Vickiepedia

Torn between finishing typing the blog entry on porn and starting to write one of the eight university essays due on various dates within the next 7 weeks, I compromised by doing neither, but made Vickiepedia look more or less the same on IE5, IE5.5 and Firebird 0.7 as well instead. Yeah, the site should now work on those browser versions.

I can’t quite decide whether I love or hate you, Vickie, you moron.

Stuck with Australia’s wonderful metred bandwidth, about to bust this month’s cap, forced self to surf during offpeak i.e. midnight, brain too tired to function, doing research on porn for upcoming blog entry, downloaded porn from non-usual sources, saw a .exe, heard Brain say, “You no give me rest, I no make you judgement.” Whatever that meant. Ran .exe, watched anti-virus try to block and remove virus in vain, adrenaline rush, jaw dropped to floor.

Vickie: What the fuck, Brain?
Brain: What the fuck, Vickie?

Regained composure, googled for fix, downloaded fix, rebooted computer in safe mode, blurry, blurry, blurry, blurry, fell asleep on chair, drooled.

Woke up to a computer free of virus, unused drivers removed, registry cleaned up, beautifully defragged. Blinked.

Vickie: … What the fuck, Brain?!
Brain: What the fuck, Vickie.

Up next some day: the entry on porn that I downloaded a virus for.

Oh but if it’s a shopping blog entry of yours truly, it’d be chock-full of geeky goodness! (And funny how I sneered at the “it’d be cool if there were more images in the blog” comment from a person who didn’t read a single word, and now 3 consecutive entries with images, huh.)

(read more…)

(1) New LCD Monitor Diablos
(2) Poor Laptop Diablos (senior citizen)
(3) Cammie Diablos the webcam
(4) AMD 64-Bit Diablos (teh l33t… or something)
(5) Scanner Diablos
(6) ! I’m my biggest and most loyal reader.
(7) Try not to look here.

Now the only question remains: How the hell do I carry the whole Diablos family on the plane?

Okay, it’s final. As much fun it is having your cubicle around tech people so you could enjoy their frequent geek talks, computer guys officially freak me out. Freak the shit out of me, even — and literally, considering I had to go to poop when I started to type the entry. </too much information>

Back in the days when I was still doing my A-Levels in the UK, there was this computer guy named Sam a.k.a. only remembered his name because of my old blog post and his whatever his name was, too lazy to look up buddy, who always walked past me with creepy smiles (the guy-equivalent girlish giggles?) as if they knew all my dirty little secrets. And they well did. Ever since that particular incident, I’ve been rather sceptical about computer guys as normal people, as non-weirdos.

For the past half a year, the two computer guys from work had proven my mistrust nonsensical. They were warm, easy to get along, fun people who didn’t seem to be anything like Sam and his buddy. But then there’s always but then; I completely forgot that they’re still computer guys, that computer guys have all your surfing logs.

“Lean forward?” one of them said to the other as he glanced over at his fellow colleague’s screen during lunch.

Riiight.