PUPPY LUNCHTIME.

One puppy is chewing on Mom's ear and another one on her tail.

Blue collar puppy is such a troublemaker.

Lego Haunted House Set

[link]

::whimpers:: If y'all need a Fun-Ghoul, I'm there.

!!!

Man, I would love to have you out here for the big cosplay con. It's ridiculous fun. Plus, you as Fun-Ghoul would be amazing.

Lego Haunted House Set

I have no place to put that. I have no place to put that. I have no place to put that.

If I keep repeating that, I'll stop coveting it so much, right?

Oh, for god's sake. WHICH LOG FILE FROM WHICH APPLICATION ON WHICH SERVER.

There's a developer whose ASP pages are crapping out, and he keeps asking me for "the logs". His application spans at least three servers (not counting the load balanced pairs as two). How can I possibly give him "a peek at the logs" if he doesn't answer my explicit "Which logs?" and "So do you mean the IIS logs on server XYZ?" questions.

I do actually want to be helpful, but his department has been on my ass all day. and half the questions don't have enough information for me to start answering them.

There is also a Vampire Castle as part of that line, Jilli. [link]

psst. ita has the whole IT department on her ass! cadonka donk donk.

If you visit New Orleans be warned - when one light turns red, the other direction turns green immediately. I mean, IMMEDIATELY. So don't be running those red lights.

You can always tell the tourists, though, because they tend to follow the rules.

It's funny how posts can spark a memory. New York and New Orleans are the two places I most feel like an intruder as a tourist. Except one time in New Orleans.

The winter after Katrina we read that several of the hotels had reopened, but that they were in danger of closing again because no one knew they were open, and they had no customers. My girlfriend and I loved New Orleans, so we booked a great deal on a hotel, hopped in the car, and drove the 700 miles down in one day.

I was pretty fatigued when we got there, and when looking for the hotel I crossed just as the light changed to red, almost getting hit from the side by a driver who had timed his light perfectly on the cross-street. In a panic I turned the wrong way on a one way street, drove a block, and pulled over with a pounding heart to ponder my next move. I didn't have to ponder long because police car quickly pulled up behind me. It was turning into a bad night.

But once the officer ensured that I was just tired, not drunk, he became animated and expansive. "You're the first tourist I've seen all week," he said. He told me to just drive the wrong way up to the next light, and if anyone objected, tell them officer Hector told me to do it. "Thank you for visiting our city," he beamed, and he patted the top of my car like it was a long-lost puppy.

That set the stage for the whole week. Impeccably dressed little old ladies would cross the street to say "Thank you for visiting our city!" Bartenders gave us free drinks and said "When you get home, tell them we're still here." We had with us a little stray rescue dog that my girlfriend had recently adopted, and when a streetcar driver saw us eying the empty streetcar with the dog in tow, she came out and said "No animals are allowed on the streetcars, so if you decide to get on make sure that little dog is down in your purse where I can't see it (wink). Thank you for visiting our city!" Even the crabby waitresses at Cafe Du Monde were nice. Sort of.

It was like visiting the quirky but genial small town in a romantic comedy. But with better music and food.