Terrible Analogies

It’s as if the fine people at We The Robots created this in homage to my pathetic life:

The comparison is so accurate that it borders on the eerie…

It’s no wonder I have no time to pursue more noble endeavors such as the arts, sciences, and maths:

Ah well, I guess we deal with whatever life throws at us in the best way we know how.  At least whatever cycles I can spare I tend to spend them on either running, lifting, or aimlessly surfing the tubernets in an effort to avoid real responsibilities.  As long as nobody complains, I’m happy.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my beer.  Happy St. Patrick’s Day! 

Don’t drink too much…remember, work awaits you in the morning.

An hour before I was scheduled to leave work for the day today my supervisor asked me how difficult it would be to write a script that would push a registry change to a few hundred servers with a logging trail we could use for auditing purposes.  Oh, and by the way it needs to run on Saturday, which means I won’t be there to supervise should it fail.  As an added bonus I’ll also need to access the domain controllers, even though the admins have no rights to these servers.  No pressure now…

And so, for a furious sixty minutes I laid the foundation for the prog, getting the needed files pushed to a test group of IPs utilizing the magic of psexec, and managed to get logs reporting back to the host server.  My concern is that not all servers have the same admin rights.  I’ll have to investigate that issue tomorrow morning.

Okay…that last video was fake, but this video isn’t.  I feel sorry for this kid.  I really do.  Ya see, I was at a party once and was dared to eat a mystery pepper some shady looking guy with a bad limp and a lazy eye dramatically produced from a pocket of his greasy black trench coat.  With what looked like a well-practiced sweep of his arms he hoisted the pepper above his glorious mullet and shouted to the heavens daring God himself to consume the hellish, seedy mass of pulpy flesh.

“No problem,” I thought, as I brazenly stepped forward and accepted his obvious challenge.  But after downing this orange pepper of doom I soon discovered that there’s only so much heat a human being can endure before your body starts to involuntarily convulse, your eyes weep uncontrollably, you begin to spastically hiccup, your entire body turns brights red, and you start to sweat profusely.  The next thirty minutes for me were a vague, blury montage of searing pain, vomiting, and “friends” feeding me liquor and beer instead of milk and bread.

Ah….Good times.  Good times….

I guess not all party games are fun to play, eh?

While surfing the webbertubes the other night I happened to spot this strange new wireless connection originating from somewhere within in my neighborhood:

My personal portal is “Pop Will Eat Itself“, simply because I’m such a whore for their tunes.  This new “Pr0nperv” connection has me wondering which one of my fine, upstanding, reclusive neighbors is the proud owner of such a dubious network name.

But hell, why should I care what they name their network portal?  The way I see it, this is either a thumb in the eye of the status quo, or a brutally rare display of shocking honesty that we’re rarely privy to in today’s society.  Either way, how can I degrade such a forthright admission of a cliched base human desire?

To quote Kurt Cobain, “Oh well, whatever.  Nevermind.”