• I have nothing to add

    I have no pithy commentary or speculation regarding the Columbia disaster. Everything that can be said can be found elsewhere. You don’t come here for the news anyway, do you?

    The People’s Republic of Seabrook, however, includes several very personal entries on the subject. I recommend this one.

    And, via Q Daily News, a Time magazine article about what likely went wrong… as well as what didn’t.

    Okay. I do have one thing to suggest to NASA: In the future, avoid using any word beginning with the third letter of the English alphabet to name your reusable space vehicles.

    I’m a network/systems administrator. Superstition comes with the territory.

  • The Friday Fi… er, Four

    • As a child, who was your favorite superhero/heroine? Why? – The one in my head. No, really. I’ve been a world-class daydreamer since I was five years old. Because, dammit, a good alter-ego is a lot more fun than somebody else’s creation.
    • What was one thing you always wanted as a child but never got? – I wanted a lot of things as a child. Toys, mostly. What I really wanted, though, was the chance to stay somewhere long enough to actually make friends. Never got that.
    • What’s the furthest from home you’ve been? – Define “home” and I’ll get back to you.
    • What’s one thing you’ve always wanted to learn but haven’t yet? – Self control. That, or Japanese so I can enjoy anime and manga without waiting for someone to translate it for me. Yes, I am a fanboy. I thought you knew that already.
    • What are your plans for the weekend? – What? Again? ARGH! What’s wrong with you people? Three weeks out of four, the fifth question is this?


    That does it. If they drop the ball next week, I’m going to start my own damned “weekly meme.” Several people, including myself, have submitted questions for the Friday Five. Surely they can do better. Right? RIGHT?

    Just for that, no link. I’m disgusted.

    (In case you’re wondering, we’re going to spend tomorrow cleaning the “office” to make room for Mr. Bailey’s Video Editing Workstation, and possibly seeing Two Towers. Sunday, I work. *sigh*)

  • It’s good for your Windows PC.

    Spybot Search & Destroy is and does exactly what its name claims. It hunts down and kills all of that damned adware, spyware and other related malware that finds its way onto Windows desktops.

    And once you’re done being appalled at how much crap has taken over your computer, you might want to go find an alternative web browser since Internet Explorer seems to be a nearly-open conduit for intrusive and annoying garbage. (Yes, that can be prevented. We both know that in most cases the end-user is uninterested in taking the appropriate steps. We’re talking about the real world, here.)

    I used to rely on Ad-Aware, but when it’s almost half a year between reference file updates it’s hard to justify the bother of running it. (Yes, I know they just came out with a new version. Sorry guys, too late. And Spybot doesn’t want my money for a full-featured version.)

    And if you’re not sure what all of the fuss is about, I recommend a little light reading.

  • Ow. Freaking Ow.

    I’ve mentioned recently that I’ve always hated my teeth. For the past week or so, though, a couple of my teeth have been hating me right back. Well, that’s not entirely accurate. My teeth are in surprisingly good shape considering their lousy alignment. It’s my gums that are a total mess, largely due to the way my teeth are misarranged.

    Wendi called to make an appointment with our usual dentist and was surprised to find that there was an opening this very day. Lucky me, wot? I was expecting it to be a quick exam followed by another appointment during which some work would get done.

    Oh, no. Doctor Packham took one look at the infected area and said, “Why don’t we just take care of that right now?” An hour, several anaesthetic injections and a fair dose of discomfort later, I’m cured. And in a growing amount of pain. (C’mon, Vicodin!) It’s funny that my teeth and gums are hurting like hell but my upper lip still won’t obey simple instructions. Well, not “funny ha ha” like a night at Harvey’s Comedy Club would be…

    Did I mention that tonight we’re all supposed to go to Harvey’s? Mari and Doug, Lilith and Geoffrey, Wendi and I. If the painkillers kick in and I regain control of my face in time, I will go. I’m going to be uncomfortable anyway, I might as well have a good laugh in the process. Besides, we put too much effort into inviting all our friends to bail out at the last minute just because I’m feeling a bit tender.

    The word you’re looking for is “masochist.” Thanks.

  • Call me… d’Artagnan

    I may not beat Mari to this, but it’s worth a shot.

    So the six of us did all manage to see the show at Harvey’s tonight. I had enough chemicals in me to stave off pain in addition to addling my little grey cells. After slurping down our $3.00 glasses of ice (with a bit of Sprite for flavoring), Wendi and I waited with Mari, Doug, Lilith and Geoffrey for the chance to be seated right next to the exit door and close enough to the stage to guarantee being picked on at least once during the show.

    Lucky me. The first comic, James P. Connolly, was one of those who enjoys interacting with audience members, and there must’ve been something about me that appealed to his sense of… well, I’m not sure what it was exactly, though “sadism” comes to mind.

    “What’s your name?”
    “Carl.” (I wasn’t about to say “Care-Ell,” now was I?)
    “Nope. For the rest of the evening you shall be… d’Artagnan.”
    “Ooookay.”
    (later…)
    “What do you do for a living, d’Artagnan?”
    “Computer stuff.”
    “Stuff? You don’t have a job, do you?”
    “Yes I do.”
    “Okay. You get up, get dressed, eat breakfast, head out the front door and go… where?”
    “To a place with lots of computers.”


    Yes, I know. I could have talked up the fact that I work in radio. Much comedic mileage in there, for certain. I blame my stupidity on the Vicodin. At least, that’s my convenient excuse for today.

    Anyway, he came back to me (as it were) about a half dozen more times during his set, usually in reference to how someone else was cooler than me. Or for something like this:

    “…there’s one thing every guy wants from a woman. What is that, d’Artagnan?”
    “Only one thing?”
    “C’mon, what’s the one thing you want from a woman?”
    “Love.”
    “You are a spineless wuss!”
    ” (shrug) “


    Truth be told, it was quite a bit of fun. My only regret is that my brain wasn’t awake enough to try to throw the guy any curve balls to see what he’d do. He was certainly clever enough.

    My friends… my dear, dear friends… had quite a ball as I gamely fielded jabs and questions from Mr. Connolly. Mari insists that I’m no longer Her Internet Hero or Lil’s Number One (Internet) Fanboy.

    I am now… d’Artagnan.

    Please note that there are precisely six people on the planet to whom I will actually respond if called this, one of whom I’ll probably never meet again (thanks, James P. Connolly). If you are not one of those six people, don’t bother trying out my new nickname. I will ignore you. Nothing personal, you understand, it’s just that you had to be there.
    Harvey’s Comedy Club

  • And I didn’t know about the first one…

    Did you know there’s a Blogwhore 2? Hell, I didn’t even know about Blogwhore The First. Shows you how clued in I am.

    Oh yeah: This post is entirely Tanya‘s fault. Now you know.