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rue-madame's Diaryland Diary

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The box, the sushi and the wardrobe

Iíve had lots of work to do, and lots of computer problems which has made the work not so easy to accomplish.

The good news is that there is hope on the horizon. Though I canít afford a whole new system, Iíve ordered a new hard drive (pretty cheap with free shipping and a rebate) and tons of RAM (also cheap these days. Not like that time the RAM factory went up in flames and the cost of a DIMM went through the roof... sounds ridiculous, but I swear itís a true story!) These two things should prolong the life of the box for at least another 3 years.

With all the new room, I will finally upgrade to the current OS and cross my fingers that the crashing and bombing will come to an end.

The thing is, Iíve been using the new system at school, and I donít like it. Itís lame and ugly and irritating. But I canít hide in my cave, forever using outdated versions of Illustrator and PhotoShop and Quark. Funny that I embrace change in other aspects of my life, but not when it comes to technology.

Oh cool, the dj on KXLU is playing The Aislers Set.

Last night we took ourselves out to dinner and had sushi at CrazyFish. It was pretty good. Not the best sushi Iíve ever had, but it was more about being out and feeling like a couple on a date. I even kissed Terence mid-meal, and leaned my head on his shoulder after a particularly satisfying swig of sake. I wish Terence had enjoyed his meal more, but what can you do? He doesnít like huge unwieldy maki that falls apart before you get it near your mouth or chokes you when you give up biting into it and decide instead to shove the whole thing in your gullet.

I canít blame him. Iíve had those kinds of experiences before. Itís just not enough of a deterrent for me. Especially when Iíve got my period and all I want to do is eat salty things and inflate like a Thanksgiving Day Parade balloon.

Part of me appreciates that Terence doesnít like eating things that are messy or that stain his clothes. I would totally freak out if he were a Messy Marvin with food-splattered and sauce-shmeared stuff. Iíd rather have the boyfriend whoís concerned about preserving his shirts and pants, than the one who throws on ratty t-shirts and doesnít care about a few holes or grease spots. I mean, itís ok to wear that stuff when youíre painting or working on your car, but going to dinner or to work? Ack.

My former studio mate was the Messy Marvin. He once showed up to the office in a stain-free shirt, only to dribble sandwich fixins onto it a few hours later at lunchtime. I just pointed at him, and laughed and laughed, while he scurried about trying to clean his shirt. I told him to give up the ghost; the shirt certainly had.

Which reminds me: Iíve got a bunch of handwash stewing in the bathroom! Yipes. Iíve got to rinse it all out before everything disintegrates.

Which also reminds me: how exciting is it that Gentry is going to meet my Fake French Boyfriend, Bertrand Burgalat? I wish I could hide in her fashionable knickers when she finally meets him, face-ŗ-face.

3:25 p.m. - 2003-09-18

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