Someone started a hashtag last week called #coderbooks. I was late to the party, but once I started doing it I COULDN’T STOP. Rather than inflict them all on Twitter, I’m collecting my amusements here:
- The Black Perl Script #coderbooks
- The Man in the Iron Emacs #coderbooks
- The Greatest Iteration #coderbooks
- Henry vi #coderbooks
- #000000 Beauty #coderbooks
- Lord of the Files #coderbooks
- Waiting for Sudo #coderbooks
- The Secret LIFO of Bees #coderbooks
- Root #coderbooks
- Rikki-Tikki-Java #coderbooks
- The Greps of Wrath #coderbooks
- The Old Man and the C++ #coderbooks
- To Kill -9 a Mockingbird #coderbooks
And here are some #codermovies, too!
- My Big Fat Greek Threading #codermovies
- Fatal Abstraction #codermovies
Thanks to whoever created the hashtag!
Me: I love that you agree with me on everything [when it comes to opinions on Doctor Who and Torchwood]. It makes me happy. (beat) Because I’m right. (beat) And that means you’re right, too.
My friend: I like the way you worded that. Because then if we end up on opposite sides at some point, you’ll have set yourself up on the “right” side.
Me: Well, of course I’m right. If I weren’t right I’d change my opinion.
My friend: Wait, you’re not allowing for the possibility that you might be wrong?
Me: Of course not. Why would I want to be wrong? If I were wrong, I’d change my mind so I was right.
My friend: But maybe you believe . . .
Me: Pffffft! Why would I want to believe something that wasn’t true?
This post is dedicated to a certain discussion on a certain person’s blog. That certain person dared me to demonstrate “How To Kill People With [Insert Fruit Here].”
So, naturally, I give you a video guide entitled, “How to Enact Violence Via Fruit.” Duh duh duh . . .
The title of the video says, “Teal’c throws a stone,” but that’s an avocado. For reals.
Yup, the Doctor uses a satsuma to smack down his enemies.
Friend #1: “You’re so unique you only have one eigenvector.”
Me: “Yes, I’m a very singular person.”
Friend #1: ::Groan::
Me: “Are you groaning because it’s such a bad pun or because it’s technically mathematically incorrect?”
Friend #1: “BOTH!”
Other friend: “Wait, a singular matrix doesn’t have any eigenvectors.”
Me: “YES ARTISTIC LICENSE I’M SORRY!”
Other friend: “And isn’t it impossible to have only one?”
Me: “DON’T EXPLAIN THE JOKE!”
I’m currently studying quantum computing, and this string of characters means something concrete and mathematical and even not-too-complicated:
In honor of Peep season, I feel I must make a public service announcement:
Peeps make great s’mores.
Not only that, but if you heat them up in the microwave instead of over a fire, you can have PEEP WARS. (If you’ve never done this, it’s easy: Put two Peeps in a microwave and watch them bloat up until they’re ginooooooormous and see which one overwhelms the other!)
Other fun things to put in microwaves: CDs, grapes, aluminum foil . . . you know you want to . . .
. . . by the way, I am not responsible for any damage your microwave may incur if you listen to a strange blogger on the Internet. Just sayin’!
Oh! I forgot the best moment (well, for some versions of “best”). It went down like this:
The captain: “Okay, who’s on what position?”
Me: “Uh, I’m going to be terrible. Stick me in the outfield somewhere.”
The captain: “Okay, you’re right field.”
The next ten seconds transpires thusly:
A moment of total panic as I realize I don’t know which side “right field” is.
IS IT STAGE RIGHT OR HOUSE RIGHT??
I realize that in all my research I neglected to look up this very fundamental piece of vocabulary.
I begin wishing I hadn’t left my phone in the car so I could surreptitiously Google it . . .
Then the captain sort of waves at the side of the field behind first base. Aha! I grab my glove and jog over to that side. (And then we get creamed by the ex-pro baseball team.)
So, for those playing at home, “right field” is “right” from the perspective of home plate, not from the perspective of the outfield. Just for the record.
So, gentle readers, I know you are all bursting with curiosity about how my adventures in softball are going!
Well, I had my first game today. And how did we do?
We got crushed. Like, really crushed.
The team we were playing? It turns out it was captained by an ex-major league baseball player. And about three-quarters of his players were ex-Triple-A or other ex-minor league baseball players.
Yeah. It was like being in a comedy movie.
I don’t even know what the score ended up being. One inning the other team scored 15 runs, and let me tell you, they were playing an extremely relaxed game. There were several innings in which we, on the other hand, scored zero.
The umpire mercy ruled us after five innings.
Well, the other guys were really nice about creaming us! And my team is awesome, so we still had a lot of fun.
They’re like dinner, only with bonus pointy stabby things!
(Yes, I am aware that I am a five-year-old child.)
Ever since I was little, I’ve landed decidedly on the “nerd” side of the “jock/nerd” dichotomy. In fact, it’s hard for me to identify as an athlete even though I am ridiculously athletic. Of course, the athletic activities I do are all sufficiently nerd-friendly (swords, guns, martial arts, hanging from my toes from the ceiling, etc.), which has thus far saved me from an identity crisis.
But this year. This year . . .
This year I am playing softball. SOFTBALL! A team sport!
Yes. I, the eternal geek, am playing softball on a recreational league. I bought a glove and everything! And CLEATS!
::furtive glances:: Does this mean I’m a jock now?
Of course, I haven’t played anything remotely resembling softball since Little League, which was a whole ::mumble mumble:: years ago. I read through every page of the game rules the league sent out, like the good little geek I am, and then I googled all the terms I didn’t understand. I now know what the Infield Fly Rule is and how to Tag Up and all sorts of other Real Sports Terms! (Don’t ask me to explain them, though—I’m not sure I understand them THAT well.)