I am coming to Philly!!!

broken lights on the freeway
snows falling on the road
faded signs and y100
at the bend to welcome you home

First, here is a picture of a drawbridge:


it looked way bigger in person (TWSS). I took that picture with my cellphone, like I was a tourist.

Anyway.

I will be out in Philly Friday June 18. I don't know where yet, but expect some bar in the city. This is really the only night I have to see people. I'm coming in on the red eye Friday morning. Saturday night is the wedding, and its in or near Reading. I reserved like all of Sunday (at least, after I get up) for my parents because they call me so often, and monday night I fly back. So my only night for old friends is Friday night and there's nothing I can do about people that don't know each other, or hate each other, or both. Hopefully I will be in Philly again before long.

Also, it looks like House isn't going to be miserable all the time anymore. I'm going to need to find a new role model.

When you see yourself in a crowded room

This don't-go-home thing seems to be working out pretty well. I have lots of details I could share. Like how I had to suffer through a night of drinking with Firefly girl at the other end of the table, with tidbits of stories about people she was making out with floating on down my way. I couldn't think of a smooth way out of there; there was no pool table...nothing that I could pretend to suddenly be more interested in. Thats not important. I just figured out how to type my posts in comic sans ms. This could hail the beginning of a new era for my rantings.

[Edit]
Sadly, this font doesn't look all that different from the default one. Maybe if I make it bigger.

[Edit]
Yes....yes thats it.

/etc/init.d/seattled restart

this is who I am
escapist
paradise seeker
farewell, time to fly
out of sight
out of time
away from all lies

Stage 1

So I've just arrived in Seattle. I brought this boardgame with me called Settlers, and I'd like to check out the Salsa scene, and I mysteriously have a black sports car, a pilots license, and a lot of debt from both of those things. Ah, and too few vacation days to go anywhere. No one said this move would be easy.

I should start meeting some people. Sitting at home playing Unreal Tournament is starting to get boring because I've played all those maps over and over again, and all the maps on the internet suck, and I can't make new ones because the editor doesn't run on linux. If I want to meet new people through playing video games, I'm probably going to need a windows gaming computer, because I have waited ...approximately 7 years and 9 months for there to be enough games on linux, and that hasn't happened. Yeah, I'm not joking. Maybe this is related to why my personal life is so miserable. Lets not dwell on it.

In fact, lets assume that not only computer games, but everything else I do alone in my apartment is not going to help. I've spent some time trying to teach myself Texas Holdem, or practicing my guitar, okcupid, getting rejected by eHarmony, watching House, writing in my lame-ass blog, or pacing around trying to think of ways to meet people using craigslist. All of those ideas, including the ones I've tried, suck. However, thinking of things to do that won't meet people is not going to help me meet people. Settlers was somewhat successful--thats how I got interested in my latest rejection (as well as all of her other friends that didnt want to date me) so I should try that again. I have a feeling that there is a real correlation between people that like playing settlers and people that don't enjoy the wild (and the almost wild, and the slightly less wild) drinking parties I miss from Philly. Also, I can't really concentrate on anything because I keep thinking of Firefly Girl and watching Castle with her. Last night I watched the second half of the first book of The Lord of the Rings. If I make it through the entire saga...I don't know what will happen, but picture a health bar depleting.

The only thing I haven't fully tried is simply not being home ever. It is the one constant I haven't thought to attack directly. This is a little scary to me. Home is always where I go to retreat. Annoying people can't follow you home--except for the census guy I've been ignoring. He can't get in the door though, yet. Anyway, so being away from home a lot will probably be scary. I'm sure there is some kind of gay sounding phsychological explanation for that, but fortunately I don't interact with any phsych majors on a regular basis, so I am safe from their crap. But I digress.

I was going to label the following as goals 1 and 2, but continuing this nerdy boot analogy was too tempting.

Stage 1.5

We're focusing on the weeknight now. Weeknights are, in fact, the bane of my existence. Weekends are easy--there is enough time to go flying or drive all the way out to my distant friends. Weeknights are the problem; no one ever wants to do anything, except for scheduled crap like salsa dancing and league volleyball. And the last salsa class I took suck--I mean, gee I wonder if there are any good salsa classes here other than the place across the street from me. Also, I need to make myself sufficiently tired to fall asleep. Something about being lonely has a compounding effect: I don't want to go to bed unless I have a) someone to cuddle with b) something to look forward to (like possibly making out in the future) or 3) I can convince myself I've done something productive in the area of ever making out with anyone again. Most nights I stay up with strategy #3 that mostly consists of futile attempts to find Real Girls on the Internet. I don't know why I haven't given up entirely; I'm like a dog that comes back to its own vomit. Yeah you like that? That analogy comes from the Bible. I hope you were eating dinner while reading this.

So here's the deal: Don't sit around in the apartment at night. All that crap I always think I have to do can be done on the nights I'm effectively forced into house arrest by my stupid on call responsibilities. And I get a pass on the first of every month: that is when I check on my money situation. I hate dealing with money.

I have long before tried to figure out a way to never be home; in fact that is a long story for another time. I could never do it. I never had enough friends that wanted to hang out, and I was always trying to keep various nights open for possibly hanging out with whichever girl was currently avoiding me at the time. However, I just stumbled onto a formula that I think will work. That's actually the reason I'm writing this post. I don't know what I wrote as an introduction, but I see the scroll bar on this editor is pretty far down and I can tell you for certain that you just wasted a lot of your time. Here's the formula:

1. pick something, anything, you can do other than go home. Worst case scenario this will involve walking in a circle around your apartment, so you better think of something better.
2. think of something better. You don't have the option to stay home just because you don't feel like rock climbing; you can only switch activities.
3. Repeat #2 until its time to leave work.

I'm thinking this strategy will be easier if I keep like some rock climbing gear, and salsa shoes and whatnot in the trunk of my car. If none of my friends are free, I know of at least three things--no four, wait--five, that I can do alone. First, I can go to a bar and drink alone. Yeah, that sucks. So does my life. Second, go to Davenbusters/Gameworks/Julian's on a weeknight. Third--ok I need to put this in list form so I can read it later:
-ride sportbike for 2 hours (might as well add a fantasy one)
-go to a bar and drink alone
-go to a videogame bar and play games with probably-broken light guns
-salsa dancing, depending on the night. check for places near greenlake and bellevue
-rock climbing (bouldering)
-pick up volleyball
-swing dancing (bleh)
-reading books in coffee shops that dont close before 11pm

Stuff that I can do with people includes meeting Luke in Bellevue for food and/or movies, and occasionally hanging out with Gwen and Nick. Maybe someday I'll go to a sounders game. Whatever.

Obsviously there is still the scheduled stuff that required being at the same place every week, like salsa class and league volleybal. I hate those, but they do help meeting people, so they count for "not going home." And I do need to find a salsa class. That's how I met Krystal. Imagine if I could meet someone like Krystal a hundred or a thousand times. Statistically, one of those instances would have to work out. Oh, also swing dancing. Crap thats going up there on the list. I'm not so into swing anymore, but when I lived met two girls (that I didn't already know) at swing dancing venues, and only zero at salsa venues. Salsa is like facebook--its seems best for re-meeting people you already know.

I will continue with the other ideas, like posting on cragislist and asking if anyone wants to play Settlers. Who knows, maybe I'll make some friends that way.

Hmm...I also need to find a way to get comfortable with dancing to hip hop, because that could go on the list. Currently I require 5 drinks to have a good time when hip hop is involved, and that is dangerously close to the amount my stomach can handle if I drink them over a short period of time. We need to get that number down near 3 or 4.



Stage 2

Meet people that go to fun parties. I'm probably not extroverted enough to really enjoy parties where I don't know anyone, but if I want to not hate my life in this barren wasteland of mostly men then I'm going to have to get less shy real quick. I don't understand exactly why it is so much easier to meet people at parties, but it must have something to do with the fact that you are talking to friends of friends.

In theory, I will either find someone, or I will reach some critical mass of friends where I will be able to stay home occasionally and actually make progress on things like playing my guitar or some coding project to keep my skills sharp. Ah! Or a Lego webcomic!

After the boot loader

This is the part where I go do fun things, like overrated minigolf courses, brew pubs, going to concerts for bands no one has heard of, starting a metal band that does not involve screaming male vocals, visiting west coast cities that are more interesting than Seattle, powder skiing, flying myself to Las Vegas, going to rally races, taking Jessica onto the track, and going to those haunted railroad tracks I heard about, and more fun plays at Market Theatre, and something involving boats. These are the things I meant to write about, and they are probably what a fine East Coast Reader such as yourself are interested in. Check back in a year.

FML

I used to be love drunk
but now I'm hungover
I love you forever
forever is over

Firefly Girl is not interested in me. I thought she was, because everything looked like the other times girls said they were interested in me, and one of her friends literally walked up to me and told me she was interested. Thought that might be a safe bet. Turns out, she's not. In addition, she actually fed me the cliche friendship line word for word. Like, literally, "I just want to be friends." And a lame ass emoticon to twist the knife. I should have known; she did remind me of Laura.

I spent half the night angrily walking along one of the waterfronts and being even meaner towards the bums than normal. It is going to be hard to shake this one off. I wasn't just interested in this one--I had real, actual feelings for her. We could explore the ins and outs of how that came to pass if I cared to write about such things. I don't. What's important, is that I was going to walk from Belltown to alkai beach or whatever its called, but then I started feeling faint because I didn't really eat dinner, and I didn't want another hole in my jeans so I turned back and drank in a bar by myself. I wish I still had a sportbike. This is the first time I've ever ended up alone in a bar on purpose. At least, when I'm not salsa dancing. Its not so bad. Drinking doesn't really help anything but it does make you sleepy. Unfortunately, sleep didn't take, so I got up again and watched half of the first book of The Lord of the Rings. This is an improvement. Last time I stayed up until like 4 or 5 in the morning watching the battle scenes from all three movies, and had to see that girl on a weekly basis for another month or two. And the corona marathon was the one before that. So we are...progressing.

I could hang out in a bar by myself again. I would need to be able to sit somewhere so I can people watch. Staring at the wall or a tv gets boring. I've had this fantasy about having friends to hang out with but almost everyone I know well enough to just go grab some drinks live on the other side of a body of water. That pretty much kills hanging out on a weeknight. Living weekend to weekend doesn't work--not with a boring job. Thomas Edison said something about finding hundreds of ways that a light bulb wouldn't work. I've found a hundred girls that don't want to date me. And okcupid keeps sending me the same ugly girls over and over again. In fact, I'm about to make some very candid edits to my okcupid profile, and I may have to share them because the voices in the back of my head are screaming "your friends are going to find this s$^! hilarious!" I need to find some kind of fix for all of this, soon, because I can't focus on music, or programming, or anything else when I'm this miserable. When I try to write, all of my stories end like The Great Gatsby.

For these reasons I have to decided to start over. I'm going to pretend that I just moved here, and I don't know anyone, and that I don't hate this city. It is damn near impossible to meet girls when you are grumpy. I know I've spent a year here but there was the flying and the getting sick and the 3sat. So I guess that year--which was supposed to be my year--was a wash. Kind of like most of the ones before it. But that doesn't matter now, if I can put more effort into meeting people. I think I've gotten into routines that aren't helpful.

Maybe I'll post an add on craigslist about playing Settlers.

The Car Deck

Steampunk! It seemed fitting that my first experience driving a car onto a giant boat would be the day I went to a steampunk festival. The reason this is fitting is that the alternate history/anachronism themes in most steampunk films and books usually serves to increase the physical scale of the objects: bigger trains, bigger planes, bigger boats, bigger tanks, bigger rockets, etc. The steampunk thing itself turned out to not be so big. In fact, it was like the opposite of the grandeur scales you see on the screen. It was, in fact, a single room. The "panels" and the vendor boths shared a single room, roughly twice the size of the living room you would have if you lived in a house. Maybe 4 times. Whatever.

Here is a picture of a ferry:

You like the birds? I'm an awesome photographer. I was going to post on craigslist pretending to be a photographer that needed models in order to meet girls, but a bunch of creepy guys already thought of that, so I didn't. Also my cheapass bottom-of-the-line Best Buy camera wouldn't fool anyway. But I digress. That picture has nothing to do with our trip, and I took it weeks ago, but thats probably the same boat we were on. Or one just like it. Anyway, here is a picture of what I was sure was a B-17 Flying Fortress:

If you don't know what a B17 is, well, that sucks for you. My grandfather made a model of one once. It kicked ass. This also has little to do with our trip, except that it happened to be on the camera just now when I uploaded my steampunk pictures. Also, I think that a B17 is a bit steampunk-ish. You have a giant airplane with a big crew manning gun stations. Either way, that is awesome.

Ok this one is the first picture that I actually took on our trip today:

Thats the terminal in Victoria we pulled into. We visited a foreign country! Fortunately, most places took American dollars. It was quite fortunate, in fact, because I didn't think to deal with exchanging money, or even bring extra money. Or even print the ferry times for the right home. Hey, I love sitting around in McDonald's in the middle of the night. All I had was whatever was in my wallet, and my ATM card didn't work.

Ok this is another shot of the harbor. There were boats there. The hotel with the one-room expo is there in the background with the green on it. You'll find out what the green stuff is later.

Here is...yet another shot of the harbor. We had to wait a while, while they hooked up the plank. Or walkway. Whatever you call it. Oh, and this boat looks nothing like the boat in the first picture. That is because this is the second ferry we took. The first one was really cool. This second one that you see here bounced around a lot despite the fact that we were going through pretty much calm water the whole way. It would probably just flip onto its back and sink if there was a storm.

Here are some steam punk people. They look pretty cool. I think I like steam punk better than anime, because anime fans usually dress up like its halloween, wearing cardboard for metal and generally looking like a walking cartoon. Steampunk people however...most of them just look like they are wearing snazzy suits. And...well the googles give it away a bit. I think they look pretty normal. Oh, and corsets. Corsets are involved, which is an aspect shared with goth. I like corsets. Also boots. Steampunk boots tend to have lots of buckles, which is slightly different than the ones I prefer. They are still cool though.

The one drawback was some of the people were nerdy. It seems like no matter what the common interest, there are always people with this certain personality that I find annoying. Dungeons and Dragons has them in the greatest quantity. But I've seen it with video games, sports, anime, goth, ...anything. Maybe I'm not shy, but simply anti social.
These next few items are some accessories you can buy if you were worried people might confuse your steampunk outfit with a snazzy suit:


Each of those pieces was like $400, and it would probably break when dropped and stepped on, like with all my sunglasses. I don't think I would ever want to pay that much money to make people look at my funny--I can do that just by talking. Then again, maybe thats just because I'd rather be more of a pilot or train steampunk guy than a walking bioshock robot steampunk guy. To each his own.

Hey more expensive steampunk gear! I wasn't taking these pictures. My friend was. There was actually one of just the wall of the hotel. I elected not to upload that one.


Gauntlets. I like gauntlets. I tried to come up with a reason for purchasing these or the far cheaper black leather gauntlets as I walked by the vendor table while avoiding eye contact so they wouldn't talk to me, but I could think of no compelling reason to buy them. I also saw flasks, but I was pretty sure that the "steam punk" flasks were about 5 times the price at the convention as they would be at whatever store the vendor origininally got them from. I mean, they were flasks. Gray, steel (or some other metal) flasks in a leather pouch thing I wasn't going to use anyway.

Ok here is the hotel. The green is the ivy. It made me think of The Great Gatsby--which has nothing to do with steampunk.


This is the friend I went with. I don't like using real names or posting pictures of people I care about, but she is in costume and I shrunk the image size. Her scarf didn't really fit--it was like bright and silky. Not the kind of thing you'd expect to be tossed about behind the adventerous aviator of some biplane amidst a battle against giant Victorian-era robots.



This is another picture out the front of the lame, turbulent ferry that took 90 minutes to go about 18 miles. My imaginary amphibious motorcycle goes way faster than that.


This next picture is from inside my car in the cool Seattle-Bainbridge ferry. It was awesome. I was in a car, on a boat.


I was in a car on a boat! Someday, perhaps, I might be in a car in a plane on a boat. In a car, in a plane, on a boat, in a giant spaceship? One can only imagine.

We tried getting out the car and walking to the front and being adventerous, standing at the front watching Seattle approach. It was really cold and windy though. We got back inside the car.

Oh, and get this. You go through customs, right? Well they ask you a bunch of stupid questions. Like "what do you think you're doing coming into our country, bitch?" only they word it differently and ask it five times. Going from Canada back to the U.S. was even worse. First, before we get on the boat we go through customs. They ask if you've bought anything, to which I was about to list off the button, and the coffee, and--but they're only interested in beer and seeds or whatever. They also ask where you live and what you do for a living. Why is that their business? I'm a citizen. You don't need to know what my job is. What if I got layed off? Would you not let me back in the country? So anyway, then you take the boring boat ride all the way back to our fabulous (not) country, and....and....ready for it? And...go through customs. Again. Its like the first customs didn't count. Or like we're in Nazi Germany and they are just playing with us. I wanted to ask why we had to go through this twice, but any deviation from the standard answers just promped more questions. For example, the lady asked where we live, and my friend said "Seattle," but I added a snide "for now" because I don't like the idea of people thinking I'm from Seattle. I'm not going to let people say I'm "from" Seattle until the amount of time I've lived in Seattle is greater than the time I've lived in Philly but a factory of 1.2, at least.

So...but then the lady asked, "oh where are you moving to?" but in a tone indicated she wasn't curious but instead I have to answer. And then I had to say "oh no I just moved here to work for A==== from Philly." Where? "From Philly." Then she asked what I did. "I'm a programmer." Who do you work for? "For A====." Which I had just told her. I think they don't even listen to you--they just want to watch your facial expressions. Next time I go, I'm going to give all the standard answers in once sentence and see if they just ask all the questions anyway. "I did not buy any alcohol or visit any farms I left this morning by ferry to go to a steampunk convention I live in Seattle and I am a programmer." I bet their very next question would be: "why did you go to Canada?" Oh, and she told me to take my hands out of my pockets. She didn't ask what was in my pockets, she just seemed to want my hands out of them. I think they just do that stuff for fun. I felt like Malcom Reynolds dealing to the Alliance in Firefly.

So anyway, my poor friend got to here about why did we go through customs twice?!? the rest of the way home. Except for when I was driving fast to make the next ferry (you should always print a schedule so you know you don't have time to stop for food) and had to tell her about the cop that I thought was behind us. And dude...twice in one day I encountered people driving below the speed limit. Who does that? Twice in a single day. And it wasn't just one or two miles under, it was like ten miles under the limit. We're talking material for a horror movie. There was a little rain, but not where the people were driving under the limit. They were driving slow on dry asphalt on a non-foggy, fairly clear night with no cops in sight. Oh, and Jessica dominates in rain.

Whatever. At least we didn't see any Twilight fans. I don't know if you know this, but the Port Angeles that we took the ferry from--the very same port angeles that I may or may not have taken my first cross-country flight to--is the same port angeles in the twilight books. I actually bought a twilight book for a friend of mine. That was before I read it, or even suspected that anyone could take a lame romance novel and pretend it was about vampires. Thats almost as uncool as driving below the speed limit. Not as bad as not using your turn signals, though, or driving a giant white amphibious tank and running over people at stoplights and not paying for the damage to their cars. I wish there was some small thing I could do every day to harm their business. So far the only practical move with no consequences that would hurt no one is to give everyone on the boat the middle finger. Yeah, I'm not very creative. I mean, you could fill a super soaker with pepper spray and hit the tourists with it, but I think you'd get arrested for that. Also, super soakers are only designed for water, and using other substances allegedly damages the firing mechanisms.

Oh, I don't know if I told you this: the one girl who works at the office that I thought hated me, but then briefly thought liked me because someone kept leaving notes in my mailbox telling me I had a package when I didn't, for which the only explanation is she likes me or some idiot can't tell the difference between a 6 and a 0, and who also said "hey you" to me but who definitely still has a boyfriend so I don't ever want to talk to her again, told me that those boats have plugs in them. All you have to do, actually, is just get them out into the water and uplug something and the duck boats sink on their own. No drilling...no reverse-bilge pump. Just unplug...whatever. Maybe I could take a ride on the duck boat, and leap forward and yank the plug up. People would remember my face though. And the water is probably cold. I could wear a wetsuit under my clothes. You could only get away with that, max, like three times though before they really caught on to you. Those bastards have way more than three boats. I think what I really need to do is find all the other people they hit and do a one-night boost. Sink every boat in the same operation. Can you imagine an extended car chase through Seattle's waterfront area? But instead of an old Mustang it is Nicolas Cage in a giant white amphibious tank? The aged duck-boat thief comes back from retirement because a duck boat runs over his little brothers parked car. They could call it "Gone in 60 minutes."

Yeah, I have a wish right now. I wish you would run your lame duck tourist trap boat business into the ground and die in a fire while getting run over by sports cars with gaudy spoilers.

Motorcycles and Ferries

Planning a trip to Victoria. Its a city in Canada. On an island. Who knew? And not just any island. There's not even bridges to it. Its an island island. Perfect opportunity for flying right? I wish. Our wonderful countries lame ass security b.s. prevents you from just hopping on a plane and flying over the border. In fact, if you tried that, you would probably be intercepted. Literally, and by two jet fighters. I don't know how they can fly as slow as a Cessna but thats the kind of thing I plan not to find out by trial and error. Getting intercepted does sound fun and exciting but on the single condition that it happens to someone else. In a week or two I'm going to something with the word "seminar" in it at my flying club, where presumably they will teach us how to do all the paperwork for "canadian ops." Where to sign, how to bend over for homeland security, etc.

So instead we are driving and taking ferries. The ferry site mentions people taking motorcycles on ferries. How awesome is that? That is so awesome. I must have a motorcycle. I'm going to take it on ferries. Picture a ferry docking, and the big doors opening, and there must be a ramp, and then a black kawasaki ninja 600 roars off the ramp before its lowered, flying through the air like 20 feet above the ground and then landing on the road in such a way that mysteriously doesn't crack the frame or pop the tires. That will be me. Also there will be a hot girl on the back. And since this is a fantasy, lets add bacon. Everywhere.

You know what would be cool? An anphibious motorcycle. It just turns into a jet ski. Thats what I need, actually.

Observations

1) Thinking you might make out with someone later can get you through a day full of crappy java code, but then when it doesnt happen, again, well your life sucks all that much more, especially if you no longer have a motorcycle to burn off all the energy with. Not that the highways here are that great anyway--too many places for cops to hide. I might try to look into some kind of gas grenade for evasion, but at those speeds I would have to launch it in front of me and ride through it. Thats a lot of gear anyway.

2) Programmers who completely rewrite a bunch of data classes, and who leave the old set because it can't be removed, should write the damn converter when they write the new ones. That way, people like me won't be stuck trying to make sense of the mess later.

3) Code should be written to die honorably. Code should not be written to live forever like they teach you in programming class. Code that is designed well can be easily replaced, taken out back, and shot. Code that is not designed well lives on because it is an undead zombie and you can't take it out without the coding equivalent of a double barreled shotgun, which requires destroying (i.e. rewriting) a lot of otherwise-innocent code in the process.

Also, FYI, this isn't really for any of you; I just wanted to clear some space on my whiteboard for this unnecessarily complex class diagram. Seriously--we have 3 data types, but I'm already at 8 different java classes and still counting....

Nightingale in a Golden Cage

A nightingale in a golden cage
That's me locked inside reality's maze
Come someone, make my heavy heart light
Come undone, bring me back to life

Last night (monday) my actually unfinished 3-sat solver correctly identified as solvable or unsolvable every problem I threw at it. All...ten of them. Tonight I spent somewhere near three hours writing java code to unzip and untar files in memory because all of the benchmark 3-Sat problems from satlib.org were compressed, and I was on my windows laptop, and windows fails at compression (as well as everything else) and the copy of 7 zip I downloaded was...something weird was going on with it. Oh and I was also writing and debugging a .cnf parser. Cnf files are text files containing 3-sat problems and they decided to use "c" instead of "#" for comment lines. They also decided to have lines containing just a "%" which the website with the cnf specification didn't tell me about. I had a lot of fun running back and forth between my windows laptop with my broken cnf parser and my linux desktop that could actually read the files. You might be wondering why I didn't just work on the program on my linux box. I'm sure there was a good reason.

Also, by the way, none of the zip compression libraries for java (that I found) provide any useful means of answering the question "is this a gzipped file?" or "is this a tar file?" They expect you to know ahead of time. I searched for something like "java identify a gzipped file" and found nothing but websites enumerating various fallible file name conventions, with helpful tables for stupid people that contained entries like ".gz | this is a gzip file." Except that any idiot could rename a .png to a .gz, rendering your ignorant table invalid. So then I decided my test program just had to automatically and correctly identify the file type now matter what file I gave it, because that is like the bare minimum a good program would do.

But no one on the internet seemed to share that opinion. In fact if you googled for "java correctly identify a gz file" you might think the world was run by ignorant windows users. Apparently everyone else thinks its cool to just assume that the suffix in the name of the file is somehow related to its contents. Because idiots could never rename a file. So I started doing it on my own. I got about 90% through RFC 1952 when I decided that relying on the filename would be just fine.

So then I began testing my solver against real data. I gave it a score of known satisfiable problems and it told me they were satisfiable. Then I gave it a score of known unsatisfiable problems and it told me...they were all satisfiable. I was defeated by a tiny little file called uuf50-0218.cnf. Actually, its not that tiny. It has like two hundred lines, which I now have to analyze exhaustively to understand why it isn't satisfiable. It looks satisfiable to me. This problem involves 50 variables, which means using my algorithm to solve it by hand will requir about...125,00 cardboard boxes from staples. That can't be right. There's only 200 clauses in the entire file. Ok, so I'm going to need 200 boxes.

You could say I completely underestimated 3-sat. And I don't know why my approach doesn't work. I have to know, and more importantly I have to see it. This may require building some kind of 3d 3-sat exploration program that will project the hypercube into various sets of 3 dimensions, letting you navigatie it like a boolean version of Han Solo. "I solved 3-sat in less than 9 arc-seconds!" However, watching my dumb little program fail to solve what is probably every single problem in the sample unsatisfiable set was enough to kill my motivation. Maybe this will become like a hobby or something. I just need to learn how to excercise some modicum of self control when I think about this problem, and finish the part that actually prints the solution. On the bright side, this was less painful than pining after some girl.

In other news, my day job has suddenly become boring. I think I convinced myself that it wasn't boring before, for some combination of 3 reasons: 1) it didn't involve painful and frustrating projects with the worst code I've ever seen and wasn't allowed to fix, 2) I left almost all of my friends and various other hundreds of people that I actually liked talking to (or dancing with) and moved 2,000 nautical miles away to a city where the fucking people wait to cross the street even if no cars are coming and 3) people keep asking me how I like it out here and if I like my job, and I don't like telling them it sucks. Well, it doesn't suck but its very boring. From a computer science point of view, a lot of the code I work on literally does nothing. Nothing important. Like if you were going to write down the algorithm in math, you would have an empty piece of paper after skipping all the unimportant parts. Programming in large companies seems to drown you in the unimportant parts. We are shoveling data around, mapping from one poorly designed, legacy/deprecated/the-guy-who-wrote-the-code-is-gone data format to another. Or maybe I'm ninja-ing the existing, crappy design of a piece of software into what was a nice, new design for a piece of software because we can't get rid of the old one. Or maybe I'm scheduling "deployments" of this crappy messaging software that I'm supposed to manage that my team didn't write and has no control over, but which has the power to bring our system down. Then there's all the damn bugs in the system that I probably shouldn't be mentioning it here. Most of them involve some team we've never heard of making a major screwup, which is not detected until the data goes through a ton of systems and ends up at ours, and then blows up. There is a phrase for getting paged in the middle of the night because someone else's mistake broke your software, which you must keep running. We call it "operational pain." Another description that comes to mind is "bullshit." Also my boss is actively trying to get me to take more responsibility, and develop more cross-team interpersonal whatever skills, and like fifty other things that don't make me a better programmer--just a better drone.

This has caused me to ask the question: is there any substance on earth that can remove boredom? I drink a lot of caffeine at work so I don't fall asleep at my desk, but while it inhibits sleep it doesn't make anything I do more interesting. Every other mind-altering substance on the planet sounds like it would ruin my ability to concentrate.

Sometime I get to write code. But unless I'm working on some side project, as in, something I'm not supposed to spend time on but can get away with because I'm pretending to do it on my own time, then I have to be writing code using these ancient, overdesigned and poorly designed libraries with in-house developed tools that...well, they make Eclipse look like a good development tool. Imagine standing up a brand new service, and as soon as you run it, it starts spitting out, to the log file, a hundred useless and unwanted lines of crap per minute, and thats normal. So no, I don't like my job. 3-Sat has probably just made me hate it, in fact. I don't like staring at my screen wondering how this next piece of undocumented crap I'm supposed to use works. And the money isn't that great. I have about the same commute as when I worked in Philly, and I'm still breaking even money wise; the only difference is the federal government is stealing a higher percentage. I wish I could just take things from people. "Oh thats an awfully nice car you have there. I'll have a third of it. Nice house! My agents will be here in April to remove that south wing." I'd love to find out how all this tax money gets wasted, but every damn time I talk about politics with anyone, someone comes at me with some oddball claim I've never heard of that forces me to experience cognitive dissonance when their story contradicts everything I've ever heard on a subject. Oh, you think Cuba is a panacea of medicine fields? That's totally plausible. Or you're claiming some ridiculously bold conclusion about the Puritans/Pilgrims based on some audio book that conflicts with the history channel documentary I saw when I was up all night being sick from The Cheesecake Factory. Or you just trump me by taking the conversation to some minute cultural detail of a country I've never been to. Or you look down upon all religions, but you also look down upon other people that look down upon other religions, but you yourself believe in ghosts. Thats fun. I wonder if I could memorize a set of trigger phrases that could turn every conversation into a heated debate about something. I could be like a conversation ninja, darting from group to group of people, assasinating all non-useless discussion. I guess I really shouldn't complain; I used to read slashdot.

We played volleyball tonight as well. My team lost every game. I think if we work hard enough we may have a shot at being the worst team in the league. I actually just caught the ball once, after only two hits, because I didn't feel like flailing at it and sending it way out of bounds. My team didn't like that. Whatever. We lost anyway. Its depressing to realize that you are so bad you get intimidated when the other team has mastered fundamentals like bumping, setting, and not hitting the ball wildly out of bounds on your first hit.

Oh, and I walked by that dance studio across the street during one of my mad dashes into the outside world for some food. I caught a glimpse that one girl I was interested in. I think I called her red shirt girl here. Apparently she is still on that dance team thing. I'm not sure how this affects me. I was talking to one of my female friends out here after she'd had a bit of wine and discovered that I still lack the ability to determine if a girl is interested in me. I mean, I can determine if she's interested...just not in polynomial time.

Depth-First Insanity (DFI)

I've been going since maybe Friday night without finding an hole in my solution. I've run through the algorithm on paper, and by paper I mean a series of cardboard cubes scattered around my apartment. I took some pictures; I'll try to upload them here sometime. Actually they are not just cardboard. I don't know if you know this, but projecting a hypercube into 3 dimensions requires twice as many physical cubes every time you add a dimensions. Suffice to say I need a lot of cubes.

The first cube was constructed by taping a box of jello mix onto a box of pudding and slapping some paper on time. Then I needed a cube in four dimensions, which means I needed two cubes: one for positive w and one for negative w (the first 3 dimensions are x,y and z). If this doesn't make sense to you, stop reading now. So anyway I had ordered a video converter so that the next time Firefly girl and I watch Castle I can go to her place and play the videos from my laptop. Anyway, so I spent like an hour or two cutting up this box at work. Now I had a cube for w and a cube for !w. Well, then I added the A dimensions, so I had to go up to four cubes. But then I wanted to add the B dimensions, but I had already put stickers all over my x-y-z-w-a cubes in case anyone wanted to come over and check out my hypercube (no one does) so then I needed 8 more cubes. And after that I realized that my data structure was growing exponentially, and I needed to start analyzing various projections of the hypercube into 3 dimensions. Like, for a hypercube with dimensions x,y,z,w,a,b, I wanted to look at a cubic projection of x,y,z, and y,z,w, and z,w,a, and w,a,b, etc.

So my quest to solve the hardest problem in computer science temporarily became a quest to find cube-shaped objects. I cut up a box of toothpaste and one or two other objects lying around my place and then left at like 2 am friday night to go to 7-11 in search of anything shaped like a cube. I tried to avoid all contact with other people, beacuse I knew the first words out of my mouth were going to be "do you have any cubes?"

Then I got to 7-11 and went on my search. It was down to condom boxes and bars of soap. I thought that using boxes of condoms would be funny, but it takes 4 of them to make a good cube shape, and i didn't want to be seen walking around with that many condoms. Instead, I elected for the boxes of soap because I actually needed soap. But then a guy who worked there saw me walking around with like--well, alot of--bars of soap and asked if I was going to some kind of soap party. I glanced at the awkward stack of soap towering from my arms to my neck and tried to figure out a way I could explain it, but eventually just settled on "its a long story," hoping he wouldn't take offense to my vaguery. I figured I'd rather him think I'm going to some kind of soap fetish orgy than explain what I'm actually going to do with it. That reminds me: I forgot to open up any of the boxes before I taped the paper over it ( the paper is for labeling the axis) so I'm actually still running out of soap.

Saturday I went to Staples and found a lot of $1 cardboard boxes that come in the perfect cube shape. I mean, as perfect as you can get without being that stuffed-animal cube thing from think geek. If I had known this was going to take more than a week I would have ordered a few. I also found this giant $30 tablet of poster-board-sized sheets of paper that you can use dry erase markers on. Then I got home and discovered that the tablet was actually just well-marketed and contained only a single dry erase surface, which I filled up immediately, as well as some giant sheets of paper I'll probably never use. All I really want are like posters--actually white posters that you can use dry-erase markers on. Whatever. I'm back on paper.

So Paul Oakenfold and me have been at this all weekend, save for tiny breaks like seeing Iron Man 2. There is a brief flash of a 4D hypercube, by the way, when Tony Stark is flipping through his fathers notebook. It actually makes no sense why there would be a hypercube in the notebook, but the entire subplot about synthesizing a new element actually makes no sense anyway. And I am starting to hear the same Oakenfold songs over again too many times. I may have to switch to Armen Van Buren. I need to wait until the algorithm is done though; I don't have nearly enough Armen Van Buren tracks to carry me the rest of the way.

Writing my solution in java turned out to be ridiculously tedious; it must be one of the most inefficient programs for transcribing algorithms. Everything is so simple in my head, and then I go to write it down and it turns into pages and pages of java code. Although, I did have to create some multi-dimensional cube-projection-thingy data structures, so I guess thats why.

I realize that the chances of me actually solving something that generations of smarter people have failed to solve are slim. The only things that make it plausible are the fact that most people think P != NP, and therefore aren't even trying, and the fact that maybe nobody loves hypercubes as much as I do. I actually tried to make a Neverwinter Nights campain involving a 4 dimensional tower. It was going to be awesome. Then I realized that 3^4 is 81, and the cool-looking gargoyle statues killed me every time I tried to playtest it, so I gave up.

I'm also skeptical that its possible for me to win a million dollars. Like that would change my life too much. I went for a walk today, though, to cool my brain off, and thought about what I could spend it on. There's always a plane capable of more than 300 knots so I can visit philly whenever I want. Then, I was thinking I'd buy the rights to Duke Forever and get that finished. Thats as far as I got. I actually don't care about the money as much as being able to write "solved 3sat in polynomial time" in the little application we use for reporting days off. I'm not excited though; I've been disappointed too many times to think I can actually solve this. The only reason I keep going is because I haven't failed yet. And because I can't think about anything else. Well, girls. But besides that I can't focus on anything else.

Anyway, I am mentally and even physically exhausted (lots of pacing around while playing with a deck of cards), as well as probably malnurished and dehydrated. I've had a lot of caffeine though. But I'm going to see this through. I just got to the fun part of the algorithm when I lost my concentration and had to call it a night. I'm gonna keep at it as soon as I get up tomorrow. I am so anxious too--at this point I won't really know if it works until I get the programming running and solve all possible 3-Sat problems with 4 and 5 variables--if I can. I remember that being a big number. I think 3-sat with less than 5 variables is a special case though.

If you posses any good sample data, feel free to send it to me. Better yet, send me a really big 3-sat problem that today's computers would take a week so solve, and we'll see how fast I can do it. My algorithm runs in about m^3 where m is the number of variables.

3SAT 2SAT MESAT YOUSAT

"Traveling Salesman has driven men to drink"
--Moshe Kam

NP Complete and I go way back. Way, way back. Back before I knew that NP stood for "nondeterministic polynomial" and not "non-polynomial." This is how it usually goes:

First, I get some inspiration. Something someone else has probably tried before. Then I try it out, and it works. Yay! I start dreaming about what I'm going to do with the prize money for solving it while I set out to test my solution and then prove that it is polynomial. Then some little snag comes up. Some piece of the puzzle is either exponential, or wrong, and fixing requires adding an exponential algorithm. But I still think I've done it, so I spend the next few days or weeks trying to fix the problem. Every time I solve the exponential problem, some piece of that solution has its own, tiny exponential problem, and then that one has its own exponential problem, and eventually the problem I'm trying to tackle looks a lot like that thing in set theory where if you want to add a bunch of sets together you have to subtract the unions, but then you have to subtract the union-intersection from the unions, but you have to subtract the union-intersection-unions....and you have arrived at a problem that is exponential.

This time, it happened in roughly the same way. Except it started, like, monday, and its already thursday. Its like a drug. I can't pay attention in meetings because my mind is going over whichever little exponential snag is standing between me and one million dollars. And daydreaming about publishing a paper and using the letters "xkcd" for an example. This time, though, I came up against the set-union problem and backed up, and forced myself to completely rethink most of my solution.

In other words, I'm still in the rabbit hole. By not doing any work and using the whiteboard at my office, I've managed to, again, arrive at a solution that I think is polynomial but this time without using up all the paper in my apartment.

This time, though, I have little hope left for actually proving my solution. A week without adequate sleep, plus my caffeine overdose from last night is taking its toll, and I don't know how to prove my solution anymore.

I managed to establish this relationship between groups of expressions in 3SAT. That relationship was what was completely screwing me over all week but I managed to use it as an opportunity to prune the search space, allowing you to solve subproblems with fewer variables. I remember pruning having something to do with better run times, but all I really have is some vauge memory of my algorithms teacher writing something on the whiteboard.

So I'm going to keep going with this one, and if this last attempt fails I will give up. Until the next time. I'm not sure there will be a next time though; I can't imagine me ever getting closer than this. I mean, I made a hypercube out of two boxes. I can actually see the problem. It is likely that reason I always fail to solve the problem is that P!=NP and the solution I'm looking for doesn't exist. I have no clue how to prove that. I don't even understand the proof for why comparison sorting requires logarithmic time. One of the guys on my team here told me to use proof by contradiction...i.e. prove that it requires exponential time by assuming that it doesn't and failing to come up with an algorithm.

Man, what a rush. I think I stayed up all night tuesday because I was worried someone might solve it before I could.

3-SAT Got Me Again

I don't really remember what happened. It is 4:29 now as I write this. I'm pretty sure I've been working on 3-SAT since I got home, and I actually started this morning while I was at work. I don't remember what trigged it...I must have thought I had some kind of inspiration again.

For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, there is this unsolved problem in computer science: the question is does P equal NP? Well, last time I checked it was unsolved. Its been more than a year since I was in grad school; maybe somebody's already done it. Anyway, to answer the question, you basically have to come up with an easy[1] way to solve the second-hardest[2] (or third-hardest, depending on how you count) problems in computer science, or prove that there is no easy way to solve them. I've heard most computer scientists are pretty sure that these problems have no easy solution, but can't prove it.

After probably 10 or 12 hours on this attempt, I am pretty sure that I will eventually come up with a solution, one way or the other, but I can't prove it. The only thing that makes this attempt different than the others is I'm not trying to come up with a polynomial time algorithm (i.e. the easy way) to solve it. This time, I thought I would just attempt to solve every instance of 3-Sat (for 4 variables) and, you know, see where that took me. You may not know this, but there are a lot of instances of the 3-Sat problem for 4 variables. Like, if you wrote down how many possible 3-Sat problems with 4 variables there are, that number would probably have more than 17 digits. I don't know for sure though. Combinatorics is not my strong spot. In fact I have been cheating and using a calculator.

So, anyway, I did come up with a polynomial time algorithm. In fact, it might be damn near linear. The only problem is, you have to do this tiny little transformation to the 3-Sat problem--just a little...a little thing--and that itty bitty transformation happens to require exponential time (2^m where m is the number of variables in the problem, if you're curious). My giddiness at thinking I could actually be The One to solve P?NP gently faded like the slow realization that a girl doesn't have feelings for you and really can't even stand having you around.

If you're curious at what my solution was, I thought that 3-Sat expressions could be reduced to coordinates in m-dimensional space. More specifically, they are the coordinates for corners of a m-dimensional hypercube. If you fill all the corners, its not satisfiable. This would be a brilliant solution if m-dimensional hypercubes didn't have 2^m corners. So you can solve the problem, probably, just by counting the number of coordinates you get: if end up with less than 2^m coordinates, the problem is satisfiable. If you end up with 2^m coordinates, the problem is not satisfiable. And if you end up with more than 2^m coordinates...well that would mean I have no idea what I'm talking about. My next steps will involve writing lots of boolean expressions all over the place like a crazy man, and attempting to invent magic data structures.

In summary, I have this nagging suspicion that all of the satisfiable instances of 3-Sat can be solved in polynomial time, and all of the non-satisfiable instances of 3-Sat require exponential time to prove they are not satisfiable.

Oh, and if you don't know what a hypercube is, go here and buy this and mail it to me. You still won't understand hypercubes, but I'll have someone to sleep with at night.


[1] "easy way" = polynomial time algorithm
[2] NP-Complete




[Edit]
Here is the combinatorial calculator I've been using. Its actually awesome because it shows the formula.

Also, I did some thinking in the shower, and if there is a way to see if all of the corners on a single plane are required by the 3-Sat expressions in polynomial time, then we have it.

[Edit]
None of this really makes sense anymore. Its like I was high last night, but not really and I've actually never gotten high anyway. I don't know what I'm doing, but I think I can do it in polynomial time.

[Edit]
I am nearly certain I have a polynomial-time solution to 3-SAT. The proof is in my head; I should be able to translate it from English to Math by tomorrow. If I die before then, tell them the proof is on the wall of my apartment. Oh but not the apartment people--I used a sharpie and they're probably not gonna like that.

Stormyball

After all the trouble I went through finding open volleyball gyms, some friends of mine invited me to do a league with them. It is at a "beach" called Golden Gardens. Our first game was Tuesday. Having not previously practiced together, we weren't all that great, but I discovered that by some cosmic glitch I still have the ability to serve. I had assumed that would have been the first of my skills to go after not playing for so many years, but when I tossed the ball up and hit it, it sailed right over the net with a touch of topspin. I still have to remember how to bump, set, spike, and block correctly, but I'm not worried about those.

The league has these rules where you have to have at least one girl on the court and no more than two guys. This bothers the part of my brain that tries to keep my views of the world consistent. Don't get me wrong: I think this rule would actually work great in many walks of life, from programming teams to ski lifts to road trips, to parties, to bars, dance classes, juries, lan parties, apartment buildings, bus stops, casinos, beaches, and hair salons, etc. What I don't get is having the rule on the volleyball court. I thought we were all saying that girls-can-do-everything-just-as-good-as-guys thing? Isn't that what we say now? Because of something about being modern now and leftover angst from the 50s? And the girls at Drexel getting pissy if I offered to walk them home?

According to complaints I've heard from the feminine gender, having a guy insinuate or even imply that he believes men are better at girls than something in some tiny way, even if its something most girls hate like playing Starcraft or deciding which Space Marine chapter more badass (I vote for either Blood Ravens or Blood Angels, although the Ultramarines have a pretty good shot), is one of the more grevious sins...something approaching rape or not using your turn signals to change lanes. So why is it that we tolerate having rules that demonstrate, in an ostensibly practical way, this philosophy? I don't know. I asked someone once--a girl, actually--and she whispered that guys play volleyball better or differently than girls, and we quickly drifted from the subject. What I do know, though, is that I don't really care, and I like making out more than making some kind of ill conceived stand for social consistency, so I'm going to go on with the "girls can do everything just as good as guys" thing, and try not to think about the glaring contradiction with the volleyball rules. If I have to choose between not condoning hippocracy and ever having sex, I know which side of the line I'm standing on.

That got me thinking, though. Can you actually compare two genders for something like volleyball? What does that even mean? Does every guy play volleyball better than every girl? No. Does every girl play better than every guy? No. If you took a random sampling of people, would one gender always be better than the other? No. You could, perhaps, get three (or two) of the best players from each gender to face off, but what would that prove? What if the guy team beats the girl team, but the average girl is better than the average guy? Would you have to start looking at percentiles? Normalize by years of experience, excepting those years spent in high school gym class because they play with screwy rules? Maybe try adding a ladder function to group the percentiles...but then you would need to subdivide by region and culture, oh and don't forget age, that will certainly throw you a curve, if you know what I mean. By the time you come up with a method, only people who have taken two probstat courses will even understand what you've done, and based on all the reality shows I've seen on the tv, that would be roughly no one.

I thought of this because I had the same problem when I asked if skiis are faster than snowboards. Actually I wasn't so much asking as arguing on the yes side. But I digress. There is no answer. There are many kinds of skiis, and many kinds of snowboards. Vis-a-vis (FINALLY!) there are many kinds of skiiers, and many kinds of snowboarders. There are many kinds of snow; in fact there are even different kinds of powder (wet, dry, man made, untracked...). Then there are all the different kinds of terrain. Moguls verses packed verses untracked powder verses cliffs verses half-pipes verses ice. You would have to factor all of that in. The only way, really, to answer the question is to throw one snowboarder and one skiier off of a cliff and have them fall all the way to the bottom, and see which one is more aerodynamic.

Oh, also, it rained. I'm no wimp; I've played volleyball in 40 degree weather at 2 am with crazy Drexel engineers with blinding lights on one side fo the courts and we had to let our feet go numb so they would stop aching. The rain, however, was kind of new. I didn't know you could play volleyball in rain. Also, the sand wasn't even that cold, but as soon as it got wet, my toes started going numb. It is a strange thing to be feeling raindrops in your head while tracking a volleyball with people wearing shorts and having your feet go numb. There's a lot of elements there that usually don't go together.

What's the important takeaway here? The moral of the story is I finally managed to use "vis-a-vis" in a sentance. I've been dying to figure out that phrase ever since I saw Matrix Reloaded but couldn't before because I didn't understand what it meant and never had both motive and opportunity. Well now. I'm going to sleep good tonight.

Also, after careful consideration I think there should be only one guy allowed in the entire league: me. Everyone else has to be a girl between the ages of....20.0 and ...oh yuck way less than 38. And everyone has to drink when we switch sides. And the winning teams from last week dress like pirates and have to scream "gyarrr!!!" when they serve or it doesn't count.

[Edit]
In other news, Lego Capture-the-Flag??? I must try this. Red team and blue team, and guns and a simple arena, and when the lego men die they go to a timed prison, or respawn at certain points.

[Edit]
We wouldn't be able to use the normal brick wars rules...need to introduce entropy. Maybe only very short-range weapons, and roll dice to see which lego man dies? The lego men need to fight for multiple turns to keep things interesting.

[Edit]
make it a drinking game. After every flag capture, or maybe every time a lego man gets fragged, your opponent has to take a drink. It would be like beer pong but not retarded.

[Edit]
Also, I should celebrate my birthday in the summer. Just to throw people off.

[Edit]
Chris if you want to start with war with me, I want you to sit down for a moment and ask yourself a question. That question is: which one of us has more time on our hands to screw around on the internet? And I'm going to give you a hint. I just spent 40 minutes doing a painful interview over the phone for someone that was really bright but wouldn't make it past my colleagues' ridiculous interviewing standards, and I was so bored I started drawing a little lego man with his hands up in the air. Its actually pretty good; I might try to scan this even though its on ugly yellow worksheet paper. Thats not the point. The point is when I'm not coding I have a tendency to get bored and check the internet every 30 seconds, which includes reading my own blog when I run out of webcomics, so don't start another birthday war with me. I don't care if people know its the month of December. I just don't want them to know the exact date.

Meeting Girls in Seattle

D#### #### to pers-ctm7f-171.

show details 1:42 PM (1 hour ago)

Hey what kind of dancing do you like?

seattle2008.jpg 26K View Download

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Jennifer Burchesky

hmmm.. this isn't the first time you've wrote me... does then name Jen Burche...

2:04 PM (38 minutes ago)

Jennifer BurcheskyLoading...

2:04 PM (38 minutes ago)

Jennifer Burchesky to me

show details 2:04 PM (38 minutes ago)

hmmm..

this isn't the first time you've wrote me... does then name Jen Burchesky ring a bell? maybe I scared you off because I use aff I don't know, but we stopped talking.


Good luck in your search anyways...

Jen

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David Cupp

Well, if I did email you before google has no record of it. Unless, of course...

2:18 PM (23 minutes ago)

David CuppLoading...

2:18 PM (23 minutes ago)

D#### #### to Jennifer

show details 2:18 PM (24 minutes ago)

Well, if I did email you before google has no record of it. Unless,
of course, you responded saying you were on your roomates computer and
couldn't talk now but please check out this site with my pics on it.
Then I would have told google you're a spammer.

- Show quoted text -

Jennifer Burchesky to me

show details 2:36 PM (6 minutes ago)

hey its you! I'm just havin a chat on aff now so I'll write you back later tonight k? no wait a call would be better...I'm baked. lol

are you 420 friendly?

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