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Chocolate nemesis -- totally deserves its name!
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essayel pointed me to it, at some stage last year. It killed the Nazgul and me ded on a Sunday, and it killed all my fellow slaves at the slavery ded on the Monday. It is dangerous, dangerous stuff...
ETA August 16th, 2010: I was considering to make this for my co-slaves at the slavery when I realised that it will be 10 years on Wednesday since I started slaving away there. Looking up the ingredients I'd need, I found that the link was dead. I found myself a new link to the recipe (which seems to have been invented in a café in London), and changed it here so I can refer to it again. My poor little network users deserve Nemesis for ten years of having me as their IT nemesis.
And I am dreadful. Really!
Did I mention the time when I pulled one bloke bodily from under the table because he was trying to re-connect is virus-ridden workstation for the sake of a stock market game he was losing for lack of internet? Or the time when I called out the Napsterer from the communcal lunch break and read him the riot act about using everybody's resources (a double ISDN line of whopping 126 Kbit/s for all fifty employees!) to download music for the fitness classes he ran as a second job/paying hobby? Or the editor whom I publicly put back on last name terms for being an utter jerk-ass who had installed and then de-installed sizeable software on his workstation, then complained about the aftereffects of the uninstall without ever deigning to tell me what had happened, instead inferring that the workstation had spontaneously malfunctioned and it was my problem to fix it (and not reinstall the computer utterly, as I usually did, because he had data on it despite the fact I kept telling them not to), and then watching me flail at it for days until I discovered a faint hint of that program which the uninstall had left behind. Number one and number two are long gone; number three is a mountaineering guide (another 'paying hobby' enterprise) who will hopefully eschew the chocolate in the name of 'fitness' and/or assume anything coming from me will have been poisoned so ingeniously as to affect only him. The rest of my colleagues does deserve something special for putting up with me for so long...
essayel pointed me to it, at some stage last year. It killed the Nazgul and me ded on a Sunday, and it killed all my fellow slaves at the slavery ded on the Monday. It is dangerous, dangerous stuff...ETA August 16th, 2010: I was considering to make this for my co-slaves at the slavery when I realised that it will be 10 years on Wednesday since I started slaving away there. Looking up the ingredients I'd need, I found that the link was dead. I found myself a new link to the recipe (which seems to have been invented in a café in London), and changed it here so I can refer to it again. My poor little network users deserve Nemesis for ten years of having me as their IT nemesis.
And I am dreadful. Really!
Did I mention the time when I pulled one bloke bodily from under the table because he was trying to re-connect is virus-ridden workstation for the sake of a stock market game he was losing for lack of internet? Or the time when I called out the Napsterer from the communcal lunch break and read him the riot act about using everybody's resources (a double ISDN line of whopping 126 Kbit/s for all fifty employees!) to download music for the fitness classes he ran as a second job/paying hobby? Or the editor whom I publicly put back on last name terms for being an utter jerk-ass who had installed and then de-installed sizeable software on his workstation, then complained about the aftereffects of the uninstall without ever deigning to tell me what had happened, instead inferring that the workstation had spontaneously malfunctioned and it was my problem to fix it (and not reinstall the computer utterly, as I usually did, because he had data on it despite the fact I kept telling them not to), and then watching me flail at it for days until I discovered a faint hint of that program which the uninstall had left behind. Number one and number two are long gone; number three is a mountaineering guide (another 'paying hobby' enterprise) who will hopefully eschew the chocolate in the name of 'fitness' and/or assume anything coming from me will have been poisoned so ingeniously as to affect only him. The rest of my colleagues does deserve something special for putting up with me for so long...
