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K's video card (a Radeon 9800 Pro 128, possibly dating from a year that began with a 1) finally gave up the magic smoke yesterday. A quick run to Best Buy, XMS gift certs in hand, and a shiny new (last year) x1650 Pro 512 is procured. Installation takes approximately 45 seconds.
Everything works... except World of Warcraft. *facepalm* That, ladies and germs, spits up a fatal exception as soon as you try and launch it.
Reinstalled (regular and expansion). You get a big, steaming cup of NO. Run the "repair.exe" trinket. Have a side of NO.
At this point, I'm tempted to jack the card, put it in my machine, and put my 6600 in hers, to see WTF is going on if the documented fix doesn't accomplish anything.
Also, in less trivial, self-centered news (but, you know, this place revolves around my ego, so priorities can suck it) - one of my IT colleagues was in a motorcycle accident this morning, and while early reports are that there's nothing life-threatening involved, he's having his leg(s) X-rayed. He's had the bike for something like six weeks, as I recall (not a young, impetuous guy; this was a cruiser).
When I can actually drown out the fucking whiny alterna-crap that is "Not an Addict" that's been stuck in my head for two fucking weeks, I have Mr. CATS on a very tiny megaphone saying shit like HEY HOW ARE YOU GENTLEMEN ALL YOUR ASS ARE TO BE REAMED BY US.
This week is fucking fired.
Everything works... except World of Warcraft. *facepalm* That, ladies and germs, spits up a fatal exception as soon as you try and launch it.
Reinstalled (regular and expansion). You get a big, steaming cup of NO. Run the "repair.exe" trinket. Have a side of NO.
At this point, I'm tempted to jack the card, put it in my machine, and put my 6600 in hers, to see WTF is going on if the documented fix doesn't accomplish anything.
Also, in less trivial, self-centered news (but, you know, this place revolves around my ego, so priorities can suck it) - one of my IT colleagues was in a motorcycle accident this morning, and while early reports are that there's nothing life-threatening involved, he's having his leg(s) X-rayed. He's had the bike for something like six weeks, as I recall (not a young, impetuous guy; this was a cruiser).
When I can actually drown out the fucking whiny alterna-crap that is "Not an Addict" that's been stuck in my head for two fucking weeks, I have Mr. CATS on a very tiny megaphone saying shit like HEY HOW ARE YOU GENTLEMEN ALL YOUR ASS ARE TO BE REAMED BY US.
This week is fucking fired.
