So I ran Monolingual on my laptop to remove all those pesky international files that I don’t need, trying to save some space.
Problem was: After I ran it, everything I typed in lowercase appeared as kanji. Seriously. Katakana, I think.
Whoops.
A restart cleared things up. But, for a while there, I thought I would have to reinstall OS X. Whoa.
Godammit, before I could get off my ass and write a tumblelog using Rails someone created exactly what I wanted in tumblelogs.
The old Intel building in Austin goes bye-bye.
Check out this post on the Bandwagon blog if you want free accounts for storing your iTunes music. And, yes, I totally did this for the free account. ( =
Boing Boing mentioned my hometown today: Dave’s Pawn Shop in El Paso, Texas has some weird stuff in it.
I don’t think I’ve ever heard of the place; it’s no Chico’s Tacos, that’s for sure.
I’m standing in an arcade, maybe not me, maybe just my POV, but I’m watching this little boy play Galaga. He’s really into it, doing well. Out of the blue, this little boy with really thick glasses runs up with a snotty-looking little girl in a wheelchair along with him. The two confer, and they agree, gleefully, that it’s time to “mess up his Galaga game”. Four Eyes starts moving the second player button a lot and hitting the fire button. Apparently, when in single-player mode, this game interprets that as someone trying to control the single player as well and it starts messing up the first boy’s game. The first boy starts whining and ineffectually resisting while never touching Four Eyes, right next to him, or Wheels, behind him, who both seem pretty pleased with the situation.
This is where I come in. I don’t know anything about myself other than I’m pissed at these two. I might be a teenager. I walk up and shove Four Eyes, screaming something incoherent at him and Wheels. I am distinctly not angry. They look startled and run the other direction. The little boy looks at me, grateful, then returns to his game. He really is pretty good.
The busybody arcade owner sees this and gives me a stern talking to about messing with kids. I try talking with the little nerd but he talks right over me. He just wants me to learn a lesson or some such thing. So, I scream at him as well, really venting my lungs and reaching down into my diaphragm. I’m still not angry. though; I’m exhilarated and happy. Not wildly happy, or giggling happy… more finding the situation grimly amusing. I yell at the guy in some wordless roar and he summons Mall Security.
As Mall Security is escorting me away from the arcade and, perhaps, out of the mall, I make some snide remark about being dragged off to “mall jail”.