Why It's Called That
22 June 2001
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
|
Why It's Called That
22 June 2001
|
|
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
| |
3:18 PM: Coffee. Coughy. Me, drinking it.
I was supposed to get in to work by noon Today. The alarm went off at 10 AM, and surprise, I was not already awake. I laid there and listened, sort of, to the show. Carroll O'Connor and John Lee Hooker are dead. Bummer. 11 AM rolls up. Any minute now, I'll get up. Really. Just one more minute.
Of course, I woke up at 12:30 and got to work around 20 after 1. But, you know? Fuck it. And hey, do we see a bit of "acting out" in that lateness, expressing just such sentiments? Yes, it's true, I have the emotional maturity of at least a five-year-old. No offense, kids.
And this fucking mouse keeps zooming all around, too.
7:23 PM:
I HATE THIS GOD DAMNED FUCKING MOUSE SO MUCH IT IS DRIVING ME
INSANE
7:24 PM: So, where was I? Oh, I know. You know what would be good? The equivalent of wash&fold service for documenting software. Like, I could just put all of this code in a bag and drop it off, and a week later come back and pick it up and it would be all commented, and there would be functional documentation that's indexed, and diagrams and charts and all that stuff.
The problem is that I have the equivalent of about 3.5 tons of laundry.
Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.
| ||||
| ||||
| ||||
| ||||
| ||||
| ||||
| ||||
| ||||
| ||||
| ||||
| ||||
| yestoday | today | tomorrowday | ||
| archive | semi-bio | |||
| listen! | random | privit | ||
| ||||
| ||||
| ||||
| ||||
| ||||
| ||||
| ||||
|
| ||||
| ||||
|
| ||||
| ||||
| ||||
| ||||
| ||||
| ||||
All names are fake, most places are real, the
author is definitely
unreliable but it's all in good fun. Yep.
© 1998-1999 Lighthouse for the Deaf. All rights reserved and stuff. The motto at the top of the page is a graffito I saw on Brunswick Street in Melbourne. | ||||
| ||||