It must have been a stressful week since I got a pimple on my forehead.
I fixed a fairly serious issue for a release build and probably saved some proverbial bacon but my manager still has some doubts and thus I spent the day dealing with JProbe installation and performance analysis that probably won't go anywhere.
To review for those Java developers: Just because Hashtable.keys() returns an Enumerator that does not throw java.util.ConcurrentModificationException, doesn't mean said Enumerator won't put you into an infinite loop. The behavior is undefined, and undefined behavior means either a crash or (probably worse) 100% CPU utilization. A crash is sort of good, since you can tell the computer to automatically restart. But the computer never has any good sense to detect a infinite loop. You could write an algorithm to decide arbitrarily a program was stuck, but it'd never know for sure.
Tonight I went out to a local German bar which sells some pretty awesome beers, accompanied by (authentic?) bland sausages and sauerkraut. They serve boiled sausage with pickles — feels redundant with the sauerkraut — and two types of mustard and slices rye bread. The beer's much better than the food. The food would be good if served with different tastes but is not really balanced.
The occasion was Kevin's 31st birthday — never spelled out in any e-mails coordinating this event — and the usual circle of outdoor enthusiasts friends joined in the fun. Bars aren't too fun to me as on busy days you end up shouting over everyone else. It's taxing, aurally. A Bellingham relay event was mentioned, I think Ski to Sea or something, and I offered my kayaking skills to those in need. I could see myself paddling across Bellingham Bay in a surf, and with a few months of training, faster than most.
As a random aside, some teenage boy shouted something mean to me as I was bicycling the short distance to the bar. Like the time I was confronted by a teenage boy, the driver of the car was female and the car was full of other teenagers. Maybe they were college age though? The boy had some sort of ugly lip piecing and wore a baseball hat and dressed like a whigger.
There's something weird about guys acting tough in the passenger seat of a car, like they're somehow in the role of speaking for their (girlfriend?) driving the car. To me the worst part is to see their girlfriend ignore their jerk boyfriend, or tolerate this behavior, whereas I'd expect to see them reproach their man for acting stupid. These a-holes aren't even driving and probably don't even have a car.
Hitomi is furious if I'm the slightest bit improper to someone. Perhaps it's the Japanese way that feels a unit — friends, group, organization — must think and active entirely cohesively. I'm more polite than 75% of the rest of America and yet I would probably be in the bottom 25% of polite people in Japan.