Your leaking thatched hut during the restoration of a pre-Enlightenment state.

 

Hello, my name is Judas Gutenberg and this is my blaag (pronounced as you would the vomit noise "hyroop-bleuach").



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got that wrong
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Like my brownhouse:
   cooks in the kitchen
Thursday, June 1 2000
This product I'm developing at work is being tossed about on waves of administrative indecision and architectural uncertainty. What used to be an IIS shop was long ago overrun by the technology of Vignette, but now, under the influence of a gaggle of Microsoft consultants, my company is heading decisively back to IIS, this time armed with the architectural wisdom of having explored other options. Or that's the theory. In such a climate, I continue to take my time buffing and shining my masterpiece. Today I built a whole new front end for it, this one producing nothing but XML. XML is like the Esperanto of HTTP-based interfaces.

(La informoj antauxe haveblaj en tiu cxi pagxo estas forigitaj, cxar ne plu aktualaj. )

When I got home, I busted my hump on Unveiled.net, working out all the complexities that crop up when you try to provide a means for the user of an adult site to securely modify his password and contact information. Anthea came over while I was working, but she and Kim kept to themselves in the other room.
Kim was sort of sick, and the few times we talked we had terrible arguments. One of these came as I was attempting to prepare a dinner of angel hair pasta (I much prefer conventional spaghetti, but that's the only kind of pasta that Kim buys). I've cooked maybe five times since shacking up with Kim, and today I realized one possible reason for this. It turns out that it's somewhat more complex than simple laziness after all, though that definitely plays a part. The problem is that when I'm in the kitchen, I'm in Kim's domain and I must do things as she wants me to do them. When I grab a pot to boil water in, Kim is right there to tell me that my choice is the wrong one. When I'm adding spices, she has other bits of wisdom for me. You know what they say about two cooks in the kitchen. Sometimes my whole life feels like a tiny kitchen full of hundreds of meddlesome cooks with dirty hands and lots of advice.


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