Radio Free Meredith

enochsmiles: Crap, the root on this cactus got damaged when you removed the pup. It's going to rot if we don't protect it until it calluses. Do we have any antifungals?

maradydd: No, but let me see what I can do with what we have in the lab.

Google: Why don't you try Bordeaux mixture?

Wikipedia: It dates to 1885, and it's approved for use in organic gardening! You'll need 1g copper sulfate, 1g hydrated lime, and 100mL water.

maradydd: Oh! We have calcium oxide that the Mississippi Lime Company sent us, so I can make calcium hydroxide, and we have copper sulfate from the hardware store.

(maradydd disappears into the lab and returns with a 100mL flask of milky blue liquid, which enochsmiles pours onto the soil around the cactus.)

Cross your fingers; I hope the cactus makes it. He's older than the cat. We repotted him in a deeper pot (the cat knocked the old pot off the credenza), applied a thin coating of lime to the wound to help it dry out and scab over, and gave him some Bordeaux mixture, so I hope he has a speedy recovery.

(SCENE: our bedroom, this morning)
maradydd: Sweetie, it's time to get up. You've got a doctor's appointment this morning.
enochsmiles, not opening eyes: Can't the doctor come here?
maradydd, suppressing giggles: No, sweetie, he doesn't do that. It's time to drink a Red Bull.
enochsmiles, still not opening eyes: Can't the doctor drink a Red Bull?
maradydd: No, baby. C'mon, open your eyes...
enochsmiles: Will we play chess?
maradydd: While wearing cheese pants?
enochsmiles: You have cheese?
(at this point I picked him up bodily, and he woke up)

Man, you take apart a monitor at a party and everyone wants to know what the hell you're doing.

I mean, L. and I had a perfectly good reason for it: it was a hacker party, we were working on hacking together a high-voltage power supply from a CFL and the flyback transformer from an elderly CRT, the setting and the task at hand seemed to go well together. Within a few minutes of arriving, we met a guy who had taken apart many, many CRTs before, and who was quite happy to hang back and give helpful tips. That was great, and I was equally happy to give the twenty or so people who wandered by in the next hour and a half a quick explanation of what we were up to. ("We're making a Jacob's Ladder, so we need a flyback transformer. Later we're going to use the power supply for another project, but a Jacob's Ladder seemed like a great way to test it.")

Where it got annoying, though was the couple or five people who basically demanded we justify our right to plunge our hands into the guts of a sacrificial monitor. "Isn't that going to release dangerous gases?" No, that's only if we break the tube, and we're not going to do that. "Those transformers can hold a lot of charge even after the monitor's off." Yes, and not only has this monitor not been turned on in two years, L. held a screwdriver across the leads to discharge any remaining charge. "But what do you need that strong of a power supply for?" A Jacob's Ladder sounded like fun, dammit.

The absolute best exchange, though, went something like this:

WELL-MEANING BUT ANNOYING PERSON: Does anyone here actually study electrical engineering?
maradydd, grinning: Not me!
L, grinning even larger: Why yes, in fact I do.

The irony, of course, is that L. is getting his PhD in electrical engineering because that's where they decided to put the cryptographers. Me? I build radios and do the odd bit of electrical work on cars.

I'm half tempted, if I do a hardware project at one of these things again, to print out a sign that reads YES, I KNOW WHAT I AM DOING, PLEASE DO NOT INTERRUPT ME.

Ten journalpoints and a cookie to whoever can come up with the best justification for the following code:

  for( i=0; i<2; i++ ) 
  {
    Kd[i] = (double **)mxCalloc(str1len+1,sizeof(double *));
    for( j=0; j<str1len+1; j++ ) 
    {
      Kd[i][j] = (double*)mxCalloc(str2len+1, sizeof(double));
    }
  }

I can just see the office conversation now:

TEAM LEAD: Jones, you keep forgetting to malloc() your arrays and we end up with segfaults all over the place.
DEVELOPER: Not this time! I malloc()ed those sons-of-bitches twice!

(cipherpunk, I am reminded of the infamous "if (j == 17) j = 17;" from the early days of Djinni.)

ETA: Oh, nevermind, it's frickin' 1:30 in the morning and I failed to notice the declaration of Kd as double **Kd[2] earlier in the source, not to mention the subscript in the first line of the for loop. Good thing I hadn't fired it off to the Daily WTF, though really, it wouldn't have hurt anyone to put in an explanatory comment. Subscripts are easy to gloss over sometimes.

(Imagine both of us with completely straight faces.)

ME: Do you have anything I can use to spread this epoxy with?
MY DAD: No, but I'll go eat an Eskimo Pie so you don't have to.

(TRIS and MEREDITH are watching the BAZ LUHRMANN version of LA BOHEME, on which much of RENT is apparently based. It is Act Four.)

(CHERYL BARKER, as MIMI, belts out several impossibly high notes, molto fortissimo.)

MEREDITH: You're dying and you can sing like that?
TRIS: Yeah, I'm about ready to forgive Trinity.

MEREDITH: I suppose the link for "Give me a new random abstract to evaluate" shouldn't read "Thank you, sir, may I have another?"
ANDY: ... Well, not at release.

(MEREDITH, upstairs, hears Lord of the Rings-ish music and sfx, and the distinctive voice of Viggo Mortensen. She rushes downstairs.)

MEREDITH: Did the DVD get here? Is it the towers that there are two of?
ALEX (disappointed): No, it's the ring that there's only one of.

(MEREDITH, AGE 26 falls screaming out of the sky and lands in a heap at the feet of MEREDITH, AGE 17.)

M17: Dude. You okay?
M26: (picks herself up and dusts herself off) Oh, yeah, yeah, I'm fine. You're me--I mean, Meredith, right?
M17: Um, yeah.
M26: Good. Then I'm in the right place. Hi, I'm you, from the future.
M17: Uh ... huh. Is this like that story I wrote--
M26: The one with the girl who travels back in time two years and keeps having to deal with copies of herself? No. Not at all.
M17: Cool, you've heard of me! So does that book get published in the future?
M26: If it does, it hasn't by the time you're 26. But that's not why I'm here. I'm here because there are some things about yourself you need to know, and I'm hoping I can save you some pain and trouble. You're pretty miserable right now, aren't you?
M17: I don't know as I'd say miserable, but ... well, kinda lonely a lot of the time.
M26: Yup. Been there. It's your first year of college, all your friends from high school are elsewhere except for April Ellis and Scott McCrosky who are usually busy doing something else, and you spend most of your time hanging out with Paul Amici, who's besotted with April; Andy Becker and Don Large, both of whom follow you around like puppies and you don't know why; and Richard the Damned, see above. Am I right?
M17: Yeah, pretty much.
M26: I'm gonna clear some things up for you. What you haven't figured out yet is that they're all into you because you're a geek chick, and they just don't have the courage or self-assurance to step up to the plate and say something about it. So let me ask you a quick hypothetical question. What do you think you'd do if one of them did?
M17: Uhh ... I dunno. I mean, they're all really nice guys, and if one of them was interested, then I probably should--
M26: Okay, wait, stop right there. You have to understand that there is no should. Whatever they happen to feel about you, that's all them. You're not obligated to do a goddamn thing, understand?
M17: I don't think I'm obligated. But I like all the attention, and if I don't respond in kind...
M26: Then what? You think they wouldn't hang out with you any more? You think you'd lose all future chances if you don't jump at one in the present? Kiddo, I know you because I've been you. You remember what it was like to be thirteen and completely alone, and you're terrified of turning anyone or anything down because you don't ever want to feel like that again. Well, look, after nine years of this shit, I can tell you that it does get better. By the time you're me, you're not going to be angsting over whether anyone's interested in you -- you're going to be angsting over whether you turned that guy down gently enough because you genuinely want to be friends with him and nothing else.
M17: Don't other people hate that?
M26: Well, yeah, they do. But there's nothing you can do about it. You're responsible for your own feelings and that's all. It isn't your fault if you're going on minding your own business and some guy decides he wants to make you his business. Just be kind, be benevolent, and look after what you want.
M17: ... I don't know what I want.
M26: (sighs) Yeah. Yeah, that's the problem, innit. And I can't tell you that. You get to find it out on your own.
M17: Do you know?
M26: Maybe. (pause) Maybe not. (long pause) Oh, and one other thing. This whole business about living 45 minutes away from the guy you love and not having a car -- that shit's for amateurs. Just so you know.
M17: Uh ... huh. (another long pause) By the way, nice hair.
M26: Thanks. You're going to meet this really great stylist when you move to I--

(MEREDITH, AGE 26 is drawn screaming into the sky by unseen forces and disappears.)

M17: Move to I? I what? Iceland? Ireland? I wonder where she meant...

(SETTING: Meredith and Colin's bathroom. Meredith is by the sink, holding a pair of pants.)

MEREDITH: I'm going to use some of your peroxide mouthwash to see if I can get the bloodstain out of these pants.
COLIN: Go right ahead. I didn't know peroxide got out stains.
MEREDITH: Yeah, it's great on organics. It makes them go fizz-fizz-fizz and they disappear. (pause) Besides, it'll make my pants taste minty fresh.