Geek Joy

I used SSH to access my hosting account, then went into MySQL and figured out the command line syntax to specify the source file for a database I needed to recreate, in order to circumvent the host’s upload file size limits!

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Art Imitates Life II

Sweet ride…

That’s Life

Battled it out with my son in The Game of Life, and accrued over $350,000 before I even got married (which has to be some kind of house record–  the tornado sent me back to start and I discovered uranium twice, plus I got an inheritance)–  only to have him STEAL $200,000 of it away from me through a double act of Revenge.  I got even, though:  after he beat me to Millionare Acres, I won the game on that lame-ass Millionaire Tycoon rule, by betting everything I had on #4 and hitting it when I spun.

What?

The Son King

Jack (assessing the diplomatic status of the city-state of Tyre):  It says they’re Hostile.

Ace: That doesn’t mean they’re hostile to you.  They’re hostile to everyone.

Jack: I am everyone.

Ace: Oh ho!  (laughs) L’état, c’est moi, huh?

As Well It Should

Apparently Buddy Hackett screaming “NOW HERBIE! NOWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!” in the Disney live-action film “The Love Bug” has made into my son’s long-term quote bank.

Playing The Legend of Zelda: Spirit Tracks

Jack:  [squints at rail map with indications of moving enemies]  “Nnnnnh…  That may not end well.”

[pushes Save Game button]

—

Ace:  “I’m not gonna blow the whistle.  Screw the whistle!  You want a hero who knows how to blow the whistle, or you want a hero who knows how to blow it up??”

The Legend Of Zelda: Spirit Tracks

Drawing the path the boomerang takes with a stylus! And on a freeze-framed screen, no less!

Today’s kids have it so easy. :D

The Legend of Zelda: the Wind Waker

It’s Going Around

Wow…  Never heard the Economic Advisor on Civ 5 use the phrase “pissed off” before…

SL: Total Raving Geekfest

This is a shot of the lounge in the “Doctor Who Zone” at the New London sim, during the broadcast of the Davros radio play.  (You really have to click on the 1500 x 2000 version to appreciate it.)

Only…  wait a minute!  Who’s that over there in the corner?…

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!  Sooooooooooooo busted…

Well, Yes

“She speaks English!”

–Jack, on being addressed by Queen Elizabeth I in the diplomacy screen of Civilization 5

Still Alive

She’s baaaaaaaaaack…

Parenting

It’s good for Jack to be able to kick around Ahnonay with Dragonia and I.  Just as long as we make it back to Sealand for dinner, and a reasonable bedtime.

Car Jewelry

Pigbristles’ comment on Tainted:

I don’t know about Gloria, but my bike always responded well to bling. To make up for pinching her #2 carb boot, I replaced the the boring black ABS side panels with carbon-fiber. She’s been lovey-dovey ever since!  But maybe Gloria’s more of a “spa type” – you might go for the full detail, that might get you back in her good graces.  You can’t put it off though – otherwise, the next thing you know you’ll be into her for a new set of alloy rims or something!  (Oh, and get the O2 sensor fixed, too!)

I’d totally go for the detailing if I knew a place around here I thought I could trust to do a good job and not fleece me.  She’s overdue for just a wash, after toughing it out through her first Sealand winter.  Back in the fall I was washing her by hand, with Jack’s help;  then Flora’s freaking son-in-law ripped the hose off the side of the house and turned off the water to the spigot.  New landlord hasn’t replaced it, or turned it back on.

The Empress did get her those Union Jack valve stems for my birthday (kinda like earrings).  That went a long way.  And I’ve been threatening to take her back in to the dealer and have white bonnet stripes put on her since the day I got her.  (She came with alloy rims.)  Gotta spread the love around, though.  Dragonia needs bling, too!  ;)

As for the O2 sensor:  the diagnosis was “277x”:  “high pressure fuel pump fault, causing misfires across all cylinders & engine stall out”.  The techs removed and reinstalled the intake ducts, and replaced the pump, and she was good to go–  all for free, since she’s still under warranty.  That was particularly delicious, as D’s car had just stalled out the night before, and she feared a malfunction in the fuel pump, and a costly repair.  But it was actually just out of gas, and there was nothing mechanically wrong with it.  So it’s kinda like I got to take the bullet for her.

(You know, I’m a “spa-type”…)

Goodnight, Lucky

The virtual world of There shut down last week.  (Great name;  hell on one’s syntax, I realize as I type.)  I had an avatar within it, although that was something I never mentioned in this space;  I was logging into it frequently for a little while, then stopped because of the real life events associated with the death of my father, and because I began to feel very keenly the absence of my closer friends from Myst Online: Uru Live, most of whom had gone to Second Life.  But I always enjoyed the time I spent there.   It had certain conventions that appealed to me, ones that I felt made it more accessible and appealing than SL, at least in the short term.  I’m sorry to see it go.

I logged in one last time before the shutdown, after almost a year and a half of absence, for what most people would consider a very strange reason.  My avatar within the world, you see, had owned a dog:  a sort of comical, Muppet-looking golden retriever named “Lucky”.  I had been intermittently troubled over the time of my absence by the idea that Lucky was somehow continuing to have an existence apart from me, and was alone there;  waiting faithfully for me to return, yet not having any idea that I never intended to.   The thought of him going to whatever his final reward was locked in that state was too much, so essentially, I went back to say goodbye.  I rezzed him out of his doghouse, let him run around and played with him, petted him, fed him a few treats I still had left in my inventory (while I drank a mug of spiced coffee I still had left likewise.)  I had intended to Delete him myself, but there was no way to do that;  my only option was to “return” him to There Central, receiving in exchange a fraction of the purchase price I had paid for him, which felt unspeakably tawdry.  So at the end, I just petted him again, and put him back in his doghouse, and told myself that he was asleep, and content.

You’re laughing.  I know you are.  (Or maybe just shaking your head.)  Why?  Are you sure that you’re any more real than he is?

Who’ll come to see you the day before the world ends?  And who will remember you the day after it does?