the everyday adventures of sabrina

i'm happy, hope you're happy too

Browsing Posts published by sabrina

the world is mine

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sld@sabsbitch ~% rpm -q -a | grep ruby
ruby-1.8.5-gelber.0.1

in the past two weeks, i have built a network install server, set it up to perform automated/unattended installs, and learned how to build my own RPMs so that i can roll out our customized versions of software as a part of that automated install, rather than having to script (or worse, perform manually — shudder) configurations and compilations post-installl. oh, did all that while continuing to do general tech support and some specific applications support for an in-house application.

i am badass. i love my job.

this weekend’s going to be a blur. tomorrow, drive to columbus; saturday, con, then drive to brunswick; sunday, hang out with the craigs’ (and probably get in some good quality omgwhydidthisseasonstinksobad baseball kvetching, wherein i expect all concerned shall insult the twinkies mightily for lo, do they invite it), then drive home. then monday, 0600 shift… and the start of my first week with the pager! my coworker d. has this week solicitously advised me to get all the sleep i can this week, in light of the new night guy’s increased propensity to page versus the old night guy (who has given up his tech support ways and is trading full time). hah, hah, sez i; who needs sleep? by this time next week i may well be living in a hallucinagenic sleep-deprivation-instigated surreality. at least it’ll be colorful.

am confirmed for SP9. hooray! cannot wait. am also confirmed as doing a square for Knit a Square for Grandmother Purl. had thought i had the perfect yarn for that project — a skein of Plymouth Yarn Colorspun worsted — which was one of those yarn purchases where i am not really sure my thought process in buying it was really all that much more involved than “oooooh, pritty colors!” — but at 75% acrylic it’s outside the project’s requirements of all-natural fibers. this is frustrating because basically all my washable natural fibers are either an acrylic/wool blend, or, like, the sock yarn i’m actively turning into a sock right now. i came up with a second stash idea, namely some hunter green lamb’s pride i bought a while ago to make someone a hat (but then later on found i did not wish to invest hat effort and materials on that person, because they were mean to me (in the nutshell first-grader’s condensed version)), but they want washable too, and lamb’s pride isn’t washable. so, hmm. i’ll have to hit up the LYS and find some superwash something or other, i guess. and, dude, the colorspun would have been perfect! dang. oh, yeah, sock. got quality knitting done on the sock last saturday while sitting at the mechanic’s for !!!!FOUR AND A HALF HOURS!!!! getting new tires put on my passat. i mean, not that the tires aren’t awesome, smooth and quiet and they grip the road so much better than my old ones and i don’t squeal as i turn any corner no matter the speed or angle anymore, but, seriously, did i mention FOUR AND A HALF HOURS? ‘cos it was FOUR AND A HALF HOURS. i thought i was going to die there, and they’d come around with my keys to find my dead mummified bones blowing to dust in the wind. holding a half-complete sock. anyways, i finished the heel — MY FIRST HEEL, YAAAY — and got into the, you know, foot part. finished the first ball of yarn and joined a second. got home after FOUR AND A … you know, and tried it on … and the damned thing is way too big. i mean, i could wear it around the house, but, it’d fall down and i’d slip and break my remaining glassware or something. so i have to find a male friend of my acquaintance who wears, hmm, maybe a men’s size 9 or 10 or something, who deserves handmade socks. and who wouldn’t mind that one of them is a little wonky from being the first heel i ever turned, on my own, at a white sox game. actually, no guarantees the other one won’t be a little wonky in its own right. this whole having-to-give-them-to-a-big-footed-boy thing in mind, maybe it’s a good thing i used the blue sock yarn instead of the purple, to learn socks on circs with. because i have a feeling that if they were purple socks i’d have somewhat of a harder time finding someone who wanted them. alas. (also, how cranky am i that i knit off a women’s sock pattern, I HAD GAUGE!!, and they’re too big? what, do i have to make the child’s pattern to get socks for my own feet? i wear size 10s! dang.) in other news, i spent literally about 5 hours uploading stuff to Flickr, then tagging the photos and sorting them into sets, and trying to delete the duplicative or especially crummy photos i’d accidentally uploaded. someone promptly favorited a handful of pictures of kiyoshi. i now entertain myself daily by talking to my cat about his net.stalker. he doesn’t get the joke, but it just never gets old to me (that might be the sleep-deprivation kicking in there), so. anyways, mostly i just wanted to upload old travel photos. so that’s one thing i can chop off the to-do list. i am exercising my flickr pro account to its, well, really, its merest potential. i just don’t take all that many photos. but i did use like 4% of my 2G bandwidth in uploading all that stuff, so, go me! okay. enough rambling on about random nonsense. time to drink more coffee get ready for work. thank god i got some sleep last night, the situation was starting to get desperate.

sigh.

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oh well. there’s always next year, right?

*cries*

the whiteboard of doom

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where i used to work, we had a whiteboard which eventually became covered with a numbered list on comments about making it through the day. (don’t stress too much about the numbering. we didn’t!)

Marinate in Failure!

1. thwart.
2. YAY!
3. Rah!
4. Whee.
5. Feh.
6. Grumble
7. Grumble
8. Grumble
9. Grumble
10. Grumble
11. Grumble grumble
12. Fuck
13. thwart.
14. Fail
15. Make listhost not suck
16. Atone
17. secede from the state
18. Fix it. it sucks.
19. Whinge.
20. Elide whinging.
21. Kvetch
22. FIX IT.
23. Whinge.
24. Surrender.
2019. despair.
2120. we have always been at war with Eastasia.
2221. thwart
23. thwart.
24. weep
25. obstruct!
26. kvetch
27. Ride ’em, cowboy!
28. commit ritual suicide with alcohol
29. celebrate a success to only later realize it was actually a failure that was just lying to you.
30. Backtrack
31. YAY!
32. fail.
33. trouble deaf heaven with bootless cries
34. fall down
35. go boom
36. quote old country songs or Tom Waits, as appropriate
37. Place blame
38. do favors for whoever is complaining
39. Marinate in failure.
40. …and grow tender with flavor!
41. Eventually, fall apart.
42. And mildew.
43. Enumerate
44. Branch
45. Hire more management
46. Scowl.
47. Weep.
47b. sniffle.
48. co-opt
49. bi�re!
50. be resigned.
19. Shit! I forgot what I was going to write!
20. DOCUMENT
21. Flee
22. Come dragging on back
23. Commit ritual suicide w/alcohol
24. Work on someone else’s suck-ass project to avoid your own. Fix it. Yours are all still fuck.
20a. wait
20b. !
20c. wait
21. feh.
22. trifurcate.
23. Comply!
34. dammit.
25. zzz
26. lie
27. Don’t interfere with registration, o-week, finals, midterms, reading period, any time in between, or when the students are gone.
54. bemoan your fate.
55. limit your career options.
56. walk out.
57. come crawling back.
FOAD CPAN!

the reason the numbering is so wacky is that the whiteboard was actually leaning against a wall, sticking out of a box of junk, and when it would shift, we would just shift along with it. this was the work of many months. i don’t know if it’s more a product of the environment, or a product of what the environment did to us specifically.

this is your sysadmin team. this is your sysadmin team on drugs. any questions?

not defeated yet

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i admit it. last night, the game stunk. i mean, seriously, y’all. i don’t know what it was, but there was a bad vibe in the air. the crowd was eerily silent other than ambient quiet chitchat noise through at least the second or third inning. in the third, aliens froze time for a moment, long enough to scoop up jon garland and replace him with a substandard facsimile. and someone screwed up the memo to the dugout that said “please let’s not strand runners on base,” by leaving out the word “not.” and on top of that, it was so frigging cold that the beer guys were not running around with “CO-OLD BEE-EAH!” but instead with styrofoam cups of hot chocolate (16 oz, $2.75). i spent most of the second half like many of those around me, curled up into as tiny a heat-conserving blob as i could make myself, and sighing unhappily (and texting other friend-fans) about the game.

i got disgusted enough with the doom-and-gloominess that at paulie’s second at-bat (or so) i hollered “LET’S GO PAUUUUUUUUUULIIIIIIIIIIIIIE” as loud as i could (despite how embarassing it was to be the only fishwife in right field), which as those who have watched baseball with me can testify is (a) loud and (b) heartfelt. i like paulie. (i also just really like saying “paulie,” because for some reason i always say it like i’m from new jersey. i have no idea why. PAUUUUUUUUUWWWWWLIIIIE!) a few other fans followed suit. nonetheless, it was an eerily quiet night. the only times the fans really got excited were when booing maggs (who really, seriously, dude, needs a frigging haircut), our too-few homers, or when they were doing one of those stupid games on the jumbotron like “which connie’s pizza can outrun the others.” (NEWSFLASH, SOX FANS: pizzas don’t run, no matter how anthropomorphic. sheesh.) maybe it’s just that things haven’t been the same without nancy playing organ for night games, but … i think the fans are done for the season. that was sad. i will say this about detroit: their fans were very well mannered. also, they were approximately ten billion times less jackassy than the yankees fans in the house during that last series. i’d invite a liger fan into my house over a damn yankees fan any day. (though, really, that doesn’t take much effort to guess, i suppose.) anyways, this article — Let’s say it’s won, done for Sox (CST) is ostensibly about giving up hope. let me save you the read: it enumerates all the reasons we are fantastic, complains about how the twins and detroit aren’t as awesome as us, then mourns the fact that we’re not in first place and throws its metaphorical hat on the floor and stomps on it in sulky disgust, in which we Constant Readers are presumably supposed to join it. but actually, reading the article … it was a bit of a reminder of all the reasons why i love my guys. because we are awesome. okay, there’s no denying that we have been frustratingly inconsistent since shortly before the all-star break, and the starting pitching has only been something to write home about if you were writing from the lunatic asylum where you were working out your bipolar disorder. there’ve been errors, ten thousand stranded runners, bad calls by base coaches, and failed attempts to steal bases. but there’s also been a hell of a lot of really good work done. and you know, sometimes life really does suck and you work hard and do really well but your 95% still earns you a B because some other kid in the class screwed up the curve. doesn’t mean you’re somehow suddenly terrible. just means you that someone else did a little better. besides, even if the worst comes to pass — you know what, coming in third in what was the roughest division in baseball this season, after fighting until the bitter end, is still not exactly chopped liver. no, i won’t be happy if we miss out on the postseason. we are really good, and of course i want to repeat. and if we don’t, it’ll be sad, and i’ll be cranky, and then i’ll have to listen to five months of peanut gallery snarking before i can obsess over spring training next march. (and fyi, twins fans of my acquaintance, don’t even think that i’ll find it amusing to be teased, because i really won’t.) but still, i mean, damn, my guys are good. look at their record. it sucks that we’re not in first place but we still kick ass, and i will brook no dissent.