December 26th, 2004

Merry day after christmas.

I spent christmas eve and christmas day with my girlfriend, which was pretty much the perfect present. (I'll plead the fifth when it comes to unwrapping her.) I spent much of this time playing my present to her (Katamari Damacy), which is presumably gender-typical behavior. (Honey, you'll love this, I bought you an angle grinder, now let me borrow it...)

What IS an angle grinder, anyway? I know there's a real-life british superhero called "angle grinder man" who removes car boots to annoy policemen (I did not make this up), but how does it differ from a straight grinder? Presumably it's some sort of enormous Dremmel...

"Extension cord" would have been a better analogy. And the whole thing breaks down since she spent _her_ time playing the new World of Warcraft Online (where her character is a night elf rogue in bright green hot pants. Really. She sneaks around, invisibly, wearing bright green hot pants. And attacks birds for their eggs. Not robs nests, apparently the birds themselves have the eggs). Later, she made a new character who's a paladin using the Blessed Mallet of St. Eeeeeeewww.

Anyway.

The trick to making good instant hot chocolate is to use two packets of the little powder at once, and to use about 2/3 boiling water and 1/3 milk. Cream would make things much easier (whipped cream, about which I once again would have pled the fifth in the cicrumstances, but which sadly was not available and all the stores were closed).

George was hoarse when I got home christmas night. I'd been gone way too long, you see, and she did not appreciate this at all. (She's now curled up on the couch.)

Shortly before I went to bed, she wanted to poke around under the bathroom sink upstairs, which still has the towel and (still unused) miniature catbox from when she was a wild, flea covered filthy kitten I abducted from the parking garage and locked up in the bathroom. Now she seems somewhat confused by it all. I couldn't remember whether it was Stolckholm syndrome or Helsinki syndrome I should have been attempting to explain to her, but that doesn't stop me from plotting to abduct the little orange kitten I've been feeding, who lives in the exact same hole in the garage ceiling tiles. (Well it's COLD out there, and George is bored when I'm not here.) But this one's very skittish and runs away a lot...

Mildly creepy, if you stop and think about things as much as I do...

On a totally unrelated note, livejournal has now switched to a "secure" login mechanism under which I myself could steal people's passwords on a wireless connection. Under their new setup, an unsecure page uses javascript to create an md5sum of your password, but there's no authentication to say that page actually comes from livejournal.com. I could have my laptop inject another page that looks the same but has different javascript, which would send me a copy of their password before using it to log them on to livejournal so they didn't even notice. Not that I WOULD do this, but what's to stop somebody from doing it to ME? Livejournal no longer offers an actual secure https page, where the page you type your login info intro was fetched in a secure manner from a server that's been cryptographically verified to match a signed and registered https key valid for the domain you think you're looking at. No, they wanted to do it themselves, and like so many people who try to roll their own cryptography they left a gaping hole in the system. Sigh...

Oh well, not like my livejournal account's really all that important. If my bank started doing this, I'd ding 'em about the ears...

Rob