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eniac mailing list / July 1990
By Paola Kathuria

This is turning out to be a fun day.

I spent the first two hours going through my mail and replying to the chosen few while eating my two slices of toast with marmite. Then I figured I'd better do some work and have made a good show of working hard by making some notes on the manual I finished reading, while having the B52s[1] blasting through my headphones.

Anyway, during my LaTeXing and xdvi-ing (which is pretty pointless on my monitor since it just throws up a window which looks like a load of birds with inked feet have walked all over the screen, but it seems like the thing to do to save paper so I do it anyway) I am being xbiff-\end{}[2] to death ... whoops .. xbiffed, even, unnecessarily. At first I thought that I might be hallucinating (as a mail freak is wont to do with regards to xbiff things) so I called someone over and they could see it too. The only reason for this flood of xbiffs (and resets not by me) can attributed only to a poltergeist in my 'pooter[3]. Not sure how to get rid of it.

Actually, I don't really mind that much, as the window comes up a pleasant dark orchid colour to complement my darkturquoise root window highlighting my vines bitmap, skyblue (I think) window titles and forestgreen text. Heh, we could have a window manager customi[s|z]ation show: "And being wheeled down the aisle now is Cerulean's display, showing the Spring colours". Perhaps not.

And then, on the way back from the laser printer, I spotted an old wooden chair by the window. It turns out to be an antique chair that a couple bought down the road. It's oak and has been re-upholstered rather well. A few of us spent a some time reading the writing on one of the casters, trying to figure out if it had a date on it (or the address of the other five chairs). It's a patent thing; we didn't have a magnifying glass (I thought we had but I was thinking of xmag) and no one seemed to think that using an ashtray would work (I don't know why). The first thing we made out was T-R-I-M and I was very excited when I told the others that it spelt out a word. It turned out to be BRIM anyway.

There's a chip on the front and I told the new owner that this was probably from the time when the uncle found out that his nephew was the daughter of his ... (and then I got a little confused) ... and hit the chair. The owner then proved this theory when he pointed out that the blow must have been sufficiently strong to knock the person off the chair and break the leg, and he showed me that indeed one of the legs had been broken and glued back into place. I was impressed.

Oh, what else. Oh yes, I'm wearing black today. I love it. I'm not sure what it is by having every item of clothing black but I like it. Actually, I lied, all I need is some black lacey underwear and it'd be a full set (what do you think, Frank?).

Talking of marshmallows, I seem to have this thing about marshmallows being erotic. When I just think of gently pushing them onto a stick and holding it in a fire until it starts to shrivel and darken, then blowing softly on it, taking some of the skin in my fingers and pulling the outer layer off, dropping it in my mouth, then sucking off the melted marshmallow exposed, before taking it all in my mouth, I dunno, it just does something to me. Umm. Has anyone else experienced this?

Hope this helps.

Paola (slowly evolving (disolving?) into a computer nerd)

[1] I rediscovered the B52s from watching MTV. Listening to it loudly reminds me of America. I'm not sure what listening to it quietly reminds me of ... hang on, I'll check. Um, it doesn't remind me of anything.

[2] *sigh* That's what happens when you set up abs.

[3] 'Pooter being computer, of course. But then, I was told on IRC that my chosen name, Poot, means fart, so I may as well clear up any confusion by saying that I don't think I have a poltergeist up my bum. [4].

[4] You think I should be able to tell? Would you know if you had a poltergeist up your backside? I think not. Seems like a reasonable place to hide.