Google Chrome, I loathe thee
Just spent half an hour arguing viciously with its inability to run .ica extensions (kinda oh, I don't know, vital for Xenapp to actually function) and eventually, after much digging, found out that it doesnt' run on Chrome.
Chrome, the much-vaunted Google browser, OS and all round shiny slap on every thing possible for yea it is our saviour doesn't run a fucking citrix interface.
You know, the paranoid nut in me wonders how much of this is to try and nudge people to Google's own cloud.
Spend most of the weekend either meandering about wthi Torasin investigating op shops, or farting around in the garden. Got the courtyard outside the kitchen sorted again, repotted all my pansies and did a bit of edging and trimming. (And planted out some new goodies in my gigantic greenhouse *luv*)
Missy is still faffing about. I ended up modifying a couple pairs of old tracksuit pants so we could hang them on the underside of the bed for rattie playtimes, and she immediately clambered into one and bruxed her head off. Her back legs are pretty much gone, but she's getting around quite all right, and stuffing her face every time she gets near a foodbowl, so we're still snuggling her madly.
In other news, I very badly want a Mr. Peppy of my own. FFS, the damned thing is not only spiky, blue, clawed and crazed, but it farts flames and both pisses and spits acid. Plus it's a bone vampire! What's not to like?
Chrome, the much-vaunted Google browser, OS and all round shiny slap on every thing possible for yea it is our saviour doesn't run a fucking citrix interface.
You know, the paranoid nut in me wonders how much of this is to try and nudge people to Google's own cloud.
Spend most of the weekend either meandering about wthi Torasin investigating op shops, or farting around in the garden. Got the courtyard outside the kitchen sorted again, repotted all my pansies and did a bit of edging and trimming. (And planted out some new goodies in my gigantic greenhouse *luv*)
Missy is still faffing about. I ended up modifying a couple pairs of old tracksuit pants so we could hang them on the underside of the bed for rattie playtimes, and she immediately clambered into one and bruxed her head off. Her back legs are pretty much gone, but she's getting around quite all right, and stuffing her face every time she gets near a foodbowl, so we're still snuggling her madly.
In other news, I very badly want a Mr. Peppy of my own. FFS, the damned thing is not only spiky, blue, clawed and crazed, but it farts flames and both pisses and spits acid. Plus it's a bone vampire! What's not to like?