Mugs

Not content with the mugs I was doing myself, The Register has a few of their own that have been added to my “want” list. “Don’t lie – the computer didn’t ‘just do it’!” would be ideal, or “I know there is porn on your computer”.

Hmm, I wonder if I can twadge about and get some d4d™ variants?

Book Geek

Over the last few years, one of my consistently favourite authors has been Michael Marshall Smith. (or, for his last two books, Michael Marshall) Tonight he’s doing a reading and signing in Manchester Waterstones, so I’ll be there. Very sad and geeky (and even more so when you realise this’ll be the third time I’ve been at one of his readings) but it should still be interesting. Who knows, I may even get photos…

Re-connection

One thing that’s been good this week (and it’s in the minority, it has to be said) has been getting back in touch with a couple of friends who I haven’t seen or spoken to in a while. Mainly through being crap and manically busy, but that’s still no real excuse. MS Turd Word eating a six-page letter to one of them that I’d been writing over the weekend didn’t help – completely unrecoverable (Gawd knows, I’ve tried) so it’s been back to square one with it.

However, in the same vein, I also got contacted by an ex last night that I really could’ve done without. Two years on, and still there’s unresolved stuff there. I knew I’d taken her off the friends list on Messenger, but I’d forgotten to put her ID on ignore as well. Maybe that’s for the best, maybe it’s not – for now it’s just a nagging feeling of business still unfinished. Grrrr. I need sleep, that’ll let me get on with stuff in a saner fashion.

Do I?

After a week of shitey nights (put it this way, I’ve completed Redemption Ark (700ish pages) and Altered Carbon just while laying in bed) I’m currently in a seriously ratty mood.

Now – do I contact the bank I call FuckNugget (thanks Iain) today, as it’s now four days past their “we’ll call you back on Monday” bollocks, and the appointment I wanted to make with my new business manager still hasn’t happened? Or should I leave it ’til it’s a full week since they said they’d call, by which time I may have had some sleep, and be in a slightly more reasonable frame of mind?

UPDATED : Well, I’ve called them, and the useless twat is constantly engaged. So instead I’ve dropped him in the shit with his boss, my new business manager, by enquiring whether it’s the bank’s policy to never return phone calls, nor to do as promised. I’m also going to meet her on Tuesday morning, which should be interesting. And I didn’t swear once… I must be ill.

Referrer

OK, this is an odd one. In the last week or so, I’ve started getting a load of referrals from something called ibisweb.co.uk. I’d link to it, but it’s coming up with a “site under development” page. However, there’s something there, and it’s passworded – so go on, what’s this link from ibisweb, and who’s doing it?

Thanks

Eh?

Apparently, an advert for Galaxy chocolate is racist. Sorry, what? The “racially insensitive” rhyme on the advert is “eeny, meeny, miney, mo”, which I can only see as offensive to the Three Stooges.

But no, the problem is the line that follows the rhyme. Yes, that’s right – the line that’s not fucking featured in the advert. It’s not there, but somehow it’s still racist- because the line can (in one version) contain a pejorative starting with “N” and a now non-favourite of Ron Atkinson, although there’s also the version containing “fishy” or “tiger”.

Oh, and why am I circling round the word? Because in every other media circle it seems to be a grand excuse (and of course non-offensive, “because it’s news”) to keep the word in print for just a bit longer. Which I find more offensive than the word itself.

Attention

Stinky®, my direct boss, is still not stinky. Since he went off on holiday, he’s been non-stinky. I suspect that the mates he was travelling with have “had words”, and introduced the word hygiene to his lexicon.

Thankfully, he still has plenty of other equally irritating habits. The one that’s currently getting on my tits is the attention-seeking laugh. It’s utterly false, sounds more like a hiccough with pretensions, but is custom designed to make people around him ask “what’re you laughing at?”. It’s gigantically annoying, and if he continues with it he may get my attention while I slowly throttle the life out of him. The twat.