Brilliant Ideas and broken power supplies |1:35 AM|
Cecil: Surge hits the fuse, POP and the supply is dead. Poor SHODAN.
PortalStar: oops heh. I forgot my oreo in the milk and it became oreo mush
Cecil: I'm not going to open that damn thing up. Power supplies are like monitors. Big fucking capacitors just waiting to kill you.
PortalStar: will it be ok if you replace the fuse?
Cecil: Yeah, dangerous as hell Cecil: safer to just purchase a new power supply.
PortalStar: somene should make an oreo sogginess meter
Cecil: hahahaha. Like that fat meter thing? Cecil: The two tongs?
PortalStar: I was thinking more along the lines of a meat doneness probe PortalStar: but that could work too. You wouldn't have to poke a hole in the cookie
Cecil: On a scale of rock to liquid... Cecil: with mush being the mid point
PortalStar: yeah, and it like *beeps* when it's donee PortalStar: I guess tongs would work because the girth of the tong space would be proportional to the softness of the cookie. PortalStar: You might get some cookie squishage, though.
Cecil: Perhaps a sonic device then? Cecil: So physical contact isn't needed?
PortalStar: that would be perfect~! PortalStar: that wouldn't heat up the milk now, would it?
|10:55 AM|
I've never seen anyone make a comment "Without skipping a beat" before. Portal and I were discussing what to do with our evening, and a song reminded her of the movie Shrek. I said I hadn't seen it, and suggested we rent and watch it. Her reply was that she'd seen it half a dozen times already. When I suggested "Maybe we could swing by the arcade and play Time Crisis 3" as a joke, Portal did not even pause long enough for a breath before saying "Shrek sounds like a perfect idea!"
We ended up watching Shrek.
I'm a dorky gamer, but I do try my best to keep Portal amused. She has apparently noticed my...chivalrous gaming nature. I suppose that I wouldn't be dating her if she wasn't smart as hell, so I shouldn't be suprised that she notices my behavior. Example, when playing "House of the Dead", I'll make sure she's still in the game by paying for extra lives when she isn't looking.
Portal: "I noticed what you were up to, 'Oooh, nice shot [Portal]!' as you quietly slip another quarter into the machine!"
|1:18 AM|
Dammit. I had a damned post here about a letter. Crap Crap. I'll try to retype it during the day, but that bothers me. Blogger doesn't mess up very often, but when it does, it pisses me off. Nothing is perfect, but Word crashes, IE crashes, and Blogger crashes. I might install a keystroke capture program on my computer so I can always have a backup of what I've written. Of course, that is an incredibly bad idea.
Alright, starting over, and changing posting time:
I received a letter addressed to the wrong person, and I got to write "Return to sender" on it. This doesn't seem like a big deal, but I was always impressed by that service. I once sent a penpal a letter in England to what turned out to be an outdated address. I wondered why I didn't get a response until 6 months later, the letter returned to me. It was covered in labels, scribbles, corrections, and official additional postage. The damn thing had circled the Earth before coming back to my hand, and I wondered how many other hands had touched it, dealt with it, considered what to do with it and so on. Nifty in a lot of ways.
While I was holding the letter I felt a familiar shape inside of it. Cash, several bills. I thought to myself "Doesn't this person know it's unwise to send cash through the mail?" and went back to my writing. It was a few minutes later that I realized I wasn't even tempted by the idea of taking the cash. I got proud, my ego swelled, and hence this post. Now, the question I have requires a bit of setup.
If you had a card table setup on a sidewalk, with a sign on it that said "This money belongs to Jim Riles. Please do not take" along with a stack of $5 bills, how long would the money sit there before being stolen? No guards, no cameras.
I'd stop at the table, but just to watch.
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Wednesday, May 07, 2003
Guestbook, Capitalism, something something |3:32 PM|
I hate Mother's Day. Don't get me wrong, I'm still a capitalist, but it's the guilt angle that bugs the fuck out of me. "Randalls wants to help you show your mother just how much you care about her". Once again, I don't need a special goddamn day for this nonsense. This previous valentine's day, I did the counter-culture traditional act of giving gifts the day before valentines day. Dangnabbit.
Unfortunately my mother buys into this crap holiday. I'll get an earful (earful? The hell?) if I miss calling her, and then delivering a card, and showing up for dinner, or whatever.
"Oh, such a terrible sacrifice for the woman who gave you life!"
I don't resent telling my mom I appreciate her being cut open and letting them pull wriggling little me out, but I do despise the guilt trip if I don't do it on this one specific day.
You know, a couple people bothered to say "Happy Thanksgiving" to me. I don't know what prompted them to seek me out and say it, but I really appreciated it. It seemed to mean something, because they weren't being bombarded all goddamn day by radio ads that said "Go find Cecil and tell him happy thanksgiving or you're a Satan worshipping commie ass mangler. Also, buy Charmin and TV Guide".
But to be prodded into something like mother's day just makes me rebel against it. Not a "Rage against the machine" way, or a "I'm too hip" for it way, a "I would prefer you didn't tell me what to do, when to do it, you morality traitors." The sleazebags spew it forth, when I would be choking back bile if I was forced to announce such hideous tripe to people.
I've been trying to get a guestbook working for a while. Seeing as I can't get this to work, I don't know what I'm doing playing with movable type. I was thinking of just breaking down and getting one on "Signmyguestbook" but I think that means I have to cut off one of my testicles. If you don't think I should do this just sign my....oh crap.
Reap what you sow |11:48 AM|
I wouldn't call my cat patient, or determined. She just doesn't have anything better to do with her evening then bug the fuck out of me when she's hungry. The problem is that I ran out of food yesterday for her. Well, seeing as I'm waiting for money to eat I couldn't exactly afford to get her any food.
That seems cruel, but it actually hadn't occurred to me that if I ran out of food money for myself, I'd run out of it for her as well. After a while of listening to her plaintively meowing, I started looking around the apartment for food.
The fridge held no meat, and no fresh butter. (Yes, when given a chance my cat will eat butter. And then vomit it all over the place, then repeat the process. I didn't feed her butter, she stole it. Goddamn cat). There was an egg, but that's so old I've only got it because I'm afraid to touch it.
I settled on peanut butter, since I've used that (years and years ago) to bait mouse traps. I thought a single jump in the food chain would be okay. The cat wasn't having anything to do with it. My proffered butterknife covered in peanut butter was met with the closest thing to a "What the fuck is this?" expression my cat's face can make. Even placing it in her food bowl did not work. She saw me messing around with her bowl, ran over expectantly, and then stopped when she saw/smell the PB. "Oh no pal. It wasn't that I didn't know it was supposed to be food, it's just that I DON'T EAT THAT SHIT."
I ended up on my hands and knees looking for loose change. I felt really guilty going to the local 24 hour market with a handful of dimes and nickels, but he was really glad to see all that change. Seems he was low.
At least she's stopped meowing. Goddamn cat. Goddamn irresponsible me.
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I'm glad I'm moving out |2:46 AM|
The cops are all over my complex again. The least they could do is turn their lights on to be dramatic. But noooo, they just prowl all around.
I guess it's comforting in a way to have cops all over the place here. But something tells me they're here for a reason.
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All hail jailbait anime cgi semi-sexuality. I know nothing about this image, other than that I stole it from the sig line of a guy in a forum dedicated to anime. Now you all can watch it as well.
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The title of this entry comes from one of the video projects. It was desperately trying to be post modern and edgy. But like most of them, it fell flat, with nothing to say. The paintings and installation works were much more impressive. Some were gimmicky, but interesting, such as the guy who built a multitude of paper grass blades, and placed among them a live praying mantis. It was all covered in plexiglass, so people could view it. As mantises don't move very much, it was possible to mistake it for a sculpture.
Later, at dinner, this woman had odd hair.
This Moth was on my window for 6 hours.
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Shhhhh |2:29 AM|
Don't tell her I sent you. This Ladeeleroy entry was very, well powerful is a crap word for it. It's about her brother, who happened to die of cancer. He shouldn't be defined as what ended his life, as he was a lot more than that. How can I say that about a person I've never, and now never will, meet? Because someone who loved him wrote so much about him. The entries about her brother moved me enough at the time to donate to a cancer research fund. I didn't have a lot, and couldn't give much, but I did my best. I couldn't do much else.
Go take a look. Her other entries are worth a read as well.
