Junkyard king.

[reddragdiva]

This quiet domesticity stuff is fantastic. It's such a pity I need to get a job. I switched on the phone yesterday for the first time in a week and fetched about ten pimp messages, most of whom had sensibly emailed per the message. My CV is getting some play; some time this weekend I need to hit Jobserve very hard indeed.

arkady and I bought about £100 worth of CDs from Cash Converters today. I'm busy discovering that pawn shop CDs are beat up enough that even cdparanoia gets upset. I can't beat Exact Audio Copy into working under Wine (Ubuntu Breezy package) and it does a bang-up job on Arkady's new laptop, so I now have a reason to run Windows. Ah well. Oddly, VLC is worst under Unix and best on Mac or Windows (where it's the only reasonable way to play an Ogg) — the Unix version uses crappy GTK+1 widgets and doesn't want to know about your network. Back to amaroK.

(My vinyl records hit Felixstowe any day and, THANK FUCK, my aunt in Amersham has offered to look after them until we move.)

redcountess and I have been eBay whoring big time. Weird Al Yankovic's "eBay Song" (Flash) is about us.

It's bloody cold and my lungs still aren't up to scratch. I expect my chances of hitting Slimelight approach zero. Dammit. STIR CRAZY. Pub on Sunday or Monday, I expect. MUST GO OUT. EVEN A BIT. Not allowed cloves, though. Pfeh. Just because my loved ones saw me in a hospital bed with an oxygen line up my nose, they're tetchy about the idea of me smoking. Domestic nanny state!