Monday, Monday

Did you know that in a past life I was someone famous? I'm thoroughly convinced of this. "Who is this illustrious person?" you might ask. Murphy. You know, as in Murphy's Laws Murphy. Seriously, it's the only way I can explain this. It's the only way I can explain why so far I've had a Monday worse than the prototypical Monday. A Monday to define the reason we hate Mondays, you might say. And a weekend that wasn't that much better. And why this shit seems to happen to me all the time.

I know how that last sentence sounds, and normally I'd agree with you. But, in the spirit of "just because you're paranoid don't mean they're not watching you," I'd say it's also true that just because you're feeling sorry for yourself doesn't mean that you aren't actually pathetic. I apologize for the sensationalism of all that . . . but even after a little while of cooling off from the events they are DAMN peculiar. And it makes for some good stories, anyway.

I had an ICS programming test this morning at 10am. Now, I had spent the past week going over the labs and making sure I understood what went through them. We were allowed to bring in any amount of notes as long as they were printed out or written down; we couldn't use any digital materials that weren't provided and we weren't allowed to navigate to any websites except the ones that were given to us. Breaking any of these rules would result in a zero, which is clearly bad.

But I wasn't sweating this. I mean, I had a good idea of what I was doing, and as long as I had the answers from the labs printed out ahead of time and looked 'em over then it shouldn't be a problem. I went over to the Chisholm computer lab to use the printer there (which is basically the only reason I ever go in there). After a few minutes of trying, I discovered that the printer was not only down but beyond repairing that night. Great. Oh, well. No matter. The library opens at 8:30 in the morning. I can just go there, print things off, and go over the notes while sitting in class. I hardly listen to the lecturer anyway.

I attempted to get a good night's sleep but . . . I dunno whether I was stressing out over not having those notes or what it was but my mind would not stop racing and I just could not get to sleep. Insomnia happens now and then I suppose. And it's not like I've never stayed up all night before a test, before. Hell, that's my usual MO. So I spent my time divided between studying and watching episodes of The Next Generation while I waited for the morning to crawl along far enough that I might be able to go to the library and get this shit done.

At around quarter past 8 in the morning I left my room bound for said library. I wanted to make sure to get there right at opening in case there was a line for the computers or the printer or something. Or in case something went wrong. If you're the sort that likes a mystery, you've probably already deduced that something did go wrong. As soon as I got there it became clear that the library had a proprietary system for paying for print outs. I went to the front desk to find out what this system was and how it worked. After waiting in line for a bit, I was finally helped by a man at the front counter and he informed me I could simply use my student card, and that I could recharge it with money at the recharging stations around the library.

Naturally, I went to find one of these so I could put some money on it and therefore print. Being the observant little guy I am, I found one quickly, and stuck my card in. "Error 217." Well. What the fuck does that mean? It ejected the card a few moments later. I had guessed that maybe it was just a one-time error, so I tried it again. "Error 217." Maybe a two-time error? Please? "Error 217." Fuck you, machine. I tried the card in another one with the same results.

At this point I am sufficiently perturbed and I go back up to the desk to ask where I should go if it's not working. Naturally the guy asked "Why isn't it working?" I don't know. It just isn't. It gives me an error. He takes my card and comes back over to the machine with me to investigate this himself. He tries all four of the machines before also coming to the conclusion that there's just something wrong with my card. So I ask him again where I need to go if it's not working. He directs me to the Student Resource Center in the David Myers Building (which is pretty much all the way back across campus.)

This is beginning to be a real annoyance, but whatever. I'm cool. I do as I'm told and high-tail it over to the David Myers Building to talk to the people there. I get up to the window and tell the lady what's going on and that I'm getting an error code 217 whenever I try to recharge my card. She takes the card and goes in the back to find someone to help out with this. Several minutes later her and some other lady are pouring over this book to find out what a Code 217 means. Finally the second lady looks up at me and asks: "Did you pull the card out before you were supposed to?" I said "No." She said "Well, you must have, because that's what the code 217 means." Somehow, it always annoys me when someone tells me what I must've done. "No, it isn't what I did. The card was ejected automatically." The look on her face is that of contempt. "Are you sure that's what happened." "Yes. I had no idea how to even get it out of there without it spitting it back out because I've never used that machine before." She skeptically concedes and then confers with the other lady and the book again. Well, isn't someone on a high horse this morning.

After a few more moments, she says "Oh, did you try it in more than one machine?" I affirmed that I did. She says "Oh, that's why. You need to try it in the same machine." I tell her "I tried other machines only after it wouldn't work in the same machine 3 times. In fact, it was the guy at the main desk of the library who insisted on trying it in all the machines." She says "Well you should try it in the same machine and see what happens." Her words sound helpful, but really she's trying to get rid of me. I say "Look, I'm telling you what happened. No offense, but I really don't feel like walking all the way back to across campus to do something I already know won't work, just to walk back across campus again and tell you about it."

A few more moments pass, and she concludes that they can't figure it out. If I come back at 10, she says, there'll be someone more knowledgeable here that can help me. I thought about pointing out that what I needed to print out was due at 10, but I didn't feel like making them feel guilty for no reason, especially if they couldn't help me.

So I trudged back to my dorm room, feeling very defeated. At this point I knew little about where else I could go to print. I had thought my options were exhausted and I was just going to hope that a good sob story about it would convince the tutor to let me take it with another group or else I was fucked. Then I thought about asking on DC++ where I could go. It was a good thing I did, as people made many many suggestions about where to go. All of them, however, required a Cafe Digital account, whatever that was. I trek back to the Agora (which is right next to the library) to get one of these and finally print out my notes.

There's another snag, however. At the main cafe digital site you can't access the Internet, only the Intranet. This was a major problem because I had emailed everything I need to myself so I could downloaded all at a remote location and print it out then. You can imagine how frustrated I am at this point. The guy at the desk tells me I can do what I need to do at the Bookstore downstairs, as they use Cafe Digital accounts but allow you to get to the Internet. FINALLY, $10 later (for charging the account), I have my printing. None-too-soon either, as it was mere minutes before my test was to start.

I was very glad I had those notes during the test, as it did help the test to go more smoothly, but either way I was fucked. That test was hard. Not necessarily hard to do, but near impossible to complete in the time allotted. I was delayed several times due to hardware troubles, as well. Thankfully, though, there wasn't a single student who finished. I guess I just have to hope I sucked much less than everyone else. Luckily, either way, that lab test was only worth about 5%. At least I felt like I knew what I was doing. It was just too much to do. Even if I had managed to get all the coding done right, there wouldn't not have been enough time to test it thoroughly. But it's behind me. I went to my next lab and hung out with Richie in it and stuff, and the day has ended well.

But Richie was a source of another adventure I had on Saturday. He was having a housewarming party to break in his new place that night and had invited me to come along. I said I'd be happy to come over. Funnily enough, just attending a party isn't as simple as it sounds for me. Maybe it's because I'm short? *shrug* No matter.

So Richie gives me directions on how to get there from La Trobe. I am to take the tram, and unfortunately the tram only takes coins and I have not enough. All I have is a fresh $20 and a handful of change totaling just under $2 and I needed $2.40. As usual in this circumstance it necessitated a trip to McDonald's. Normally all I do in that instance is get a small fry or something and get my change and go. However, I was actually hungry this time. So I decided to attempt to get a healthy meal. It cost me $8 and change. At McDonald's. Aren't they popular because they're insanely cheap? Apparently not when it comes to something healthy. I got a salad, a small fry (hey, they're tasty . . .) and a drink other than a soda and my wallet got bludgeoned for it.

Then I caught the tram to the stop I was supposed to get off at. It's customary to bring your own booze to these kind of things, so I stopped off at a nearby liquor store to pick up some beer. I pretty much only had an even $10 left, so I picked up at $10 6-pack of something called Hahn's Premium Light. Something told me it wouldn't be all that great, but hey . . . whatever. It was beer and it was cheap.

I then walk the rest of the instructions to Richie's place. A left here. A right there. A traversing through a very poorly-lit neighborhood here. The sound of an angry dog coming into a bone-crunching contact with a fence to my right there. Oh, and there's Richie's place. Dark. With no visible lights on. Huh. Hardly seems like a setting for a party. Let's see, I recall being told 14 Queen St . . . and here I am: #14. I knock. Nothing. I knock louder. Still nothing. I walk back down the street to look at the Street sign to confirm I'm on the right street. I am. What the fuck is going on? I give the house one more try, and I knock hard enough to nearly break the door in just in case someone is listening to loud music via headphones or something. Still nothing. Well that was $20+ well spent, wasn't it? There was nothing left to do but go back home. My phone had no credit and I didn't know his number anyway. So I said screw it. I'll just go back home and watch a movie. Of course, you just know that as I'm walking back to the tram stop, the tram whizzes by past me just as I'm about to turn the corner to get to the stop. FUCK. This is just bullshit.

Sometime later I get back home. It's about 8:00 PM at this point. This means that going back out via tram is not a very viable solution. I decide to share the funny story with the people in DC chat so we could all laugh about it together and, as I do, Fiona (one of Damo's roommates) PM's me and says that Damo is about to go to the party and would I like I ride? I say sure. So I pick up my bag of crap beer and run on out to the carpark to wait for Damo. While I'm waiting, I consider the fact that it would've saved me a lot of money if I'd realized I could've gotten a ride in the first place and shrug it off. $10-$12 isn't that much in the scheme of things, I suppose. Damo was supposed to be just leaving as Fiona was telling me that. It's been 20 minutes and I'm still waiting. What the hell? Is there a full moon? No, I guess not.

I come back inside and ask Fiona if she forgot to tell him or something. She didn't. He just forgot to pick me up. So I go back out and wait some more and he finally picks me up and we have a laugh about it. But just as that other incident did, that night ended well. I hung out with Richie and Damo and their friends and had a few laughs, then caught a ride back home.

After "The Monday Incident" I came back and slept for about 6 hours before waking up ~11 PM. I figured that was the only way I was going to finish studying for my 9am Japanese Grammar test. Luckily, that test seemed to go a lot better than the previous one. And hey, one of the cute girls in the class even sat next to me during it. How about that, huh? Hey, shut up, let me pretend I'm special. :p

Anyway, I've just gotten back from Northland - I picked up a pair of dress pants for $14 (plus $15 worth of hemming . . . what's a guy my size to do?) at Myer and got myself a haircut. Why, you ask? Why, for the Chisholm Ball tomorrow evening of course. I have my ticket and my bus ticket, and it a free pass to food, drink, and dancing. Well, I guess I should say a $65 pass to food drink and dancing. The devil's in the details there, I guess. It should be fun. But right now I really ought to get some sleep.

Aussie Doozy of the Day:
Liquor is one of the few things that is oddly more expensive in Australia. A bottle of Smirnoff, for example, would be about $16-$18 USD in Washington State. It's about $30-$35 AUD here which, even after conversion, would spike it up to about the price of Grey Goose. Perhaps it's so expensive because they know Australians will still pay for it . . . ?