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dragonlady7So. For my birthday I asked Z to buy me a used laptop. I've wanted a tiny shiny iBook forever, and I finally just gave him the money and the specs. It arrived yesterday, and I've been playing with it for a few hours now. It is tiny. I named it Snork because I couldn't think of anything better at the moment.
It is cute, but the power supply is frayed, and I think that is mad ghetto. Z is going to talk to them about it. I mean, sure, it's a used laptop, but um, there are little frayed bits of silver wire sticking out of the plug thingy. Not exactly cute.
Other than that it's got a fabulous battery life and perfectly reasonable processor and memory speeds, for my standards. Granted I tend to turn the screen brightness down to get longer life out of laptops, but still, it was doing pretty well.
I'm less excited about it than I thought I'd be. I think it's because I really don't have time to be excited. I've been away for almost all of my days off for the last month or more. I haven't even caught up on all the comments on my Livejournal since July. So I'm really not in a computer kinda place at the moment, which is a bummer. I have tomorrow off, thank Heavens-- I couldn't sleep last night and so I'm groggy as hell today, and if I didn't have a 'weekend' to look forward to, I don't think I could make it through today. But I do, so I'll live.
Went out last night with Z's coworkers-- one of them is leaving, and so we all met at Cecilia's, a martini bar downtown, for 2-for-1 martini night. It was a lot of fun. I finally met the paper's publisher. This man knows everyone in Buffalo, and so Z, for amusement's sake, brought up a rumor he'd heard from a friend that one of the popular coffeehouses on Elmwood had changed management and had begun systematically firing all its gay staff on various pretexts. Z hadn't even finished his sentence and the publisher had his cellphone out and was calling the coffee shop's owner. He tried four or five different numbers, including most likely the man's cellphone (leaving a message that consisted solely of the man's name, a brief pause, and his own last name). Z laughed and said well it wasn't that important-- he'd sort of expected some opinion on the topic followed by perhaps a follow-up email the next morning, but the publisher, quite rightly, said that it was either a disgusting truth or an absolutely vicious rumor and either way it was imperative to track it immediately to its source.
Which is why his newspaper has been in business over fifteen years now, I guess.
I had been pleased, yesterday evening, to hear that the damage from the hurricane seemed to be much less than predicted, but by this morning they've got more details and it sounds like it is bad after all. That sucks-- some damage to the levees occurred last night after I stopped paying attention, I guess, because of the preponderance of rainwater after all. But it does seem New Orleans is still there. Of course now begins the really miserable time, now that the storm is over and there's nothing (like imminent catastrophic death, perhaps) to distract the survivors from precisely how miserable they are and how they may well die anyway. So that sucks.
I had a lot of very clever and highly amusing thoughts that I was going to blog last night, but I realized even at the time that they were mostly fueled by vodka, and wouldn't survive the transition from thoughts to words. So I lay there thinking them and amusing myself, and they're all gone now. I did get quite tipsy last night, rather to my distress-- martinis are strong drinks, no doubt, but I only had three, and it kept me silly for hours. Z only had two martinis, but the first was just a big ol pot of gin, so he was in little better shape. We wandered off down the strip and had falafel for dinner elsewhere, but even after eating I was still rather tipsy, to my astonishment. I don't know-- it's a long time since I drank much.
I don't remember if I caught up and mentioned my weekend with my sisters anywhere, and how much fun I had, but I'll state for the record that it was a good time. Didn't get as much done as I'd hoped, but a good time.
Z was mostly disappointed that I didn't score any pot while I was down there. Everyone knows college kids are potheads. Z looks like a pothead and has decided that if I'm gardening indoors this winter, we totally ought to grow our own pot. And I did find out where to score pot in Ithaca, including seeds, but didn't actually remember to do so. So, bummer-- we'll have to remain not-potheads instead. I'm not going to mail-order. And vodka's plenty for me, apparently.
Oh, the fancy martinis-- I had a Vodka Americano, which was excellent, but really if you break it down it was just a black russian using Starbucks Coffee Liqueur instead of Kahlua, and vanilla vodka instead of plain, and served up instead of on the rocks. It was good, definitely, but took me over half an hour to order because the place was busy. Which highlights the downside of martini bars-- it takes for-fucking-ever to make that kind of drink, and you can only do a few at a time, which meant that the staff of chiselled, attractive Italian men all had to carefully ignore anyone whose order they weren't ready to take, which meant a bit of an annoyed atmosphere at the bar. I amused myself with the middle-aged women I was between while waiting-- seeing how far down I could pull my shirt and still be ignored, etc.
It was fun to dress up and go out, and Z's coworkers were all amusing. I wore the new black brocade knee-length pleated skirt I got at Old Navy (my sole frivolous purchase), and a bright red top I've had forever, and I rather think I looked foxy, although there's a nagging doubt in the back of my mind that suggests perhaps I looked a bit frumpy. I do tend to look frumpy. That red top is cute but sort of too short, which makes me look shortwaisted, and too wide around the short waist, which makes me look busty and square-shaped. I should learn to sew and alter the damn thing.
The bras I ordered myself for my birthday (and for which my mom sent me a check that covers about half the order, much to my pleasure; so really, they're sort of from her) still have not arrived, which makes me sad.
I am so very sleepy. I woke at 3:30 last night, and couldn't sleep, so I read some of my old fanfic writings. Cute. I finally fell asleep again around 5, and I'm just tired now. Work will be so awesome it'll, well, suck. On that note, i suppose I'll finish this post, which was a particularly unravelled sort of stream of consciousness.
It is cute, but the power supply is frayed, and I think that is mad ghetto. Z is going to talk to them about it. I mean, sure, it's a used laptop, but um, there are little frayed bits of silver wire sticking out of the plug thingy. Not exactly cute.
Other than that it's got a fabulous battery life and perfectly reasonable processor and memory speeds, for my standards. Granted I tend to turn the screen brightness down to get longer life out of laptops, but still, it was doing pretty well.
I'm less excited about it than I thought I'd be. I think it's because I really don't have time to be excited. I've been away for almost all of my days off for the last month or more. I haven't even caught up on all the comments on my Livejournal since July. So I'm really not in a computer kinda place at the moment, which is a bummer. I have tomorrow off, thank Heavens-- I couldn't sleep last night and so I'm groggy as hell today, and if I didn't have a 'weekend' to look forward to, I don't think I could make it through today. But I do, so I'll live.
Went out last night with Z's coworkers-- one of them is leaving, and so we all met at Cecilia's, a martini bar downtown, for 2-for-1 martini night. It was a lot of fun. I finally met the paper's publisher. This man knows everyone in Buffalo, and so Z, for amusement's sake, brought up a rumor he'd heard from a friend that one of the popular coffeehouses on Elmwood had changed management and had begun systematically firing all its gay staff on various pretexts. Z hadn't even finished his sentence and the publisher had his cellphone out and was calling the coffee shop's owner. He tried four or five different numbers, including most likely the man's cellphone (leaving a message that consisted solely of the man's name, a brief pause, and his own last name). Z laughed and said well it wasn't that important-- he'd sort of expected some opinion on the topic followed by perhaps a follow-up email the next morning, but the publisher, quite rightly, said that it was either a disgusting truth or an absolutely vicious rumor and either way it was imperative to track it immediately to its source.
Which is why his newspaper has been in business over fifteen years now, I guess.
I had been pleased, yesterday evening, to hear that the damage from the hurricane seemed to be much less than predicted, but by this morning they've got more details and it sounds like it is bad after all. That sucks-- some damage to the levees occurred last night after I stopped paying attention, I guess, because of the preponderance of rainwater after all. But it does seem New Orleans is still there. Of course now begins the really miserable time, now that the storm is over and there's nothing (like imminent catastrophic death, perhaps) to distract the survivors from precisely how miserable they are and how they may well die anyway. So that sucks.
I had a lot of very clever and highly amusing thoughts that I was going to blog last night, but I realized even at the time that they were mostly fueled by vodka, and wouldn't survive the transition from thoughts to words. So I lay there thinking them and amusing myself, and they're all gone now. I did get quite tipsy last night, rather to my distress-- martinis are strong drinks, no doubt, but I only had three, and it kept me silly for hours. Z only had two martinis, but the first was just a big ol pot of gin, so he was in little better shape. We wandered off down the strip and had falafel for dinner elsewhere, but even after eating I was still rather tipsy, to my astonishment. I don't know-- it's a long time since I drank much.
I don't remember if I caught up and mentioned my weekend with my sisters anywhere, and how much fun I had, but I'll state for the record that it was a good time. Didn't get as much done as I'd hoped, but a good time.
Z was mostly disappointed that I didn't score any pot while I was down there. Everyone knows college kids are potheads. Z looks like a pothead and has decided that if I'm gardening indoors this winter, we totally ought to grow our own pot. And I did find out where to score pot in Ithaca, including seeds, but didn't actually remember to do so. So, bummer-- we'll have to remain not-potheads instead. I'm not going to mail-order. And vodka's plenty for me, apparently.
Oh, the fancy martinis-- I had a Vodka Americano, which was excellent, but really if you break it down it was just a black russian using Starbucks Coffee Liqueur instead of Kahlua, and vanilla vodka instead of plain, and served up instead of on the rocks. It was good, definitely, but took me over half an hour to order because the place was busy. Which highlights the downside of martini bars-- it takes for-fucking-ever to make that kind of drink, and you can only do a few at a time, which meant that the staff of chiselled, attractive Italian men all had to carefully ignore anyone whose order they weren't ready to take, which meant a bit of an annoyed atmosphere at the bar. I amused myself with the middle-aged women I was between while waiting-- seeing how far down I could pull my shirt and still be ignored, etc.
It was fun to dress up and go out, and Z's coworkers were all amusing. I wore the new black brocade knee-length pleated skirt I got at Old Navy (my sole frivolous purchase), and a bright red top I've had forever, and I rather think I looked foxy, although there's a nagging doubt in the back of my mind that suggests perhaps I looked a bit frumpy. I do tend to look frumpy. That red top is cute but sort of too short, which makes me look shortwaisted, and too wide around the short waist, which makes me look busty and square-shaped. I should learn to sew and alter the damn thing.
The bras I ordered myself for my birthday (and for which my mom sent me a check that covers about half the order, much to my pleasure; so really, they're sort of from her) still have not arrived, which makes me sad.
I am so very sleepy. I woke at 3:30 last night, and couldn't sleep, so I read some of my old fanfic writings. Cute. I finally fell asleep again around 5, and I'm just tired now. Work will be so awesome it'll, well, suck. On that note, i suppose I'll finish this post, which was a particularly unravelled sort of stream of consciousness.
