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Octavian Gets an Upgrade

It can't be any fun being my laptop. I don't spend my days surfing, or watching videos on YouTube, or even playing games on Facebook. All I do is work, work, and work some more. And don't get me started on the amount of work I do. Let's just say that in any given day, I have about 3 days' worth of work to do IF I do everything manually. Fortunately for me, my boss loves buying me software, so most of my tasks are automated, which is definitely the only reason why I actually manage to do everything that I'm supposed to do every day.

Now, most of these software run on - surprise, surprise! - Windows. My darling Octavian, however, runs on Mac OS X 10.6.2 (Snow Leopard). This means that to be able to run these software, I have to run Windows on a Macbook Pro somehow. One way to do is to install it in something called Boot Camp and choose Windows when I boot up Octavian . . . Yeah, right. Like that's going to happen! Running Windows on its own on a Macbook Pro is like playing a shitty VCD on a perfectly good Blu-ray player - it's sacrilegious, to say the least.

So as an alternative, I've chosen to purchase a software called VMWare Fusion, and this is, by far, one of my best investments yet. VMWare Fusion allows me to run Windows as a virtual machine (I named it Lucius Cornelius Sulla, tee hee) so I won't have to leave OS X to run Windows applications. This means that I'm actually running two computers simultaneously on one. Add the fact that I'm also running another half a dozen apps on the native OS X system, and I've got an extremely overworked laptop. Very few laptops will be able survive such a beating without crashing, and Octavian's one of those - he's never crashed once. Rather, he valiantly takes whatever demands I put to him without complaint. Yes, he's a good boy, that's why I love him to bits (no pun intended).

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Octavian came with a 2GB DDR3 RAM, which was a big deal for me, considering the crap that I had to put up with before I bought my first Mac. Though it's sufficient to run both my systems simultaneously, I do suffer lags every now and again, which is really a bit annoying when you're trying to get things done yesterday. I knew a RAM upgrade to 4GB would take care of this, but since the DDR3 technology is fairly new, the chips weren't readily available locally - and I felt that I had to purchase it from an authorized Apple store/service center to get their techs to install it for me. Unfortunately, there was a 2-month waiting list to order 'em chips, plus it would be about twice the price of getting it from somewhere like TipidPC or eBay.

Now, for as long as I can remember, the guys at the PhilMUG forums have been insisting that a DIY RAM and hard-disk upgrade was as easy as pie. It's so easy, in fact, that these sort of upgrades do not even void the warranty! I've been toying with the idea of doing it for the longest time. I've even watched videos of how it was done, and they all made it look so easy! I've always chickened out at the last minute, though. I don't know what came over me this week, but I suddenly fancied that my poor Octavian was coming down with asthma from all the hard work (the real Octavian was asthmatic, after all) and that I needed to do a RAM upgrade stat! So I ordered a couple of 2GB Team Elite chips from a TipidPC seller, who came highly recommended from 'em forum guys, on Tuesday. I paid P4,700 (about $100) for both chips plus shipping on the same day, and got confirmation that it was en route to Cebu.

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The chips turned up the next day, Wednesday. The idea of opening up poor Octavian sickened me so much, though, that The Husband ended up doing it for me that afternoon. First, he tried to get the screws off with a really old #00 screwdriver that he found buried amidst his old junk. That didn't really work - 3 of the screws won't come off!

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So we hurriedly took a trip to True Value in Ayala to get a new screwdriver and ended up with a set. This time, Octavian was successfully opened up. The Husband removed the old 1GB sticks and replaced 'em with the new 2GB ones (there's two of each). The process took no more than a couple of minutes. He then closed up Octavian, and I re-booted. To my horror, it showed that I only had 1GB of RAM from the 4GB I was expecting! I nearly cried. I did a test using memtest, and yep, there's definitely only 1GB.

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So The Husband opened up poor Octavian again, and sure enough, one of the chips was loose. He fiddled with them somewhat, and they were finally in nice and tight. I booted up Octavian again, and scarily enough, he only had 3GB! By this time, I was definitely in a panic. The Husband opened up Octavian again and removed the chips. We both checked if they were identical, and they were, right down to their 2GB DDR3 warranty stickers.

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The Husband had the brilliant idea of trying to isolate problem. He installed just one chip, rebooted, and checked the system - definitely a 2GB. Off came Octavian's back case yet again, and this time, he installed just the other chip. Lo and behold - it was a 1GB!

So it seemed that the problem was with that second chip. I thought it might have been mislabeled or something, but the guys on the forums believe it's a faulty chip. I contacted the seller - who was really nice, by the way - and he asked me to send in the faulty chip yesterday so he can replace it. I thought he was going to wait until the chip got there before he sent me a new one so I was resigned to the fact that I'll have to wait a couple more days, but no, he sent it straight away, the moment I confirmed that I've sent the faulty chip. I'm expecting it sometime today.

Right now, Octavian is running on 3GB RAM - the new, working 2GB chip and one of the original 1GB sticks. I have not experienced a single lag since, even when I've got Windows running, too. It takes a bit longer to start up (about 30 seconds), though, but that's perfectly understandable. It's the actual working time that matters to me, anyway, and a longer start-up time just means that I have more time to get breakfast ready.

With the favorable experience that I've had with the 3GB RAM so far, I can't wait to see what the 4GB would be like! I'm getting stuff done even quicker than usual, too. A happy Octavian means a happy Mommy Iris.

Now, if only LBC would turn up with that chip already . . .

LBC turned up just as we were about to head to the mall to watch New Moon. Once again, Octavian was reopened, and in less than 2 minutes, he was sporting a spanking new 4GB RAM. (Check out the wallpaper. Cute, huh?)

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Step Right Up! Pretty Dresses For Sale!

I've blogged several times before that my sister designs and creates swimwear. She has since expanded to dresses. Pretty, pretty dresses. Dresses so pretty that you can't help but look pretty, too.

I am normally a reluctant shopper when it comes to clothes. Getting me to buy a dress, or even a top from any shop would require a significant amount of arm-twisting and praises aplenty. For the past couple of weeks that the little shop's been producing dresses, however, I've been shopping without even batting an eyelash. I've bought about 5 dresses and half a dozen swimsuits so far. They all look like I've been poured into them - they're that gorgeous. Why, I didn't even need my regular weight loss pill to make the frocks look flattering on me at all!

And it doesn't look like the end of this newfound penchant for shopping is in sight. Is it because she's my sister? Maybe . . . IF she gives me a discount. But she doesn't, so I could happily shop from eBay, or Multiply, or any one of the cookie-cutter shops in Ayala or SM. Unfortunately, these shops - online or otherwise - are producing clothes that are less and less to my liking in style, quality, and price. My sister, a consummate shopper herself, has recognized the need for high quality, affordable clothes that actually fit and look good.

You don't believe me? What can you say about these darlings?

pink I have this gorgeous number in orange!

silverShe REFUSES to sell me these, says I've bought enough! (Right. Like that would stop me!)

suitI have this in mustard, and I'm DYING to go to the beach and wear it!

If you want to see more, visit Innuendo @ Facebook.

The more dresses you buy, the less I buy. That means you help me hold on to my money. Besides, you can't let me be the only well-dressed gal in town. Where's the justice in that?

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The 6 Unimportant Things That Make Me Happy

I've never done tags before. The only tags that I ever get are the ones in Facebook, and I happen to think it's the height of tacky - and a tad too self-centered - to flood my friends' Facebook homepages with the 25 things that make me special, or how I have the personality of a flip-flop. It annoys me to no end when people do this because, really, I (and I suspect the rest of these people's friends list) don't give a flying kahuna if your celebrity twin is Ashley Tisdale because I don't even know who that is!

But I digress. I got my first ever blog tag from Chin a couple of days ago, and this I'm compelled to do because (a) I've been constantly writing about myself here because, well, it is my blog; (b) I'm not forcing this down anyone's throat (or, at least, Facebook homepage) because I figured if you're reading this (and everything else in this blog), you probably wanted to (I imagine); and (c) I have absolutely nothing to write about that's even remotely interesting.

So here's what Chin is making me do this time:

  1. Mention the person who nominated you.
  2. List 6 unimportant things that make you happy.
  3. Tag 6 blogs, state the rules, and notify them with a teeny comment on their blog.

Ladies and gentlemen, without much further ado, here are the six unimportant – and often ridiculous - things that make me deliriously happy:

1. Tattered underwear. You know, the ones with the broken elastics and frayed edges and holes aplenty. I love wearing them at home with little else. I love how I don't feel constricted or uncomfortable, especially now that it's summer. I would even wear them every chance I get when I go out if my outfit will just allow it. Yes, nothing makes me feel light and buoyant all day more than tattered underwear. Save the sexy ones for sexy clothes and sexy moments. They may be more attractive, but only tattered underwear can set you free!

2. Chuckie. Chuckie is not a psycho doll, nor is it a Rugrat. Oh no, Chuckie is anything but that trivial. Chuckie is nectar from the gods, the very liquid from the Fountain of Youth - and all that jazz. Yes, it's none other than the chocolate milk drink of champions.

I've been drinking Chuckie all my life since the days when it was called Chocolait. We always keep a carton or two in the fridge because I just can't be without my Chuckie. Why, I'd go without food, just as long as I have Chuckie. Oh, and I can even sing the Chuckie jingle upon request.

3. The Fiance's Armpits. Okay, I know this is gag-worthy to some - if not all - of my readership, but this is my tag, and I'm inclined to tell the truth. I don't have an armpit fetish or anything - gosh, no! If anything, I've always found armpits best ignored. Somewhere along the way, however, I developed a rather strange, umm, attachment to the man's pits. I will always find reasons to touch 'em and kiss 'em and get under 'em. I better stop right here before I start going into way too much unwelcome detail.

4. Julius Caesar. And yes, I do mean the man, and all the stories of the ancient Roman Republic before it became the Roman Empire and the lesser emperors ran it to the ground. I don't claim to know all about it, but every time I come across a book, or a movie, or even just an article about it, that's it - I will have little attention to spare for anything else. Right now my favorite reads on the subject are the books in Colleen McCullough's Masters of Rome series. I'll talk about this in another blog post later, or else I'll never stop.

On a side note, I do believe I have some Julian blood in me. I don't know how that could be possible, but I like to think so anyway. Why else would I always be dreaming of conquering Gaul of the Long-hairs on horseback in gladiator sandals? I've considered that I might be Caesar himself in my past life, which would explain why I like wearing mini skirts. I have also considered that this may just be because I have a thing for European men and have a subconscious need to conquer, rape, and pillage. I like the past life theory better.

5. iStore Fliers. Every couple of weeks or so, I would pay a visit to the iStore in Ayala and ask the guy at the door for the latest Macbook price lists. The prices haven't changed much (if at all), but I'm hoping they'll knock off a zero so I can get me a pretty Macbook Aluminum,. Or perhaps take pity on me and actually hand me one on the condition that I stop wasting their paper. Yes, I do get strange ideas in my head.

6. The Toilet Hose. Growing up in the Philippines, I was quite used to the whole bucket-and-dipper routine when it came to washing up after certain, umm, businesses. When I moved to Thailand, however, I was completely hooked on the toilet hose - you know, the ones that are bolted to conveniently beside the toilet, so one can just reach over and use the nozzle control thingy to wash up to one's heart's content.

After living there for a year and a half, the toilet hose completely spoiled me so that when we moved back to Cebu, I actually suffered a bit of culture shock when I found out that our apartment didn't have one. Furthermore, I no longer had the dexterity required to make the bucket-and-dipper routine work. So after much searching and loads of whining, The Fiance eventually installed a toilet hose for me - and we all lived happily ever after.

Now the hard part - tagging six other people. Truth be told, I'm mostly a lurker in other people's blogs because I'm shy (believe it or not), so I don't really have a lot of blogger friends. I'm just going to play it safe and tag people I know, or at least, exchanged comments with.

Kaye, Jen, Lara, Kessa, Mikes, and Lio - tag, you're it!

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What’s in a Name?

My full first name is Faye Iris. Attach my middle and last names to that, and I have pretty impressive name - if I do say so myself. I grew up with people telling me every so often how unique my name is and how cute it is and how they're going to name their children after me, yada yada.

Even the NBI (the Philippine version of the FBI) seemed to agree. Every time I paid them a visit to get my yearly NBI clearance, I smugly breeze through the whole process without fear that a spurious namesake will come up with some obscure criminal record to haunt me, as they do other folks with more garden-variety names.

Naturally, I reveled in my imagined uniqueness. Okay, that's an understatement. Admittedly, I've always been kind of smug about my name. The point is I felt special and oh-so thankful that I wasn't named something silly like Luzviminda, or even something ridiculously corny like Sheila. I like being Faye Iris, and I like to think that I'm the only Faye Iris in the entire Philippine archipelago, if not, the world.

Imagine my chagrin when a "Faye Irish" surfaced on my Facebook's People You May Know section. I don't know what shocked me more - that there's someone named Faye Irish (I hate it when people mistakenly call me "Irish", by the way, which seems to be quite often for some reason), or that I'm supposed to possibly know her. I did consider the possibility that someone did name their child after moi, but upon closer inspection, Faye Irish is actually right about my age. Not only that, she's working in the same company that I used to work for AND is friends with some of my friends.

This development prompted me to Google my first name. Apart from at least two other Faye Irishes from Manila, there is at least one other Faye Iris (also from Manila) and an Iris Faye in (shockingly) Cebu. To top it all off, it looks like I'm not the only Faye Iris who's a writer because there's an American Faye Iris who is a poet.

Needless to say, I got off my high horse faster than recoiling spring plungers. I think I'm starting to develop the beginnings of a self-esteem issue now.

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Picture (Not-so) Perfect

For the past couple of days, I've been trying to figure out how to upload pictures on my blog. Oh, it's not that I don't know how; it's that it won't let me. This is the first problem I've encountered since I started a self-hosted site (am I using the correct term?) a few days ago.

As it turns out, this is common problem with Wordpress 2.5.1. After poking around a bit (and a rather frantic message to Matt in Facebook), I found a myriad of "solutions" ranging from upgrading Flash and Java, to updating source codes. It was enough to make my head spin, Linda Blair style. So I took the path of least resistance and decided to install a plugin (that's at least something I know how to do) to disable the Flash uploader and just use a rather basic one instead. Thankfully, it worked. You can now see Jollibee smiling happily in what used to be the barren landscape of my blog.

So there you go. I have just managed to fix my first ever technical problem on my own, a feat that's pretty much wasted because my camera (or should I say, my mum's camera that I borrowed) decided to die on me for no discernible reason. And this was after I bought a special USB cable that cost me 700 baht just so I can upload my pictures. Obviously, I'm not happy, not happy at all.

So until I can figure out what's wrong with this piece of shit camera, you'll have to put up with ol' big butt over here.

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