So once upon a time I was telling Mrs Next Door about what I hoped to achieve with my Database Administration course, and I wrapped it up by saying “…and it’ll probably make me even more conversationally awkward than I already am!” and she said “That’s kind of what I was thinking.” Well, lo and behold, we were right.
I’ve spent the last six hours or so on this:
1. Write one query that uses a function from each of the following functional types:
1. String functions
2. Mathematical functions
3. Date functions
4. Grouping functions (aggregate functions)
2. Write two SQL statements that use joins, either INNER or OUTER joins as you choose. Include a description of what each SQL statement is doing, and what the results of each SQL statement should be.
I did about twice as much work as the assignment called for because it was Just! So! FUN! Every time a query worked I got to do a little happy dance, and the hours just flew by! I was so mad when my computer ran out of battery juice and shut down while I was in the middle of a query and I lost some of my work. But then I was happy because it meant I got to do it again!
I definitely need to think about getting some kind of therapy.
The song du jour of the day, therefore, is the Jesus and Mary Chain’s Halfway to Crazy, even though I think I passed the halfway mark some time ago.
Aw, jeez. The oil light in the car was on. So I pulled the lever that popped the hood, and I opened it and propped it up with that little stick-thing – see, I’m not totally helpless. But that’s about as far as I got. Ignatz had to find the dip stick for me. Then there was no mark showing how much oil should be in there, though there was a notch to show how low is too low. The oil mark was right at the notch. That will be important later.
I found the oil in the garage, too! I’m so good! Um. Gee, there’s a lot of tanky-looking … things where you might put motor oil. I do know that putting the oil in the wrong hole would be bad. So I tiptoed over to Mrs Next Door, who was in her back yard with a lot of big, manly men (okay, two big manly men, Mr Next Door and another guy) and asked her if she happened to know where to put the oil, and she said “I know for MY car…” Which, let me hasten to mention, I knew too, for our last car. AND the one before that. But this one … well, I haven’t gotten around to learning that. (In two years.) So before I could stop her she scampered over to the manly-man who was not her husband, who oh joy happens to be a mechanic – exactly the sort you want to flaunt your incompetence at – and asked him to help me.
Worst of all. After he’d shown me which cap to unscrew, he checked the dip stick and said “you don’t need oil. See that notch there? That shows how much oil there should be, and you’re fine.”
So. I went all helpless and girly and ruffled and pink FOR NOTHING!
Bad feminist! Bad! No chocolate!
edit: Avatar changed to reflect my new status as Girly-Belle McFluffie.