I ran out of Mulder food. My bag is empty, but it sits on my desk next to the keyboard, teasing me to reach my hand in, just on the off-chance that there might be a little bit left. But there isn't. Just an empty bag, and a messy pile of shells. Woe is me.

Vacant. I feel like a pseudo crack addict right now. Sitting here sniffling my nose repeatedly, and cohesive thoughts not coming readily to this brain. Stoned. Pseudo-stoned. (Anyone remember that Seinfeld episode where Kramer tried to bust that guy who kept "sniffing" because he thought he was a drug addict? lol.)

I've been thinking about rearranging my room furnature again, but I can't for the life of me think of a workable way to make everything fit. Right now, the layout has a very Neelix-like effect for doing just about anything. I wake up in the morning, and the chair is right in the way between my bed and my clothes and the door. If, at any time, I want to get at the other end of the room, to, say, grab something from the dresser or put in a DVD, I have to squeeze by the right of my desk. Either that, or clamor over the bed around the left or Argo.

Confuzed? Maybe I should again bring up a diagram I once drew.

So anyway, I've been thinking a new, more convenient arrangement would be in order. But figuring out how to do it is proving difficult. Maybe if I actually tidied things up under the current setup, things would be a bit better. lol.

The Lemming Run. Assuming this refers to what I think it's referring to, I think it would be a fun and worthwhile engagement. (But isn't pre-registration required?) I haven't been running much lately, but I consider this more of a bug than a feature. Duuuuuu.... Yeah.

I feel another "snoned" wave coming on. The particular Tori song that is playing at the moment is not helping. Actually, I know an even better one...

[Bitscape switches to the xmms desktop to switch songs.]

Oh damn. You mean I haven't ripped this one yet? I could've swore... Oh well..

[Bitscape gets up from the chair, squeezes around the desk, finds the disc in a messy pile, returns to Argo, and inserts it.]

Stop xmms. cdplay 9. "Datura." Now this is Stoned. I should put on headphones and really crank it.

[Bitscape squeezes again, grabs headphones, plugs them in, and...]

Bliss. Not the song. That's track 1. We're listening to Datura. Remember? But the feeling when hearing this song. Bliss.

Stoneded.

Please excuse me for a moment while I go into an impromptu Tori-gasm.

The other day, I discovered that eventually, having a save-all, rip-all, watch-all, never-clean-anything policy can eventually catch up with you, even on a monstrously huge (at the time I bought it) 40 GB hard drive. Someone pointed me to an archive of Lone Gunmen eps, should I get bored and feel like watching them.

After a cursory review of the available episodes, I did a quick df and discovered that my /home partition is down to a mere 1.2 gigs of free space! Horror of horrors! You mean if I rip cds endlessly, pirate entire seasons of Farscape episodes, squirril porn away like a pack rat, and never do any cleaning whatsoever, these things might eventually fill up?!? Say it ain't so.

Tomorrow promises to be a very... let's say... interesting day at the office. With virtually everyone gone, save a few of us hearty souls, I suspect it will be eerie indeed. In fact, now that I think about it, I will be the only person in my "row" of cubes who will actually be there! lol. But for those of us few who are around, the company will be serving breakfast. Yeeeaaaa! Let us -- all 3 of us in attendance -- feast to our heart's content. With everyone else out, there's sure to be plenty of food.

'xcuse me again. I love this song.

I should probably go to bed now, but for some reason, I'm feeling this very 6-year-old-ish urge to stay up later. "I don't WANNA go to sleep! No! Not me! Never."

So I continue sitting here typing pointless junk into this lovely little vi window. When I finish, it will be saved into a temporary text file, which will then be sucked through a perl script into a local postgresql database for permanent archiving. A subsequent command will then push it through an ssl-encrypted pipe to another postgresql database on the server we lovingly call "Rage". From there, the database can be queried from a perl CGI script called from Apache, which will do a bit of minimal tag parsing, and place it into the standard html generated for Bitscape's Lounge, which everyone can then view through a web browser. Isn't that exciting?

Now Marilyn Manson plays. Stoned. Very Stoned.

You know what sucks? There's no way to phonetically misspell the word "Stoned". It needs to end with the letter S or something. Then we could replace it with a Z, and that would be really 1337. Oh well. Being 1337 is passé anyway. Who needs it?

Reminds me of a very silly little article I read last night. Ok, so it wasn't really silly. I was just being sarcastic. Or maybe just stupid. Whataver.

"NNNO! Not my bedtime! No. Never. Not me.&quto;

Nevertheless, I shall terminate this rambling in the hopes that sanity finds me again before long.

[P.S. There's a piece of irony for you. Just after all that rambling about inserting the data into postgres, the socket connection on Rage fails for the first time in eons. lol. Must be something to do with the move. Therefore, this rambling will not go live just yet. In a day or two, probably...]