Girl Writes Code: October 2002

wall!

the

top

the

touched

night,

Last

Dude!

Seven hours

'til rock climbing.

Burritos that don't leak

rock the Casbah.

Yo.

Woe shared by speaker phone...

Oh, you poor person.

If you'd let it dry out completely

before attempting to turn it on,

it might have worked again.

Project Idea:

content, navigated with "go east,"

"go up."

Not a game; exploratory literature.

Like, "Let me show you my house,"

or "My Brain."

Did I ever mention

the time I met Neil Gaiman?

The mighty wind,

if contained,

is naught but air.

(Inspired by Meg.)

Tee hee,

rock climber lingo.

Tweaked a hip

but flashed a pitch.

It was a good day.

^_^

Should I be concerned

that I prefer

Trident For Kids?

Met at the rock gym today:

TOWN

Diversity training today.

Whee.

Happy birthday, Mommy.

I remembered, honest I did.

Bother Texas

and its 70-degree Octobers.

Dude.

I heart

the "Peter Gunn Theme,"

as performed by Art of Noise.

Wah-uhn wah-uhn wah-uhn wah-ah...

Status

is not a verb.

Thank you.

Straw poll Jon was conducting:

In your opinion,

what are the 5 best

movie comedies since 1970?

Pelted by stones,

I thought the windows might break.

Hail storm at midnight.

Thunder and lightening, too.

Eep!

Interface

is not a verb.

Thank you.

He climbs while I spot.

Then I climb while he spots.

Collaborative success.

Rock climbing as a metaphor

for marriage.

I'd rather be

rock climbing.

Because it's not a topic

you can address in seminars.

Because my hometown

is more diverse than this one.

Because you don't respect

my diversity. I don't want to go.

This week, three men here

have suddenly gone

yellow-flower blond.

Did I miss a memo?

You people know stuff like this:

Who composed and performed

the theme to Futurama?

Thanks.

F5

1. 1.

2. 0.

3. Yes. And old children.

4. Imaginary Year

5. The internet, probably.

Today's exercise:

Relinquishing control.

Won't somebody say hello,

even a little?

You can not put in enough

hazelnut non-dairy creamer

to make even a passable

cappucino.

Oh, how I suffer.

If your cell phone rings again,

I will answer it.

Clearly, there is urgent news.

New favorite:

Creamy Clean&Clear Concealer

with salicylic acid.

What work is like:

Went grocery shopping

to calm down.

I don't know how

to inspire you.

Opened the sun roof this morning.

New movie forming in my mind,

The Story of a Man,

set to the Beatles One album.

And,

I have your Christmas present.

(Wait long enough,

and it's early.)

Meeker,

I sent you mail.

I miss you!

Write me, baby.

There's another blog

on my list.

They're breeding.

They like me.

They really like me.

Or my web work, anyway,

which is good enough.

Um, here.

Hold this for me.

(Well, it is

little pieces of paper

after all.)

I wrote a piece of JavaScript,

and it worked on the first try.

Who knew?

Dad is 58 today.

He wrote to say that

the average age of

the Rolling Stones

is 58.

Rock on, Dad.

As a matter of fact,

I do feel better

after that.

Things not to say

during morale committee meetings:

"Stop talking,

you arrogant, useless, grouchy,

nasty, fatalistic, whiny,

externally motivated SOB!"

I'll tell you where to stick that fish...

I'm behind.

Of course.

Think fast,

programmery thoughts at me.

Where could I find

an elegant chess clock

(analog, windup, wood)?

Thanks, ever so.

I'd always thought

Texas wouldn't have

a flu season.

*sniff*

Revisiting some fond memories:

My parents' big Texas visit

Guh.

I hate typos I can't fix.

Once again,

proving that I am special:

I blue-screened WinXP.

Code snippet, found today:

End If

' End Hack