(no subject)
My ISP sucks. My ISP's Webmail sucks. My backup Webmail sucks. The fact that IMP doesn't exist sucks.
Because of all these sucky things sucking, I didn't get to hang out with Otto and The Doctor briefly last night. I had a wonderful time with Cat's Eye and CPK, but it would've been nice to see my surly tall-as-trees boys, too.
Because my ISP's Webmail is deciding to be especially sucky last night and this morning, I can't even read the messages that they intended me to read before I left work yesterday. So, Otto and Doctor: IF YOU WANT TO TALK TO ME ABOUT WHAT'S HAPPENING TONIGHT, YOU MUST USE A TELEPHONIC COMMUNICATOR SOMETIME IN THE HOURS BETWEEN NOW AND 5PM, NOT COUNTING A ONE-HOUR LUNCH. OTHERWISE, I WILL ARRIVE HOME AT 6 PM AND ASSUME I'M JUST HAVING A QUIET EVENING AT HOME.
I have a new ISP picked out. Perhaps its webmail won't suck so hard.
. . . It'd be absolutely stupid of me to sign up for a non-free ISP (my current ISP isn't technically free, I'm just mooching off my parents) before I get settled in a new multi-month assignment.
I don't know if my last day is three days from now or next Friday. And the HR department might not tell my boss until tomorrow. Lamers.
I almost got into a fist fight with some pro-war people last night. If we weren't on opposite sides of the bar (Be Polite To Customers), I'm sure I'd be missing some teeth this morning.
"Don't you remember 9-11?"
"I sure do. But Iraq has no proven connection to it."
"But the terrorists-"
"Most of the pilots of the planes involved in 9-11 were Saudis, not Iraqis."
"Look, the decision's been made. We support our troops!"
"You want them to die? By the thousands? That's funny, I'd prefer them to live."
I was then given a look of pure hatred. I wanted to deck her, too. Gods, keep me away from the pro-war peoples until this thing is over. I have too much hate in me about it.
C'est la Vie.
I'm putting more French in my journal until this Anti-French nonesense stops. Actually, I should blow some rust off my French, anyways. So pardon-moi if my journal gets semi-unreadable to some of you. It's a lovely language, one that would be everyone's benefit to pick up. How else will we be all able to fully appreciate Rimbaud, the Surrealists, and Anais Nin?
Because of all these sucky things sucking, I didn't get to hang out with Otto and The Doctor briefly last night. I had a wonderful time with Cat's Eye and CPK, but it would've been nice to see my surly tall-as-trees boys, too.
Because my ISP's Webmail is deciding to be especially sucky last night and this morning, I can't even read the messages that they intended me to read before I left work yesterday. So, Otto and Doctor: IF YOU WANT TO TALK TO ME ABOUT WHAT'S HAPPENING TONIGHT, YOU MUST USE A TELEPHONIC COMMUNICATOR SOMETIME IN THE HOURS BETWEEN NOW AND 5PM, NOT COUNTING A ONE-HOUR LUNCH. OTHERWISE, I WILL ARRIVE HOME AT 6 PM AND ASSUME I'M JUST HAVING A QUIET EVENING AT HOME.
I have a new ISP picked out. Perhaps its webmail won't suck so hard.
. . . It'd be absolutely stupid of me to sign up for a non-free ISP (my current ISP isn't technically free, I'm just mooching off my parents) before I get settled in a new multi-month assignment.
I don't know if my last day is three days from now or next Friday. And the HR department might not tell my boss until tomorrow. Lamers.
I almost got into a fist fight with some pro-war people last night. If we weren't on opposite sides of the bar (Be Polite To Customers), I'm sure I'd be missing some teeth this morning.
"Don't you remember 9-11?"
"I sure do. But Iraq has no proven connection to it."
"But the terrorists-"
"Most of the pilots of the planes involved in 9-11 were Saudis, not Iraqis."
"Look, the decision's been made. We support our troops!"
"You want them to die? By the thousands? That's funny, I'd prefer them to live."
I was then given a look of pure hatred. I wanted to deck her, too. Gods, keep me away from the pro-war peoples until this thing is over. I have too much hate in me about it.
C'est la Vie.
I'm putting more French in my journal until this Anti-French nonesense stops. Actually, I should blow some rust off my French, anyways. So pardon-moi if my journal gets semi-unreadable to some of you. It's a lovely language, one that would be everyone's benefit to pick up. How else will we be all able to fully appreciate Rimbaud, the Surrealists, and Anais Nin?