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Posting from the parents' house, because a) I'm visiting in homage to the whole Mother's Day thing (have so far managed to be helpful and sweet and not scream at her for, oh, not getting me the therapy the doctor recommended after she had me evaluated for neurological abnormality when I was nine...) and b) no DSL access at home.
Why, you ask? Well, the DSL access is hubbed through my blond housemate's computer, and she and her boyfriend locked their bedroom door before they left the house yesterday. For the weekend. Considered calling the landlord to unlock their room (did call, actually, but balked at the $100 fee) and considered breaking in through their window (but, er, preferred to cling to whatever shreds of moral high ground I might possess here).
Apparently, they locked their door because somebody screwed with their computer at some unspecified but presumably recent point in the past. Specifcally, the history was deleted, which meant someone had been viewing something they didn't want them to know about. Now, why any of the rest of us WHO HAVE OUR OWN COMPUTERS, would feel compelled to use theirs to view something secretly... I don't know. Also, she believes her fish were poisoned (a friend suggests: nitrate poisoning, i.e., what happens to your fish when you have never, in the history of having the fish, cleaned the tank). So. You can see why the door had to be locked.
Apparently I'm a prime suspect for the fish-poisoning. I'm probably, then, also a prime suspect for the computer-messing-with. And apparently, she had a friend track down my livejournal (Hi Erik! Hi Colleen! Hope I've been entertaining! I suppose 'materialistic' would be more precise than 'bourgeois', if I think about it, and the hard core/punk remarks were based largely on things you said last summer, aka the last time I actually had a conversation with you. Sorry if that's now inaccurate.) and read a bunch of my fic writing (Hey, did you like it? I demand feedback! Feel free to drop me an anonymous comment, or, y'know, say something to my face when next we're both home...)
Have this sense of having had my privacy invaded - moderately irrational, of course, since this journal is available publically, and only cursorily anonymous, but. Still. Invasive.
So. Didn't poison any fish, didn't fuck up anyone else's computer, didn't get to check my email for a day.
Did, like, bond with my remaining housemates over Die Hard on cable, which was pretty cool.
Sorry for the incoherence. Still reeling, a bit.
Why, you ask? Well, the DSL access is hubbed through my blond housemate's computer, and she and her boyfriend locked their bedroom door before they left the house yesterday. For the weekend. Considered calling the landlord to unlock their room (did call, actually, but balked at the $100 fee) and considered breaking in through their window (but, er, preferred to cling to whatever shreds of moral high ground I might possess here).
Apparently, they locked their door because somebody screwed with their computer at some unspecified but presumably recent point in the past. Specifcally, the history was deleted, which meant someone had been viewing something they didn't want them to know about. Now, why any of the rest of us WHO HAVE OUR OWN COMPUTERS, would feel compelled to use theirs to view something secretly... I don't know. Also, she believes her fish were poisoned (a friend suggests: nitrate poisoning, i.e., what happens to your fish when you have never, in the history of having the fish, cleaned the tank). So. You can see why the door had to be locked.
Apparently I'm a prime suspect for the fish-poisoning. I'm probably, then, also a prime suspect for the computer-messing-with. And apparently, she had a friend track down my livejournal (Hi Erik! Hi Colleen! Hope I've been entertaining! I suppose 'materialistic' would be more precise than 'bourgeois', if I think about it, and the hard core/punk remarks were based largely on things you said last summer, aka the last time I actually had a conversation with you. Sorry if that's now inaccurate.) and read a bunch of my fic writing (Hey, did you like it? I demand feedback! Feel free to drop me an anonymous comment, or, y'know, say something to my face when next we're both home...)
Have this sense of having had my privacy invaded - moderately irrational, of course, since this journal is available publically, and only cursorily anonymous, but. Still. Invasive.
So. Didn't poison any fish, didn't fuck up anyone else's computer, didn't get to check my email for a day.
Did, like, bond with my remaining housemates over Die Hard on cable, which was pretty cool.
Sorry for the incoherence. Still reeling, a bit.