Merry Christmas to all who celebrate such things, and good times with friends and family.

I am now the proud owner of a Chicken Chucker, which bears a strong resemblance to my Sanity Gun in terms of size and ergonomics, but catapults little plastic chickens instead of shooting little sanity darts.

Moral of the story: It's a good thing my brother and Mich aren't archenemies with super powers.

My Psyche Begs for Ridicule

I had a dream last night in which I had entered a programming contest, and arrived to meet my teammate and get the computer going. My teammate, wearing a white sparkly suit, matching hat, and big fancy glasses, introduced himself as "Hootie", presumably of Blowfish fame. Having never realized he could code, and being quite unsure my friends would believe me, I grabbed for my camera to take a picture and found that my lens, suddenly made of cardboard, had been thoroughly squished in my bag and was now quite useless.

Moral of the story: Life actually makes more sense when I don't sleep.

I Emerge Triumphant

The crash that had been plaguing me lately is gone. Some unnecessarily convoluted code was writing past the end of a string every time. Electric Fence and Valgrind on a little test program both caught the problem right away; the hard part, as always, was knowing what to make a test program out of.

Fixed by using WvString and removing pointless complexity.

Moral of the story: Let Hootie find the buffer overruns next time.