Zombies, terrible diary zombies |1:34 AM|
Isn't that a kick in the ass? 3 of the main online journals I read are down. One's having server issues, one is locked for reasons that may or may not be me being psychotic (but I wouldn't flatter myself) and one is locked because her job found out about it, and now she's canned.
So, it falls to me to update. Sure, there's not a huge amount of overlap between the readers of those journals, 'cept maybe zusty's, but it's the balance issue.
Meanwhile, with any luck, zusty's bad ass photo edit of me into a System Shock 2 character should be appearing in the upper left, to make this look even more like a SS2 log entry.
The Many...sing to me.
Examples of the standard log file image follow
stolen at random from here.
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Friday, January 24, 2003
Zombies, terrible zombies |3:01 PM|
How do you make $20 vanish in 10 minutes?
Step one: Run out of your drugs
Step two: That's right, ALL OF YOUR DRUGS. And let your doctor leave town.
Step Three: Get a bit of a cold that sounds like you're dying of TB
Step Four: Go play poker.
Step Five: While playing poker, forget every rule in the book, and just throw your money into a trashcan
Step Six: Weep
I did get a chance to talk to my possible future roomate. We're trying to nail down the details of the living arrangements. Since I have a pretty damned high tolerance for living spaces, I didn't really care where we ended up living. Oh, if you're at all curious, this is the woman that was going to model the Pictoz.com T-shirts. Sadly, the pictures were taken during a party, in poor lighting, and are generally unflattering. I offer this as an example. Mostly because I feel like it.
I saw PortalStar last night again, and got punched in the stomach, again. I don't even remember why. Her roomate and boyfriend happened to be discussing Lolita at the time, and so I described the first couple lines of the book to Star. Turns out, a French singer has made an entire song based around the syllable by syllable pronuciation of "Lo-li-ta". I can't tell if she uses the "tongue taking a trip in three steps down the palette" or not. Looks like I'm going to end up lending my copy of the book to PortalStar. I'll put up a link to the song for those who are curious. I need to get home to a machine that has the proper FTP access, however.
Meanwhile, I point towards entries below this one so that updates are noted. The work stories have now been added to the 1/22/2003 entry. Hooray for post editing!
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Wednesday, January 22, 2003
NUN MUNCHERS FROM HELL |5:48 PM|
What the FUCKING FUCK. The bank I use has tripled the fee to use out-of-network ATMs. This may not seem like a lot at first, ($3) but when you take into account the additional fee that those ATM machines charge (which is at the least $1.50 and can be $2 or $2.50) It only takes a few ATM transactions (which include motherfucking balance transfers) to equal an hour of post tax wages.
I understand that I'm paying for goods and services, but for fuck's sake. I'm going to pull my money out of my current bank and stick it in a rabbit or Compass bank or something. I'll close my checking account through UFCU this next paycheck.
Oh... |12:59 AM|
A quick note, I'm quietly trying to update the site, but in the meantime here's something Rock Epidemic was nice enough to put together. It's a system shock 2 themed blog design, I love it. The corners look great. Take a look.
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I can use the mouse with my left hand, as well |12:26 AM|
Another fantastic day at work.
We started having problems with our door at work, no one's keys would work in it anymore. Lucky for us, we know how to break in to our own office, or we'd have been locked out this whole time. My boss started making calls and sending around emails to get the situation resolved, but it was a week before anyone gave us an answer. It seems that the facilities people had read my boss's emails which said "Our keys do not work in our door. The lock is broken, and we need it re-keyed", and ignored every part of it besides "Re-key". So they sent us another copy of the key to our door. This key, like any other one, didn't work.
After this was pointed out in a much more professional fashion than I suggested (My suggested emails involved the words "Shit" with "Weasels" and phrases like "Couldn't find your ass with both hands and a flashlight") someone came out and fixed the problem. It took them 10 minutes. Fuckin' jackasses.
A month and a half ago, we installed a new printer in an unusual area of this company's campuses. We needed an IP for this printer. Loyal readers will remember similar tales of woe whenever I speak to the people responsible for IP's. I sent an email requesting an IP. After a week of no answers, I finally get back a request for "What DHCP address is it picking up?". I send another email with the requested info. Another 2 weeks go by, despite several emails from me requesting status updates on them LOOKING AT A FUCKING SPREADSHEET for an IP for me. They finally send me an IP for the printer, which of course, does not work. Some people who needed the printer were at this point flipping out, calling me, and generally making a lot of noise. I directed them to email the IT-DNS-CHANGES group, and get a status update. Within minutes of that email being sent, that department forwarded it back to me. I politely replied pointing out how this whole situation was clearly their responsibility (Fault) and that they should resolve it. A few hours later, I get an email saying "The IP you were given was based on the DHCP address of the printer. We can get you a proper IP for that printer, what is the DHCP address that the printer is picking up?"
Fuck. After a month and a half, we're back at square one. I want to stab them. More than usual.
What else to cover besides those tales of woe? Oh, here's a predicament. You are out and about with your lady friend, and she suggests air hockey.
Air hockey. A game you used to play nightly against one of the best players around. A game that you and said player invented playing styles for, his called "Unrelenting Fist" and yours "Heart of Demon Fist".
You can't obliterate her at the game, that'd be rude. You don't want to go easy on her, that'd be lame. So, what do you decide to do? Use your left hand. It's a trick of sorts since you still look like you're trying your hardest but you've got a hell of a handicap. All goes well, the time runs out on the game before you finish it, 6 to 5.
Later, said female mentions that she probably would have beaten you given enough time. What do you do?
You open your huge, gaping maw of a face noise hole and point out that you were using your left hand. There's a pause as she processes this information, and realizes you're right. For this, you get a punch in the gut. In a poor attempt to defuse the situation, you say "Aww, you're cute when you're angry!"
There's a hiss of indrawn air and a "Ooooooh no" as your girlfriend's roommate and her boyfriend hear you say this. You get an additional punch in the gut and a nickname of "You damn right handed bastard".
Too old |3:49 PM|
I'm old. Older, that is. A grand 23 years old. Shocking, to an extent. My birthday was this past friday, celebrated with cake and bad DVD's and of course, Spike and Mike's twisted cartoon festival. Due to the sudden nature of the plans to see this wonderful collection of shorts (Which was a lot better this year than last year's filler heavy offering.), it became the only real outing based on my birthday. Looking back, it may not have been the best thing to inflict upon the woman I've been seeing recently. Based on her email name, I'm going to refer to her as PortalStar. Horrifyingly violent and vile cartoons were apparently not exactly her prefferred entertainment, so that's something I might need to make up to her.
Speaking of Portal, she and I attended an art opening at one of the local modern art galleries, and it didn't blow. We weren't expecting some elaborate installation sculptures, as well as the Chinese laquer paintings. It was some of the first examples of modern art that I was able to discern the subject matter and the likely subjects without having it explained by the artist.
There were the normal groups of artistic talking heads, all deferring to PortalStar's painting teacher. Despite a great deal of yapping and a single scultor proclaiming his sour-puss status, it was an illuminating evening.
My friends got me an odd assortment of DVDs, including "The Bone Yard". A movie about a killer, zombie poodle. They were also nice enough to get me the zombie three pack from Half Price books, which included the PG rated "I eat your skin". The oscar contendor jokes have been made. But who makes a violent movie with a PG rating, anyway?
From what I hear, it's becoming less profitable to make R rated movies, because theaters are cracking down on checking ID's. Fewer pointless tit shots, fewer instances of cursing, fewer instances of ears being cut off. Triple-X was apparently supposed to be an R-rated movie, and according to rumor it was to feature Asia Argento's breasts. Actually speaking of, (don't ask why) I have a picture of Miss Argento's breasts.
So ends my entry. OhmygodWow Tits!
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