be ending in the next 12 hours. It will be the new home of a sad excuse for a comedy website. The dark-man like switch over happens soon, stay tuned...errr sort of.
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Cows Milk is for COWS. |10:22 AM|
Dammit. And I just bought a gallon of this stuff. This Not milk website, though kooky looking, is relatively compelling.
There's this woman that works in our building. Our is referring to my boss videodrome and I. Back to the woman. I've nicknamed her the leather jacket woman, as she is in possesion of a very stylish jacket, a large crimson leather bag, and tight pants. She firmly has my attention. Vid does not think she is attractive, and suggested that we run up, grab her, and I stare at her until I realize that he is correct. She happened to be walking out to smoke at about the same time Vid and I went to the gas station to buy cigarettes. She was still outside when we came back, and she started walking towards the door after we passed. Though this was likely a coincidence, it did give me a chance to hold the door and get a good look at her. She's still attractive to me. Cuter than I thought, with a touch of an acne flare up that doesn't really change the lines that make up her face. Vid still disagrees.
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Would you choose sterility for tax breaks? |1:05 AM|
I got paid, so now I have steak! Frozen, juicy, proteiny...STEAK. I even picked up some frozen shrimp to liven up the noodles that I continue to eat with reckless abandon. I found an ancient package of "Lucky me" flavor chow mein. Thanks again, Karla! You rule the school. I also got a killer deal on paper towels, but I changed cereal brands to what turned out to be an inferior brand. Damn you, Quaker Oats! DAMN YOU TO HELL.
I have to be careful, when I fill up the fridge like this, I tend to gorge myself until the house is empty and suddenly I'm starving again. That is, when I can move. THe chow mein has made the house smell nice, I guess that's another perk of "Lucky me!"
The tax man reamed me quite properly on this check. I lost over $500 to THE MAN. Drag.
Oh, and an old crush is coming to town. I intend to visit them at the local HEB. That's right. This crush isn't a woman at all..nor a man. It's MORE than a man! H...E....buddy
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Thursday, March 28, 2002
Title left blank intentionally |7:16 PM|
I really need to get my hands on amphetamines.
I had an odd fairy tale type dream last night. It was stupid, basic, didn't make much sense, so of course I'm adapting it into a story. It's coming along at an okay pace, I'm just babbling it out and I keep forgetting to go back and make corrections. But there is this concept, this main character is described as "knife like" or "Whipcrack like" or "Throwing knife like"...He's bendy but not twitchy like myself. He's quick and precise, but doesn't look out of place at a formal party. I can't recall the exact descriptive phrase I have heard or made up at the time. It's really bothering me.
I kept trying to convince people to go on a picnic/kite flying expidition with me today, but they all had to work until way past sundown. And apparently ren faire is coming to town or starting up or whatever this weekend so some damn plans for Saturday got blown out of the water. Blasted faire! Curses! Foiled again!
Okay, I'm going in search of food. I learned how to make a paper crane in a neato fashion today. Origami beats ass.
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? |2:58 AM|
Hmmm. Played poker. I lost all my money, bought back in, and ended up being $1.50 behind instead of $20. I did alright. I probably drank more than a $1.50 worth of pepsi and a shot of pricey whiskey.
I left the updated code for the site at work. Because I'm an idiot. So, this whole comedy thing hasn't gone live yet. I'm going to do something. yadda yaddaa.
[edit]
Forgot to say. At work, we made origami cubes. I learned some neato new folds. My boss made Really Tiny Cranes.
Crazy stuff.
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Tuesday, March 26, 2002
Focus on retirement. 0% financing could cost you thousands |7:51 PM|
Why focus on retirement? My bank wants me to do this. I say, when you're retired, your body is old, weak, you're not nearly as sexy, and everything is either too loud or too quiet. Screw that. I should be able to sap the life force out of the young or something when I'm older. "Focus on developing vampire like powers" or "Focus on not looking like a bag of raisins that got hit by a car"
Screw retirement. Retirement is for chumps.
My cat has stolen my chair, and there is likely a warrant out for my arrest. Not my fault, a paper work goof up to be certain, but I can't go fix it with the funds I have on hand. My cat takes the butt area of the chair, meaning I have to sit on the far front edge. Crazy cat. My hair looks like a cartoon character's. It's silly. Someone replaced it with feathers or something.
Why did I click edit? I obviously meant to add something past "Retirement is for chumps" but now I can't recall.
Oh, if you want cookies, send me your address. Cookies. Mind control cookies. Cookies are good. Send address, get cookies. I won't even sell it to bulk mailers or The Yakuza.
Cecils flip out ALL the TIME!
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Rhapsody in Green |10:55 AM|
Yesterday went by fairly quickly, for a monday. We listened to Celtic fiddle music, and Vid would occasionally get my attention to show me some horrible bit of hentai. Damned cartoon porn. I have my coke and I bought breakfast cereal on the way to work, so my teeth are not so much rotting out of my head, as they buying parachutes and hurling themselves out of my jaw. I had eggs last night, and I will have eggs for dinner tonight as well. I'm running out of time on this set of dozen. Technically, time has already run out, but I'm not sick today, so I'm claiming these eggs as "alright".
I got SHODAN back up and running again. I'm quite miffed that Win2K's post installation copy protection means stabbing itself in the heart when its IDE info changes. Christ, that was a shock I didn't need. But it gave me a chance to reconfigure how the drives in the machine worked, and I salvaged the CD-rom from the dead MonkeyRail monorail computer.
Work contiunes on the Neo-Darkman-TPL comedy humorism site. It currently consists of looking over the old Gbang code and Vorpal and I yelling "What the fuck! The fuck! What the fuck!" at each other. So, we should have it up and running shortly.
Karla says that we can link to her now, if we're careful. Instead of being subtle, I think I'll just deliver a Karla related report. Well, only for her highly amusing sunday entry, and the fact that she's been using one of my quotes in reference to "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid"
Butch Cassidy: "The future's all yours, you damned bicycle!"
Bicycle: "Oh No! I am defeated!"
You keep hunting those damned Heinlein characters, Karla.
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Monday, March 25, 2002
|2:27 PM|
Wow. That last set of calls was like being back at roadrunner:
Cec: "[implicit set of instructions]"
Cust: [Acknowledges the instructions]
End of call
Next call
Cust: Hi! I [oppossite of implicit set of instructions], should I [do the implicit set of instructions] instead?"
Cec: "Yes. And reboot."
Cust1: "Reboot?"
Cec: "Yes. Reboot"
End of call.
Next call:
Cust1: "I'm still having problems...."
Cec: "did you reboot?"
Cust1: "Not yet."
Cec: "Go ahead and reboot"
End of call
Cust1: "It's not working"
Cec: "did you [implicit set of instructions]?"
Cust1: No, I [exactly what I told them not to do under any circumstance]."
Cec:[Gargled, choking noise]. "Okay, let's [implicit set of instructions"]
Cust: "Oh my! It's working now!"
End of call.
I should be more clear though, it was actually more like 8 calls, over 3 hours. It was so stupid I was stunned. I could not believe a human being could be so dense as to keep not doing what I said would fix the problem, and continue to do exactly what wouldn't work. It's like driving your car into a closed garage door over and over again, and asking someone why the door isn't opening. Then of course, you don't listen to them when they say "press the door opening button on the remote" reverse, and then accelerate right back into the door. Over and over. Reverse, slam! Reverse, Slam! I don't know how that woman manages to drive a car to work without getting killed by sticking a bread knife into the toaster while jumping in a bathtub during a lightning storm. Cust: "It's not starting!" *ZAAAAP*
How did this person get born? Why didn't the sperm get lost on the way to the egg? And, since it's obvious at least one got there, how did they bamboozle their way in? "Hey baby, I hear you need your cable TV repaired. Duuuuuh"
Christ.
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Sunday, March 24, 2002
100 miles closer |6:29 AM|
I drove over 100 miles this evening. I had half a tank of gas, now the fuel light is on. It started out as a simple "Take friends to concert, and rock the hell out" evening. Near the end, I was charged with the holy quest of acquiring a keg, and making a party occur. We acquired a shell from the backyard of the house called "Rowdy Town"** swapped it for a full keg, and I put the deposit down on a tap. I swore that if anyone jacked the tap, people would have to die.
I ran into the girl I had danced with at the last concert. Her name is Day, and she remembered me from "Somewhere..." I reminded her of her dancing, and she immediately recalled. I then noticed her friend Lisa. Dressed in white, with black gloves to guard against the cold, she was stunning to behold. I did my best not to look like a total idiot around her, and I seemed to do alright for myself. I hung around my keg, proclaiming it a sin not to partake. "This is my keg, drink it in memory of me" or "This keg...is a passport....to HELL!" The evening carried on, I ended up with some friends at an IHOP. It was 4am by now. It's 6:33. Lisa had fallen asleep at the only time quiet enough for me to get her number, so I was forced to leave mine with her, tucked into the strap of a purse. Lame, perhaps, but the worst thing she can do is not call. Then have the Yakuza murder me.
I bothered updating my cam. The sun is rising. I will fly my kite, get my phone turned back on, and generally relax. A day of rest.
**Rowdy Town is the domain of the Hotrod Hillbilly's Bass man, while "Gangsta's Paradise" is the apartment that Vorpal and his brother call home. After hearing these names, I have decided that I live in "The House of Pain"
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