My brain tells me that I was up until five last night hunched over the laptop writing code. I expect only the craziest of thoughts all day as a result.
Oh, I totally woke up from a dream with the fix for a coding problem that I was having. Crazy times.
This will excite everyone, for suitably nerdy definitions of everyone. Also, assuming that you use emacs to edit php. Also assuming that you edit php. So. Really. Just me.
Hot.
Everyone is doing the crafty thing, you know, with the whole cross stitch/crochet thing, so why shouldn’t I do some, uh, crafty thing, with, like, a mirror, and some “found objects” (loteria cards!).
I seem to have somewhat accidentally purchased an old film camera on the ebay. I blame Sarah for shaking my faith in the goodness of digitalness.
Compilers kicked my ass Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday nights. Wednesday, I watched Lost and wandered around in a daze. Thursday night I was that kind of tired where you’re just too tired to fall asleep, but I specifically did not do anything besides fix my workstation so that I could do my homework for Computer Science 4061: Introduction to Operating Systems — otherwise known as “Beginning C Programming in a POSIX environment.”
I wanted to be shitted, showered, coffeed, and at the computer by noon at the latest, but Lisa wanted the sink fixed before anything, so I didn’t get to it until after a trip to South Minneapolis and McDonald’s. Then, at one (or so), I sat down for about eleven hours to hammer out a shell. I took a break to watch Monk and eat pizza, and I think I stopped for a while for something else, so let’s call it nine hours.
There was a surprise birthday party for Zach on Friday. Booze attended. I almost peed on Sarah’s dresser in the middle of the night.
“You’re not in the bathroom!”
Dear Beatboxing that gives me uncomfortable and inappropriate erections while I am at work,
I think that you know where this letter is going, so I will leave the conclusion up to you.
Sincerely yours,
Jesse Mullan
Another weekend, another night of bowling and fisheye lenses exploding all over the floor. I got a Lomo fisheye for XXXmas, but the focus is off and the lens comes apart. Lisa didn’t know about the latter when she went to take a picture of me bowling, and the lens elements went everywhere in Memory Lanes. It was like I had forgotten how to bowl, or my arm had lost its strength, for I lost both games. Stan had the worst form but seemed to dominate. I guess I’m a drinker, not a bowler.
This is what I doodled in class the other day:
I may or may not doodle more in the class “Introduction to the Series of Tubes Frequently Referred to by the Sobriquet ‘the Internets,’ Or, If You Are In Especially Refined Company ‘the World Wide Watermelon,’” so if I do, you’ll get to see. I think that the Kraken should be bigger — otherwise it’s just a giant squid.
There was a poll on the website at work. This is what it looked like:
Note: I only took a screenshot of it, so clicking won’t actually do anything.
40 queries. 0.399 seconds.
