0x7D3 February 0x2
Typing random crap into a search engine sometimes gives interesting results. So says he who entered "Gliir" into Google and was presented with a page explaining their use of ÿ in Cymru orthography. Also seen are Swiss pages in German, and one page in what is either Elvish or script for a shell not in common usage these days. Statitistics are being anomalous.
BLARGH. Morning. So I turn on. Plug in. Into Weemble I load the hler'k and the plooornht (My dev copies of Lluzhionne, Yeemp, Makrokosmos, and the test Shoggoth.). Downloading, they are, in a manner most rapid for I have 10megabit connection to download them on. From the Very Far Away Place that is Across The Room from me. OK, so it's not across the room. It's on the other side of the couch. Oh well. Throw Weemble in my purse *. Throw an SE, a book, and a Non-Toroidal Donut in the other pocket. The latter ceases to exist during the process of attaining the locii of the Trains That Ride On The Triune Track.

I get on the train. Asleep. It's an ungodly early buttcrack of dawn (I blame Someone's vocabulary for that.) type time. It's not even NOON yet. Have to be at destination at noon. I take Weemble out of my purse. Open it up. Turn it on.
Turn it on.
Turn it on.
And the light doesn't go green.
And the screen doesn't turn on.
And the logo of a corporation which was once ubiquitous does not display. And the red Menu Of Choosing doesn't offer me the choice between the OS that's on the machine and the one which isn't.
And it doesn't even do that flicker in the nuhr-heep'wu-zeemle-zeemles that announces that I let the battery run down again.
And I smell it.
Thicker than the gawdawful cologne of the guy destined to occupy the adjacent Buttock Support Device two stations down the line.
More pungent than sliced onion in a nerve gas factory.
"The cursed aluminium tin smells like blue smoke. Eat it? (y/y)"
Weemble is probably gone. I'll try to bring him back up again when I feel like butting my head against it. It's not likely to work.
Oh well, I suppose I did need a better laptop...

(* So the other day, I'm like ** carrying my computer home from $CLIENT. It's Cal Game Day and $CLIENT's in Berkeley, so on the ride out one overhears the person who falls into a random knot of people announce "Oh, I thought we were packed in too tight to fall". But anyhow, I've been in Berkeley all day bludgeoning recalcitrant HTML into place and molesting innocent Windows networks. And it's fairly dark, and I'm walking home, for values of 'walking home' that may include crossing a train or two. And there's this gravelly-voiced guy talking real loud to his girlfriend or boyfriend or whatever on a cellphone behind me. Apparently they're having trouble of some sort, as I hear a couple repetitions of "We were meant to be together.". After about a block of this conversation, I become curious enough to glance back. And the owner of the gravely voice a few feet behind uses it to say "I thought you were a girl." and uses his locomotory appendages to cross the street.

(** I'll sound like a valley girl if I'm talking about my purse, of course. It's, like, a really big purse. With computers in it. It should have a tool but I keep putting it somewhere stupid and not being able to find it.)


PK on 0x7D3 February 0x3:
Dood, the Anodyne adder isn't adding. (How'd you get LiveJournal to connect to addendat?)

Deekoo on 0x7D3 February 0x5:
I suspect Monde probably fixed it tonight; Sweetpea'd moved her homedir to another partition, so all the paths in config files needed to be changed.

The Addendat-Livejournal interface is just the POST-mode CGI leaf hook (originally added for Geek-ware. Which reminds me, I should find out what happened to the CGI interface there.) with a rudimentary attempt to handle LJ responses (I think - don't remember if that was actually needed, much less added.)


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