Claire Brewer: March 2008 Archives
Never thought I'd say that, to be honest; I normally have a miserable time of it. Saturday was spent on Portobello Road, I bought some lovely things in What Katie Did and I bought Rich a secondhand tweed jacket from the market on the Green.
Rah
I should hate Chris Moyles, but I can't help but love the fat hairy git. I can't get' Somerset Boy' out of my head and every time I hear the "are you awlroit, my luvver, are you awlroit?" line, I just have to smile. It's getting to the point that I don't give a rats ass if people on the train in the morning see me grinning and snickering, if they think I'm mad it's ok. I'm just happy.
It's good to smile. I haven't been doing it enough lately but things are improving.
I got wolf whistled at today by a colleague - I'm wearing my work dress today in a bid to boost the old self image - I later asked him to do a work-thang for me and he asked what was in it for him so I said "more leg" and he was happy to comply. :) I feel on top of the world!
...
"The volume LIFSAN1 is back online and running on 10.0.1.2."
Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh.
Shitty crappy Apple software.
...now I'll say it here:
What on earth would possess anyone to spend 6 quid a time over the course of a year, building their own model solar system? I mean you'd have to be fucking mental!
And there's just been an old geezer on the channel4 news with a labret piercing. Cool! There's hope for me yet!
Just installed some more into my new work machine: each pairing has its own board and each module has a heatsink.
I am scared.
Couldn't stop singing this yesterday, alone in the server room it was fun trying to sing above the noise of the fans and the air conditioning. My cold and sore throat has given me a lovely husky voice and it sounded good, hearing my voice. I feel like it's been a long time since I have. Mind you, when I wasn't singing I was swearing at the bloody fibre switches and config. I should go down there more often, just for a bit of a shouting session.
I went swimming this morning. Beckenham is such a shithole that every man and his dog was in that bloody pool at 10am. On a Sunday. I mean who the hell goes swimming on a Sunday morning? Why aren't they shagging or something?
Yes, I am obsessed. That's three mentions in two days. I know. Give me a break, eh?
It's taken bastard hours of shutdowns, startups, restarts and port config faffing where my backup server fibre port was going up and down more times than a whore's drawers. But I fixed it now.
Still should have been in bed shagging though.
it's too bloody early. I should be in bed shagging or something.
Gah.
I just wish I could shake off this illness, it's either hanging around or I keep catching stuff.
My immune system must be taking a battering or something. Work is doing my head in again and I want to find another job, I'm that fed up.
I remember lying in my hotel room, on that sumptuous, hugely comfortable bed in San Francisico, managing to get free wireless from the Apple store that was blocks away and thinking that life was pretty good.
Tonight, I'm lying in my saggy mattressed bed in the travelodge in Cambridge and I can't get jack shit in terms of wireless connections. Oh how times have changed and the mighty have fallen.
But there is Withnail on the telly. Oh Joy.
