Archive for May, 2005

Tag, you’re IT!

All right, I guess while I’m sitting here documenting things, I’ll tell you about my day (I know, I don’t really blog entries of the type “I got up, went to work, did a bunch of stuff, and then went to bed, and today was basically just like the 300-odd weekdays that came before it”). But anyway, I (reset alarm for 8:00, reset alarm for 8:30, reset alarm for 8:45,) got up, did all the usual shavey and showery stuff, skipped making a sandwich for lunch today because I was running close to late for work as it was, and drove there, dropping two filled business-reply envelopes in the Big Blue Mailbox On The Left. The first time I ever put something in the Big Blue Mailboxes outside our building, I stood there with it in my hand for well over a minute, scanning and rescanning the labelling and text on each, trying to figure out the difference between the two mailboxes. Luckily someone (no one I knew) came out and I (kind of feeling like an idiot) asked them what the difference was, and they said there was no difference, it just takes 2 mailboxes to hold the average amount of mail generated by a building this size. I put it in the box, and once they were no longer looking, slapped my forehead. (Contents of the envelopes to be explained in a future entry…actually, semi-explained in a very recent one. Bastards.) So I get in, grab some gutrot coffee and am just sitting down with it to blow the last of the sleepytime cobwebs out of my eyes, when a head pops around my office door and goes, “yyyyeah, the front printer in the mailroom isn’t working, do you, uh, think you can go have a look at it?” So I’m like sure…I have a shit-ton of actual Work to do, but I’ll go powercycle the printer in the hope it’ll keep the FMCs (Fix My Computer!) off my back for the rest of the week. Like that’ll ever happen :-)

Anyway, it turns out a powercycle (many powercycles) and a few smacks isn’t getting me anywhere. Now what? Well, my suggestion of “Get the HP guy out here, the stupid thing is still UNDER WARRANTY” went unheeded (as did pointing out the locations of two other perfectly-working printers within 30 steps of anyone’s office), so I spent much of my billable hoursday (the network card’s fried, replace it) reseating cards in a torn-open printer, reinstalling drivers on (the network card’s fried, replace it) the print server as helpfully suggested by HP’s Tier 1 support guy (yes it’s plugged in, yes it’s turned on, yes the network cable is attached…), hard-resetting (the network card’s fried, replace it) the thing using an obscure combination of clickybuttons, and trying to upload a firmware (the network card’s fried, replace it) update to the printer’s BUILT-IN FTP SERVER(!) (username null, password null), another helpful suggestion from Tier-1 Tom who doesn’t want to send out new kit, but (the network card’s fried, replace it) the network card’s fried, so the printer freezes up and/or throws an error code (the network card’s fried, replace it) before the 9-meg firmware binary is halfway uploaded. So someone in the chain of management has stopped running around like some kind of headless carbon long enough to get hold of GJM on the code-fucshia IT emergency hotpager (inaptly known as “gmail”), to get some sage advice: “the network card’s fried, replace it…”

Anyway, this is why I don’t do IT.

QOTD: “…game starts at 5:30, so we’re leaving here at quarter of 5.” – CL
“Wait…does that mean 15 after or 15 before?” – TG
“15 before there, Timmy. We learned that in grade school.” – CL
“Not MY grade school…” – TG
“That’s OK, time doesn’t matter when you’re working in the frequency domain.” – JP

I have looked in the mirror, and I am not sc4r3d

(To know things, beautiful, terrible things. Like a john to a desperate hooker with kids to feed, the things a handful of errant molecules can force us to think and do.)

This is mostly here for my own personal documentation, not really to convey any information to the outside world. Sorry.

Anyway, there were a lot of Really Important Things I really should have done tonight. Like emergency ad/mal/etcware analysis on a product whose company is upset about the older version being listed as such, to the point of calling me at work about it, and dealing with a whole bunch of house drama and logistics, and calling/emailing all the people I desperately owe calls/emails to, especially those near the Chicago I’m going to be touching down in in less than a week.

What I actually ended up doing was d) none of the above, and chatting on AIM instead. And feeling probably the best (maybe most at ease? I don’t really know how to explain) I’ve felt in a very long time. Because Unique (as in, completely alone in the world, at least in some way) is not all it’s cracked up to be.

A plan, a LAN, a pizza in a pan

Went to JR’s place Saturday for a geeky get together. Met some new interesting people (anyone who does Duct Tape art can’t be bad), and got in touch with some I haven’t seen recently. We made pizza from scratch, which turned out to be Damn Good, and way earlier on, an attempt at the world famous (WHERE world=’my house’) 2-minute chili cheese dip. And there was much DDR, and some Katamari, and even Karaoke Revolution (the sweating of bullets and the trying not to break any windows) (and no matter what an FFT says, reproducing the fundamental and carrying a tune are two entirely different things!). True to form, this LAN party had everything except the lan :-) JR and I did some gaming eventually, UT2004 fragfest til about 4 in the morning. (The Lag King lives! [But mostly dies].)

(And we now have a new drink concoction, the Downward Spiral:

1 cup Mountain Dew
~ 6 glugs Midori
~ 4 glugs rum
(optional) a few cubes of watermelon

Mix to taste and try to ignore how radioactive it looks)

All right, this shit has got to stop.

Since January, I’ve been saving up all the credit card offers I get in a little pile on my dresser. Now it’s not a little pile anymore. That’s a big pile. Throwing them away doesn’t seem to do anything, nor does faking my own death.

Now these bastards are getting sneaky. Here’s one posing as a letter from my alma mater, with the official logo and everything. All these have important materials enclosed; I should open them immediately. This one actually pleads for its life; “Please do not discard”. I take it they’re familiar with my policy of not opening mail from the state of Delaware. But surely enough, they’re not going to identify the sender, because they know that if they do, that shit’s going straight to the nearest recycling center to be reincarnated as cheapass single-ply toilet paper. (Fast fact: Both Delaware and South Dakota have repealed laws against usury, allowing corporations based there to charge any amount of interest they please. That’s why the vast majority of credit card companies are incorporated in those states.)

To add insult to insult, most of them even come with these little fake credit cards. Lookit all these free jimmy cards assigned to Your Name Here! While it’s said that a solid financial history will open many doors for you, this takes it to an all new level.

If I sound slightly annoyed, it’s because I am. Not even because of the general predatory, soul-sucking nature of this industry, but just because they send so many of them. If I wasn’t interested two weeks ago, chances are I’m not interested today, either. It does not mean “perhaps I overlooked this wonderful offer, you’d better send it again to make sure”. It’s just like AOL, except they don’t come with those nice little tins to put stuff in.

Send it back? Yeah right, unless it has a “Yes!” or a “Bill me later” in it, it’ll get hit by no more than about three wavesicles before it gets deposited directly in the roundfile….unless… Maybe if I dusted them all with some anonymous white powder first, that might get someone’s attention. Probably law enforcement. Or the CDC. Most likely both. So maybe that’s not such a good idea.
Here’s a slightly less bad idea, but I’m tempted to just start doing it: Everytime I get one of these pieces of crap with a postage-paid reply envelope, I’m going to enclose a picture of my genitals and mail it back. (And plot the number of these things I receive per unit time to see how it changes.) I’m pre-approved? Have a look at your low, low rates? Here, you’re pre-approved. Here’s a picture of my Johnson. And please use bigger envelopes next time.

Go put it on the internet or something, and quit killing trees and mailing them to me.

QOTD:
JP: “…hits the ceramic and breaks up, and then this bullet is just a bunch of little pricks going through you.”
TG: (looks over at DG and JPs’ completely straight faces, then …3..2..1… giggling like a schoolgirl)
DG: “Wow, we can’t talk about any kind of penetration, there’s no telling what sets you off.”

What the hell?

Poking around webstats like I do sometimes, I came across some dude on a site called WogLife, posting a picture of me as his self-portrait. Ya know, ‘cuz I’m a raging stud muffin and all. I’m not a wog! I think. What’s a wog?

Correlator broken

That sounds like a bad thing, but it’s a good thing.

Positive correlations; Things Coming Up and These Topics Two

Yeah yeah…I told myself, and the world by extension, when I started this thing that “I’m not doing that private entry crap.” But anyway, here is me doing that private entry crap. At least until I know whether I’m just correlating noise, seeing patterns where none exist, or being too right for my own good.

As seen on my chest: No, I Will Not Fix Your Computer.

[21:29] ********: so i have a computer question for u
[21:30] Me: what?
[21:30] ********: i dropped it
[21:30] ********: and now it makes a wierd noise
[21:30] Me: understandable
[21:30] Me: kinda like a baby

Optical Sto(rage)

Zzt…zzt…zzzzz… That now makes three of them. Three consecutive DVD-RW drives to die within a week of installation (Samsung, Samsung, Memorex). None has burned more than 2 valid discs before failing. I’m a little pissed, because this means the arduous trek back to Best Buy and hassle to return this one, and finding whether the next one fails too.

I wonder if I could rent my bedroom and/or computer out to drive manufacturers for stress-testing qualification.