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January 31, 2001
RPMs
RPM's -- no, not rotations per minute (although they really should be called that, since they make you go in circles.) -- I'm talking about the RedHat Package Manager. What a royal pain in the butt...
I've been experimenting with Linux for a while, and for the most part I find it decent. However, there are certain applications that lack the ease of use of some Windows (ugh) counterparts. So, until I find such replacements, I decided to try setting WINE up. (For those that don't know, WINE is a windows emulator for Linux).
So, I download the RPM from RPMfind.net. Then, I procede to install it. Little snafu: ICTL.rpm is required and not on my system. "No problem", I thought as I downloaded that as well. Attempting to use RPM to install it, I get something like "This version of RPM can only be used on versions <= 3".
Wow, RPM 3.0.4 Rocks!
And now I admit I should know better, that RPM 3.0.4 would not work to install a later version of RPM (I think 4.0.2 or something). It still annoyed me. How is anybody supposed to upgrade something that can't be installed by previous versions?
Yeah, I know, download the source code. Compile it. Presto, you now have an updated version. My point of contention is that you shouldn't have to. Some people don't know how to, others don't care to.
I guess after 4 hours of useless effort, I've come to the only obvious conclusion: Linux has a long way to go before "Joe Schmoe, computer novice" even considers using it. Grr.
Posted by bard at 09:56 PM | Comments (0)
January 30, 2001
Don't call us, we'll call you!
In this case, they didn't even do that until I bugged enough. I had my interview last Monday, and it seemed like everything went well, so I waited. On Friday, I get a call from another place that I applied at about two weeks prior, but said "I'm still waiting to hear from this other job, so go ahead and try to find somebody else." Well, dumbass me :P. Worried, I called the district office, and ended up leaving a message with the interviewer's secretary, who said "he'll call you back shortly." Well, the phone never rang. Finally yesterday, I called the store in which I applied, and the manager that I talked to wasn't there, so the other dude on the phone said he'd have her call me tomorrow (today) and let me know if she heard anything. She called at about 1:30 this afternoon only to tell me "if we have a position for you, we'll give you a call." Gee, thanks. It took a whole f*cking week for you to tell me that? You couldn't have maybe called me the day after my interview and told me? Or hell, even called me back on Friday and told me? Now I'm still stuck without a job, no source of income, and a trip next month which, come Hell or high water, I am not postponing. I'm going to give the other place a call and ask for an interview. After that, I'll probably go and beg for my old job back at KFC. F*ck me, I swear :P. Oh well, back to C++...
Posted by ladyx at 02:02 AM | Comments (0)
January 27, 2001
The Superbowl
Well, this Superbowl is going to be a doozy.
1) I hate the Giants. They beat the Eagles. 'nuff said.
2) My tv is malfunctioning for what has to be the 3rd or 4th time; everything is either tinted green or purple.
3) Band wagon fans annoy me.
4) Who in their right mind would pay $5/pound for hot wings, when you can buy chicken legs for $0.39/pound and add your own sauce? Sure, it isn't a wing, but when you get down to it, size/shape doesn't matter that much, does it?
5) CBS has the worst NFL coverage. Fox, Abc, ESPN are better by far.
6) Commercials are usually funny/creative, etc... but I'd rather watch the game.
7) End of game interviews.
Clueless Reporter: "What's it like to be "world" champion?"
Interviewee: "Actually, I wish I had lost. Ya know, winning is overrated. Somebody else want the money and the ring? Anybody?"
Conversly...
Clueless Reporter: "I offer my condolences, but how does it feel to lose?"
Interviewee: "Great! Now people won't expect so much from me anymore, I still get a paycheck, and I don't have to say that damned "I'm going to Disney World!!" line."
8) Why is the winning team called the "World Champions" anyway?
Do teams from all over the world compete in this league? I don't think so.
Sure, there is NFL Europe, but that takes place at a different time.
Anyway, Final prediction:
Ravens 13, Giants 0.
Collins gets sacked in the endzone 5 times for safeties, and Stover kicks a field goal. Worst superbowl rating in history; bandwagon fans stop caring.
I can dream, can't I?
Posted by bard at 09:58 PM | Comments (0)
January 26, 2001
Damn Stupid Losers : The DSL guys
So, I'm getting DSL (high speed Internet for you newbies). Finally it won't take 3 hours to a download a webpage (will you MORONS stop using so much flash for crying out loud??)! The DSL guy (I suppose) came to my house today. I saw the phone company truck pull into my driveway and thought "Woohoo!! Finally I can download Dreamweaver!" (I've only been downloading it for a week now! Earthlink sucks). So I answer the door, ask if he needs to see my computer, etc. and the guy tells me he just has to test my phone line to make sure the signal is strong and working and my modem will be shipped as soon as he says it's ok. I can hook it up when I get it. Huh? Why can't the dork just bring the freakin' modem with him? He wouldn't even have to set it up, just hand it to me. I just WANT IT. It would save on shipping and I could be cruising along by now. Bureaucracy stinks. So for now, I'll just press "post" on this rant and wait for an hour for the stupid confirmation page to load while I'm (probably) already paying for a DSL connection. Ah, the wonders of Internet access.
Posted by vixen at 02:28 AM | Comments (0)
January 22, 2001
Old Friends...or is that Fiends?
I know you don't believe me because I'm so wonderful and interesting now (and humble to, let's not forget humble) but in Jr. High I was an outcast. I was called names, beat up, threatened and generally picked on everyday of my life. One group of girls picked on me like no other. I always used to write poems about them suffering (nobody said I was sane). Yes, those were the good old days. I've always wondered what it would be like to meet one of them again today. Would I still harbor those old feelings? Would they recognize me. Well, a few weeks ago, I got my chance.
I didn't get to see the leader of the group. I hated her. I would mace her on site. However, I did get meet one of them while at the mall. We also went to High School together. I wasn't picked on so much in High School. I actually almost fit in at my High School so she didn't hunt me down like roadkill. We were civil to each other. However I never liked her. She probably doesn't even remember the way she treated me in Jr. High.
I saw her but I wasn't going to say anything. I figured she wouldn't recognize me (nobody ever does) but, try as I may to hide, here she comes bouncing up to me (she'd put on a little weight . . . shows her for calling me fatass for 2 years) but she looked much the same as she used to. She asked me what I was doing, I told her I was still going to school. She had already graduated and was working at a local hospital as a nurse. She told me about her kids, and her husband, etc. Here I am standing there with nothing good to say about myself. "Hey, you used to call me a loser, but guess what? I've been going to school for 5 years, still haven't graduated! I don't have a real job or anything. You were .... umm....okay, you were almost right, but I'm not FAT so there! You were wrong about something." I just feigned happiness for her and tried to get away as soon as I could. I can only hope that her husband is a philanderer and her kids end up putting her in a home. No, no, that's mean. I'm above that....yeah right.
Who is that made the rules of "karma"? That person is an idiot. Buddha is a dud. Karma obviously doesn't work. Not that my life is horrible. I'm actually quite proud of myself and happy with my life. I don't want kids nor do I want a husband and if I wanted to be a nurse I could have already graduated too. It's just that you expect God, or whoever, to even out the scale. These girls caused me so much agony yet they have paid nothing for it. I guess nobody said life was fair. Maybe my priest is right and I am Satan's spawn and that's why the scales aren't level.
Egh, next time I'll trip the biatch and walk on her fake hair.
Posted by vixen at 12:25 PM | Comments (0)
Melina Cat...Kata...kererr...That chick from the show Providence
So, today a guy walks up to me and asks me what time it is and then says "You look a lot like that woman from Providence!" Is that some sort of compliment? I know she's attractive (better looking than me by far) but I don't look anything like her. Yet, sick, twisted people keep coming up to me and saying I do. It's the hair. It's gotta be the hair. Find out more about my "identity crisis" by reading on. |   |
Her name is Melina Kanakaredes. I guess she's attractive. She has funky, Julia Robertsesque lips, but whatever. Why should I care? I don't look like her and here are several points to prove it:
- She is greek. She has greek features. I'm not. I don't.
- Her hair is WAY curlier and thicker than mine. So even if someone said "You have Melina, Kataerrrwhateverthefuck's hair", they would be wrong.
- Her eyebrows are nothing like mine.
- Her lips are bigger than mine.
- Her eyes are green, mine are brown.
- She thinner than I am, she's taller than I am, she's on television
- She gets nakey on tv, I never get nakey if I can help it. Go see her fansite if you're looking for naked photos.
Things of mine that resemble her:
- We both have curly hair. And yeah, I could probably get mine to be that curly and fluffy too if I paid someone $5,000 a day to do it, I admit.
- Umm...umm..none
So, if this is true than Chealsea Clinton, Roddy McDowel, and everyone else with curly hair must look just like Melina...errr..the chick from Providence.
To quote the Providence Theme Song, "all places have their moments with lovers and friends, morons one and all. They'll be dead and cease their living, if they call me "Providence Chickie" I'll kill them all."
Ok, I improved the last bit. Agh, I'm just going to chop off my hair.
Posted by vixen at 12:26 AM | Comments (0)
January 21, 2001
Do these pants make me look, like, fat or something?
As anybody who has talked to me knows, I've been struggling with my weight for the longest time now. I've finally started dropping some poundage (about 25, actually), but now it seems as if I'm stuck. I went out yesterday looking for some new clothes to wear for when I go to my boyfriend's house...needless to say, I was pissed off something fierce.
I don't get it. I walk my arse off on this stupid campus, yet I'm barely dropping weight. I gave up pop and most refined sugars (candy, other drinks with excess empty calories, etc), I don't eat much at all, and I walk like I don't know what. Still, nothing, it seems. Why the hell doesn't it drop off faster? I'm sick and tired of being a fat@ss. I walk up the huge hills on the campus, and see all of these skinny little girls panting and pushing themselves, yet I can make it up with absolutely no problems whatsoever...why the hell am *I* the fat one? I admit, there is some muscle on me, however, the majority of it isn't muscle...I'm not one of these people who just wants to claim that their flab is actually just muscle, and they're really quite fit. Nope, I'll flat out admit to being fat. Why should I even care? Maybe it was because of the years of being called an elephant, pig, horse, and "one ugly b*tch" by the freak@sses that I went to school with. I admit, I'd like to be the stereotype female with the "perfect" little hourglass figure. I have curves, no doubt about it; they're more like wide turns, though. I should start wearing a sign on my back that says "caution: Wide Right Turns" to make sure that nobody gets close enough.
Aside from my weight, another complaint of mine stems from when I was out shopping today. Why in the hell are all of the pants out now made out of stretch material? Since when have stretch-pants *ever* looked good on somebody? Even the tiny-figured girls look like crap wearing them...I'm not saying they should wear something big and baggy, but geez, those things just look tacky and gross. All I wanted was a pair of big, baggy, black khakis. That's it. Know how many pairs I found? None. Oh, I found black khakis in my size (16 for all who need to know :P), but they're all that form-fitting crap...if I wanted my boyfriend to see my form, I'd wear the stretch pants, now wouldn't I? I want something loose, baggy, and comfortable...of course, and black; which is my favorite color. I tried on about seven pairs of pants and found absolutely nothing. I even tried to go about it from the "buy something two sizes too big, and wear a belt" route, but I couldn't find any of those, either. I don't get it, I can find myself a pair of very nice vinyl pants two sizes bigger than what I take which I can wear with a belt, yet I can't find any kind of khakis? Shouldn't vinyl basically be reserved for the ultra-thin girlies and have other pants be made for people of all shapes and sizes? Some of you may wonder why they have to be khakis...well, I want to make a good impression on him when I get there. I want to look as presentable as I possibly can, and I feel an occasion like this deserves a little better dress code than just my baggy carpenter jeans with the frayed bottoms, and my bleach-spotted black "Feelings Are Good" t-shirt. He doesn't care what I wear; *I* want to look nice for him.
That, also prompts another rant...where do our standards come from exactly? Should everybody strive deseperately to achieve "perfection" only to be accepted physically by both their friends and strangers alike? Maybe if people would quit the "oh, she has such a fine ass, mmm mmm...not huge like that fat chick's over there...let's go make fun of her because she's trying to be invisible, ha ha!" there wouldn't be so many women starving themselves until death, puking their guts out until they have no teeth left due to their stomach acid wearing them down to little stubs of nothing, or jumping on the treadmill for 4 hours everyday just because hey, society says 'I'm too fat'. There's nothing wrong with being thin, taking care of yourself, and exerciseing...hell, that's something I want to achieve myself...but the extreme measures have got to go. Wake up, people, and smell the Phenphen.
Posted by ladyx at 02:07 AM | Comments (0)
Almost as Fun as Welfare
I don't understand why people have to go through so much hell just to get a job in a stinkin' $5.25/hour paying job. Why can't they just let you go in, say "hi, I'm broke, and would like money. I hear you need to give people money in exchange for manual labor. I think we should talk. Let's discuss this in your office over a cappuccino and biscotti."
Trying to find a job sucks; I applied at a couple of places already, and neither of them got back to me. I have a job interview tomorrow at a place that I *really* don't want to work at, but will just for the sake of having cash. I already had to blow a bunch of money on a stupid white shirt (and a white undershirt seeing how white is so bloody see-through...yet another reason why I never wear white, normally), and I have to wear a friggin' pair of heels since my boots apparently aren't good enough for them. All this just for the interview process; can't wait to have to wear it everyday I work provided I get the job. In one sense, I would love to be able to work again (I actually do enjoy working...I know, scary), but on the other side, I just don't want to work in retail. I don't want to work with people who will most likely get pissed off at me because I don't know what the hell they're talking about since they mumble instructions at me. I don't want to work with a bunch of pervy old guys who think that they're the masters of the universe. I just flat out don't care. I was filling out a stupid resume' (yeah, they expect me to have a resume'...like I've actually accomplished anything in my short life) which only depressed me when I learned that I truly have no skills, have no desires, goals, nor do I have any accomplishments which would be an asset for the company. I've spent the past 11 years with my nose in music theory books; how I'm really supposed to have anything that an electronics store will need is beyond me...actually, the only thing that I have that they need are free Monday and Wednesday nights. Blah...so goes life in the world of income independency.
Posted by ladyx at 02:04 AM | Comments (0)
January 20, 2001
The Shrub... George W. Bush.
George W. Bush was sworn in to the Oval Office today.
Couple Observations:
1) Don't force feed me Christianity. The reverand was not needed. Doesn't that also violate "separation of Church & State" ?
2) The pens. After everything Bush signed, he got a new designer pen. Who pays for those $100 things anyway? A BIC Writer will do quite nicely, thank you very much.
3) Clinton got more attention. Probably due to the pardon; however, Bush could just be that boring. I dunno.
Posted by bard at 09:59 PM | Comments (0)
January 19, 2001
Oh, Get A Room!
Yes, I have returned once again to enlighten you all. After my travels through the Orient, discovering three new species of sea-dwelling fungus, and starting a chain of monkey-grooming/fried chicken companies, I have returned to college only to find something equally as ridiculous to rant about...PDA's.
For those of you not in the know, a PDA is a "public display of affection"; you know, where couples sit there on park benches, groping each other and swallowing each other's faces all for the enjoyment of passersby who whisper "aww, isn't that cute, they're so in love!" Yeah...bite me. Everywhere I turn around on this bloody campus, there are couples kissing each other, and holding each other; trying to be so cute that you just want to hurl on them, and beat them senseless with an iron maiden until they lay in a mass on the ground where they were once smooching on. Yesterday, I walked by a couple of my way home; just standing in the middle of the sidewalk, tongue-battling each other as if he were going off to war in the middle east, and she were setting sail for a religious mission in South America. Turns out, they only lived about a minute's walk between each other. Oh wow, two separate buildings! So far away from each other; I wonder when they'll get the chance to be together once again?! Perhaps five minutes later where they engage in more public nookie and rub it in the faces of the rest of us. Later that evening after I got over that initial shock, I was walking to the carryout in the adjoined building to get some roadkill (aka "caf food") only to glance through a window at some slutty chick and her geeky boyfriend making out in the stairwell. I hate these people. Maybe I'm just bitter because my boyfriend is about 1500 miles away, can't be with me, and I'm sick of having it rubbed in my face by a bunch of people who only care about jumping in the sack later on, and scrumping until their gizmos are raw. Who are only in the relationship for the chance to show off their "trophy" significant other, and say "lookie lookie, I'm getting some tonight, and you're all losers"...they all can go to hell, and take their filthy perverted public displays with them.
Posted by ladyx at 02:16 AM | Comments (1)
January 15, 2001
Well...
Apparently, this site sucks. It's below good. It's worse then subpar. It's horrible. You get the idea.
But, you think rants write themselves? NO! It would be easier for me if they did, but they don't. Which is probably why I don't post much. Not that anybody cares. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Cry me a river, build me a bridge, and get over it.
You should be thankful that you even have this brief glimpse into my mind.
Or thankful that this is all you are provided with. Either or, I guess.
By the way: Go Vikings!
Posted by bard at 09:24 PM | Comments (0)
Well...
Apparently, this site sucks. It's below good. It's worse then subpar. It's horrible. You get the idea.
But, you think rants write themselves? NO! It would be easier for me if they did, but they don't. Which is probably why I don't post much. Not that anybody cares. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Cry me a river, build me a bridge, and get over it.
You should be thankful that you even have this brief glimpse into my mind.
Or thankful that this is all you are provided with. Either or, I guess.
By the way: Go Vikings!
Posted by bard at 09:24 PM | Comments (0)
January 10, 2001
The Frailty of Life and the Vainness of the Blog
Last night a tragedy occurred. A death, two deaths actually, that helped me to come to the cathartic realization that life is a very fragile, frail and fleeting gift. It makes me feel narcissistic to think that you want to waste these fleeting moments of your own life reading my pointless blog. Why you would choose to share in my tragedy and not go out and smell the roses is beyond me, but go ahead and read the rest if you must...I promise I won't use any more "ten-dollar words" like "cathartic" & "narcissistic". Put your dictionary down! Seriously, I said put it down! No, no!! Don't throw it at the screen! That hurts damnit!
The tragedy occurred at around 10:00 last night when I was cleaning my 2 betta bowls (a weekly ritual..and a betta is a fish by the way, one of those big Siamese fighting fish). I cleaned one, Jake, and returned him to my room, he acted normal, so I went back to the bathroom to clean the other and then it happened. A tragedy unlike no other.
As soon as I added Pumpkin, the fish, to his new water bowl he swam to the bottom and right up to the top, stuck his head out of the water, took a "gasp" of air (bettas are one of the few fish that can actually breath air) and died. Right there in front of me. A million questions raced through my mind, "Did I de-chlorinate the water" "Was it the right temperature?" "Did I get soap in it?", none of them seemed to reveal any answers. I went back into my room to get a net (I wanted to make sure he was dead) and then I saw Jake also floating, DEAD. The horror!
The only conclusion I can come to is the water, which I had about 8 glasses of before I cleaned the bowls, somehow poisoned them. There's no other explanation in my mind. This probably means I'm going to die soon. If so, thanks for reading my ramblings and partaking in my vainness! Actually, isn't this piece of crap entry the epitome (oops, I know I promised, no more ten-dollar words) of my vainness? To actually think that anyone would want to read about the death of my fish? Pfffffffflllt. I told you the blog was vain and that life was to short to read it didn't I? You didn't listen to me! Don't blame me for wasting your time because you were warned buddy!
I guess you figured, since I'll be dead soon, it would be nice to humor me. Thanks! It was nice to know you and since this is probably my lassssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss . . . Just kidding. I'm not dead yet. Anyone know where to buy cheap bottled water?
Posted by vixen at 08:24 AM | Comments (0)
January 06, 2001
SEX!
One of my on-line friends (we'll call him Lesty to keep it anonymous <waves to Lesty who knows this URL, although I doubt he checks it. Apparently we don't exactly fall into his favorite reading category>) recently said to me "Oh, here's a journal of interest" and then quoted pages of this chick's sex diary and said "I really like this diary because she talks about sex and asks for advice". So is that what it takes to sell this thing? Talk of sex? Well here you go then! You can learn all about my wants and desires and how to please me. Be a sex god and read on!
For starters, in order to please a woman like myself you need not talk of sex non-stop. As a matter of fact, don't ever bring it up (pun intended). As for thinking that comparing female masturbation to tickling is a clever analogy, ick ick ick ick ick ick ick ick ick. In other words, I would rather NEVER EVER EVER EVER think of my female friends masturbating or tickling or whatever the hell they do in the privacy of their own rooms. That is one the reasons they call it privacy. Same goes for male friends. If one of them came up to me and said "Hey there, I just masturbated five minutes ago, you want to have lunch?" I would run in horror and lock myself in a storm cellar somewhere.
What is it about guys and masturbation? They all seem to think we girls get aroused by their "problem" (and yes boys, some of you do have a problem). Let me take you back to yesteryear (ok, a few months ago) when some guy had a loud discussion behind me in class about him getting his little thing going while he was asleep. He mentioned loudly how turned on his girlfriend was by it. .. Please! Come on. First of all, sharing this with 50 people is just sick and secondly, I'm sure she was really really turned on by the fact that you paid more attention to your hand than to her. On second thought, if he were my boyfriend I might be somewhat aroused by the fact that he wasn't bothering me. Maybe then I could flee the bedroom and the country without any messy break-ups.
Guys, drop it! If you do it, that's great and fine. I really don't care and I'm sure it's perfectly healthy. However, don't share! Don't talk about it class. Don't brag about it online. Don't TALK ABOUT IT AT ALL. It's not a turn on for us like it is for you. Yes guys, I know, all girls know. The talk of a girl doing the same thing makes you all hot and heavy....how can it not have the same effect when a guy talks about it to a girl? Here's the reason: Most of you are hormone driven horndogs obsessed with the female body. We aren't all that obsessed with yours. Don't get me wrong, a nice sweaty naked man shining elegantly in the moon light is a fine thing, but look down a bit boys. It's not a pretty site. The thought of it doesn't fill me with glee and happiness.
Oh well, I lost my train of thought. I'll give more sex advice in a later entry I'm sure, but right now I'm just really pissed at the guys who sat behind me in class. I guess in closing I'll simply say, leave what you do in your bedroom between you and whoever you do with. For the sake of all humanity!! Have a nice day :-p
Posted by vixen at 06:43 AM | Comments (0)
January 01, 2001
On the Edge of Insanity
It's time to make a new entry in the weblog. I'm out of ideas! I considered doing some more cheesy poetry or writing a biting review of people who forget to write rants for this page (and I don't mean anyone in particular here
To contribute even more to my ever decreasing sanity, I've called them everyday this week. They appear to be closed but I still hold out hope that I can and will actually graduate someday (I just need ONE more class...rat bastards. I know I'm wonderful and great and a pleasure to have around, but they don't have to try to force me to stay in that godforsaken Uni forever!!).
On with the story, I called again today and hallelujah! Someone answered the phone. Granted, it wasn't really a person, it was a recording that said "all registration faculty are busy with other students. Please hold. Your call is important to us...blah blah blah." So I held and listened to some cheesy elevator music and held and held (occasionally getting harassed by the same voice "all faculty are still busy with other students. Please continue holding") and held and held and held...I had the strange feeling I was talking to AOL tech support or trying to get in touch with Compaq's help-line. After about three hours, the same annoying man (and I swear, if I ever see him around the uni, I'm going to kick him in the head. I now officially *hate* this man even though he did nothing to me but record a message) said "We're sorry. The office is closed. Please call back later."
What the HELL?? They put me on hold for three hours just to inform me that the office is closed. You know, one of my teachers once said I had all the making of a serial killer. I used to wonder what exactly she meant by that and what the hell I did to her to cause her to say such a thing. However, now I believe she is a great judge of character because today I was thinking I just might go up to the admission office and kick some major ass...however since the office is closed it'd probably be a waste of time. But hey, maybe I could get into the registration computers and sign up for class.
Registration is open again Monday. I just know the two fun classes (photography and painting) I've ever taken in my entire college career are going to be full. Serves me right for looking forward to taking a class. I should just stick with Organic Chemistry, Advanced Phonetics & Biometry.
Posted by vixen at 06:17 AM | Comments (0)