I started writing this post a few days ago. I was feeling old. I wasn't carded at the store the other day. It was either because I looked old, because I had about 20L of wine or because the cashier was about 14.
There I said it. The cashier looked about old enough to just about begin to start shaving. So maybe that's where I am getting old.
But I ended up thinking of a different Store story. (Cue wobbly cut scene ala Wayne's World - but no stairway to Heaven!). At the local store here they have 4 of those self check stands. You know, those ones where you are supposed to check out yourself so that they can have just 1 cashier doing to the work of 4 to keep their costs down and make you think that the lines are moving quicker. That is despite the fact that it takes the 4 people in front of you a week to work out how to locate the type in code for loose kumquats or some other weird loose produce they are buying. And the one one cashier is off yapping to their friend over on checkout 12 - which when you consider self check is checkouts 1 through 4 makes you realize that they were way over the other end of the store.
So there we are, like sheep waiting to be sheered (or dumped in the sheep dip tank - choose your metaphor). And everyone just knows that the line for these checkouts goes up aisle 13 (unlucky for some). Gubbin's here is waiting 1 back from the front of the line. All of a sudden (dramatic moment), someone finally finishes checking out. Before we can move, some big dude (no other details given - its California after all), from nowhere, wheels a cart of about 200 items into the empty space, to the dismay of all of the rest of us.
Now normally, I wouldn't get into this. But I'm tired and thirsty and just want to get home that day. It had been a long day - work had been crappy and well I had other things I had to do. "Excuse me - the line is over here" says I. Dude looks up at me, grunts and carries on checking out. Strangely at this time the cashier had wandered back over. Uh-oh. Now they have to do something. Now kudos to them, they actually go over and tell said big dude that there is a line and he needs to move. "I'm in a hurry" he says. "Leave me alone". He carries on checking out.
Now by this time the line has moved a bit and I'm now all but done checking out. At this point the guy sees me and comes over to start getting in my face. (So much for being in a hurry). Luckily the store managed is on site at this time. It gets into a bit of a "this guy says there was a line but there wasn't - I'm in a hurry - leave me alone". To which I counter "so why are you over here in my face" (almost in parallel to the store manager saying the same thing).
As the story goes I just grabbed my stuff an left at that time. But it got me thinking. Are people really that clueless? If they are, should we give them a clue? Are there enough to go around?
The last time I was in the line, the guy in front of me was Shaun Hill (apparently some pro footballer or something - more of a Sharks person these days even with all the 49ers training less than a mile from the house). Would he have done the same to him? I mean I'm 6 foot and this guy was easily 6' 6" (round).
But I won't tell that story. Instead - the LCD TV broke at home today. I do have a Wii but it had nothing to do with a flying wiimote. Typical really or I could sue Nintendo for $5M or some other frivolous amount. It shattered while cleaning it. I guess, in my male mind, that gives me a great reason to never clean a TV again. It also meant it was a great day to go out and get a replacement model (thank goodness for end of year sales), which was 2 models above the one that broke. Male gene's have some advantages. A new Sony LCD TV for no real reason is a good thing in them there genes.
I think I made it through today without complaining. A Christmas miracle!
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Friday, December 26, 2008
Happy Boxing Day
Today was one of those days. I have them occasionally. The days where no matter what you do or think, eventually you are just going to crash for a few hours. I can't pinpoint where it started but by 1pm everything felt like I was just moving through molasses. Every step took an effort.
Nothing really helped. It was just one foot in front of the other.
So after dropping off the MIL and a long Costco trip (its amazing what they have on the 26th - no vestiges of Christmas, just back to the usual bulk crap they have), we came home and I crashed. For 4 hours. To be woken up to the news that the MIL had disappeared. Sure she had left on the right plane. Everyone knew that. But she wasn't at the other end. People were freaking. No one knew where she was. Panic mode (and that was what I had spent the last few hours escaping from). She did turn up in the end. The airline had marked the plane as "landed". That just meant it was on the ground. It didn't mean something useful like "this plane is at a gate and people can get off and go into the terminal". No, that would be too obvious. It meant "this plane isn't flying. Its at the airport but we aren't going to tell you where it is or when you might be so lucky as to be able to get off the plane and go home". That happened 2 hours later. Is it any wonder then that these big American companies are struggling. Simple mantra really "Say what you mean and mean what you say".
Other than that Boxing Day was quite a non event. No servants to give tips too. Even the mail man didn't rattle his cup through the gate hoping for a few dollars. And the milk man, butcher and baker were nowhere to be seen.
Come to think of it,even the paper person didn't give us a card this year. Normally they include an envelope (pre-stamped) in the hope of a tip (sorry - gratuity). I guess they don't trust the post either. Just have to add it onto the next bill I suppose. Which gets me started on another thing. The paper is 25c/day, $1.25 on the weekend. So how is the bill, for 6 weeks, $13. That's a $22.50 value for $13.00. Of which $14.00 is delivery fee. So by my reckoning that's $23.50 off. Or put another way, the Murky News is paying me a $1 to read it for 6 weeks.
Credit crunch my ass. American industry as just forgotten how to make money and if you can't make money you will never stay in business (ask on of my former employers!).
Ah well, by the time that drugs kicked in things were moving at a better pace. Just in time to go to bed and get some real sleep *yawn*
Nothing really helped. It was just one foot in front of the other.
So after dropping off the MIL and a long Costco trip (its amazing what they have on the 26th - no vestiges of Christmas, just back to the usual bulk crap they have), we came home and I crashed. For 4 hours. To be woken up to the news that the MIL had disappeared. Sure she had left on the right plane. Everyone knew that. But she wasn't at the other end. People were freaking. No one knew where she was. Panic mode (and that was what I had spent the last few hours escaping from). She did turn up in the end. The airline had marked the plane as "landed". That just meant it was on the ground. It didn't mean something useful like "this plane is at a gate and people can get off and go into the terminal". No, that would be too obvious. It meant "this plane isn't flying. Its at the airport but we aren't going to tell you where it is or when you might be so lucky as to be able to get off the plane and go home". That happened 2 hours later. Is it any wonder then that these big American companies are struggling. Simple mantra really "Say what you mean and mean what you say".
Other than that Boxing Day was quite a non event. No servants to give tips too. Even the mail man didn't rattle his cup through the gate hoping for a few dollars. And the milk man, butcher and baker were nowhere to be seen.
Come to think of it,even the paper person didn't give us a card this year. Normally they include an envelope (pre-stamped) in the hope of a tip (sorry - gratuity). I guess they don't trust the post either. Just have to add it onto the next bill I suppose. Which gets me started on another thing. The paper is 25c/day, $1.25 on the weekend. So how is the bill, for 6 weeks, $13. That's a $22.50 value for $13.00. Of which $14.00 is delivery fee. So by my reckoning that's $23.50 off. Or put another way, the Murky News is paying me a $1 to read it for 6 weeks.
Credit crunch my ass. American industry as just forgotten how to make money and if you can't make money you will never stay in business (ask on of my former employers!).
Ah well, by the time that drugs kicked in things were moving at a better pace. Just in time to go to bed and get some real sleep *yawn*
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Going Postal
I have a lot of Terry Pratchett books. Pride of place goes to my Grandmother's signed copy of Mort (2nd edition hardback - not for sale sorry). Most all others are 1st edition hardback (from book 4 in the series on through 25 or so). There are a number of reasons for that but most honestly its because of the fact that its just a good fun read. Nothing too serious and certainly nothing that will make Oprah's book of the month club. Even the newest one - Nation - while not his typical fair is somewhat humorous in places.
So back to Going Postal. It came to me yesterday (Christmas Eve Eve) when emptying the mail - who really uses the mail these days? Sure there has been the influx of Christmas cards (24 this year - a near record in recent years) and boxes from family abroad.
But yesterday... 1 flyer for some grocery store that is too far away to be worth the trek. And a card for the previous owner of the house. For crying out loud they moved out 3+ years ago. So either it was from someone who they don't care about or someone who even after all this time has failed to acknowledge the change of address.
Today was no better. A fly for some company or other (hint: if I want your services, I'll find you - the Internet does that for me) and a bill for car insurance. On Christmas Eve.
So, taking away the Christmas cards and parcels we have in the last few days:
* A flyer for a store I'm never going to
* A bill for something that really could just be on auto debit if they got their act together
* A while pile of other recycling.
At work, its much the same. In the 9 months at my current job I have received (give or take):
2 letters (both from IBM extolling their server range - no thanks)
1 Christmas Card (badly branded on the front - not hanging that up)
5 boxes (all of which I directly ordered)
1 flyer from an outsourcing company (ummm... no thanks... I have no idea who you are)
Does anyone write letters anymore? Is it a lost art? Has email really replaced it all in the last 15 years?
As an aside, DHL is going out of business in the US so the parcel service isn't going great. What does that bode for the future? Emailed gift cards all around, or the Amazon Parcel Delivery Service. Its certainly not looking good for the post office. In fact in the UK they say the post office loses about 5c for every letter it delivers. And putting up rates reduces the number of items delivered. Ye Olde Catch 22.
And yet, when doing business with most European companies, when you want a contract you get a 75-100 page tomb in the mail. Of all the things that could be sent via PDF/email that to me is the kicker. Its not personal. It doesn't need to be personal. And quite frankly it wastes a tree (or 4).
So it seems no one is going Postal anymore, and I shall just go back to getting a good read that doesn't make me think too much and at least manages to put a smile on my face.
So back to Going Postal. It came to me yesterday (Christmas Eve Eve) when emptying the mail - who really uses the mail these days? Sure there has been the influx of Christmas cards (24 this year - a near record in recent years) and boxes from family abroad.
But yesterday... 1 flyer for some grocery store that is too far away to be worth the trek. And a card for the previous owner of the house. For crying out loud they moved out 3+ years ago. So either it was from someone who they don't care about or someone who even after all this time has failed to acknowledge the change of address.
Today was no better. A fly for some company or other (hint: if I want your services, I'll find you - the Internet does that for me) and a bill for car insurance. On Christmas Eve.
So, taking away the Christmas cards and parcels we have in the last few days:
* A flyer for a store I'm never going to
* A bill for something that really could just be on auto debit if they got their act together
* A while pile of other recycling.
At work, its much the same. In the 9 months at my current job I have received (give or take):
2 letters (both from IBM extolling their server range - no thanks)
1 Christmas Card (badly branded on the front - not hanging that up)
5 boxes (all of which I directly ordered)
1 flyer from an outsourcing company (ummm... no thanks... I have no idea who you are)
Does anyone write letters anymore? Is it a lost art? Has email really replaced it all in the last 15 years?
As an aside, DHL is going out of business in the US so the parcel service isn't going great. What does that bode for the future? Emailed gift cards all around, or the Amazon Parcel Delivery Service. Its certainly not looking good for the post office. In fact in the UK they say the post office loses about 5c for every letter it delivers. And putting up rates reduces the number of items delivered. Ye Olde Catch 22.
And yet, when doing business with most European companies, when you want a contract you get a 75-100 page tomb in the mail. Of all the things that could be sent via PDF/email that to me is the kicker. Its not personal. It doesn't need to be personal. And quite frankly it wastes a tree (or 4).
So it seems no one is going Postal anymore, and I shall just go back to getting a good read that doesn't make me think too much and at least manages to put a smile on my face.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Totally Random Man
"Crash" was probably one of the last decent "compilation albums" I purchased. There have been others, but none where I listen to all the tracks and still do. I mean who would have thought Carter USM, Lenny Kravitz, Suede (of the London variety) and Therapy would be on the same album. To be fair a lot of it doesn't go together. But to me its a good summation of where I was in 1993 and where I suppose I still want to be.
Allow me a small digression to start off with. There are other songs on there that you could base a blog post on if you were in the UK during that time. Drawing some lyrics from Only Living Boy From New Cross would help flesh it out who I was and where life was going. I'd better not - I have a feeling an Ex that I'm not on talking terms with would hunt me down if she were to google any of the phrases I would draw from that song. So although that time in the UK is "so far away" (the Dog's D'Amour version not the Dire Straits one), its better safe than sorry. There are also some other good song lines for discussions (Belly's Feed the Tree ("I know all this and more")) on a day when I'm still have music running around in my head.
The Lemonheads not so much.
But back to the point. (Where am I going with this post? I have no idea - well I do). Today its time for a a bit of a wander through an empty mind. The idea came while listening to the Therapy? song. Well the last few lines. A few lines to do a more formal introduction to my mind.
Can't Stand Me
I will get under your skin. I will be abrupt. I do know I know more than you. Face it. You knew that already. And if I didn't I can bluff it to the point where you will think you were wrong even though you were right. The Internet is a wonderful thing to waste. And a great wasteland. You can find anything that suits what you want and twist it in a heartbeat. I do that too much. But you won't see it coming.
Understand Me
I don't mean to be that way. Part of this is that I have over the years built up a number of persona's. Sure we all have them. The home persona - the easy going, get the list done, kick back with the PS3/DVR/Whatever in the evening, a little too much wine or beer and just feel comfortable not challenging the world and letting the mass media tell you what to do. The work one - the groups to organize (for those of us lucky enough not to be in individual contributor and have ridden a rung or two up the ladder - sometimes not by choice). These are all persona's we have a share. Sometimes they cross over (Christmas Party - SF Academy of Sciences - year best not mentioned - 5 or 6 drinks in - say no more - nudge nudge wink wink - nods as good as a wink to a blind bat and all that).
Can't Stand Me
Then there is the side of us we like to hide. The side that goes places either in person, in our mind, or online. The Pr0n, the fetish websites, erotic literature, the chat rooms we really shouldn't be in but are just in case we find something we can use to screw with the rest of our lives with or play mind game with others. The places that all the security bulletins and common sense says to stay away from. Why do we go there? To indulge the side of us that we don't want to show the other two sides. (Although for some I guess that side of life can also be in the home life style you kinky little buggers!). Not here though.
Understand Me
There are reasons we have the third side. Being at home with the family creates a normality. Its who the world thinks we are. And we all like to think we are normal. A job, 2 cars, a wife/husband, maybe a kid or two, some fish and some hamsters (its always hamsters to start off with). Maybe you own (being still part of the lucky ones that can afford to) or maybe you have to rent. Its the view of ourselves we present to others to make ourselves feel normal and help us believe that we are like all others in society (never mind that when they close the blinds they are up there in the previous paragraph doing all the things you won't admit you are doing).
Can't Stand Me
But there is that side of us that we keep back from most people. The dark side. The side that says you got to know someone on a chat room somewhere. Its happened a few times in my life. The earliest was back in the early 90s. Julie somebody rings a bell. But she moved on for other reasons. Then there was my wife's turn - John somebody. That was interesting to me. She thinks I don't know but I do. I think it was her BPD kicking in before we knew that's what it was. But that fell apart for many reasons. I'm not sure I'm supposed to know about that one. Oh and there was Heidi too. But she did become a family friend until we all moved.
Understand Me
People need to feel connected. We have our public side and our own private demons. The public side is mostly easy. And if you aren't out there cultivating it, there are things that can help it. I can recommend a few that are easy enough to obtain, legal but probably not socially acceptable if people knew I had them. But they are a side effect of scars a few years ago (Rheumatic Carditis in my case - you don't get that in your 30s or so they say... apparently I'm the exception to prove the rule) and some of the ups and downs that go with that. But what can I say, it makes me amiable to everyone most of the time (save a few people from a few posts back ;) So it works and it keeps people happy and for the most holds the demons back.
Can't Stand Me
So now it comes a bit of a full circle. There things going on in my mind that shouldn't be. I feel I need to resolve some of them. How is another matter and there are things going on to help me move past where I don't want to go and pull me back from the brink. And stop me going to a place where I can't go. A place that would break the other two sides of me. Some old friends who do understand me that are helping. And an unexpected new one. So may be people do...
Understand Me
So there you have it. That's me. If you know me there are very few people who know more than one side of me in person. There are a few who do - but just a few. And now in all likelihood a few thousand more.
Boot note: I just want to add, the hamsters don't bite as much as my daughter makes out, and the fish will love you forever if you feed them. Our house isn't much but we own it and the cars while beat up have no loans on them. Our quite little corner of suburbia. If you ignore the planes landing nearby every 20 minutes ;) Oh and there's a drug dealer 3 doors down the road who assures me he isn't.
A totally Random Man
Allow me a small digression to start off with. There are other songs on there that you could base a blog post on if you were in the UK during that time. Drawing some lyrics from Only Living Boy From New Cross would help flesh it out who I was and where life was going. I'd better not - I have a feeling an Ex that I'm not on talking terms with would hunt me down if she were to google any of the phrases I would draw from that song. So although that time in the UK is "so far away" (the Dog's D'Amour version not the Dire Straits one), its better safe than sorry. There are also some other good song lines for discussions (Belly's Feed the Tree ("I know all this and more")) on a day when I'm still have music running around in my head.
The Lemonheads not so much.
But back to the point. (Where am I going with this post? I have no idea - well I do). Today its time for a a bit of a wander through an empty mind. The idea came while listening to the Therapy? song. Well the last few lines. A few lines to do a more formal introduction to my mind.
Can't Stand Me
I will get under your skin. I will be abrupt. I do know I know more than you. Face it. You knew that already. And if I didn't I can bluff it to the point where you will think you were wrong even though you were right. The Internet is a wonderful thing to waste. And a great wasteland. You can find anything that suits what you want and twist it in a heartbeat. I do that too much. But you won't see it coming.
Understand Me
I don't mean to be that way. Part of this is that I have over the years built up a number of persona's. Sure we all have them. The home persona - the easy going, get the list done, kick back with the PS3/DVR/Whatever in the evening, a little too much wine or beer and just feel comfortable not challenging the world and letting the mass media tell you what to do. The work one - the groups to organize (for those of us lucky enough not to be in individual contributor and have ridden a rung or two up the ladder - sometimes not by choice). These are all persona's we have a share. Sometimes they cross over (Christmas Party - SF Academy of Sciences - year best not mentioned - 5 or 6 drinks in - say no more - nudge nudge wink wink - nods as good as a wink to a blind bat and all that).
Can't Stand Me
Then there is the side of us we like to hide. The side that goes places either in person, in our mind, or online. The Pr0n, the fetish websites, erotic literature, the chat rooms we really shouldn't be in but are just in case we find something we can use to screw with the rest of our lives with or play mind game with others. The places that all the security bulletins and common sense says to stay away from. Why do we go there? To indulge the side of us that we don't want to show the other two sides. (Although for some I guess that side of life can also be in the home life style you kinky little buggers!). Not here though.
Understand Me
There are reasons we have the third side. Being at home with the family creates a normality. Its who the world thinks we are. And we all like to think we are normal. A job, 2 cars, a wife/husband, maybe a kid or two, some fish and some hamsters (its always hamsters to start off with). Maybe you own (being still part of the lucky ones that can afford to) or maybe you have to rent. Its the view of ourselves we present to others to make ourselves feel normal and help us believe that we are like all others in society (never mind that when they close the blinds they are up there in the previous paragraph doing all the things you won't admit you are doing).
Can't Stand Me
But there is that side of us that we keep back from most people. The dark side. The side that says you got to know someone on a chat room somewhere. Its happened a few times in my life. The earliest was back in the early 90s. Julie somebody rings a bell. But she moved on for other reasons. Then there was my wife's turn - John somebody. That was interesting to me. She thinks I don't know but I do. I think it was her BPD kicking in before we knew that's what it was. But that fell apart for many reasons. I'm not sure I'm supposed to know about that one. Oh and there was Heidi too. But she did become a family friend until we all moved.
Understand Me
People need to feel connected. We have our public side and our own private demons. The public side is mostly easy. And if you aren't out there cultivating it, there are things that can help it. I can recommend a few that are easy enough to obtain, legal but probably not socially acceptable if people knew I had them. But they are a side effect of scars a few years ago (Rheumatic Carditis in my case - you don't get that in your 30s or so they say... apparently I'm the exception to prove the rule) and some of the ups and downs that go with that. But what can I say, it makes me amiable to everyone most of the time (save a few people from a few posts back ;) So it works and it keeps people happy and for the most holds the demons back.
Can't Stand Me
So now it comes a bit of a full circle. There things going on in my mind that shouldn't be. I feel I need to resolve some of them. How is another matter and there are things going on to help me move past where I don't want to go and pull me back from the brink. And stop me going to a place where I can't go. A place that would break the other two sides of me. Some old friends who do understand me that are helping. And an unexpected new one. So may be people do...
Understand Me
So there you have it. That's me. If you know me there are very few people who know more than one side of me in person. There are a few who do - but just a few. And now in all likelihood a few thousand more.
Boot note: I just want to add, the hamsters don't bite as much as my daughter makes out, and the fish will love you forever if you feed them. Our house isn't much but we own it and the cars while beat up have no loans on them. Our quite little corner of suburbia. If you ignore the planes landing nearby every 20 minutes ;) Oh and there's a drug dealer 3 doors down the road who assures me he isn't.
A totally Random Man
Outward Appearances
I swear that if you stopped and looked at it you would think that the house 3 doors down is home to a drug dealer. Evidence is pretty circumstantial. They are never there at "normal" hours. There are always different cars parked there - which is a bitch because its a narrow road so where there are 3 cars at their house, getting past is difficult at best. People come and go at strange hours of the day. And there are a bunch of local "kids" that turn up shortly after about 10am every day.
But I got talking to "Dale" the other day. I'll call him Dale because, quite honestly I don't remember his name. There are only 6 houses in our street. I only know one of the other owners names. Isn't that a sad state of affairs. We only ever see the people at the far end of the street. Everyone else keeps to themselves. Supposedly two of the houses are owned by brothers-in-law. Does that mean that their wives are sisters or some other way to get to that situation. Either way one of them is now moving out and is renting out his house. We've been here 3 years and that's my sole knowledge of the people within 100 yards of us. Really. But we have a really good block barbecue every year (well 4 of us turned up this year - not bad for year 1).
Anyway back to Dale. It turns out Dale isn't a dealer. He's an auto mechanic on call for some bigwig. Hence he has to come and go as required and the different car outside every time. How he can afford the rent is any one's guess though. Maybe he has some other source of income ;) Or maybe being a private mechanic pays more than I think.
And its just that he has a bunch of teenage kids who are post school age and have a lot of hangers on. Drugs? Probably. Dealing? I sense this is the sort of guy that if his kids were doing that sort of thing they would last about 2 minutes before being hung drawn and quartered. Its the xbox generation. No life and no hope of getting a job (unless the job is Team Fortress apparently).
Get to know the neighbours? Not a chance. Their weird. But then ago so am I.
I wonder what they write on their blog about me. Leaves everyday at 8am. Returns by 5:30. Sometimes goes out from 6pm-8pm. Sounds like someone has a j-o-b. Maybe outward appearances aren't always so wrong. But then again hopefully they don't read my posts :)
But I got talking to "Dale" the other day. I'll call him Dale because, quite honestly I don't remember his name. There are only 6 houses in our street. I only know one of the other owners names. Isn't that a sad state of affairs. We only ever see the people at the far end of the street. Everyone else keeps to themselves. Supposedly two of the houses are owned by brothers-in-law. Does that mean that their wives are sisters or some other way to get to that situation. Either way one of them is now moving out and is renting out his house. We've been here 3 years and that's my sole knowledge of the people within 100 yards of us. Really. But we have a really good block barbecue every year (well 4 of us turned up this year - not bad for year 1).
Anyway back to Dale. It turns out Dale isn't a dealer. He's an auto mechanic on call for some bigwig. Hence he has to come and go as required and the different car outside every time. How he can afford the rent is any one's guess though. Maybe he has some other source of income ;) Or maybe being a private mechanic pays more than I think.
And its just that he has a bunch of teenage kids who are post school age and have a lot of hangers on. Drugs? Probably. Dealing? I sense this is the sort of guy that if his kids were doing that sort of thing they would last about 2 minutes before being hung drawn and quartered. Its the xbox generation. No life and no hope of getting a job (unless the job is Team Fortress apparently).
Get to know the neighbours? Not a chance. Their weird. But then ago so am I.
I wonder what they write on their blog about me. Leaves everyday at 8am. Returns by 5:30. Sometimes goes out from 6pm-8pm. Sounds like someone has a j-o-b. Maybe outward appearances aren't always so wrong. But then again hopefully they don't read my posts :)
16 Easy Bolts
It seems so easy at first. Just put 4 chairs together. Easy enough right? Insert tab A into slot b. Add one of 4 bolts, tighten. repeat. 4 times per chair. 16 times total.
Unfortunately it doesn't work out that way. 16 "easy" bolts turns into 16 bolts that never quite go in at the right angle. 16 times for the assembled over you to provide advice on what you are doing wrong. "Of course if they knew what they were doing they could bloody well do it themselves" goes the thought in my mind. I would quite happily give them that god awful hex wrench and stand over them and give them some of my fine advice.
Or more likely do it at speed and with force and insert that wrench into some body cavity that it shouldn't be inserted into. At force.
Dark thoughts do cloud the mind sometimes. I'm sure we all have them; I know for a fact that I have them and I'm not always proud of them. It can take you places you don't want to go. The dark corners of the "cess pool" of the Internet that you should never be (not my term but I'm going to shameless borrow it!). But sometimes the places you don't want to go are the places you most need to be and give you insights into things you didn't know you needed straightening out on. In a way it can help you set your priorities right. Face your fears head on. Sometimes its worth wading into the cess pool to see if you can find that one gem hidden at the bottom. Its there more than you know. But I digress.
It came up in an email the other day. An email that came about from talking to someone I would normally have never run into in the first place. It was that email that got me back here on post 2 (despite my procrastinations over the last few months as to whether I should start up doing this all again).
The question was simple: is it okay to wish ill on some people? Even just from this post I was wishing ill on a number of people, rightly or wrongly. The wonderful designers at Ikea that came up with the foolproof design that someone with a degree in Engineering can't complete perfectly (thanks to made in China mentality that ensures that slot B is 2mm off from tab A). And those we've chosen to surround ourselves with that feel that providing the most obvious advice is what we need to resolve any issue caused by said Ikea designers?
Of course those are the very minor ones. The fleeting ones that just sit there for a second until you get to stop for a few moments.
Then there are people in life that deserve more than just a clip around the ear. The ones at work and Walmart are the worst. I could name some names but they would know who they are. And you can bet that they are the sort that, if they ran across this, they'd get offended. The ones that would complain. And complain. And complain some more. Never mind the fact that they bring it on themselves. (And if you run across this - you know who you are and I will quite happily repeat that you deserve it if I ever get around to retaliating for all the crap you give me week in week out!).
But I will name the idiot at Walmart. I have no idea who you are by name. But running into me once was bad. Running into me a 2nd time in 60 seconds was worse. Having no idea that you did it and looking at me like it was my fault... may a plague of locusts descend on your Christmas turkey.
And then there was the grocery store. But as I always like to say - that's a story for another day.
Unfortunately it doesn't work out that way. 16 "easy" bolts turns into 16 bolts that never quite go in at the right angle. 16 times for the assembled over you to provide advice on what you are doing wrong. "Of course if they knew what they were doing they could bloody well do it themselves" goes the thought in my mind. I would quite happily give them that god awful hex wrench and stand over them and give them some of my fine advice.
Or more likely do it at speed and with force and insert that wrench into some body cavity that it shouldn't be inserted into. At force.
Dark thoughts do cloud the mind sometimes. I'm sure we all have them; I know for a fact that I have them and I'm not always proud of them. It can take you places you don't want to go. The dark corners of the "cess pool" of the Internet that you should never be (not my term but I'm going to shameless borrow it!). But sometimes the places you don't want to go are the places you most need to be and give you insights into things you didn't know you needed straightening out on. In a way it can help you set your priorities right. Face your fears head on. Sometimes its worth wading into the cess pool to see if you can find that one gem hidden at the bottom. Its there more than you know. But I digress.
It came up in an email the other day. An email that came about from talking to someone I would normally have never run into in the first place. It was that email that got me back here on post 2 (despite my procrastinations over the last few months as to whether I should start up doing this all again).
The question was simple: is it okay to wish ill on some people? Even just from this post I was wishing ill on a number of people, rightly or wrongly. The wonderful designers at Ikea that came up with the foolproof design that someone with a degree in Engineering can't complete perfectly (thanks to made in China mentality that ensures that slot B is 2mm off from tab A). And those we've chosen to surround ourselves with that feel that providing the most obvious advice is what we need to resolve any issue caused by said Ikea designers?
Of course those are the very minor ones. The fleeting ones that just sit there for a second until you get to stop for a few moments.
Then there are people in life that deserve more than just a clip around the ear. The ones at work and Walmart are the worst. I could name some names but they would know who they are. And you can bet that they are the sort that, if they ran across this, they'd get offended. The ones that would complain. And complain. And complain some more. Never mind the fact that they bring it on themselves. (And if you run across this - you know who you are and I will quite happily repeat that you deserve it if I ever get around to retaliating for all the crap you give me week in week out!).
But I will name the idiot at Walmart. I have no idea who you are by name. But running into me once was bad. Running into me a 2nd time in 60 seconds was worse. Having no idea that you did it and looking at me like it was my fault... may a plague of locusts descend on your Christmas turkey.
And then there was the grocery store. But as I always like to say - that's a story for another day.
Monday, December 22, 2008
[Empty]
Its empty up there. And for a reason. A long time ago there was some content. It was a long time ago. Before the corporate media moved in. Before google acquired blogger. A 100 years in Internet time so they say. Most of the records of that time and era are gone. By design. Quite easy to do when you know how. Of course at that time most of it was rehashed drivel culled from other peoples blogs or from google searches to store them in one place. Not really that useful to be honest.
But time moves on. You get some more insights into life you would never get and you gain the ability to try and morph (no not the Take Art plasticine creature) into what you want to be, or become the boring old fart who can recount age old witticisms on the unsuspecting public. Its all drivel really though.
So back to where I was. Or will be.
There will be some rants at the world. Most likely people I encounter at work. Or online. Or at the Post Office which brings out the worst in people as much as Walmart.
And some insights, at least useful to me and those for whole this was written. It will evolve. I know already where some of it will go. I have a few rants lined up. A few confessions. A few stories to share that are of interest. So we shall see how it all pans out.
Oh before I forget - the title refers to the fact that for most of the time my head is empty. When it isn't stuff just pops out. Useful at work - its generally when I come up with the best solutions. It should lead to some interesting posts to a blog however.
But time moves on. You get some more insights into life you would never get and you gain the ability to try and morph (no not the Take Art plasticine creature) into what you want to be, or become the boring old fart who can recount age old witticisms on the unsuspecting public. Its all drivel really though.
So back to where I was. Or will be.
There will be some rants at the world. Most likely people I encounter at work. Or online. Or at the Post Office which brings out the worst in people as much as Walmart.
And some insights, at least useful to me and those for whole this was written. It will evolve. I know already where some of it will go. I have a few rants lined up. A few confessions. A few stories to share that are of interest. So we shall see how it all pans out.
Oh before I forget - the title refers to the fact that for most of the time my head is empty. When it isn't stuff just pops out. Useful at work - its generally when I come up with the best solutions. It should lead to some interesting posts to a blog however.
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