F 1 D 0 -- 2001 12 08 at 04 00

Anita comes home crying.

She's drunk. Very drunk.

Is that why?

She's broke. Not too broke.

Is that why?

She's got crack, but not had any?

Is that why?

She got work today.

Is that why?

She is upset because she should have
stopped drinking twelve beers ago.
In the process, she decided that she
is too drunk, and a small zap of 
crack will be just the wake up she
needs to function.

So she retires to the ladies room, and
while assembling her toke pipe, manages
losing the bits of drug she values.

All over the floor. Who knows how
much value here, but she's looking
for it like the most valuable thing
in the world has disappeared.

Now THAT is why she's crying. Her
precious drugs got lost on the floor
of her bathroom at work.

So between her and Samir, I'm thinking
I've had enough.  

Samir? He's decided that since I charge
too much for sharing a bedroom here, he
will pay me nothing for it. Force me to
take him to court, and evict him that way.

The good news is that a friend who should
not have been evicted was given only five
days to leave her flooded apartment. She
tried to not pay when all of her posessions
were ruined by backed up water from the sewer.

I came from Irish Ceili tonight.

I had a cloud over me when I started.

I could only think about how I wasn't
able to do well at work, and how that
happened because of all the bull at home.

But at 800 or 810pm, the dancing began,
and it was worth the wait.  Irish dance
is full of motion, full of energy, and
the band was right on the money.

At 730pm, when I arrived, there was a 
terrible surplus of men.  Eeek.  Having
trouble to find a lady partner. That
was just what I wanted to see. Not.

But around 800 I was pleased to see about
thirty people arrive at once.  About a dozen
from a youth group came out.  Their leaders
are major players at this dance, and brought
them.  They were shy, but glad to be there.

The dances during the week don't usually
have the old timers. They make good strong
partners.  They were here tonight.

To function at the Irish dance, all you
need to be able to do is understand the
calls, and know how long each function
requires of you.

Except for the nicest part (for me): The
Blast of Reels.  This is where the band
just keeps playing and playing and playing.
We dancers usually pick some "set" and do
that.  Tonight, just before we wound up,
our little group of eight chose the Clare
Lancers set.  

How does this go? Lead around, turn the lady
under, swing.  Then first man, and the 
opposite lady approach, turn away from
each other, then swing. There's more, but
I just want you to understand that there
is a predictable recipe for this.

Surprise tonight!  Not just our set, but
about six others are doing the same dance.
What are the chances of that? High I guess.
It must be a favourite.  It is one of a 
handful of dances that we learn to memorize
on Monday nights at Pat's dance.

But there's more!  After we finished all of
the figures to that dance, our head couple
said, "Ok, Plain Set."  Wouldn't you know 
it, but three others made the same choice.
No, they couldn't hear. They just did it.


I had to see Guru this afternoon. She had
lots of things for me to deal with. I was
surprised to find a new computer at Ofra's
desk.   This was much faster than Ofra's
old one, and seemed to understand the internet.
Cool!  I tried to get the Internet connection
sharing going, and it worked, kinda.

They actually needed me to get the printer
going. But as soon as the network was happy,
so was the printer.

Thank IBM/Lexmark for this wisdom. It is
called a winprinter, but is really a 
virusprinter.  It actually attempts to
communicate over the internet whenever
you print.  Now, if it cannot, it isn't
supposed to be upset, but it usually is.
You see, it doesn't just say to itself,
"oh, no net. Better forget sharing secrets."
Instead it says "Oh, no net. Better save
what I see, and send it along later."

Now when the disk gets full, or confused,
things freeze, as this program doesn't
have permission to actually tell anyone
about what it's working on, or why it
should endeavour to talk on the net.

So the solution? Well to me it was obvious.

Get Ofra's computer onto the internet.

Yah. It worked. Damn Lexmark.

At Sanderson Taylor--

Dianne wanted me
Blair wanted me
Sharon wanted me

But I was too long in travel to get there on 
time. I wanted to get a key, and I'd have given
up dance to do this work. Not possible, said they.

Fine. Well, when are you all going? 

We're leaving at 5 o'clock for a christmas party.

Grand. I've got three people 
who will ream me out
on Monday.  Just Grand.

That's all I know.