The man (please don't start in on "why couldn't it be a woman" bullshit) responsible for the doling out of poetic justice and righteous ironies seems to have caught his sweater on my ears and won't let go...
Although, I have to admit, I'm certainly learning my lessons this way. ;)
Regardless, we now have discovered one of the primary causes behind that-bitch-teacher-who-gave-me-detention-in-elementary-school not meeting her timely demise.
The man was busy with me. ;)
I spent this morning consulting. Out in the east end, further east than anyone should ever have to go. Industrial disaster after industrial disaster marks the way to the business-offices-where-you're-not-allowed-to-laugh.
Seriously, Jeff warned me - they were given dirty looks last time they were there and someone laughed.
Regardless, I was there to babysit a tcpdump session. Whoop-dee-doooo. This leaves me COLOSSAL amount of time to run the process in the background and... UPDATE! YEAH!
Not.
The laptop that's supposed to be *my* laptop wasn't handed to me until seven thirty this morning. Consequently, it didn't have ssh installed, let alone x-windows or netscape...
So for three of the four hours there, I was net-less. Then I found lynx.
Lynx is my poetic justice. I've used it before. It's a text browser. According to my long-standing tete-a-tete with cf188 in which he stands for style over substance and the shallow american way, and I claim to enjoy the fruity filling... According to my furious RANTS delivered A THE TOP OF OUR VOICES screamed at EACH OTHER across ESCALATORS and HALLWAYS of some random downtown mall...
Where I, in my usual, calm, serene, collected way let cf know that I feel "THAT HE IS EMPTY AND DEVOID OF ALL MEANING AND THAT HE KNOWS THAT HE'LL NEVER DO ANYTHING WORTHWHILE SO HE COVERS IT UP WITH SILK AND RIBBONS" and where cf, in his usual short-tempered, ill-mannered, generally bitchy way replies "you're just bitter cuz you're ugly".
Then we have tea and start all over again.
In the meantime, whilst this timeless argument took us to yet another uncivilized level yesterday evening (not only do I have to look at his ugly mug at work but I ran into him at school) I'm sitting with this dinky little laptop, fully realizing the irony (and goldy and silvery) that one second I'm screaming that pictures that move are the world-wide excuse for apathy and the downfall of free will, and the next minute even the not moving pictures are stripped away.
Admittedly, four of the five machines that I use at work are running OpenBsd without any graphical interface AT ALL, I usually have at least one for webstuff.
This time I didn't.
On top of that, this time, I wrote out a big, eloquent, concise, sharp and witty tirade on cf's bumbling idiocies (I adore him, I really do. ;), and hit the wrong key, and lost the post.
All cuz I'm against turning things into plastic mockeries of their original intent, and cuz the guy responsible for doling out just rewards got stuck in my hair last time I went tumbling down a ski hill.
Yeargh.
Regardless.
What *I* wanna know is, are you an aesthete or anti-aesthete?
Are you here cuz it's pretty, or cuz I make you think? (or cuz I make you laugh 'til you feel better 'bout how much better your life is goin' than mine...)
Come on, come on, tell me. Which one are you?