Yawn Two Three Four

Burning the midnight oil a lot these days. So little to do, so much time. :sighs:

Starting to get mighty warm around here. Nothing like good heat and dense humidity. Mmmm. Makes opening my car door that much more pleasant. I swear, I gotta start cracking the windows or something to equalize the humidity. Sheesh.

I’ve been finding myself doing more programming lately. It’s now again starting to become fun, like a puzzle I do. The drill is simple: create a problem (if one doesn’t already pop-up while solving another problem), and write code to fix it. Some people have their crosswords, I have my programs. My current puzzle is trying to split and parse an SQL insert statement. I want to split off all the flag keywords and parse the remainder of the statement in any of the three standard ANSI SQL formats. I’ve been running into problems having my code differentiate between column text and actual column names. Currently, though, I think I’m on my way to getting this problem licked — I wrote a small finite-state automaton (a smart loop — a bot, basically) that steps through the statement, one character at a time, and tests that character against a small nested list of rules. To me, this is exciting stuff. So far, with a few logic problems aside, I think I really do have it beat. I hope so, anyway.

I want to thank each and every one of you who extended sympathies and shared in my anger at what happened to me a few days ago (as eloquently described in the last entry). You folks are indeed my good friends. Thanks.

:yawn: Ok. My eyes are getting droopy. Nothing like the cumulative effect of getting less than four hours of sleep a night for the past 4 evenings. I decided to head home early tonight, and that was the most perfect choice.

Gotta take better care of myself. You should do the same. G’nite!

If only I had left five minutes earlier…

I should have left when I felt it. But, no, I hung around just five more minutes. Just enough time for me to get suddenly hit with an egg thrown from a passing car.
There is nothing you can do about people who drive by and throw eggs when you’re sitting in front of a coffee shop. NOTHING. And that’s what angers me the most. By the time you realize what just happened to you and every single bit of clothing you’re wearing, the car is at the next intersection and speeding away.
F U C K E R S !
My freshly washed shirt and shorts, fresh socks, even my laptop bag and my hair, were trashed by running, slimy egg. No telling how old the egg itself was. All I know is that I’m sitting there, I feel a smack! on my right shoulder (which felt like someone came up behind me and smacked me really hard), I turn around and find no one there, my friend Collin looks at me to see what happened, assesses the situation, stands up to get a look at the car, and notes its make and model (BMW 3-series, or something like that), and I look to see what hit me then realize it was a fucking egg. A FUCKING EGG! Even Collin’s pants got the shrapnel. I tell you, that shit gets everywhere.

I cannot put forward how much anger I feel right now. That angers me even more.


Thankfully, some guys, a bunch of badasses a few tables over, offered to help should those fuckers swing back by for another pass.

And so this summer’s round of chickenshit attacks begins. Time to take a shower and soak my clothes.

Fuck. Fuck this all to Hell. Fuck.

Weekend schmeekend

Ok. So in my last entry I raved about how well the weekend was going, how the weekend was just beginning, how I for once was going to have a kick-ass weekend, etc., etc. Yeah, yeah, whatever. Believe me, the Fates are so fuckin’ mean. MEAN!

Below is my fancy, high-tech Powerpoint illustration of my weekend. The curve, in blue, denotes the “suckitude” of the weekend with the vertical axis inverted such that low values represent the most “suckitude.” The horizontal axis represents forward time. The red boxes represent key points on the path of time.

So. Friday night was good, definitely. Saturday afternoon and early evening, when I was still going on the buzz of friday night, were good as well. Got to chill out, listen to more Harley’s cruising by, guzzle iced tea, and just hang-out in general. Had the chance to go see King’s X at the Back Room that night, but for some reason (which still escapes me) I opted out; decided to hang out some more, see who showed up. Anyway, somehow I think this is the part where the Freewillers and the Predestined’s will part ways, if you’ll pardon the pun.

There I am, it’s around 1am or so, and I get hungry. I go out and get a sausage-and-egg breakfast taco, with salsa. Chowed down on it and felt good. Went back to Mojo’s and hung out some more. Chatted with my friend Ernie about things computers and things Dell, which is a joy; been years since I could sit and talk geek for hours and suffer no social consequences. Around 4 or 5am I was feeling a little “gassy”, so home was the best choice.

About 15 minutes after I went to bed, my bowels clenched, my stomach ground, and I got that sudden, anxious feeling that’s usually immediately followed by the words, “Uh-oh.” (You know that feeling.) I grabbed the trashcan, bolted to the bathroom, and sat there for over an hour in three different sessions. No hurling, luckily, but the hair-trigger was really tickling. It was a close call, but thankfully it was all coming out of the other end, which is my preference (I’m wierd with throwing-up). So, if you’ll forgive me for the lurid details, let us continue.

Sunday, oh Sunday. After 6 dreamless hours of sleep, with me on my side on the side of the bed and the trashcan beneath me, I got up around 1pm. Wasn’t feeling all too sparkly, so I moped around. Waited on a phone call from Bart – we had planned to go out to pick up a new motherboard to replace his which fried a month ago. He called, learned that I was ill, and called it off. I tried to venture out of the house but realized really quickly that: heat + nausea = hell. Went back home with a quickness, undressed to my essentials, and moped around the house for the rest of the day, trashcan at the ready.

A bright spot, though. I did do something productive. My friend [Danielle] had called for volunteers to offer server space so she could have comment capabilities on her blog. I stepped forward last week, and we finally got it installed and set up yesterday. She was much appreciative; I’m glad I got to help (damn shame she lives in Canada).

The rest of the day, though, sucked. Watched some pre-taped TV from years ago and went to bed around 2am. Got up this morning at 8, still feeling like hell, took a shower, and slogged to work. I then realized that after not eating a single thing yesterday I was in no shape, and had no strength, to be working around machinery. Add to that the stomach spasms and twinges, and yeah, I headed home after just over an hour of work.

Which worked-out, actually. Finally got a call from a Dell service tech. Told him to meet me at my apartment instead of my job. After about half an hour of work, the hinges and plastics on my laptop’s screen are made whole again. Yay! No more cracks, no more wobbling, no more “close it carefully, carefully!” A bright point, definitely. And under warranty, too!

So, now, I think I need to eat a little bit of something bland, have some more ginger ale, and possibly see about seeing my doctor. Low-level nausea for over two weeks might mean something important. You’d think, right?

You know, I’m thinking that if I had gone to the King’s X show instead of hanging out at Mojo’s all night, none of this would’ve happened, and this journal entry would’ve been done later this evening and filled with a report of good news and glad tidings. So let this be a lesson to you, children. Don’t exercise your free will. Go do what you were predestined, and nothing like this would happen. Um, yeah.

Anyway. Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda. :sighs: Best of health to you guys. Later.

No Quiet Streets Under Our Feets

It’s kind of quiet now, but all around town earlier today, and for the rest of this weekend, there’s a low, healthy, beautiful rumble that penetrates the air, the walls, the windows, and the ground beneath our feet. The [Republic of Texas Bike Rally] has come to town.

And oh. My. God.

Imagine this, if you will: 30- to 40-THOUSAND bikers descend on Austin for a weekend of revelry, relaxation, and showing off their street-pounding machines. Tonight was the first night of the event.

I had made a plan to go down there tonight to check it all out, and I grabbed whoever I could to go along. Managed to get my friends Andrew and Heather to join me (no arm-twisting necessary). We left from Mojo’s, found a decent place to park Heather’s car, and walked into the area to the throng before us.

Roughly 20 thousand bikers, maybe more, made their appearance downtown. Sixth street, all its side streets, and even several blocks of Congress Avenue (a major street) were shut down, blocked-off, and converted into a bike parking lot and showroom. In some places parking was stacked two bikes deep, in most 3 or 4-deep, with some of the finest motorbikes I’ve ever seen. Hell, Congress had bikes parked 3-deep on the sides and 4-deep in the center of the street. A sea, no, an ocean of chrome, steel, aluminum, rubber, lights, and airbrushing. And it was a beautiful thing.

Most of the bikes were Harleys, of course, but every other manufacturer was there. Saw some custom bikes, some matching sets, some with beautiful airbrushing, a lot with top-notch flame-jobs, quite a few with colored lights around the engine compartment, and quite a few with an American theme. What impressed me most, though, and gave me most cause to stop in the throng, and stare gapejawed, were the impressive array of choppers – complete custom jobs with long forks and seats no more than two feet off the ground. Nothing says “Style, class, and power” better than that. Wow.

I managed to snap a lot of film (mostly of the bikes, heh). Couldn’t exactly get far enough away from a bike to take a decent full-bike picture on most of the shots, but I got what I could. When this roll is finished, I’ll be posting those pics here. Hopefully soon.

Heh, and the bikes weren’t the only thing worth shooting. Hoo boy. I think I got a couple of pics of some real bad-ass honies. Make a man cry. The crowd: wow. Couldn’t meet a nicer bunch of beerdrinkers and hellraisers. They come from all over the state and country, so you definitely got your mix, but for once I didn’t see a single fight or argument, which is an accomplishment considering it’s on Sixth Street. Most everyone got along. Lotta cruisin’, lotta boozin’ (yeah, saw a lot of open containers and bottles — illegal in this town, but whatever), lotta “floozin'” – antics on-par with a typical Mardi Gras event. Later on in the evening, as we were making our way back to the car, we stopped at this crowd that was amassing in front of a bar where these four mighty-fine girls were dancing on top of the bar and they were, um, gettin’ real busy. Started daring each other, one-upping each other with their antics as they played to the crowd inside the bar, from dancing really close, to wiggling and gyrating, to bending over, to dropping their pants to show their thongs (or lack thereof), to flashing the crowd. All kinds of crazy shit like that was going on. And damn were we entertained.

Antics. God I love this town.

So, I finally went out on a friday night and had a good time. Saw parts of downtown I’ve not seen without looking through my windshield. Andrew and Heather both appeared to be glad that they went; we had a really good night. And the good part is that this weekend’s not over yet. Well hot-damn.

“Ride it like you stole it,” y’all!

Voice from the past

Tonight I got an IM from someone I haven’t chatted with in three years. It’s this girl I knew from back in Texarkana. Met her while I was working at Baymont Inn and Suites, when she was a young, spunky 17-year-old. Heh.

There was this one night she came to visit me while I was at work. Kept me entertained and awake during my night-shift drudgery. She hung out by the front desk while we chatted. Managed to keep some of the guests chatting in the nearby lobby entertained as well. Was an interesting night.

That was the last time I remember seeing her, even though we IM’d and chatted for a few more weeks before contact withered away. Fell silent for almost three years until she messaged me tonight. Oh how I do love the occasional shot of randomness in my still bathtub water of a life.

Found out she lives just 3 1/2 hours away from me. Living near Houston. She even suggested I take a road trip some time. Heh. Sounds interesting enough. Y’know?

Hey, it couldn’t hurt to do something with my time, right?