Big shock. Some streets/areas in the UK are filthy. Hardly a “stop the presses” type revelation. (On a complete tangent, do the web news services now shout “stop the servers!” when a really important news story comes along?)

I do, however, think that this final paragraph – “As a result of the survey, the government has created a new Performance Indicator so that every council taxpayer knows whether their local authority is up to scratch when it comes to cleaning their patch. ” is hilarious – as if the people who pay the keffing council tax won’t already know whether their area/district/council/whatever is up to scratch.

Road to Perdition
Wow. I’m hugely impressed with this film, and even though obviously a review (or whatever the hell it is that this forms) is a personal perspective on it, well, I think it’s just stunning. And I’m trying to write this without too many superlatives in it, but it’s still a stunner of a film.

I loved American Beauty, so the decision to see the next one by the same director was always going to be a no-brainer. I’m not a fan of Tom Hanks in any way at all, yet even his presence is impressive in this film, even though to my mind Paul Newman steals every single scene he’s in.

On the technical side, the film is simply stunning. There were several scenes where I found myself thinking “how the hell did they light that in such a way?” – there’s no doubt, Genius was at work in this film. The lighting, the way the scenes are shot, the script, and the direction, all of it comes together to make something truly impressive. Even the story – which has plenty of opportunitys to turn into epic Hollywood vomit-inducing schmaltz works really well.

It’s odd, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen a film where I’ve thought simply “wow” at the way it’s done, but that’s now two films this week that have made me think that. Both Insomnia and Road to Perdition are truly impressive, and both by British directors. I wonder if there’s some kind of corrollary there, about the way Brits shoot films as opposed to how Americans do it?

Anyway, the film is fantastic. Go see it.

God,it’s now the period for gigs, shows and other stuff, so this will probably become Review Central as well as everything else. I’m going to see Road to Perdition this afternoon, then seeing

• Howard Marks on Wednesday
• Morcheeba on Saturday

and then, in no particular order :

• David Gray
• Soft Cell (with luck)
• Pink
• Firework displays for my birthday
• Alabama 3
• Nina Simone (ooops – knew I’d forgotten one, thanks H)
• several others I can’t remember just now

So it’s going to be a fun time, that’s for sure.

On a complete tangent, why is it that when there’s a narrow piece of path or whatever, there’s always – but always – a pair of cretins who’ve decided to stop right there and have a conversation, reminiscing over the last 50 years or whatever?

And why is it that even when you ask them in a fairly civil manner to “Excuse me please” (I think the “you shithead” at the end must have been implicit, even if silent) you get given a filthy glare, as though it’s you who’s in the wrong for even speaking to the idiots with prams, pushchairs, shopping trolleys or whatever else is sitting around them in the pathway to freedom?

Yes, I’ve edited that last sentence. Peter was right, it wasn’t fair to limit it to older people. My bad phrasing claims another victim.

Further to Green Fairy and Elayne’s comments (and partly due to the fact this comment system doesn’t appear to like HTML) buggies is only a euphemism (to my knowledge) for pushchairs (child carrying devices). and the triangular ones are similar to the image on the left.

OK, it’s come from a variety of sources, but this optical illusion has just made my head hurt totally.

And yes, I am a total sad object, and checked it in Photoshop.

It’s Links time, I think

First, mainly for sheer humour and caffeine addicts everywhere, I bring you OpenCola including a recipe. (The link dies on Oct 31st, apparently).

Then there’s the person who’s made a tiny PC/monitor combination – cute and fun.

On SlashDot there’s this story about eye-scanning devices to identify regular fliers in Canadian airports. Minority Report comes one step closer…

And my laptop has some serious competition now from this Sony one should I decide to upgrade at any point soonish. Then again, I’ve only had the Libretto a year… I need to get out more, I think.

God, what a laugh. Supposedly Edwina Currie was boffing John Major for four years. Excuse me while I vomit at that image.

And frankly, who cares? Is it news? Only because it’s just been published as part of her diaries. Is it history, and not worth worrying about? Hell, yes. Is it a set of vile images, particularly unsuitable for earlyish on a Saturday Morning? Oh my god, yes, yes, yes. See, the imagery has even translated into my words now. *shudder*

So basically, it’s a complete non-story, all the involved people know about it already, and it’s all dead and gone, just hype for la Currie’s diaries, to try and make more people read them. Do I want to know if it’s got more details? No. Do I care? No, not really. Will other people? Pass. But somehow I doubt it, yet I guarantee it’ll be on all the news programmes, and probably headlines on Sunday papers, and/or Monday ones. The world’s bizarre sometimes.

A very quiet day today – not much happening at all.

In fact, I spent most of it in a sweltering office, sweating like a paedophile in a playground. It’s the one thing I would consider having plastic surgery (or cosmetic surgery, whatever the hell it’s called) to sort out – simply cutting the nerves to my sweat glands. It’s horrible and I hate it – but the only reason I won’t do the surgery is that there’s some risk of also losing the nerve cluster that goes to your arm – and that’s not worth the price, to be honest.

I think the post-delivering person must have hated me today. Not just two loads of stuff from Open University, but also two (different) sets of info I’d asked for from MenCap about their fundraising events including sponsored treks in Japan and New Zealand, and a cycle ride in China. All of which appeal, but require a large amount of finger-out-ness. Oh, and a letter from a friend in Cambridge, and another one from Australia. Snailmail can be a wonderful thing, in the right hands.

Of course, everything coming at once does rather make you/me wonder if they’re not hording it at the Post Office ’til it’s worth the effort of delivering, but that’s just paranoid.

It’s been brought to my attention that there are some things that just make you go “I want one”, and several of them end up getting put on here.

And in that tradition, I bring you – the ultimate workstation. From those nice (if slightly odd) people at Poetic Technologies.

Do you ever get the feeling that some people really need to get out more? Mind you, it’s a stunning story (and pic to go with it)

Oh, and if anyone’s interested, I got a call this afternoon and didn’t get the job I interviewed for. Second out of two interviewees. I knew it was a sod-up of a day. *sigh* Hey Ho.

Right, following on from Gert’s post and NakedBlog, my dinner list is now here on my site. I put it on the site because it’s a big page, and I couldn’t be arsed to curse Blogger with it. Enjoy.

Oh, and if you feel the need to comment on it, do it here, because there aren’t any comments on the individual page. So there.

Added to, thanks to Vicky’s comment
And then just to brighten my mood, I went to le site du Bird avec Vodka, who’s normally got something fun to say. And she’s got this link to “talent” from the new McCrossroads soap on BBC Scotland, “River City”. And he reminds me of no-one more than a member of the Mcgann clan (ooh – nice rhyme). You decide…

I think that says enough…

I tell you, there are some days that you just KNOW are going to be shot to shit. Today’s one of them.

Leave for the interview with 2 hours to get there – dead easy – it’s only a 10 minute bus ride and then a 20 minute train journey. Piece of Piss. I could get there by pushbike in 2 hours.

And it turns out that’s exactly what I should have done. The train I was on broke down just outside the station – well, more accurately still at the station, because the doors of my carriage were still on the platform, which just added to the farcical nature of what followed…

Train breaks down at 8.50. I’m supposed to be at the interview for 9.30, so it’s not too traumatic just yet, they’ll fix it, or transfer us to the next train (the service seems to run about every ten minutes) or even just replace the engine. Simple, no? Not exactly rocket science.

Except for the little quirk that they won’t let anyone off the train, because it’s not fully at the platform. Some fuckwit might try to get out the wrong doors and fall to the track and hurt themselves. “Natural Selection and Darwin Awards” says I. So we sit for 40 fucking minutes while they decide what to do. By now I’ve called the people I’m seeing, explained (in no uncertain terms, but not quite as pithily as here) that the train company, and particularly the employees on this train, are epic fuckwits of the sort that get teased by amoeba for being thick. And that I’m going to be late for the interview.

Eventually I persuade the train chimp to let me off, because I’m at a door with platform under it, and not going to fall or hurt myself, (although I may consider hurting the chimp) so let me the fuck out so I can get a taxi the 8 miles to my interview. It’s now 9.40. I have that look of homicide in my eyes, gauging the range to the train chimp’s throat. So they let me off. Fifteen minutes later I’m where I was supposed to be 25 minutes earlier, I’m £15 worse off, and I get into the interview.

Which actually went pretty well, I think. So we’ll see what happens, and wait for feedback. Fingers crossed anyway.

The train ride back was pretty uneventful too, except for the grinding of locked on brakes on one axle, and the smell of smoke throughout the journey. Could’ve done with that posse of nuns from last week. So now I’ve just got to see what’s next in the Day of Shit. Oh, and write a stormingly shitty letter to the train company, who seem to run a better service when they’re on strike.

Nice to see the Church of Scientologists are being arseholes again. (Lets see them piss and moan about this site *grin*)

Other than that, I’m off to an interview this morning, which should be fun. But as I’ve said before, I really really hate wearing ties. What’s the point? But still I’ll wear one, go in, look like I know what I’m talking about, and see how it goes. With luck, that’ll be the last time I have to wear a tie in a while. I hate them all, those keffing useless lengths of material with no purpose except to tie a knot in them.

*shake of head* Ah well, I’ll write more later. Along with (probably) more mutterings about ties and how pointless they are.

One other thing about going to the cinema – why do so many people have a problem with going on their own?

Even the people flogging the tickets seem to be a bit surprised when you just want one ticket to see a film, and I’ve spoken to several people who are really weird about not wanting to go on their own because they’ll look “sad and lonely”. Maybe that is how i look, but to be perfectly honest, I couldn’t give a fuck. I’m watching a film I want to see, and that’s it really.

Now, if only I could get more people to go on their own, so they wouldn’t chat with their mates all the way through the film. And maybe nachos and popcorn with built-in silencers.

Yes folks, it’s Review Time

I finally got round to seeing Insomnia tonight. I love Memento anyway – it’s a film that you people either love or loathe, and me, I think it’s superb – and so I wanted to see how the director followed it up.

And what a follow-up. Al Pacino and Robin Williams against the absolutely awesome backdrop of Alaskan scenery. It could almost have been sponsored by the Alaskan Tourist Board (if there is such a thing) for the way it showed the bits of Alaska. Set in the wonderfully named Nightmute, it’s a story of a murder and the detective who comes to help solve it.

I don’t want to ruin it for anyone else who still hasn’t got round to watching it, but to my mind, it was amazing. I’m already looking forward to it coming out on DVD, even though the sheer scale of the landscapes etc. will be lost to some degree on the small screen. But I definitely want to see it again, and probably several times, just for the hell of it.

Additional bit, having thought about it
I should say also that if you’re one of those freaks that likes a smiley happy-clappy ending to a film, then this is NOT a film for you. The ending is right for the film, but it doesn’t suddenly change it’s mood in the last five minutes to be all upbeat and shit. Be warned.

Definitely a top film, in my humble estimations.

Why is it that Diet Coke from different countries tastes different? The shop I go to at lunch time has diet coke from Germany (don’t ask why – I don’t) and it’s totally different (and really rather vile) in comparison to UK Diet Coke. Weird.

Thanks BBC for this story about what’s in coffee?

I’m going to see Insomnia tonight, at long last, so I’ll bung a review of it up here when I get home.

And that’s it – it’s a slow news day, or at least seems to be. Have fun…

Sometimes you just have to laugh at people’s gullibility. It’s either that or beat them to death with a big stick. The Register (and several others) are reporting this story of a woman who fell for the infamous “Nigerian Scam”, to the tune of $2.1m. Of her employers money. Ooops.

Yes, Davezilla has the link too, but I thought I’d still put MintyAss up here for people to shudder at in abject horror. The worrying thing is, I don’t even think it’s a joke. But I could be wrong.

It’s not unknown, after all…

Well, that’s about the most domestic I’ve been in a month or so. Shopping, Laundry, Ironing, Cooking, Cleaning – I even cleaned up some of my desk, and that’s a job I wouldn’t volunteer anyone else to do either.

Other than that, I’ve moved some of my plants to new pots, following the mass suicide of a few weeks back. What can I say? There were some vacancies. *Grin* The rubber plant is looking dead happy, the ivy’s kind of OK, but may need some more work, and the bamboo-like thing is still going ballistic – I may move that to a decently big pot next week. And yes, this does mean that next weekend (or one evening this week, depending how I feel) I’ll be off to B&Q or similar to rebuild my collection of weeds. So that’ll be fun – I may even take pics of them when I’ve bought them. Who knows?

Oh – and yes, I did feel the earthquake because I was still awake at the time. I know 4.6 isn’t much in the great scheme of things, and Californians probably wouldn’t even notice it, but here in the UK, yeah, I did notice it.

Ah joy, it’s obviously a domestic day chez moi today. The washing machine’s on the go (I still love having one, after years of going to laundrettes etc., although I do miss hearing the local gossip as much), the shopping’s been done (and Christ I hate shopping, but it’s not too bad first thing in the morning (well, 10am on a Sunday) when most of the gimps are still asleep.

One of the big changes in my life once I’m driving (yeah, I know, I know, 30 and still not passed the test – hey ho) is that I’ll shop in the 24hour supermarkets, and do it at the most antisocial times (Insomnia has it’s good points, you just have to work to find them) so I don’t have to deal with crowds of cretins and their screaming bastard brats. *Takes a deep breath and calms down again*

And now I feel more relaxed, as my fridge is filled (god, I’m sad sometimes) so I’m going to read the paper, and vegetate a bit before doing other domestic stuff like hoovering and cooking. Maybe even have some breakfast. Now there’s a thought….

Relating to one of my own earlier (and very short) additions to this blog, and also to Gert‘s comment, I’m glad that these two have been jailed, him for 12 years, her for 10. Of course, with our wonderful jail system, they’ll both be out within 5 years – and she’ll still be of breedable age. She’s only 20, so there’s plenty more opportunity for her to do the same again.

I’m sorry, but when I read paragraphs like “It took two hours for pathologist Dr David Rouse to list all 64 of Ainlee’s injuries – which included 10 cigarette burns and scalded feet where she had been made to stand in hot water. ” I start thinking that maybe people who do this should have their reproductive organs removed as part of the punishment. I’m sure that’s inhumane, but fuck that, so was what they did to their own child.

I’m going to paraphrase from the BBC story, because the paragraphs (well, more accurately the content of them) infuriate me.

[She] had been cautioned by police in 1999 after neglecting another child…
By 2001 the social services file was closed on the family because [the parents] refused to co-operate…
two home visits by doctors had been made under police escort…
But there was no evidence of any ill-treatment towards the child up to the point when she was last seen in August 2001…
[The Head of Newham Social Services] added: “When you have families who are deliberately setting out to deceive you and manipulate the situation, unless you concentrate on the child, it is very difficult to protect the child and sadly we did not maintain these standards in this case.”

The other thing that really gets to me is this sentence : “The couple’s other two children are now in the care of Newham social services.“. So why did they pick on their third child? And the other children are now in the “care” of the same Social Services section that didn’t spot a child with 64 injuries. The same social services that “failed to protect” (by their own admission).

And this story got pretty much missed, as expected by Gert, because of Yasser Fucking Arafat, Milly Dowder, a countryside march, and rumty-tumty other things. I’m not going to link to them individually, but hell, if you want to read all that crap go read the news.

Yes, it’s Sunday, and yes (in reference to Green Fairy‘s comment yesterday, it’s not even half past seven and I’m awake.

Gee, thanks Insomnia.

Hope everyone else gets a decent sleep/lie-in.

OK, I’m back. The ADSL is back working – at last. No explanation of why it was naffed, or anything like that. And I discovered that “customer services” as well as “tech support” for Zen seem only to work Monday to Friday 9-5 – which must be nice, but it’s fucking unhelpful, to say the least.

Anyway, I was productive, and spent the time sorting out the logfiles my webspace provider nicely sends me every day, and I kind of look at properly when I can be bothered and/or when I’ve got nothing much better to do. Today being the latter kind of day, I sorted them out (*blush* – I need to get out less, I hadn’t sorted them since 1st July…) and ran them through an analysis tool.

And now I’m really pretty pleased. Little things, little minds and all that, but in the 7 months I’ve had anything at all on the site (I’d had it since September, but that was a moment of “like the name, now what the feck can I do with it?” until March) it’s had just over 65,000 hits. Not in the same league as yahoo or google, but for a little old site, I’m pleased with that. Of course, 46,000 of those have been in the last two months, since the blog really started, and that (I’m almost sad to say) is making me smile more.

Anyway, that’s been the majority of my day, with no internet access, and spent just naffing about with logfiles. Well, that and wanting to kill people in central manchester, but I’m always like that when I need to go shopping etc on a Saturday, particularly when it’s warm and all the fuckwits come out to play/shop/dawdle around uselessly/get in my way. So I came home and naffed about even more with websites and some new content. Most of which I’ll finish tomorrow.

And that’s it, the saga of another busy Saturday…

Ah, they joys of keffed ADSL. I’m with Zen ADSL, and it all seems to have gone tits up since about 9pm last night. What a bastard. So it’s back (briefly – FUCKING briefly) to dial-up access. Which is already making me want to scream.

In other news though, The Guardian has this story about a hermit-in-residence (Umm – hermit in residence? – isn’t that just a tad paradoxical?) who’s going off for a week to be on his own. Sometimes the world is weirder than we ever dared imagine.

OK, so I’m a techie – but I love this alarm clock. One of the better ideas I’ve seen recently.

Recently, I’ve been thinking of doing a course with the Open University – which is probably a good thing to do. I know I want to do some kind of course, but not certain yet just what it is I want to do. So I asked for a brochure/prospectus on all the courses, to see what’s around.

Filled in the online form, name, address, age (no idea why, but there we go), all the standard garbage. Get the message back “OK, you should get that in 5 days or so” (I’m paraphrasing). And nothing arrived. I tried again. Still nothing.

So I’ve just called them up, asked why I haven’t received anything. And I got asked “Did you live in Weymouth?” – which I did, about four years ago. I confirm that yes, I had lived there, once upon a time, but now I’d moved. Turns out “the computer system got confused” and has sent both prospectuses (prospectii?) to – you guessed it – my old address.

Now, I didn’t fill in the old address (obviously), I filled in the address I live at now. That’s where I wanted the keffing prospectus sent, so that’s the address I gave them. So why did it send stuff to my old address, just because that’s the one they’ve had on file for four years? Am I not allowed to move? Does the OU want people to stay put for their entire lives, just so it doesn’t keff their database?

And it doesn’t reassure me in the least about doing a course with them. I know I won’t be staying where I am for the next three or four years – it’s an absolute certainty that I’ll move at sometime in that time period. So what happens then? Will I lose the course materials somewhere along the line, because their system doesn’t register that I’ve moved? What’s the deal? And yes, I think there may just have to be a shitty letter off to the OU about the same thing.

Sometimes there are things you see and just have to shake your head, going “did that really just happen?” closely followed *blush* by “I’ll have to put something in the blog about that“.

Today, walking through the concourse of the station, I was stopped dead by the sight of what appeared to be a complete coach-load of nuns in full regalia, heading for a train. The woman at the front of the – what the hell is the collective noun for nuns? – group (that’ll do) was (I assume) the Mother Superior, and she looked like a truly fearsome person, one secure in the knowledge that God is With Her (I capitalise to emphasise the strength of her convictions (can nuns get convictions?)) and Always Would Be. And then there were the 40 or 50 lesser nuns following behind her, two by two, just like a parade of schoolchildren on a daytrip.

But what it made me think of most wasn’t a school trip, but more something out of a US Army film, half expecting one of them to start singing a cadence as God’s Army went out to recce a bunch of sinners. Going out on patrol into a world full of sin and danger. (They were probably travelling on Virgin Trains – sorry, that’s an abysmal pun, I’ve just realised – I was actually referring to the danger, and then thought of… No, it’s fairly obvious, I’ll shut up now.) Anyway, that was what it all made me think of – and it was a bizarre enough sight to make me want to write about it. Well, that and a thought of “I really must buy a little digital camera, for snaps like that”.

I just wanted to say a quick little thanks to people like Vodkabird, Gert, Not You The Other One, Elayne, and a couple of others who’ve added lil ole me to their reading lists recently. ( there’s links over there >>> to get to their sites too)

As I’ve said in other bits of the site recently, I’m really pleased to see the way this thing is growing, being read, and (perhaps more importantly) returned to. It’s kind of reassuring, knowing that there’s something here that appeals.

So thanks.

Well, supposedly a “better thing to do” is play with blogrolling.com which should now be on the right hand side. Let’s hope…

I was going to go and see Insomnia tonight, but I’ve been suffering from it myself all week bigtime, so I think I’ll give it a miss, probably see it tomorrow or over the weekend.

I’m sure I can find better things to do…

Update on Nectar.

Nice to see The Register reporting here that nectar is now totally titsup.com. Big shock. It’s been keffed since Monday, and still shows no signs of recovery. You’ve got to love it, haven’t you?

In a totally different vein, and normally more Davezilla than me, I’ve just laughed myself silly at these mad sods who are willing to take your car, and drop it out the back of a plane. Parachutes are optional. Read the last paragraph for an example of pure class through lunacy.

Say what you like about water, about how healthy it is, how good it is for you, all that stuff, I’ve got to say, drinking it in place of anything else really is fucking boring. Normally I don’t mind too much, but the stuff in the place I’m working at the moment is supposedly purified blah blah blah and all it tastes of is, well, water. Cold tap water at that. I’m not sure what it’s been purified with, but it’s definitely not like one of the bottled mineral waters.

See, the path to lower caffeine intake may not be paved with good intentions and/or the skulls of the people who get in my way while I haven’t got a decent caffeine supply, but it’s definitely verged with boring substitutes, and the tinkling sounds of mineral water springs in the fields/ditches to either side is beginning really to get on my tits now…

Like VodkaBird I’m in an area dominated by Stagecoach Buses.(and I can’t believe I know their URL without even thinking about it – I need to get out less) So I’ve just spent 20 minutes standing up (or at least trying to) on a Bus where the driver seems to only know two speeds – Fast as Fuck or Stop. And spends as little time as possible transitioning between the two.

Now, F1 drivers might be used to braking and acceleration up to however many G’s, but frankly, they’re not standing up on a keffing bus. Having watched one woman try concussing herself against the metal poles (pleasantly unpadded) during the bus’s throwing an anchor out the back to stop ASAPbraking and various other people wobbling dangerously far from vertical towards horizontal during both approaching lightspeedacceleration and braking (never seen someone at a 45 degree lean? Ride a stagecoach bus), it’s been a fun-filled journey. Honest. No really, it has.

On a slightly related thing (they were both on the BBC) I watched a tiny section of Breakfast Time (or whatever they cal their Morning TV now), and they’re reporting on “Cracking Crime day/week (whatever)”.

The film goes to some dodgy area of Bristol, and starts with the standard shots of low-rent prostitutes, skimpy clothes and that fog to obscure their faces that makes it look like they’re either heavy smokers, or have just sneezed. The voiceover starts off about “this is an area of prostitution…” (like, no shit, sherlock, I’d have figured that if I were deaf) and then continues “… and cheap drugs” with images of Kebab shops, Halal meat merchants (butchers), Cornershops run by Patel et al, and a Sari shop.

Um – what??? Is there some kind of weird correlation here, that drugs are cheap in areas run by the Asian section of the community? Are Kebabs an illegal narcotic? (And if they are, why not include Macdonalds in the montage – I’m sure they put some kind of addictive additive in their food – I can go for months without wanting Macdonalds, but if I have one, I want another the next day. But that’s a rant for another day, I think) Is Halal meat addictive? Or do you have to be on drugs to wear a sari?

It just seemed quite racist in a way, attempting to portray areas of ill repute and poverty as primarily Asian – and I can’t think of any other link between words and pictures, except to attempt to propagate that idea.

Nice to see our Conservative Party trying to get on top of things again. However, I don’t quite think Tracking paedophiles by satellite is going to be the way forward. It’s all a bit Mission:Impossible, isn’t it? Besides, what are they going to do after that? Put in some AI and a laser weapon, so that if the paedophile commits a criminal act, they get zapped on the spot and burned to a crisp?

At the end of the day, trying something like that would require some form of surgery in order to implant the chip (or whatever) that responds to the satellite signal and says “coo-ee, I’m here!”. Would that surgery form part of the punishment for a prior offence? And OK, you might be able to track them after the first offence (with emphasis on the might) but how do you track them before you know they’re a paedophile in the first place?

Lots of bugs in that system, I think. Probably means it’ll be happening within five years, and scrapped in ten.

God I’m feeling optimistic today…

And no-one noticed this at any time?

The real joy of stopping an intake of caffeine, or even of a drastic cutting down of the caffeine intake, is just how crap you feel without it. I know, that’s the basic form addiction takes, and anyone who knows me properly knows I’m a complete caffeine junkie at the best of times.

But right now I’ve been good, and had an absolutely minimal amount of caffeine for two days, and the headache of withdrawal is beginning to become a real pig. I know it’ll get better, but right now, all I want is a nice mug of coffee to take the edge off it. I’ll wait til I get home though – there are some things I won’t put my body and/or tastebuds through, and one of them is *shudder* Nescafe. Or any of the other instant coffee’s that abound in this office block.The only instant I’ll really use is Carte Noire which is about the best I’ve found for instant coffee, although let’s face it, we’re still talking instant rather than proper coffee through a semi-proper machine at home.

Hmmm – I wonder if these would do me any good? Probably not – I know what I’m like after I’ve eaten a few of them.

Thanks are due too to the Guardian, which should receive a special award in stating the flaming obvious.

Oh, and relating to the previous post, it turns out the Catholics haven’t listed a patron saint for insomnia, although they have one for Piles. Go figure. Maybe more Catholics have a pain in the arse than can’t sleep. I notice there also isn’t a patron saint of paedophiles, which is surprising considering some of their priests. And yes, each of those links is for a different story.

Thanks to Dave at Davezilla for drawing St. Isidore to my attention. I never really thought that Catholics had a sense of humour (well, except for that “contraception is a sin” thing) until now. Maybe they still don’t. But it made me laugh. And the additional comments within his added to that humour with the Novena for Reliable Connection.

Much needed dose of humour there. Now, I wonder if there’s a patron saint for Insomniacs? St Wakey of Bedworld or something….

Why is it that Insomnia, having chosen to release me from it’s grip for just one blissful night of sleep, decides to do it on a weekday, so I still have to wake up and go to work?

Would it be too much to ask for – just once, just keffing once – to be released from the grip on a Friday or Saturday night? Is that so unreasonable, for just one really good night’s sleep to happen on a weekend?

Obviously it is…..

Ah joy – another period of dropping my caffiene intake. Just what I wanted. Mind you, it’s kind of worrying, knowing that it’s taken ’til now before the withdrawal headache has started to kick in properly. And no, I shall still hold out and see how long I can go before cracking completely.

Update 5pm
That’ll be about now then.

Sometimes you really do have to laugh. It’s either that or kill someone.

So, today, Sainsbury’s, Debenhams, BP and a couple of others have linked together to form their new rewards scheme, Nectar. So you pick up a pack, and go to the “easy convenient” online registration.

Except that, of course, the site is fucked. Not in a weird browser, but in IE. They’ve stuffed the Javascript to submit details, and go on to the next page. Not even .asp, but bastard Javascript. How impressed am I? Not very.

OK, so the web registration’s fucked. Fill in the form and go via snailmail. Fill it in. Do all the necessary ticks, squiggles, and personal info that these places know and love so much. Try to seal the envelope to post it.

Um. Where’s the glue? Yes, the envelope has no stickiness to it – it is a glueless envelope. I’m cursed, I’m sure I am. Either that, or Sainsbury’s have been as impressively organised as ever…

I’m sorry to be horribly provincial, because it’ll mean absolutely keff all to anyone outside the UK, but I’m beginning to find the ads for the Halifax a complete pain in the arse. I could tolerate them intiially, but now they’re just tedious. Use the link here to register your disapproval on their web logs… (Nothing will come up except a 404 error on your browser, but it’ll point to a missing page that their logs will show up)

Sometimes you just have to laugh. The Jesus Video is one of those times. Reading the about us page is enough to reduce me to giggles, I’m afraid.

And then a search on good old Google (God love it) produced – among many others – the Jesus licence plate, Jesus merchandise at www.jesus.com (I couldn’t make this up, more’s the pity), and still my personal favourite for pure vomit-induction pictures of Jesus and your loved ones. (more examples, including an 11/9 memorial edition) at this page

One day I’ll learn.

I’ll learn that me and Absolut, particularly the Mandarin flavour (and especially following ahem pints of Budvar), get on very well, but it does absolutely stuff all for my balance. So when I then go walking across grassy areas where dew has fallen, and slip into some kind of dip in the ground, I hit that ground like a sack of shit, twisting my ankle to buggery in the process. Einstein I’m not.

Of course, the fact it was in front of a shitload of people, and must have looked like a comedy sketch, disappearing behind the hedge thing like that, well, that’s entirely a side bonus.

But at least I didn’t smash it to shit like I did a few years back, twisting it so badly that the tendons pulled out of their anchors in the bones of my ankle. That one really did hurt. This time it’s just a light shade of mauve, and swelled up last night, but it’s OK today.

All the same, I feel like a cretin for doing it. I’ll learn, one day.

And after that big rant Levis with radiation shield mobile phone pockets made me laugh like a village idiot.

I’m going to put in a quote from THAT site again, because the more I think about it, the more it bugs me.
Before we go any further, I just want to point out that yes, I was a gimp, and yes, this is a satire site. It _is_ well written, and very satirical. My personal feelings are that it’s just a little too believable, and still probably accepted by other people as being valid, but yes, mea culpa, I bit. For that, respect is due.

What do we want?

We want the law changed to make it illegal to murder children and bury them in woodland. We want it to be made illegal for adults to work with children. We want an end to the ridiculous process of ‘criminal trials’ for suspected child killers.

Point one : We want the law changed to make it illegal to murder children and bury them in woodland. Correct me if I’m wrong, but it’s already illegal to do this. Nice try Einstein.

Point two : We want it to be made illegal for adults to work with children. OK – so no adults working with children. What about things like schools? No teachers allowed near children? Police can’t come near a child no matter what, or the police break the law? Nannies/child minders become a black industry because what they’re doing is illegal. No schools, playgroups, playschemes in the summer. What about Childrens TV? They’re adults who work with kids.

Lord of the Flies, anyone? (and a link to the video, just for the hate mobs with a short attention span)
About the only good part of this one is that I suppose it would also be illegal for the parents to have contact with the kids, so that’s a bonus.

NEXT!

Point three : We want an end to the ridiculous process of ‘criminal trials’ for suspected child killers.
So what do you want instead? Hate mobs picking on the wrong people, vigilante lynchings, and the odd simple beating to death?

Criminal trials are fallible, yes – but to my mind they’re the best option. They could be improved, but given a choice between a fallible court system and a lynching based on rumour and hate, I’d go for the courts every time.

And before “concerned parent” gets on his little “have you read the site?” soapbox, or decides I don’t know what the fuck I’m on about, I’ll tell you now, I was abused for three years, the person who did it wasn’t a family member, and I still wouldn’t want to see him lynched by a mob in the street. I’d rather see him in jail for a long time, but that won’t happen either. But vigilante mobs bring out the shivers in me – if they come in for one crime, what’s to stop them becoming more popular, until you get a screaming mob stoning to death shoplifters, gays, dopesmokers, and anyone who doesn’t fit “what’s right” in the minds of the mob?

Go for it, “concerned parent”, I want to see an intelligent comment or explanation. Because at the moment you’re breaking the law of the UK yourself by inciting violence and hatred. Nice move, Genius.

So AMAZINGLY wrong, it’s really quite impressive.

because i thought this picture was pretty, laura of mewing.net told me this: “you enjoy sitcoms, popcorn, horses, and perhaps surfboarding. you lost your virginity either very early (under the age of eleven) or very late (over the age of thirty). you take politics and religion very seriously, and when you were a kid, you had a penchant for getting lost in shopping malls and/or amusement parks. your favorite color is most likely blue or green, and you are terrified of spiders.”
whatever will laura tell you??

That is actually pretty much the total opposite of me – maybe Laura needs a kick in the head, or just some good healthy ElectroShock Therapy because I tell you, she’s fucking crap at people analysis…

Additional – 21:20 12th Sept
Something’s just occurred to me, looking at that picture on the page again – it’s actually very close to the d4d colours too. How sad is that?

What can I say?

“Sun readers against paedos” – now that’s got to be a headline somewhere along the line. Or “Rent A Mob” – truly scary.

Of course, the petition has it’s detractors, and it’s actually quite amusing to read. But the vein of the rest of the site leaves a very bad taste in the mouth.

With a mob mentality and group IQ like this, Paediatrician’s everywhere should be very scared indeed.

Update 22:30 12/09
Thanks, Concerned Parent, for your comment “You’ve read the site, right?” – Yeah, I’ve read the site, and rent-a-mob vigilante dickheads always worry me. Last time they tried it, you had mobs going after Paediatricians instead of paedophiles because of the ignorance of the mob. The fact you’re trying to organise mob rule is enough to make me see the flaw in the plan, let alone anything else.

NEXT!

Playlist

My thanks to the green fairy for bringing this list to my attention. It’s the list of all the songs that weren’t to be played during September 11th on US radio. And she’s right – some of them are brilliant. It’s virtually a radio show in itself.

My personal favourites? The bangles “Falling for the First Time”, Chi-Lites “Have you Seen Her”, “Knocking on Heaven’s Door” by anyone who’s covered it, Three Degrees “When will I see you again?”, Van Halen’s “Jump” and my ultimate favourite, Tom Petty’s “Free Fallin'”.

But how come they missed things like Frankie Goes to Hollywood’s “Two Tribes”, “War (what is it good for)” by anyone, Leonard Cohen’s “Tower of Song”, Bloodhound Gang’s “The Roof is on Fire”, or Steve Earle’s “John Walker Blues”, which (as Elayne pointed out) was played on one of the radio stations (by someone who probably wants to get sacked, admittedly). A story on CNN is here.

What other ones could/should go on the banned list?

Some respect to NBC. I just remembered that in last Friday’s Will and Grace (yes, I watch it – so sue me) Jack mentioned his website www.justjack.com. So being a sad pedantic person, I thought I’d try it out. And what do you know? It exists. Not as perfect as it could have been, but at least it exists and is relevant.

Sometimes – just sometimes – I find Americans really annoy me. Not all of them, not by a big way. That link there though is a prime example of the ones that do infuriate me. Insular, self-centred, dumb, no idea of their own country’s history, let alone of world history.

I don’t even know if it’s worth drawing this person’s site to other people’s attention, but there we go.

Had to laugh at this :

I am 57% Tortured Artist

Art is significant in my life, people are scum but I have the capicity to deal with it. Give it a few more years and I will either forget about art or hate the world.

Take the Tortured Artist Test at fuali.com

Do I remember where I was?

Hell yes, I do remember. I was sat halfway up the Arndale Tower in Manchester. Not the best of days to be in a tower, obviously, but there we go.
I remember being the person everyone was coming to for updates (I didn’t have much else better to do that day, to be honest).

So yes, in some ways it did affect me. And so has the aftermath. But it’s also increased my cynicism (some people thought that wasn’t possible, but it was, that’s for sure) about things, and even about the way things have sometimes been hyped out of all recognition by those events. When you see the Stilton Cheese Makers Association wittering on about how “sensitive has been our watchword since 11/9” you know a lot of it is overhyped bollocks.

Yes, the deaths involved are saddening. It was a shock to see something happen on that scale. The entire event actually fulfilled it’s premise – it changed the world. It’s an event that will always be remembered. I just hope that time remembers it for the right reasons – the 3000 dead, the world-changing event – and not for the huge bullshit-mountain that followed it.

And that’s all I’ll say on the subject today.

Thanks, Elayne, for making me laugh. It’s going to be one of those days, can’t you just tell…

Sometimes there are things that happen that just make me laugh at people. Unfortunately, it’s normally something that makes them look stupid, and I end up laughing at them, to their faces. Ooops.

For instance, this morning. Walking through Piccadilly rail station, the woman in front of me tripped slap bang over something in her way that she hadn’t seen. In itself, this wasn’t funny. The funny thing (in my opinion, and it wouldn’t have been funny if I’d done it (actually, I probably would have seen the funny side of it all the same, but I’m weird like that)) was that the item she tripped over was waist-high, dayglo yellow, and marked (in big black letters) “Trip Hazard“.

So yes, I laughed. Unfortunately the woman thought I was laughing at her, which I wasn’t (well, not really, except for being blatantly unobservant, and not really paying much attention to her surroundings – but who pays attention at 8.30 in the morning?) but actually at someone/anyone tripping over a sign that’s warning them about something else they could trip over.

The woman wasn’t amused. She wasn’t hurt either, but that’s by the by. So I walked on, and went to work, still quietly chuckling. Schadenfreude? Maybe. Sense of the absurdity of the world? Most definitely.

Fucking bloody comments systems. I’ve been trying to install one that’ll work using Perl or PHP (I’ve been playing with one of each, before any smart-arse tries to be clever) from one of my other sites where I’ve got them installed.

Basically, I’m totally pissed off with shite like enetation playing silly buggers, so I’m going to end up with one held on one of my own sites. It might make things a little bit more complicated, but in the long run it’ll be for the better I’m sure.

Just bear with me on it, OK?

Does anybody else find they have problems with enetation‘s comments system?

I keep on finding it’s either fucked off out of the page completely for no good reason (it’s there in the source, just the link isn’t appearing), the server’s busy, or some other thing, and I’m lucky if it’s working 25% of the time. Maybe I’m cursed – netcomments fell off the face of the earth within days of me signing up, enetation’s a POS at the moment, and YACCS has seen the light and won’t let me sign up. Bastard things, comments systems.

I’d get one of the Perl-based ones, but my webspace host charges me extra for it. Then again, I don’t pay for bandwidth, so I guess it’s swings and roundabouts really.

I’m going to see Nina Simone!
I’m going to see Nina Simone!
I’m going to see Nina Simone!

Roll on 8th November.

I know this is probably ultimately sad to admit, but Monday nights now just aren’t the same without “Six Feet Under” being on C4. (That’s our fourth terrestrial channel, Elayne and any other non-UK readers.) It’s been a quiet night – the joys of not going to bed ’til 3.30 this morning (walking people home @ 1am is yet another way my body has of re-waking up at inopportune moments, so it took ’til then before I was tired again.) so in theory at least, I’m planning an earlyish night.

And thank frig I’ve finished the book on my reading list – Mandrake by Paul Eddy. What a sack of shite. I know, I’ve belted on about it on the main page too, but Jesus H Christ on a floppy pine trike, it’s bad. So now I can read something nice and simple, which is all my little braincell can cope with right now.

Goodnight – I hope.

Note to self : No matter how tired you are, how little sleep you’ve had, going to sleep while shaving, in fact going to sleep while the “safety” razor is in contact with your face is a REALLY bad idea.

It’ll stop bleeding soon, I’m sure.

RIFSP (Rest in Flaming Shattered Pieces) Baroness Young. Tributes are pouring in? Not from me, they’re bloody not. She was an evil cow, and should rot in hell with every other bigot. And yes, I agree with Peter Tatchell’s comment here about the old bitch.

The world is a better place now she’s gone.

Sometimes I read something that just HAS to be passed on to more people. The Chronicles of George is one of those sites.

I can’t say more without giving it away – but you know when you call an IT helpdesk for the second time about an issue, and the person says “can you just run through it from the start for me”? George is the kind of person you maybe unlucky enough to speak to first, so no-one else knows exactly what’s happened – and these are some of the case notes he leaves before your second call…

Happy Day

Ah, sleep – that’s been good. Six solid (OK, solidish, I woke up a couple of times) hours of sleep. I feel almost human. Most unnatural. But I do feel good for it, I must say.

And then I walk downstairs, and there’s a box on the floor that’s obviously come through the letterbox. (Impressive – not even a scrape on it – so why do the tiniest letters get scrunched up, and a fuck-off box gets through fine?) It’s a box from Britannia. A box with Lord of the Rings on DVD.

Now – this is weird – no WAY would I have ordered it on DVD yet, because I’m waiting ’til November when the special edition biggie DVD comes out. Oh, and by the way, I’m not a member of Britannia. Check the box again – nope, it’s addressed to me, so that’s OK. I just didn’t order it. Look at the price. That can’t be right. £1.47??? Ah well, I might even pay that for it, and still get the Special One – I can always flog it to one of the gits on the market, if nothing else. Or give it to my brother to bore his pants off again. (His comment coming out of the film was “I wasted three hours of my life on that shite, and it doesn’t even End?“)

But why did it come to me? I didn’t order it. Technically I didn’t even want it (yet). But for that price, well *shrug* why not? But do companies like Britannia and so on do that? Just send stuff out randomly, or according to some weird mailing list, and see who buys it, who sends it back, and who just doesn’t say a word?

And if I do buy it, does that mean I go on the “suckers who buy shit they didn’t order” mailing list, so I’ll be plagued with more bizarre shite til the day I die/move…?

I’m pissed off. Over the last couple of weeks, about half my decent plants have pegged it. And I don’t know why.

The clivia (she of the orange flowers) is no more.
The leopard lily (she of the nice leaves and weird flowery bits) has popped it’s clogs.
The boston lily (it of the mad growth patterns and odd stubbly mace-like flowers) has shuffled off it’s mortal coil.

And the only common factor I can find is that they’ve all flowered recently. None of my other weeds (WEED = Plant that grows) have flowered and they’re all still doing fine. In fact, the rubber plant is making up for the three dead ‘uns.

But they’re dead. So I’ve got some empty pots, and I’ll buy some more weeds to go in them soon. Along with earth, and all that other gardeny shite. I may even plonk on some photos when I do it, depending how bored I am, and if it’s a slownews day.

The Friday Five
1. What is your biggest pet peeve? Why?
Probably either Virgin Trains or people who wait ten minutes to get on a tram/bus to travel two stops, in a journey they could have walked in <5 minutes. Actually, probably idiotic or lazy people in general. And Virgin Trains. 2. What irritating habits do you have?
Snoring. And most people would probably say breathing too. Oh, and thinking about things too much. Which is odd, because I’m not thinking too hard about these answers at all.

3. Have you tried to change the irritating habits or just let them be?
I’ve tried sorting the snoring, with some success (now it depends on how I sleep, and doesn’t normally kick in badly.) I tried stopping breathing too, but then decided that it would make too many people happy, so I continued breathing.

4. What grosses you out more than anything else? Why?
BO. Smelly people in general. It’s vile, and blasts itself into my space too.

5. What one thing can you never see yourself doing that other people do?
That depends on my mood. Sometimes it comes down to something as simple as “having a proper job”, “getting married/ having a partner” or “having a family”. Other times it gets more out there, and comes down to things like “being happy.”

OK, I know, I know, I’m a techie beyond all reasonable expectations of the word. But I see things like this digital camera and I just go “oooooooohhhh”. I want one. But then I’d need a laptop with Bluetooth to go with it.

Dear Santa……………………..

And I’ve just laughed myself comatose at this story ( © BBC as per ) – flatpack furniture made fool proof. I bet my father could still naff it up though. A man who thinks something is level because the bubble in the spirit level is at the same end all the way round….

Out of interest, why is it that Angela Lansbury (and whoever the character was she played in Murder She Wrote) never got suspected of murder herself? How come that never happens? It would make so much fun for the detective to be accused every so often. In Murder She Wrote, wherever the cute doddery old pensioner goes, Murder soon follows. But no-one ever accuses her. WHY? She’s the only common factor in all the killings, for christ’s sake. And the way the killer is revealed is always one step short of a set-up. Why isn’t it that she’s just framing other people all the time?

It’s the same in the UK with Midsomer Murders – actually John Nettles was in both that and Bergerac, so he’s doubly accused – there’s more killings and death in that one little part of the world than in all the major cities put together. And no-one suspects anything. It’s weird, I tell you, weird.

I don’t know what makes Wee Bull and Bob so appealing, but I’ve just gone through the flash files one by one and laughed at all of them. Bizarre, but suits my humour just about perfectly.

Yay – at long last I think I’ve sussed the POS archiving. Next all I need to do is make a link to the proper archivey things. Or something.

I can’t be arsed to understand it at this time of night/morning. So I’ll leave it til tomorrow. Or whenever.

There are times where I just come to the conclusion that Americans are weird. This story from the BBC doesn’t do anything to disavow me of these ideas. Why the hell would companys like Macdonalds and PespsiCo NOT advertise on the anniversary of September 11th? Were Pepsico thinking of doing an ad where the Twin Towers of the World Trade Centre are replaced by fuck-off huge bottles of Pepsi Max along with the slogan “almost as good as the real thing™”? No. Were Macdonalds going to do an ad of Ronald Macdonald dressed as a US Marine huinting down the Hamburglar dressed as Osama Bin Laden? I doubt it

To be brutally honest, yes, it’s a day where lots of people lost their lives. But do Japanese advertisers worry about the anniversaries of Nagasaki and Hiroshima? Nope. What they have is this “July 6 – Every year, in Hiroshima, Japan, people float lanterns with prayers, thoughts, and messages of peace down the rivers in commemoration of the atomic bombing of Hiroshima. Until this year, the only way to join this celebration was to go to Hiroshima personally.” Now that sounds much more how it should be done.

I’ll admit, I think that “Boeing, the maker of the four planes that crashed on 11 September, is in negotiations with NBC to sponsor a special “concert for America”” (© BBC again) is a pretty dodgy and sick concept, but I can also see that if one company needs to be seen to be “doing something for America” on that date, it’s the manufacturers of the planes, and/or the airlines that had such pisspoor security checks. However, the airlines involved aren’t doing any ads that day – that I can understand more than companies like Coca Cola and Pepsi bailing from advertising.

Maybe they should just show the entire first run of Six Feet Under on Sept 11th, or have adverts for funeral homes all day. That’ll be more in keeping with the mood that seems to be desired.

But I’ll stick with the primary concept of “Americans are fucking weird sometimes”.

Fucking hell – a working comments system : and it’s been tested in IE as well as Nutscrape 4.7 & 6.2 and Opera. So there.

The BBC has been busy. They’ve done this quiz about people’s usage of Earth’s resources etc., and it’s quite cool. Six bloody pages, mind you, but it’s not like it’s rocket science or anything.

Anyway, if everyone lived like me, apparently we’d need 2.4 planets. Allegedly, this is a good score. Which makes it all a bit more worrying than perhaps it should, but there we go, such is life.

According to The Guardian’s latest quiz, this is me :

You scored 8 out of a possible 11
Fortissimo
Impressive – you can tell your Traviata from a trattoria, and probably know where the music you hear on adverts comes from, but disdain to buy classic ads collections.

I can live with that. It’s odd considering my own father still thinks I’m a pleb when it comes to classical music, knowledge of composers and the like, but obviously the knowledge has rubbed off somewhere along the line…

I just read this story on the BBC, and I’m sure they’re wrong, that I remember years Ago either Waitrose or Safeway (probably Waitrose) doing a photo-degradeable plastic carrier bag.

Of course, they were shit, and on hot summers days weakened before you were halfway home so your stuff fell through the bottom. But that’s the price of progress, isn’t it?

I thought I’d also quickly put this link in, because it’s one of the better UserFriendlys of recent times. Kind of sad, because it used to be regularly good, but appears to have lost the plot a bit recently. Still, that’s comedy I suppose, never going to appeal to everyone all the time.

Project for the day? : Recovering from the weekend. As usual.

In fairness, it was a pleasant weekend, spent in Nottingham. Even the trains ran on time. Even the club we went to was OK, although more and more I realise how little I’m into the clubs that really should be renamed as “late night meat markets” – it’s more drinks, pulling and playing current charty-type stuff, or at least the dance remixes of it. This time it was the Nottingham Palais (which I remember from two revamps ago when I used to go there, but that’s ancient history now).(and then there’s this link, just for Si and Rach to laugh at) And yeah, it was OK. Although it got better at about 1.30, 2ish when they started playing stuff the way I prefer it – not so charty, more just serious beat, have some fun and bounce around a bit.

I think maybe I’m just getting older or something – then I realise I’ve been going clubbing for half my life, and I’ve always hated the late-night pulling joints, so it’s keff all to do with age. It’s more to do with music, with attitude, with lots of other stuff too. But not to do with age. Weird, isn’t it?

But I love the pure music, feeling the bassline belt through your chest cavity, feeling it in the long bones of the legs and arms, and letting it get inside me. Hell yes, it’s noisy, and probably destructive to eardrums – in fact the Palais had signs before going in warning about the volume, strobes and smoke machines (which is a fair point, because it’s very rare that smoke machines aren’t a pain in the arse/sinuses/mucus membranes/eyes) which is indicative of what a wanky bunch some people really are – what the funny fuck else do you expect from a nightclub? Then again, they didn’t have a warning that half the place would be filled with pissed dickheads, hen-nights and twats in St. Trinian’s style outfits. And that was FAR more traumatic than the volume or the strobes. Ah well, there appear to be far more people who find women dressed as schoolgirls attractive than people who go to clubs because they love music, so I suppose I’m the minority in this situation. And the Dj’s who talk over the music just remind me of Secondary School discos.

As it is, I’m used to places like Heaven and Bedrock, places where people go to enjoy the music, not really to get pissed out of their brains or pull. Of course, if you do end up going back with someone that’s fine, but it’s a bonus, not a mission objective.

All the same, it was a good night. Taxi’s were bloody expensive, but a) that’s because we were staying WAY out of town and b) when aren’t they expensive? But between 5 in a taxi, it’s still not bad – less than £3 each, so what the hell. It was a good night.

Except for the lack of sleep. Most of that was personal choice though, talking to Sky instead of sleeping. But he’s fun, so it was a good way to work through a night. Sam was crashed out completely (I’d never seen someone sleep in the recovery position before – but she does), Dave was awake, Mick, Rach and Stace were conscious (which is as fair as it gets) and Sky was wide awake and disturbing in his knowledge of 90s chart hits. VH1 were playing all the Number 1s of the 90s (and some were more Number 2s, but that’s beside the point) in chronological order – Sky could tell us which track was coming up next. Which is kind of scary, and immensely sad and bobble-hatted. If he got out more, he’d probably be a trainspotter.

But it was a good weekend. The Sunday involved me ending up doing six Tarot readings – two for Sam, one for Rach, one for Marie, one for Stace and one for me – and I’d forgotten how much they do take it out of me. There’s no physical reason for them to do so, but bloody hell, they really do knacker me. And of course doing it on minimal sleep was a really smart decision. Leaving Nottingham at 7.30 in the evening and getting home at 10pm didn’t help really on the lack of sleep score.

However, I really do think that Chinese take-aways should be nominated for a group OBE for services to the public, particularly those gimps among the population who don’t get home til 10pm, can’t be bothered and/or can’t find the energy to cook, and the lovely people at the Chinese are still working to cook food. They’re saints, each and every one of ’em.

The funniest thing I’ve read in a while about haircuts. Considering I need one bigtime (probably tomorrow, at this rate, it will happen). (If I’ve done this link wrong and you have to scroll down, it’s for Thursday August 29th or so)

Dirty rotten bastard. I’ve just looked at the blog with IE for the first time in ages, and the bloody frigging thing isn’t putting the comments in. It works in Opera and Nutscrape. Just not in IE. Pigging thing.
So that’s my work for the day/evening. Working out either a) another fucking comments system ( the one I used initially seems to have fallen off the face of the web) or b) fix this one which is only not working in IE. Or simply saying sod it. Some of which is likely to depend on how I feel by the time I get home.

Updated
OK, I’ve found one that looks pretty good, signed up for it, and I’ll slap it into the blog when I get home. That should sort it out. If it doesn’t, then “Sod It” shall be the decree, and it shall be heard throughout the land…