Vid ee oh
Democracy + tvRSS = Die, television!
In related news, Google bought YouTube. I exploded.
trauma, paige
The pants I'm wearing don't have any pockets. I asked Kyle to keep my wallet in his bag during class today. Kyle left. I don't have a wallet.
Girl on her cellphone in the elevator:
So she calls me today and asks if I'll help clean up and I'm like, "Clean up what?" and she's like, "All the puke" and I guess I had like thrown up all over her apartment which I totally don't remember at all. . . Yeah, I must have totally blacked out before that happened, which I guess is actually kind of really great because I only remember the good stuff!
I barely left my room this weekend. I've been working on my latest computer project and the current phase is extremely tedious. Briefly:
Intro:
I'm guessing that you, dear reader, are either using Windows or OSX. Well, there's a third thing called Linux. Linux is FREE. It's free both as in speech and as in beer. That is to say, it doesn't cost any money and it's not proprietary/copyrighted/licensed/restricted/closed-source. The problem is, it's not as good. But that's starting to change. There's a new type of Linux called Ubuntu. Ubuntu is fully functional and very easy to use. It's not quite ready to take over the world (e.g., I'm not going to recommend it to my mom yet), but it's getting close. I've been using Ubuntu for about a month now and I'm not looking back.
Problem:
I use iTunes on Windows and when I moved to Ubuntu, I wanted a familiar interface for my music. Linux has a number of iTunes-clones for organizing and playing music. The app I settled on is called Banshee. It imported my music collection just fine, but certain information that I had in iTunes (song ratings, play counts, play lists, &c.) is kept inside of iTunes and therefore wasn't brought into Banshee. Since iTunes is a popular music player, I imagine other first-time Linux users will have this problem too.
Project:
I'm writing a plugin for Banshee that will dig that information out of iTunes an merge it into Banshee. If all goes well, the plugin will import the following:
<key>Name</key><string>Stacey's Mom</string>As you can see, the information we're looking for is very easy to find. I've listened to Stacey's Mom 77 times and it has a rating of 100 (5 stars). Right now, my plugin does a fine job of importing ratings, play counts, last played, and playlists. The next step is to handle smart playlists. Here's where it gets tricky. While the XML data is very easy to read, smart playlists are encoded in binary: 1's and 0's. Here is part of a smart playlist:
<key>Genre</key><string>Rock/Pop</string>
<key>Size</key><integer>7995139</integer>
<key>Total Time</key><integer>198844</integer>
<key>Track Number</key><integer>3</integer>
<key>Track Count</key><integer>16</integer>
<key>Play Count</key><integer>77</integer>
<key>Play Date</key><integer>3242496736</integer>
<key>Rating</key><integer>100</integer>
00000000 00000000 00000000 00010010 00000000That is decidedly more difficult to interpret. Enter the I-haven't-left-my-room-in-two-days factor. So I've spent the last 48 hours creating smart playlists in iTunes and analyzing the bytes that come out. I'm making good headway and it's only a matter of time before I have all of the bits figured out, but the tedium does wear on me.
01000010 00000000 01100101 00000000 01101110
00000000 00100000 00000000 01000110 00000000
01101111 00000000 01101100 00000000 01100100
00000000 01110011 01010011 01001100 01110011
Rabbit rabbit!
"Look at my poofy pants one more time and I kill you, muthafucka!" - William Shakespeare
We will one day tell our grandchildren of such a thing as night
And of a world on which there only ever shone a single sun.
My dinner this evening consisted of two Silver Spur hamburgers. The meal was equivalent to eleven helpings of Grade A beef and the decision will likely cost me a day from the end of my life. I can hear old Scott's death rattle now: "If I only hadn't had those two hamburgers!"
Today was a good day. I. . .
Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo. [1]
One of my more violent urges is to throw the pedestrian in front of me to the ground while screaming, "Move your fucking ass you tourist turd!" I often have this urge. About 20 times a day.
If you fell into a bottomless pit on Earth, your body would reach relativistic speeds after 35 days. Unfortunately you would be dead from dehydration by day 6, at the latest.
Old New York. Back again. I was surprised to find I'd missed the Big Apple. I'm more or less all moved in, but those CollegeBoxes fuckers have fucked their shit up again. I've got a box belonging to another Scott Peterson and I can only assume he has the one I'm missing. Errr!
I've started the Bible. I'll let you know what I think when I'm done.
Last night we (roommate-Nick, Leia and I) went to Limerick and found a gaggle of geriatric women bustin' their movies at Sunday night karaoke. Well I wasn't about to let that opportunity pass me by, so I got out on that dance floor and started shakin' my thang. I'll tell ya, those geese sure could dance.
Classes start in a week.
The glass is half full of air.
Venereal: The Latin adjective form of Venus - God of Love.
Adjective references to the planet use the neologism Venusian.
What you want and what you get haven't loved each other since you were two. They separated for eight months before getting a divorce and now they only speak on holidays. But it's not your fault.
AHHH!HH!H!HH!H!!!111!!!!1!!1
I just got the ALL-TIME-HIGH-SCORE on pinball. Wore yet, I was this close to getting a MILLION MORE for a total of 9.5 mill.
DAMN YOU SANTA!
Played Prey all day. Grade-D story, poor animation, laughable voice acting, but damn the game is fun. And gorgeous to boot.
I delight in greek tragidies, except when they are my own.
This week I'm teaching middle school kids at the Eastview theater camp. In my group of rising 9th graders, there is a kid named Brandon. Brandon is well on the road to tranny-hood. He wears makeup and girls cloths and he makes a rather hot chick. Anyhow, each class (there are four: acting, singing, dance and tech) plays the name game so the teachers can learn everyone's name. There are many variations on the name game, but my favorite flavor is: "Hi, I'm [name] and I like [verb that starts with the same letter as name]." For example, "Hi, I'm Scott and I like swingdancing [begin swingdancing]." Now you try!
At the end of the day, all of the teachers congregate and discuss how things went. I was sitting next to Kevin. Kate (on the choir staff) was mentioning a small issue that came up during the name game. They were playing noun rules ("Hi, I'm [name] and I like [noun with same letter]") and the game came 'round to Brandon: "Hi I'm Brandon and I like boys." Then some jackass kid made a comment under his breathe. "Well Kate," I said to Kate, "that's why you should play verb rules. Then you're good unless he has the balls to say, 'I'm Brandon and I like butt sex' and starts thrusting." Then, as we're all cracking up, Kevin doubles over to reveal little six-year-old Casy sitting opposite in the circle, previously obscured by Kevin's huge head. Oops.
"Uh, hey Casy."
"Hi."
"You're cool, right Casy?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah ya are."
I am a force of corruption.
I'm doing lots of cave tours. Theater camp starts next week. "The Omen" sucked more balls than a Taiwanese hooker on speed. I have a new obsession: South Park.
A behavioral observation: during the frequent discussion with my father over my lack of summer employment, I rarely have a leg of dignity on which to stand. Without any personal power, I defer my arguments to what I consider to be the stainless deity of Logic. For instance:
Dad: "You understand that your employment this summer determines your financial situation next year."
I nod
Dad: "And you know that you won't have any money for making purchases or paying your cellphone bill."
Me: "Dad, your first statement was completely accurate: 'employment determines financial situation.' But in your second statement you blindly assume that (1) Subway won't call me back, (2) the money I make at the caves will be entirely trivial, and (3) I won't find any other work. If you have such a casual ability to prophesy the coming three and a half months, you should be making quite a bit more than you do."
In this situation, my dad is mostly right and I am ashamed, so I assault the minutia of language.
Also, Half-Life 2: Episode One is so kick-ass, I almost peed.
Our story begins innocently enough:
I've spent most of my three day weekend embarking on a new project. It involves subways and computers. I went through the arduous task of setting up a server and reacquainted myself with PHP and MySQL. I've hacked together a nice little website that uses Google Maps to display the location of every subway station in NYC and which trains stop where. That's not a terribly special achievement: there are already sites out there with such info (in fact, I bummed the whole data set from someone else - though getting their data into MySQL involved a brief detour into Python). The cool thing I've done is add the ability to overlay the route of each train. So, for the red 1 train, you can see a red line showing the train's entire path, not just the stations where it stops. The code-writing has been slow and steady (as it always is for me) but fun. The Google Maps API is a joy and, despite a lack of forethought and some atrocious naming conventions, I've build a nice, flexible system. The site lives on my machine, so it's only up when I'm on and running the server. Feel lucky? See if it's up. If it's not, try again later.
A pretty standard day with all of the usual suspects:
A funny thing happened on the way to the blog. A long story made short, I was called upon by the world governments to save Planet Earth from the evil menace of a Martian Death Rocket. Just when I had hacked the alien computer system and snuck a nuclear device deep within the vessel of doom, a Zombie Robot Wizard Nazi King resurrected from a race of six-thousand-year-old Egyptian God-Aliens popped out, wielding a Photon Sword and a Time Scepter. Needless to say, I thought I was SOL, but then I remembered the magical enchanted amulet given to me by the Virgin Elven Princess Queen Bride as a thank-you for boning her out of her mind. I bartered the amulet for drugs and the Zombie Robot Wizard Nazi King and I smoked some bowls, fucked some hoes, and killed some Jews (we had a list) until the sun rose over the smoldering ashes of a decimated Planet Earth. Then we sang about giving his car a paint job, knitted a quilt for Boo Radley, and snuck into the mountains for gay sadomasochistic butt sex. Some days later, I was thumbing through my positive AIDS test results with my prosthetic arm when I remembered, OH MY GOODNESS, I'VE NEGLECTED MY BLOG! I waited until Valentine's Day to break it off with Lester (that's the Zombie King's name) and here am I: ready, willing, and reporting for duty!
LET THE BLOGGING RESUME!!!
At this very moment my roommate is hurling into the toilet for the fifth time. He's just dry-heaving at this point, but the noise is terrific. It sounds like a number of donkeys are dying violently in the other room. I suppose this is an improvement over the PROJECTILE VOMITING earlier in the subway station and on the subway itself! The other occupant of the car was very supportive ("Take care of yourself, man"), but I'm sure the MTA cleaning crew will be non too happy.
So I should backup the story a little. I (he just went in for #6) got into New York and hopped the SuperShuttle as I always do. The driver went around collecting the addresses from all of the passengers the girl next to me give a very familiar locale. Hey, she lives in my building! So we chat it up - smalltalk and stuff. She's a dance major, she lives on the 10th floor (I'm on the 18th), and that kind of jazz. I think she's nice and all, but I'm not really interested interested in her. We haul our lugage into the elevator, she get's off at 10, I get off and 18, and check in with home sweet home.
Later that night, roommate tells me there's a knocking at the door (speaking of him, things sound pretty intense in there right now) and he can't answer it because he's watching 24. Suprise! It's my SuperSuttle pal and two of her friends from 10. Sensing girls, roommate (who just crawled back into bed, hopefully for good this time) mutes the TV and (false alarm - back at it again) joins our meet and greet in the kitchen. We alternate smalltalk and my usual antics and it's clear that roommate really digs one of the ladies - my origonal airport aquintance. He suggests we all go out to a bar or something. Well these girls wouldn't be able to decide about when to breathe if it weren't an autonomic function, so we eventually convince them that yes, they do want to come - I'm just going along with roommate.
We - excuse me - he takes about half an hour to get ready (we said we'd me them downstairs in ten) and I call Lex while I'm waiting to say "Hi, I'm back!" She informs me that there is a party at Nick K's and I should come. I never get formally invited to these things, not because I'm not welcome (I hope), but because I generally don't hit the parties, so no one thinks of inviting me. I say I'll try to make it.
We meet the older girls and head to the Village. We decide on Caliente and everyone else gets margaritas (I shared some w/ the girl). They're nice ladies, but not really my type. Sort of boring, if you know what I mean. Roommate says he's getting "mixed signals" from his interest and the other two are just pretty tired. We invite them to the party but they just think they'll get some sleep. Fine with us. Goodnight. Buh-bye.
We make the party scene and everyone I know is there, which is great because I usually don't like parties with a lot of strangers (most parties), so I got to have a really nice time. I find out later that this is a birthday party for Nick K (he and I are friends, but not really good friends. It's a complex dynamic between us; we're both secretely jealous of each other, I suspect). We sing and dance but there's no cake. (He is still going at it. I can't believe this; it just doesn't let up!) I did manage to meet some new folks and I'm pretty sure I got hit on by a girl named Sara and a guy named Drew. More people showed up later, like a bombed Scarlette, the two Kiles, and Kerry. Lizz got smahed out of her fucking skull, as usual, and Dara and I had a lovely conversation (she's a sweety).
Three O'Clock rolled around and I remember that roommate said we should leave by two, so I make the gestures of departure. I get roomy - who is thoroughly drunk, if you hadn't guessed - and we make our exit. I don't feel like waiting for the safty van, so we head for the subway. He's pretty proud about getting two - no wait, three [phone] numbers!
--
It's not funny anymore.