langwidere: a john uskglass pixelbuddy (i came to my enemies in a RAIN OF QTE)
So, I waitedwaitedwaited patientlypatientlypatiently for Apple to squeeeeeze out that new Mac Mini, and then it finally appeared! Last month! Hooray! I ordered it like this: CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! FAINT! And then it came, and it was the worst computer I have ever seen in my life. It appeared to have been assembled by a committee of those weird, embittered Mac-haters who used to troll Daring Fireball back when it allowed comments. It has no optical drive! The specs are weird! The only included monitor cable is three inches long and 100% useless unless applied to Apple’s new $999 screen! It has four USB ports! It is pointlessly tiny! Why is it so fucking tiny! It’s not like I’m going to be carrying it around! It’s supposed to be a desktop computer, isn’t it! You know, if it were slightly less tiny, you could’ve maybe fit a fucking superdrive in there, couldn’t you! Speaking of which, it has no software component! It relies upon the Magic of the Internet to back stuff up/repair problems, in the event of an inevitable (if you’re me) catastrophe! So let’s imagine a scenario in which I attempt the upload of my 450GB of pure binary shit onto some fantastic ephemeral Apple Data Cloud in the middle of the night as my computer gently weeps, and think of the many exciting new dirty words I will accidentally invent! And what happens when the system wakes up cranky one happy Sunday morning when I am supposed to be vetting thesis topics and it can’t find its start-up disk! Those nakedly grasping brilliant Apple engineers! What a bunch of fucking cards! They should just start selling branded computer cases and let us put the parts in ourselves!

Also, ALSO, I bought the ($77! At Amazon!) Apple-approved optical drive that was supposed to complete the Mini, Cameron Crowe-style, but it had such a short cord I couldn’t even plug it in. Well, I mean, I could plug it in, but it looked like this, and obviously I couldn’t exactly sit the fucker on top of the computer itself. (The wifi antenna-thing is still in the top of the case, right?) Also it ate up one of my four (4) (IV) available USB ports, leaving me with three (3) (III) open USB interfaces and approximately nineteen USB devices, including hubs. Really amazing cool idea, you guys.

MORE COMPUTER DRAMA: CUT FOR LENGTH )

Also, speaking of which, I have been trying to Write Something for the last nine days, and Things Are Not Exactly Going As Smoothly As Expected. So, rather than wangsting tenaciously over that (MY BRAIN CANNOT CONTINUE COCKBLOCKING ME FOREVER, CORRECT? I MEAN, EVENTUALLY AFTER MANY YEARS I WILL HAVE TO DIE OR SOMETHING?) I thought I would do that thing I do where I write strange long whiny ‘reviews’ of movies everybody else saw eighteen months ago. And that’s what I did: Ta-da!

I WATCHED PRETTY MUCH ANY NON-ROMCOM MOVIE I COULD FIND ON MY TEEVEE LAST MONTH, BUT MY FAVORITE WAS, SPOILERS, INCEPTION, MOSTLY BECAUSE OF THE STARTLING VERISIMILITUDE THAT POWERS ITS NARRATIVE (LET’S ACT LIKE POST-HYPNOTIC SUGGESTION IS SOME KIND OF TERRIFYING LOGISTICALLY-IMPOSSIBLE SCI-FI MANEUVER THAT NOBODY HAS EVER HEARD OF BEFORE, IT’LL BE FUN), AND NOT BECAUSE IT FEATURED A SUGARY ASSORTMENT OF PIPING-HOT SLICES OF MANPIE. THAT IS A TRUE STORY. AND ALSO NOT BECAUSE I THOUGHT LEONARDO DICAPRIO’S PERSISTENTLY IRRITATING CHARACTER WAS NAMED ‘DUMB COB,’ FOR A WHILE. THAT’S A TRUE STORY TOO. NOTE: CONTAINS NSFL MANGU PORN. )

That was really long! Probably I should post more often, so there’s less chance of these huge tumescent word-monsters escaping unchecked into the unwary wilderness.

Lastly: CONGRATULATIONS YOUR THIRTEE WON TOO!

Now I am going to go address my e-mail situation. (“HELLOOOOOO, E-MAIL SITUATION!”)

cf.

ETA: UGH THIS FUCKING POST. DID DREAMWIDTH'S HTML EDITOR SPONTANEOUSLY GROW SOME STANDARDS IN JULY OR SOMETHING?
langwidere: a john uskglass pixelbuddy (i came to my enemies in a RAIN OF QTE)
It transpires that I was somewhat busy this week, so no Sherlock for you. (Also I lost my Sherlock links; I’m pretty sure they’re around here someplace, though, cough.) Next week!

Instead, I submit to you these articles of wank, which I’ve been saving for Valentine’s Season:











1. Ew. I am not judging the book, which looks just as stupid and boring as every other book on this topic — but, I am a little worried about the ad copy, which seems to think that I am romantically desperate, fourteen, and possessed of a very short attention span.
2. Double ew. I am choosing to believe that this one is guerilla satire.

So remember, girls: Stay away from obscenely over-processed, prepackaged junk food/poison and try to maintain a strong, healthy, and athletic physique so that you will be appealing to "boys." (What "boys"? Where are these "boys"? Who are they? Presumably they are Morris Chestnut and Thelma & Louise Brad Pitt.) Because on the fucking internet it’s 1954, and the greatest psychological wound a woman could ever receive is failing to be regarded by strangers as a sex symbol. I know that these people are probably teenagers or in their very early twenties, and therefore biologically obligated to be retarded, but I am kind of offended that their obvious and twatty desire to be fap-objects is being treated as though it is an up-with-diversity, feminist grievance. Ugh. UGH.

Also I am not completely sure that any little girl would ever independently decide that she had to look like Barbie, who resembles a barrel-chested, tanned praying mantis, in order to be loved. Nor am I convinced that little boys find Barbies sexually attractive, yuck. I think that, left to their own devices, most little kids would just want to chew on Barbie’s rubbery feet. That’s what I remember doing with Barbie, most of the time.

And you aren’t allowed to be upset when your nicotine-inflected, drunk boyfriend cheats on you anymore? Really? Like, really? Because that’s going to be #16 on my 'Why Couldn’t You Make Me A Lesbian Like I Wanted, God? You Couldn’t Just Do That One Thing, Could You?' list.

My links are pretty weak-assed, too:
1. A Wonkette Reagan Beans thing. I know, but the comments are pretty funny.
2. An inspiring D.L. Hughley quote, via constantly-hysterical, horny, semi-literate Australian drama queen Yimmy Yayo (he does post some great landscape/historical/animal photos, though).
3. A deeply pathetic NYT article about the "bias" that exists against "conservatives" in the humanities. HAHAHAHAHA.

I’ll do better next time, coach!
langwidere: i am repulsed by wholesomeness. (no idea but real pretty)
My cat had to have one of her canine teeth pulled. Last Wednesday. The other canine tooth is beginning to loosen, too, and will have to come out sooner or later (let’s hope for "later" — I’m actually hoping to wait until it’s almost out on its own and can be yanked with forceps like the first one, because she is almost fifteen years old and has asthma and I don’t want her sedated unless there’s no other option). Of course, she was fine as soon as she got out of the cat carrier when we came from the vet’s office, and I spent four days crying intermittently because I love her to pieces and the only heirloom bequeathed to me by my bevy of Irish-American ancestors is the Sentimental Weeping Idiot gene. (The rest of her teeth are, to quote the vet, "fantastic for fifteen." So, that’s weird, probably, but really good? Please?)

Anyway. So, I still have people’s Christmas presents sitting on the piano. In the future I will invent some kind of new Christmas/Valentine’s Day hybrid celebration in order to clear my conscience in these sorts of situations. I was able to upgrade most of the cards, however. ♥

Loooooooong post. )

SOME LINKS, FOR JESUS BETTY FRIEDAN:
1. This Paul Krugman story is hilariously topped with the words "Can Europe Be Saved?" (implication: no!!!!), but it’s actually about the ill-considered adoption of the Euro. It is not interesting, but if you like that sort of thing it could be useful, potentially.
2. This is the very hilarious review of 43’s awesome novel Decision Points, by the London Review of Books. I just now noticed it exists, because it was linked by Wonkette. I am not up in the London Review of Books on the regular.
3. From The Guardian, a piece on the fiction/internets ouroboros which I have not yet finished reading myself.


These are better screenshots of my new boyfriend, who looks, upon close inspection, like he wandered out of Labyrinth, limping, after David Bowie was finished with him. I hope he will be named something like 'Valumphis Stagne.'

This season of American Idol is too boring even for my granny.

On the other hand, this is very funny.
ETA link, because the iframe wouldn’t load.

I recently learned that I am the last person in all the world who downloads fansubs. I think this is because I originally visited Crunchyroll back when it was staffed by, I surmised, photosynthetic multi-celluar plant-people who were heroically fansubbing Naruto despite the fact that they lacked formal brain structures and spoke neither English nor Japanese — and I had my delicate sensibilities offended to an extreme degree. Also, I am not paying for fansubs. Ahaha! HAHAHA! What? Really? Are you kidding me? People are paying for fansubs? Voluntarily? Why? You kids today, with your fancy bullet trains and your Lawrence Welk records and your super-sweet iced tea.

Is that it? I think that’s it.

Next week: Sherlock! Probably. (And the Kindle.)
langwidere: i am repulsed by wholesomeness. (Default)
I haven’t been online much, because I am reevaluating my life. No, not like that, sadly. Like: I would like to cut down on work, forcing me as it does to have far too much contact with our nation’s youth — but this would require me to change some budget-related things in my life, i.e., new, cheaper health insurance. Which I’m looking into. Also it’s been hard to get that lovin’ feeling for the internets recently, for some reason (which is probably related to the weather). I tend to go mostly offline around this time of year, only to return in late summer when it is way too hot to go outside and do anything useful.

Also I have a nagging feeling that I have some digital correspondence to take care of, but damned if I can remember what it is.

But, I wanted to post something. After a rather depressing process of elimination, here’s what I came up with:

Some now-useless commentary on St. Patrick’s Day! )

As for me? I think St. Patrick was a rat-bastard, if he actually existed, and I’d take a field full of imaginary ophidian pagans* over his lame holy ass any day. But on St. Patrick’s Day I usually just drink a Shamrock Shake or three, and pour one out for Grandma Maudie.


* The de-evilization of paganism does kind of annoy me, though. Because, you know, "paganism" is not a word that actually means anything, and while pagans might have variously anointed lady kings and worshipped female gods of war, fertility and/or chaos, this would not have prevented them from, say, beating and raping the slave girl. So let’s not get too excited about pagans, my ill-informed, madgick-loving friends. They were still just only people.