I'm taking a break from the assembly-language posts I've been doing, to actually blather on a bit. This is my spare-tire journal, in case LJ goes kerflooey, but people do read this apart from LJ so maybe I should actually fill it in with some prose.
Today, at lunch, we went out for a ride. First time I've been out this year, as it so happens: my lungs are still recovering from the New Year's Eve Amazing All-Denver-Boulder Pothead Convention disguised as an EMT concert. Now, far be it from me to condemn potheads. Some of my good friends are potheads. But, dude, yeah, you, dude, the one with the knitted green and yellow hat, you can go OUTSIDE. There's a reason we have no-smoking venues, ya know.
Howls of self-righteous outrage, Bruce.
Anyway, so, yeah, the bikings. I managed to stay with the pack up the big hillclimb near the start of our usual Friday route. My lungs didn't even burst. My tube did, though. Front tire goes wuggedywuggedy. Phoo. Performance tubes are teh suck. They keep splitting along moldlines, like cheap tubes do. I guess I better pony up the dosh for some Conti tubes. Grumble. So I fixed it and took a short cut across the course, in an attempt to hook up with them (but they never caught me, ungrumble.)
I also plotted a board I'd designed, a USB-to-serial converter for proto boards, but forgot to check the chip footprint. The board came out beautifully. Chip's about half a millimeter too wide for its little feet, which lop over onto other circuitry. Bah. Check fit FIRST.
Hm. I ended up back in abbreviated grumbling, as always. Sorry. Maybe more prose next time.
2 comments:
I was in a no-smoking dorm freshman year. During our first dorm meeting we were trying to hash out what the dorm rules should mean, and the question arose: "Should no-smoking mean no pot, too?"
Half the dorm looked confused at the idea that it wouldn't, and the other half howled in doom and dread that anyone could even consider not letting them smoke weed in the building.
I had a contentious friend who made (but never had a chance to use) creosote-soaked rag things in a cigar format, which he proposed lighting up when people started smoking. It's tempting to do something like that when the potheads light up, although A: that'd just reinforce my identity of self-righteous outrage and B: then I'd really die of the asthma.
Grumble, GRUMBLE, sez I.
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