Some months ago the Porkchop bought a Macbook Pro… and yes, I was and am very jealous, but that’s not the issue. The issue is that his disc drive chooses which disc to run at random… it’s a complete crapshoot… and it’s very irritating.

Especially considering he has somewhere in the vicinity of 800 CDs that he wants burned into his iTunes.

And since his disc drive works only about five percent of the time, the plan has been to burn his CDs onto my computer and then transfer them via a FireWire cord.

First of all, considering the sheer number of CDs… burning them, then transfering them, then making sure the ones I won’t like are deleted from my files, then importing everything into his iTunes.. it’s a nightmare job.

Second, my memory is down to less than seven gigs and adding music causes issues.

Third, I have no battery for my laptop, and it’s been shutting on and off on a pretty regular basis.

Yesterday it shut down while I was importing a CD (which has happened before), but when I booted back up, my iTunes library was “damaged” and the “XML file couldn’t be found” and suddenly my 6000 song library was down to just over 1000 and all of my playlists were gone (including my Purchased playlist).

I managed to replace all the music by dragging and dropping directly from my music folder, but all of the playlists were still gone.

Then I synched my iPod… not on purpose… and so now I really can’t replace the playlists.

Here’s the question.. has anyone ever had this happen, and is there anyway I can repair a damaged XML music file? I can’t even figure out why it’s damaged.

The refrigerator repair man guy came… AGAIN… for the fourth time in as many weeks. The diagnosis? The thermostat.

“Um… is that normal?”

“No.”

“Did we do that?”

“Doubt it.”

This was the very annoying, non-talkative repair guy. The first guy chatted with me the entire time; this guy barely says ten words. The Porkchop thinks I don’t like him ’cause he won’t flirt with me… which, OK, might be a smidge true, but I mean, COME ON, you are in my house for almost an hour and you don’t want to talk at all?

That seems very irrational to me.

My laptop has now jumped to the front of the line in the saga for the worst-appliance-in-the-apartment. A couple of weeks ago both batteries (I kept a backup) died completely. I put in an order with Apple and planned to have no problem working, seeing as how it’s supposed to work using the power cord.

Litany of issues: a) my computer doesn’t like only using the cord and routinely shuts down completely—for no f—ing reason, b) this always happens when I am editing twelve images at once (and haven’t saved) or am composing some sort of nonsense for someone (again, not having saved), c) which means I have to save every two seconds (or when I remember… erm) and c) since they no longer make Powerbook stuff, I am still waiting for them to ship the new battery—and as of yesterday, that won’t be for another one-two weeks.

Sweet. mother. of. all. that. is. holy.

In up news, I spent part of the day catching up on all things Moo-in-NZ and am happy to report he’s still just as funny and just as unlucky in love.

😀

Late last night we realized the fridge is out again. Nice, hmm? We’re not sure if it’s the same problem as before (first the relay switch, then the compressor), or if it’s a new problem altogether.

I vote new problem, ’cause there really isn’t anything as fun as dealing with a dying refrigerator for a month.

That, coupled with the fact that we just like to sleep, meant we were running about fifteen minutes late this morning. We were to be at the train station at 11AM to pick up somebody. Sadly, that somebody was sick and stayed home… but not without sending me an email early this morning letting me know she wasn’t coming.

Which was nice, but doesn’t really help when you’re running late and you forget to check your email (something I almost never forget to do). An hour later, we headed back home, irritated at myself for not saving her phone number and slightly concerned that something happened.

Lo and behold, all is well and now I’m ensconced at home, changing the blog and being swarmed by kitties. (It’s cold today.)

Update: also, I burned a candle all the way down and then it became a flaming ball of fire. FYI, don’t use water to put out flaming hot glass candles. All sorts of problems.

And double refresh the site, as the new CSS only shows up if you do. 🙂

I had a crazy dream last night that my sister got remarried to her ex-husband. It was in a small castle-type place, and there were only a few rows of people, but it was lovely and they were both really happy. I woke up excited to blog about how happy I was he was “back in the family.” Seconds later, I sighed and realized my brain was on crack.

I should’ve stayed in bed today, because sad happy dreams are better than sad, depressing days.

The job I took uses a system that employs the Porkchop… and his ex-wife. The real fun is that she is the contact for the company, and not him. She knows we are together—that wasn’t a fun day either—so he and her talked and the three of us decided that he’d transfer an account to her and take my account. No muss, no fuss, all handled via IM this morning… or so we thought.

My new boss called their boss to see if it would be a problem having her on their account since they were hiring me, who is dating her ex. Porkchop’s boss, who hadn’t known we were together, brought it up with his ex, who said she knew and that it wasn’t a big deal—but we are all now uncomfortable with the entire damn situation.

Why in the hell would my new boss bring this up? Are they so worried that there will be issues? Don’t they think I’d be smart enough to not take the goddamn job if I thought it would be an issue? Why the HELL would they call his boss? How is our personal relationship an issue at all?

The three of us handled it just fine, and I guess I’m more ripshit because I feel like they circumvented me in this situation and steamrolled the Chop and his ex by bringing it up with their boss. (Who can be a real asshole just in general.) Bear in mind, this was a company I interviewed with and the Chop wanted to hire. So now the concern is that his boss will be all, “Oh, so that’s why you wanted to hire her.”

Apparently his boss then said it wouldn’t be a problem with her and I working together because they are divorced and so blah, blah, blah.

Do you see how they fucking created a problem that we had already dealt with? Now their boss won’t allow the transfer and I get to work with his ex-wife.

I’m really looking forward to this new job now.

Company to grow custom cats that won’t cause sneezing… and they’re only $4,000!

The utter randomness of that, seriously.

I accepted a full-time job today. It’s only 50 miles away, and part of the agreement is that I’ll work from home twice a week… 15% rev share isn’t too shabby either…. and all together I’ve been insanely bored, so I’m looking forward to it.

Kinda.

Oh, and my fridge is now broken. Something about a compressor and a short and now the insider has no fridge.

AGAIN.

When my sister and I were younger, and lived at home, we shared a bathroom. It wasn’t the only bathroom in the house, but it was the one where we kept our cosmetics and showered, etc., and it had the distinction of being the only room that was “ours” which locked.

Until my sister figured out how to pick the lock with a hair pin.

From that day on, whenever one of us wanted to be in the bathroom alone, we opened the three drawers closest to the door, successfully forming a barrier. So, while the door was able to open an inch or so, the intruder could only stick a couple of fingers in and bitch about being unable to grab a brush or go to the bathroom.

Having now lived alone for over three years, I am very used to going to the bathroom and taking a shower with the door wide open… but now that there’s someone else here, I subconsciously feel the need to shut the door. Fortunately, I’m happy to say I don’t feel the need to lock it or open a drawer to block someone’s unlawful entry. (Thanks sis, for making me PARANOID.)

I got offered the job that’s 120 miles away. Not only did they offer the job, they offered to rent me an apartment so that I could live up there five days a week, and come home on weekends.

I can’t tell you how gratifying that is, knowing someone thinks I’m so good that they’ll rent me an apartment, just so that I’ll work for them. I’ve spent the past couple of months interviewing for jobs and wondering if I’m ever going to find something that’ll be good for me and good for my employer—so hearing that someone thinks I’m good enough is a relief.

I turned it down.

Porkchop moved here so that we could make a go at this, and while the job is tempting, I wouldn’t want to be there five days a week, and here two. I don’t want to have to drive four hours each day either, leaving before dawn and getting home just in time for primetime. (Which, in and of itself, is good, since I have a complete addiction to about eight different TV shows. I know, I know, I need help. Whatever. :P)

We talked about moving halfway, but that would put us in the middle of several very expensive areas and is just not feasible at this point in time.

Still, I’m a little bit sad—but also hopeful and less worried about finding something. Everyone keeps telling me to relax, that I just need to wait for the job I really want.

Problem is, I don’t know what I really want.

We’re now allowed to carry-on liquids that: a) are less than four ounces, b) can fit in a one quart clear plastic bag and c) not explosive.

So here’s my question.

If you were a terrorist, wouldn’t you figure out how to put highly explosive liquids in, say, four or five little bottles and voila! 20 ounces of big boom?

I’m forever going to wonder if my parents just don’t remember being my age and how much fun it was to live together. That’s my only guess as to why they think this will be my biggest mistake ever.

My biggest one? Seriously? I’ve made scads of mistakes… little ones and big, giant ones, and most of them I’ve tried to forget—and I have. So when I think about it, I can’t compare this to those mistakes… those fucked me up right from the start.

He buys me tickets to concerts, likes my cats and hits it off with my friends—definitely not a mistake.

But he does like “Flavor of Love,” and that’s just disturbing. lol

Monday I’m driving two states away for an interview. Technically it’s only 110 miles, but it would definitely be a tough commute twice a day. We’ve been talking about moving halfway, if I get it. And that’s a big if.

I realize what with all the other good things going on in the world [Hugo Chavez calling Bush “Satan,” Saddam Hussein’s trial being the freakshow of the year, E.Coli in Spinach and iTunes coming out with V7 and making the damn icon freaking candy-ass blue], none of you have thought… “hmm, I wonder what the insider is doing and why she hasn’t blogged?”

None of you, that is, except my cousin, who coincidentally calls and tells me to blog.

And the Porkchop, who is sitting on the couch, mocking me for looking up old high school friends on MySpace (I WAS WEAK and I’m drinking… erm…).

Friday night one of the contract jobs called. He wanted to know if I could flip his new site now. Like RIGHT NOW. Tonight. At 9PM.

Considering I had promised to flip it by September 22, there were a few things that needed finished… according to him, things such as a working search engine, all of the images being uploaded and general site QA were unnecessary.

That was a fun call.

Four days and around 30 hours later, I flipped his damn site last night. And the search still isn’t working.

On the other hand, the other contract job, the deadly one in C (the land of the perpetually lost), has had me working on the same set of brochures for TEN DAYS STRAIGHT…. and there are only five products in those 12 (now 24) damn pages.

First I was just to redesign them. Did that in a few hours.

Then they wanted a different kind of design, one that wasn’t exactly like the website. Did that the next day.

Then they wanted me to rewrite the copy.

First of all, I don’t do copy. AND I am clear about that from the get-go. And, oh yeah, I don’t understand their products, I have NO idea why they are the best over their competitors and wait, wait.. oh yeah, I DO NOT DO COPY.

The head guy brought me into his office and attempted to cajole me into rewriting their copy. So I very nicely explained that it would not be the best use of my time and their money for me to write marketing copy on products that I have never seen nor understand.

The next day the sales guy (who’s been my general boss-type personage) suggested I just edit the copy until it sounds better. So I found myself doing that for the day.

Next day I went in and sales guy tells me that the head guy thinks the design should be a little different. Head guy comes out and says, “I think maybe it should look more like the website.”

At this stage of the game, I’m irritated and BORED shitless. There are only so many times I can redo the same pages with minimal changes for EIGHT HOURS A DAY.

And what’s even better? I’ve given them fully complete files every night and every day they promise to look at them, make changes and get them back to me.

To date: two pages, little notes in five or six places… on SEVEN DIFFERENT SETS OF FILES.

I have some rage about this.

Oh, and my damn refrigerator appears to be broken. It’s making a clicking noise every minute or so, the stuff is defrosting and I refuse to wake up my landlord at midnight. (It’s partially ’cause I’m nice, but mainly ’cause I don’t want to put on clothes and cart frozen food down to their freezer.) 😛

Up side: I’m going to see Regina tomorrow night… 😀

And if you got this far…

Here’s a random bit of nonsensical knowledge that may or may not improve your life: if you put in someone’s name and the word “age” in Google, as in :steve carrell age: you’ll get a little Wikipedia link as the first link that tells you their birthdate.

Random and totally useful when you’re arguing over who is older, Jay Leno or Steve Carrell. (I totally won, seeing as how I pegged Leno as 10 years older—he’s 13, but I was closest.)