Dell and other ways to waste time |6:25 PM|
I had to go into work today to deal with maps and inventory hoo-hah. That's alright because I stopped by Inri's desk. Inri, by the way, is this chick that I met in a bizzare and stupid fashion. By no means are we dating, and that's not even an option. She's this unusual woman who wants to pour cornflakes onto people's heads. I met her friday, and she demanded that she give me a haircut. When I convinced her to stop lunging at me with a pair of scissors, I allowed her to even up my sideburns. All in all, a nice, if moderately crazy, chick.
Tonight is the second annual "Pimps and Ho's" party at Joe and Tara's. Due to my current finacial standing, I'm going as a "Ho". Vorpal has sworn to kill me if I wear a mid-riff (whatever) revealing shirt.
So this is of course, what I intend to wear.
By the way, take a look at this: Evolution Robotics It is disgustingly cool.
Jobs, busy |12:55 AM|
Drove out to a place called "Marble Falls" to visit a small area called Crawdad east or bay or I don't even know. I was repairing the computer of a man who had apparently been some kind of mayor somewhere. He was from Wisonsin, and he had a broken macintosh. A few minutes of coddling and the thing ran like a dream, only problem was the hour and a half I had to drive to get there. I'm going to have to start charging a trip fee for distances over 45 miles from my hive point.
I did get a FANTASICALLY SHITTY digital camera. I will now post pictures using this hunk of exciting crap.
Me
Plant
Laundry.
I bought a bunch of BALLPARK FRANKS. They indeed plump when they are cooked. Eating more than two hotdogs a month increases your chances of cancer, so eating 3 in a day can't be good. I don't exactly count on cancer being that which does me in, however.
More break ins at my apartment complex. The broken safety glass tipped me off long before I saw the note on my door. General safety tips and that sort of crap.
At 2 am this morning I'm going down to my car, hiding in the back seat disguised as luggage, with a laptop bag on the front seat. When someone comes by to steal it, I'll beat the living fuck out of them.
This is a great plan. I'll scream "KITCHEN, MOTHERFUCKER!" While I swing the crowbar, in order to scar them forever. With any luck, whenever they need to go eat, they'll whimper. Damn straight.
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Wednesday, October 02, 2002
Internet Slow Down |11:30 AM|
My office has been invaded. People are pushing pins into maps to denote fax machines. I can't describe the excitement.
I went by my doctor's office yesterday, and got prescriptions for enough amphetamines to start my own army. Some of them for free, as I might be taking the "XR" (Extended release) capsules. I don't dig that, since they'd last 10-15 hours. I prefer control. The pamphlets for XR mention the possibility of chemical dependence. I don't recall seeing similar warnings in the regular pamphlets, and I was on the lookout for that. The last thing I need is a drug addiction, but I'm afraid that's what I now have, or at least, dependence.
Oh, in regards to buying Vorpal that book, Success! His mind recoiled in such a horrific way that he started writing again, as well as updating the front page. It's great.
The internet here at work is very slow, an annoying. I may fall down and weep. I did get through to "Cat and Girl". I don't want to be an imaginary dork.
Someone very close to me expressed something I thought I'd never hear, and it has brightened my day considerably. Toadi, thanks.
Stupid shit |2:48 PM|
I got the last cupcakes out of the vending machine before the twinkies part of the rack began. I win. At my desk, I'm absolutely rocketing through "Lullaby". Since I get to read it between 10-20 minutes each hour, and I only read it at work, and it's currently tuesday....
9 hours of work monday plus 6 hours of work today, it means 150-300 minutes. That's at most 5 hours, so call it 10 hours (at most) to finish the book. At $25, that's $2.50 an hour at the minimum of reading joy. It could be as much as $3.50. Not too shabby, really.
Everything starts to break down to dollars per hour. The book I bought Vorpal last night? That was 30 minutes of post tax labor. The tank of gas? 48 minutes of post tax labor. Getting out of jail should I be tossed behind bars? 20 hours of post tax labor.
What's important is to make sure benefits last longer than the work you did for them. Like food. I avoid expensive booze and food because the energy or fun or whatever often lasts much shorter than the hours I worked. When I go out "drinking" with Vorpal, it should really be called "Paying cover and walking around".
My boss is still in meetings. Sheesh.
Lullaby is very different than fight club, but it still has a character going on and on about how God doesn't give a shit about humaninity, or that God would prefer us all dead. Strange. I would like to have met the guy, what a drag.
I've been playing some old videogames with an upgraded videocard recently. Stuff like freespace 2, and Oni. Freakin' Oni has a tremendously creepy enemy near the end, and I had forgotten just how distressing it was. A smashed up old robot... actually, seeing as it's a model, I wonder if you can play as this thing using the cheat system. Ick, I'd rather not find out. I may be starting a gaming clan, complete with home turf server. 'course, I'd like to finish work on the map on which Vid and I are working. That, and shooting the commercial. And baking the cookies. And mailing the cookies to zusty. And mailing the next batch of shirts out to people.
ETC.
I should make a shirt that just says "...blah blah blah" or "Etc. Etc. Etc."
Probably already been done.
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Monday, September 30, 2002
|11:26 PM|
Vorpal was having some problems with writer's block this evening. In attempt to help him, we drove to Barnes and Noble in order to purchase really pulpy science fiction. I am all too familiar with this genre, though thankfully my knowledge is increasingly out of date.
While I was there, I noticed the "new" Douglas Adam's book, as well as the "new" J. R. R. Tolkein books. Both of these poor dead bastards' names are being whored out by editors and offspring. I decided that if I ever publish or produce something popular enough to extend past my death, that I would have to train a sleeper. This sleeper would have 2 tasks, the first of which would be to train his replacement (so that the task can be carried on after his lifespan). The second would be to hunt down and blind all authors of derivitave works with my name slapped across them (all too similar to "As seen on TV!).
I had a lot of things to say, but I can't recall any of them. I'll probably just end up editing this later tommorow. Stay Tuned!
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Me
Plant
Laundry.
