• General

    I love my guys…re: conversation on programming languages

    If (dev.platform == grails){

    dev.language = groovy

    Nic.happy = true
    Monica.happy = true
    Muditha.happy = true
    Michelle.happy = true
    Marc.happy = true
    Elondo.happy = !(!(Mark.happy))

    Microsoft.happy = false
    _Net.happy = false
    Bill_Gates.happy = false
    }
    else if{
    dev.language = VbNet

    Nic.happy = false
    Monica.happy = false
    Muditha.happy = false
    Michelle.happy = false
    Marc.happy = false
    Elondo.happy = !(!(Mark.happy))

    Microsoft.happy = true
    Bill_Gates.happy = true
    }

    Assert Elondo.inJokingMode = false // This line fails. Currently
    // Elondo is in JokingMode
    // Elondo.inJokingMode = true

  • General

    lol…someone just sent this to me: How the Mouse Works

    How does the small arrow on your computer monitor work when we move the mouse? Haven’t you ever wondered?

    Now, through the miracle of high technology, we can see how it is done.

    With the aid of a screen magnifying lens, the mechanism becomes apparent.

    Click on the link below and you will find out. The image may take a minute or two to download and when it appears, slowly move your mouse over the light gray circle and you will see how the magic works.

    How the Mouse Works

  • General

    Customer Service

    This is an open letter to the stupid cow working at the local camera shop.  Your nicely-stacked display of Canon EOS 400D kits in the window caught my eye – the package with the normal and telephoto lens, etc.  Not an inexpensive item.

    I went inside to see how much you were selling them for.  I probably wouldn’t have bought one today, as I’ve been pricing the 400 and 350 on eBay…but I might have.  Tomorrow, or next week, I might have gotten a wild hair and decided that I had to have one TODAY, and bought it in your shop.

    Too bad you ignored me standing in front of the counter for almost five minutes while you explained the arcane workings of the cash register to the new girl.  I was two feet in front of you, staring at you, and you didn’t even acknowledge me at all.  I waited, and then I left.

    When I get said wild hair and have to buy that camera now, I will crawl twenty miles over broken glass, through minefields, swim through lakes of vampire leeches and piranha just so that I don’t have to buy it from your fucking store.

  • General

    Fascist America, in 10 easy steps

    http://www.guardian.co.uk/usa/story/0,,2064157,00.html

    This article is worth reading.  As Naomi Wolf points out towards the end of the essay:

    It is a mistake to think that early in a fascist shift you see the profile of barbed wire against the sky. In the early days, things look normal on the surface; peasants were celebrating harvest festivals in Calabria in 1922; people were shopping and going to the movies in Berlin in 1931. Early on, as WH Auden put it, the horror is always elsewhere – while someone is being tortured, children are skating, ships are sailing: “dogs go on with their doggy life … How everything turns away/ Quite leisurely from the disaster.”

  • General

    Monday…blech…

    After just getting used to gorgeous, sunny weather, the rain has now come back.  Boo sucks.  And here I am with black leggings on underneath a long black skirt and boots, so I could go straight to the stable, shuck the skirt off, change boots, and be ready to ride.  :(  Lizzie is going well, and as she slowly gets stronger is able to round up more and do short spells of really nice work.  It’s a slow process, but she’s coming around.

    Last we we had a special meal in celebration of P being able to go back to more of a normal diet – M&S 21-day aged Black Angus sirloin, omigod…expensive but worth it.  We haven’t had beef in ages.

    This weekend I had some private time drinking wine, eating truffles, reading a favourite old book (Drawing Blood by Poppy Z. Brite) and watching episodes of The L Word and Firefly.  I love L Word – it’s such a guilty pleasure, and it makes me nostalgic for Los Angeles.  Of course, the scene that I knew in LA is nothing like the one depicted in The L Word…the boys were awfully pretty, but the girls much less so.  Even so, I love it.

  • General

    PostOp

    P is doing well after his surgery last Friday (yep, Friday the 13th, da-da-da-duuuum).  That was a very long day, as I had elected to stay at the hospital all day so I could be close.  I’m used to American-style treatment, where someone immediately comes to the waiting room and gives you a status update as soon as the patient is out of surgery.  Not so here…but at least this surgery won’t bankrupt our family (god forbid I should ever criticize the NHS!). 

    Aside from that, all is well.  Lizzie is going well, although she is terribly unfit and it will be a long process to bring her back into work.  She’s looking well, though, and every day I extend our workout.

    The news has been full of the events back in the states, which they always try to turn into a gun control discussion.  Just report the news please, less finger-pointing.  Although I’ve never been fond of the easy availability of illegal guns in the States (in Los Angeles you can practically buy them out of the back of vans if you go to the right neighborhoods), but I grew up with guns and I do understand people’s extreme views on the subject.  I probably first shot a gun at the age of ten, my sisters and I were all religiously trained in gun safety, use and maintenance, and most of my family hunt.  My father collected guns, so we had a small arsenal in the house, usually in my father’s bedroom closet.  They weren’t locked up or anything, but we would have sooner put our hands onto a redhot stove burner than ever touched one without permission.  It didn’t warp us or turn us into homicidal maniacs.  As ex-law enforcement, my father has views about personal safety and protecting your home that probably seem pretty extreme here…and I can’t say that I disagree with them.

    Not much else to tell…I’m back at work today.  But at least this will be a short week.  That’s a very good thing.

  • General

    Post Easter

    I really enjoyed the four-day weekend that we had over Easter.  We didn’t go anywhere, and although Phil made a lovely roast turkey, we didn’t do anything special, just vegged and relaxed…very much needed.  I talked to my family, which was nice.  Played a lot of warcraft, rode Queen Psycho Lizzie and enjoyed the sun…which went away yesterday.  Poo.

    Lizzie is losing her black winter coat and coming into her gorgeous chocolate-with-bright-gold-dapple summer coat.  She’s dreadfully out of shape, so I work her for only short periods.  She needs road work, but I would be taking my life in my hands to take her out right now on the lethal roads around our barn.  She’s so lovely in spite of everything.

    I heard on the radio this morning that some children’s charity was calling on all markets to enforce a zero-tolerance policy on smacking children.  Excuse me?  From what I can see, we need a bit more discipline.  Our shopping trip yesterday was made a misery by a couple drifting aimlessly around the aisles, totally ignoring the furious howls at ear-shattering decibels coming from the two tykes strapped into the double stroller (push chair, whatever you call it in the UK) that totally blocked whatever aisle they were currently on.  I would never have been allowed to act like that as a child in a market, or any public place. 

    I’ve been reading Bill Bryson’s The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid.  I heartily recommend it.  Although he’s a decade older than I am, I can still relate to the things that he writes about.  As a child in the fifties (sixties) you lived in a very different world, where you were allowed to survive so many things that would give any parent today a panic attack.  And you did so perfectly well, without harm, and became a much stronger person for it.  You left in the morning, and came home at dark, and no strangers ever stole you away.  You ate food laced with sugar and lethal dyes, and never got cancer or got fat.  The neighborhood policeman could march a bad kid home, holding onto one ear, and that kid’s father would make him apologise for causing trouble, and then give him a thrashing after the cop left…his first instinct wasn’t to sue.  You fell out of trees and off monkey bars, you broke bones and skinned knees and elbows, and were allowed to go on doing it after the cast came off…it was wonderful.

    Phil is going for surgery this Friday to have his gallbladder removed.  He’s never had surgery before, and I’ve been winding him up a bit.  Just a bit.  :) 

    Ah, well, back to work…

  • General

    Cranky Post

    Just giving you fair warning – it’s been a long week, I’m tired, and here’s a shortlist of things that have irritated me recently:

    1.  Employment agencies.  My mobile, which I want to keep on during the day, rings constantly because I have a CV on Monster.  Send me a fricken email, for gods sake, so I can respond to you at my leisure, not at yours.

    2.  Cyclists.  On the only fast stretch of road on my commute, everyone had to crawl along because of a spandex-clad cyclist insisting on their right to ride in the centre of the lane.  There’s a lot of traffic coming the other way, so traffic backed up for miles behind his pink-clad ass as his majesty rode in spendour at the head of the procession.

    3.  Shelf-stockers at markets.  I don’t know what it is about the UK, but the shelf-stackers are very self-important about their jobs, and will totally block access to the food that you want to buy while they stack shelves.  Wtf?  You’re stacking it because I goddam BUY it, and if I can’t buy it, then I guess there’s no need for stock boys, is there?  Move aside, because my shopping is paying for your wages.

    4.  The cat, who at 4:00 am this morning decided to spend five minutes hacking up the world’s largest hairball.  And then Phil woke up and had an asthma attack.  I got up and played Warcraft until 7:00 am this morning.

    Well, that was my week.  How was yours?  :D