Fuck. The Captain just killed my external drive. I wasn't in the room, but from the subtle clues he left all over the floor, it looks like he got under my desk, became entangled in my computer cables, and ran for his life. The drive was five feet away from my desk on the floor when I found it.
The drive powers up but all it does is make a buzzy noise every three seconds or so. No letter drive comes up when I hook it up. Fuck fuck fuck.
I have no idea how much is gone, but it's not as bad as it could have been. Back when the backup program went haywire, Seebs was able to get all the data off and move it to a spare he had lying around. I still hadn't finished checking to make sure the files were all copied back to my drive, so much is still intact. But it gets worse. I just moved 11 gigs of new stuff to the external drive this week to make room on my PC. I can't remember what I moved, but it was good stuff and I deleted it all right afterwards.
Fuck.
Fake edit: The beeping noise stopped, but still no connection. The suck of today is so spectacular that it has given me a headache. And it started out so good, too. I was getting things done, processing orders, cleaning out my email, and then bam. Fail after fail after fail with a big old rotten hard drive cherry on top.
Shoot me now.
January 28, 2009
Can I Borrow Your Dagger For A Sec?
Phobia be damned! I've just had my first haircut since grade school. Five inches gone, gone into the night. Practically bald now!
It was scary, but the deed had to be done. The scraggle-monster got into the ends and it went bad, so I lopped it off with achainsaw pair of office scissors. Before, it was just past my knees, and now it only goes to mid-thigh. GASP! I could join the Marines!
On the bright side, I bet I could ride my bike with it down and not fear being scalped by the back wheel. That's something to look forward to.
It ended up lopsided so Rah evened it out for me, taking off a bit more while she was at it. Then I gave her a trim of her own to repay. It wasn't that bad a job for my first attempt at a haircut on another human being. Not completely even, but she can't see that so it's all good. I wisely didn't tell her about the bald spot. Muahaha. Let her find out on her own. As for me, I'm away laughing on a fast camel.
The house has declared victory in the war against split ends.
It was scary, but the deed had to be done. The scraggle-monster got into the ends and it went bad, so I lopped it off with a
On the bright side, I bet I could ride my bike with it down and not fear being scalped by the back wheel. That's something to look forward to.
It ended up lopsided so Rah evened it out for me, taking off a bit more while she was at it. Then I gave her a trim of her own to repay. It wasn't that bad a job for my first attempt at a haircut on another human being. Not completely even, but she can't see that so it's all good. I wisely didn't tell her about the bald spot. Muahaha. Let her find out on her own. As for me, I'm away laughing on a fast camel.
The house has declared victory in the war against split ends.
January 26, 2009
Adventures In Fang Repair
Fillings a-go-go!
I didn't get lost on the way to the dentist's office this time, and the actual appointment took about twenty minutes from start to finish. The modern anaesthetic needle didn't hurt nearly as bad as the giant spikes they used to use when I was a kid, and the assistant brought me a mirror so I could see the drilled holes before they got filled in. it was kind of awesome. The fillings themselves are tooth-colored and I'm hoping I can get the amalgam ones that have fallen apart removed and replaced with similar ones on Unka Sam's dime.
The whole drive home I played with my dead lip. Even now I can't feel my face from temple to chin.
This calm adventure has been brought to you by Zoloft, makers of "Holy shit, I was able to leave the house alone!" and other fine products.
I didn't get lost on the way to the dentist's office this time, and the actual appointment took about twenty minutes from start to finish. The modern anaesthetic needle didn't hurt nearly as bad as the giant spikes they used to use when I was a kid, and the assistant brought me a mirror so I could see the drilled holes before they got filled in. it was kind of awesome. The fillings themselves are tooth-colored and I'm hoping I can get the amalgam ones that have fallen apart removed and replaced with similar ones on Unka Sam's dime.
The whole drive home I played with my dead lip. Even now I can't feel my face from temple to chin.
This calm adventure has been brought to you by Zoloft, makers of "Holy shit, I was able to leave the house alone!" and other fine products.
January 25, 2009
The Burden of Fame
A year ago I made a snarky post about some truly wretched and self-absorbed E!D!G!Y! teen artwork on Deviantart. Over time, that post somehow ended up high on the list of Google results for a self-injury related search string, and now that old entry is getting heaps of anonymous comments.
So far not one of these newbies has bothered to comment on the entry itself. Overnight the comments just became a forum to share their issues with the usual poorly concealed self-admiration. Mid-conversation, even, like they all migrated at once during a thread somewhere else.
It's like somebody's copy-pasting Harry Potter hurt-comfort fanfic in my blog, complete with self insert characters who listen to Evanescence and think suffering is just so romantic.
Of course I'm fucking with them. It's like a law of physics. Gravity pulls, objects in motion tend to remain in motion, and Luka hungers for the blood of Mary Sue. I added a shit ton of attention whore macros to the entry, and put a trigger warning at the very end just in case.
God bless you, blink tag. You get a lot of shit in this world, but you might just have saved me some eyerolling.
So far not one of these newbies has bothered to comment on the entry itself. Overnight the comments just became a forum to share their issues with the usual poorly concealed self-admiration. Mid-conversation, even, like they all migrated at once during a thread somewhere else.
It's like somebody's copy-pasting Harry Potter hurt-comfort fanfic in my blog, complete with self insert characters who listen to Evanescence and think suffering is just so romantic.
Of course I'm fucking with them. It's like a law of physics. Gravity pulls, objects in motion tend to remain in motion, and Luka hungers for the blood of Mary Sue. I added a shit ton of attention whore macros to the entry, and put a trigger warning at the very end just in case.
God bless you, blink tag. You get a lot of shit in this world, but you might just have saved me some eyerolling.
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