I’m actually pretty good at Mario Kart DS. Unfortunately I also get incredibly angry when the CPU controlled characters do cheap bullshit to win. I guess it finally got to me. One particular round, in a single lap, I was hit with no less than three blue shells. And that came after I was hit by two blue shells and two red shells almost consecutively. I reset the game. Almost immediately into my next attempt, I was hit by a red shell, and then whoever was behind me knocked me off a ledge.

Today I had my first MRI. As I type this, I still have the heart-monitor leads attached to my chest. I went to the [Cardiac Center* at The University of Chicago Hospitals expecting to be crammed unceremoniously into a tube for an indeterminate amount of time, but that would have been too easy. I got there early: around 10:15, not knowing how the pseudo-blizzard would affect The El. They decided to take me early, so through the magical portal of doom did I travel.

SQL Server: pasty wad of absolute Shit, or revolting stream of projectile vomit? The world may never know. If you ever get a chance to play with SQL Server, for an amusing day of knee-slapping hilarity, do this: 1. Dance and frolic as you dump a remote table consisting of 10 million rows. 2. Skip and jump while copying the 90MB compressed dump to a remote server. 3. Raise a jocular toast as a BULK INSERT command does its work.

I’ve tried being nice. I’ve sent multiple messages to their support email address. I’ve ignored the faults in the BlueShark pad I purchased and asked merely for a replacement connector cable. I even offered to purchase the replacement since it was probably damaged during shipping, regardless of how sloppily the pad was boxed. But now, after two months of essentially being ignored, I’ve resolved that MyMyBox must be destroyed! Why then, did it have to come to this?

I’ve got a big bag of crabs here, and I am going to put them in my mouth. Oh yes! Incidentally, what the hell else would you do with tasty crabs? Someone on Rob’s Livejournal noted that he liked this better than Badger Badger Badger, so of course I had to see it for myself. Now personally I could subsist without a churning throng live crabs shredding the supple tissues of my mouth, but I suppose it could substitute as a unique method of toughening gums of nancy-boy wussies who cringe away from such manly activities such as chewing glass or gargling thumbtacks.