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June 29th 2003 12:30 CDT
On ethics
Is it wrong to hide your Cadburys chocolate away from your three year old daughter?
Comments ()June 29th 2003 10:55 CDT
On obligations
I'm feeling a little bit "way" and a little bit "woah" today. I have a hundred and one things I know I need to do, but am too damned comfortable sat here drinking tea and surfing the net. I know I need to get the lawn mower out as it's been nearly two weeks since it was last used (partially due to storms and partially due to procrastination). I suppose it's still relatively early and there's all the time in the world. Anyway, my phone is about to ring - the weekly communication with the maternal parental unit was missed yesterday thanks to some serious sleeping - so there's no point starting anything now.
This time next Sunday, I'll be packing to leave for France. I haven't spoken French in years and I'm curious as to how much of it I remember. Thinking about it, this will be my first experience with the Euro as a currency. On the one hand, given the Euro is worth pretty much a dollar, it is a good thing, as I won't need to mentally convert francs to sterling and thence to dollars. On the other, it's the symbol of bureaucracy and damp inertia. It is no coincidence that the word bureaucracy is derived from the French language. I'm a bit schizo about France. I love the physical country and most of its people. I have spent a lot of time there over the years. But the French governmental system appears to be one of the most bizarre in the civilized world. Where else would Jean Marie Le Pen be able to succeed to such a level in a country famed for its militant objection to anything other than the status quo?
Thinking about my travel schedule, France is probably the least of my worries. At the end of July, as I've probably said before, I'll be leaving for a tour of duty in Asia, taking in Japan, Singapore, Thailand, Taiwan, Hong Kong, Shanghai and Shenzen. And I've probably missed a couple of places out of mental self-defense. On the positive side though, upon my return, I will have added an ocean to my list of oceans I've seen. I will be taking the digital camera with me on that trip.
OK, one last cup of tea and I promise I'll get going on the chores.
Comments ()June 28th 2003 12:35 CDT
On religion
I just started a major league rant about religion and the evils it creates but I can't seem to get my groove on today. Suffice to say that I'm a paid-up member of the "if you're religious, you're off my Christmas card list" club. Pun intended. I think I lost any faith that I might have had as I grew older. I defy anyone to justify it as we examine what goes on in the name of whomever's God.
I'm not really liking the world today. Maybe something to do with this:
Or maybe I'm just an infidel. However the genius who created the above might qualify as a deity in my fecked-up world.
Comments ()June 27th 2003 07:10 CDT
On the usual
So, I crawled into bed pretty early last night, taking two of the dogs with me. At around 3 this morning, the hounds started getting sketchy and woke me with muted barks and angry growls. I immediately traced their unrest to the next room where an episode of the Wiggles seemed to be being blasted around the house. Cursing Natzoid for doing that and having her Yahoo alert sound on the "break the windows" level, I quickly realised that my initial diagnosis was wrong and that she had some kind of Rolf Harris video going on her PC. Wait - that's not a male voice so it can't be Rolf Harris. Why would she be listening to an interview with one of the Minogues? Hang on - that's not Minogian speak; in three sentences, there was no reference to Kylie's arse.
After fumbling around for a cigarette, I gained enough consciousness to ascertain that the Aussie in the PC was none other than the Antipodean Blog Stalker (ABS), aka Fiona, on Yahoo voice chat. Mystery solved, I headed back to bed, only to lie there and fell asleep approximately thirty seconds before my alarm clock went off.
I feel good. I knew that I would.
Comments ()June 25th 2003 22:00 CDT
On brain-death
Ug - can - not - communicate.
Spent a happy (sic) evening buried in a spreadsheet calculating margins, gross margins, net margins, wide margins, narrow margins, marginal margins and Hilbert-space margins. And then there are the options, alternative options, emergency back-up options and Armageddon mitigations.
Speaking of Armageddon, the weather (and our outlook) looked a little bleak about this time last night. I was mentally documenting the value of the insurance claim once the big one hit. Fortunately, it didn't. Although it did cost me sleep on a night when I really could have done with a full 8 hours.
Man, I should just get over this whole sleep kick. Real men don't need sleep. Whimper, whine, zzzz. But they do need margins to doodle and scribble obsceneties in while they are buried in spreadsheets.
Comments ()June 24th 2003 07:50 CDT
On injustice
Why is it that the kids and Natzoid can sleep through electric toothbrushes and electric shavers, buzzing not 10 feet away from them and it takes just the intent of curtains to rustle to wake me? Worst night's sleep ever.
Comments ()June 23rd 2003 21:00 CDT
On being the last to know
This may be old news to some of you but it surprised the living Y chromosomes out of me. Scientists have established that the male human genetic make-up has as much in common with male chimpanzees as it does with female humans. Talk about a kick to the gonads or what? Thankfully what appears to differentiate us males from our primate chums is that we think that sexually gratifying oneself in public and hurling poop at people are taboos. At least most of us do.
Henceforth, I will never ever respond to the affectionate nickname of "monkeyman". It started off being cute but now it's downright offensive.
The only counter-factlet that I can throw at this particularly damning slight on the male of the species is that we also share 70% of our DNA with lettuces - a fact that would send our vegan friends into a tail-spin.
Comments ()June 22nd 2003 19:10 CDT
On spammers
Geek Alert.
So, while I was mooching around on teapot, I cast a beady eye over my access logs. Given that teapot sits behind a firewall and has no fixed DNS entry and that it's not running Windows, I had assumed that I would get no security problems other than the odd idiot trying to hack Windows and a few code red infection attempts. To my horror, someone had been accessing the web server on teapot in order to use it as a proxy to the open spam domains (yahoo, hotmail etc). What this means is that my system would be the one recorded as having relayed the spam. Absolutely not cool. So I set about tightening the security.
I've long struggled to get the htaccess working properly on teapot and having looked at a seriously crap Linux book, it seemed that I didn't have the access module loaded. It recommended that I download Apache and recompile it. I did so, taking great pains to use RCS to back-up everything that could be. Disaster.
I reverted back to my original Apache installation and went to apache.org. After a fleeting two minutes, I realized all that was wrong was that I wasn't allowing local controls (ie htaccess) to override global controls. Duh!
How long have I been messing around with web servers? And how the hell did I miss that over the last 12 years? Sometimes, I'm just so fecking stupid, it hurts to even contemplate a return to software engineering. I bet teenagers would have known the solution to this pathetic sysadmin problemette.
Anyway, teapot is now secured and anyone who tries anything like that again will be automagically 403'd like they've never been 403'd before.
Comments ()June 22nd 2003 11:30 CDT
On a whim
I have two things to inflict upon impart to you.
The first is that I'm considering setting up a second blog. No, it wouldn't be technical and no, it wouldn't be political. You see, I actually do a lot of dull business writing and copy writing, but it's so uninspiring. I used to spend quite a great deal of time in my late teens and early twenties writing short stories. They generally came about when I knew I should write to someone but didn't really have anything of any import to write about. So what the recipient of the letter received was usually some off the wall madness scribbled in the early hours of the morning about my fictitious adventures. They were, in retrospect, very Hegarty-esque (not that Sean is in anyway mad at all). I may spend an hour or so sometime this week crafting an entry and see how it goes from there. My only concern is that given my humor evaporated on the event of my first marriage and shows no signs of returning (even Natzoid comments on the odd occasion where I do manage to crack a funny), the exercise may frustrate me. We'll see.
The second is that I cannot get over how loving Nic is. The other kids smiled at me occasionally, but Nic just radiates whenever you look in his direction. He's got an Eeyore "thanks for noticing me" thing going on and it melts me. Lori and Zoe show signs of being me; stubborn, grumpy, prone to funks. But Nic has such a calm and happy demeanor to him. He just oozes happiness. Long may it last.
Comments ()June 21st 2003 13:30 CDT
On being daft
Picture it. It's Friday night and I'm playing with a stuffed bear, using my pathetic ventriloquism skills. For whose benefit? Zoe? No. Nic? Nope. Natzoid? Could be. The kids are not amused by my comedy voices and scruffy teddy bear but Natzoid is in hysterics. While I may have entertained Natzoid for a while, the price I paid is substantial. I awoke with an epiglottis the size of an airship. Two cups of tea later, and I can still barely swallow. Never, ever again.
I'm feeling ambitious today, having uncharacteristically slept until 10:00 this morning. The guy to the left of us is selling his house and I'm feeling very guilty that the left side of our yard gets the least attention, so my conscience is telling me I really should get out there and spruce it up. We'll see. It might be a bad idea to throw some hay-fever on top of the old airship.
I've also had the words "when the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie" going through my head. I'm not even sure whether they are the right words. I'm intrigued as to the consequences of the moon hitting your eye like a big pizza pie. Would it be a black eye or a cheese/tomato combination burning it. Either way, it doesn't much sound like amore to me.
Comments ()June 19th 2003 18:30 CDT
On vacation
I'm envious of John going on holiday. The last time we took a vacation was when we went back to the UK in 2002, and to be honest, it was a pretty grueling regime. The time before that was a trip to Disneyland in Orlando with Sam and a 7 month old Bean in 2000. Before that it was a trip back to the UK with a 5 month old Bean, again in 2000. You'll note that two trips were taken in 2000, thanks to the bouyancy of the stock-market. You'll also note that the frequency of trips has gone down dramatically with the downturn.
This year, we're planning on borrowing Natzoid's dad's camper and hitting the road. The idea is that we'll drive across to Yellowstone, then on to Seattle where I will watch a Man Utd game in Seattle with my distant cousin, hit Victoria island and then make our way back through South Dakota where we will meet up with Natzoid's distant aunt. And we're taking all the dogs and kids with us. You see, this is major league on the cheap!
The harsh reality is that it's an awful lot of driving but I think it will be a lot of fun. Unfortunately, the day following the one when we get back from that trip is the one where I leave for Asia for 10 days, taking in Singapore, Thailand, Japan and China. And just a couple of weeks before it, I'll be hitting Europe for between 5 and 10 days, taking in France and possibly the UK.
So, I'm quite looking forward to the road trip, even though I think when we first met I had envisioned Natzoid and I doing it together on motorcycles rather than in an SUV and a camper, with kids and dogs.
However we spend that week will be great for me. I'm getting a little burned out trying to perform 3+ roles at work and barely getting over the previous week before the next one starts. It's not early twentieth century poverty by any means, but man, if it doesn't get to you. At the moment, by the time mid-afternoon rolls around, I can barely speak I'm so tired.
So a vacation is on order. It ain't Antigua but it's time spent not working and quality time spent with the inimitable Natzoid and el sproggos. I'd take that any day over anything.
Comments ()June 18th 2003 06:55 CDT
On appraisals
Jack has a wonderful, if widely inaccurate, description of chez nous. The kids and dogs are sometimes well-behaved in spite of our efforts to taint them with our own unique brand of contempt for the world. And I tell ya, the Mac thing ain't happening on my watch (maybe when Natzoid elopes with an arty type, she'll move over, but I tell ya, right here is geek central).
In other news, the Wart is 35 today. Given he is so old, he uses Netscape 0.9 beta 1 on Solaris so he probably won't be able to see this because it uses new fangled style sheets (cue "I remember when HTML wuz just HTML and you didn't need Microsoft's Internet Exploder to look at web pages"). Happy birthday you old git. It comforts me that you'll always be older than me...that way I can put my mistakes down to immaturity and yours down to senility.
Comments ()June 17th 2003 20:50 CDT
On a belated eulogy
Frank Tovey aka Fad Gadget died in April 2002 and I feel terrible that I didn't know. Fad Gadget was a major influence in my political development, being a conservationist without being an arse with it. He pioneered some analogue techniques, having a fantastic understanding of signal processing. Listen to Back to Nature that he recorded more or less in a cupboard and then how he evolved to being a master of electronics. And once you can get hold of "Tyranny and the Hired Hand", you should.
Comments ()June 17th 2003 17:55 CDT
On hog heaven
This Kazaa Lite thing that Natzoid has makes me feel eighteen again (although I bet Natzoid feels like she's 3). When did you last hear these people?
I bet if you're not my age and from the UK, you'll never have heard of them. Which is a shame. Because it's a great mix from a great time. And some of it is so fecking angry, it makes you want to riot, here and now.
And now we have Kirsty MacColl playing. And it reminds me how much I loved her voice. And her dying when she did in such circumstances with young kids still makes me borderline teary.
PS - from this, another reason to mourn:
For all intents and purposes, Frank Tovey was best known as the man behind Fad Gadget, one of the most significant cult acts of the post-punk boom. As Fad Gadget, Tovey and his revolving door of conspirators released several singles and four full-length albums that stretched the boundaries of pop music during the late '70s and early '80s. And after Tovey started making records under his own name in the mid-'80s, he continued to remain as unpredictable as ever, working within the realms of Cajun, blues, and folk, in addition to furthering his journey into experimental electronics.
Humorous, dark, strange, puzzling, wild, honest, confrontational -- these adjectives exemplify Tovey's lengthy body of work and his legacy of daringly physical performances. (Tovey's stage antics included numerous acrobatic feats and a penchant for shaving his copiously foamed body.) While Fad Gadget's contemporaries included the likes of Cabaret Voltaire, the Human League, Wire, the Normal, and Soft Cell, Tovey and company's records never quite achieved the underground notoriety or the chart success enjoyed by his peers. Regardless of the level of recognition, Tovey's unique contribution to electronic music is undeniable, and so is his influence upon it. As the years go on, the recognition continues to gather steam.
As a youngster, the London, England-born Tovey became a fan of Iggy Pop, Marc Bolan, and Lou Reed. He knew from an early stage that he wanted to become involved with music and eventually earned a degree in fine arts from Leeds Polytechnic in 1975. After finishing his schooling, he returned to London and put together some songs made with an electric piano, a drum machine, and a tape recorder. Through the help of a flatmate, Tovey met up with Daniel Miller at the local Rough Trade shop and gave the man behind the Normal's "Warm Leatherette" his primitive recordings. Miller loved what he heard and signed Tovey to his Mute label, a groundbreaking pro-electronic label that was just lifting off the ground.
Tovey made his first public appearance as Fad Gadget in July of 1979. Two months after that, the first Fad Gadget single, The Box, was issued. Just as funny as it was frightening, the predominantly electronic single featured two songs that remain touchstones of Tovey's lengthy career. Another key single, Ricky's Hand, was out in shops the following March. The sleeve boldly claimed that, save for an electric drill and the vocals, the two songs on it were made entirely from synthetic sources. A third single was released just prior to the first full-length, Fireside Favourites, which was released by the end of 1980. While Tovey did the lion's share of synth work on the album, percussionist John Fryer, bassist/guitarist Eric Radcliffe, drummer Nick Cash, and synthesist Miller chipped in with contributions.
Incontinent, the second Fad Gadget LP, was issued almost exactly a year after the debut. Aside from the return of most of the usual suspects, Wire's Robert Gotobed played some drums, Peter Bahner played some bass and guitar, and David Simmonds provided extra synth and percussion work. Slightly darker than its predecessor, a decrease in the reliance upon electronics made for a wide-eyed, if unfocused, sophomore album.
The albums Under the Flag and Gag were released in 1982 and 1984, respectively. The move into dance and soul-influenced territories -- along with relatively traditional production values for the time -- resulted in lighter and less urgent music, but Tovey's lyrics steadfastly refused to approach anything resembling mundane or fantasy-based. Tovey was more likely to be compared to Bob Dylan than Gary Numan, as his lyrics favored the everyman over machines and aliens. Personnel-wise, Under the Flag featured guest vocal turns and saxophone blurts from Alison Moyet (Yaz), and Gag included some guitar work from Rowland S. Howard (the Birthday Party).
After Gag, Tovey decided to start recording under his own name and released six albums on Mute between 1985 and 1992. Just prior to that phase, he also paired up with Non's Boyd Rice for 1984's Easy Listening for the Hard of Hearing. These records were frequently more challenging the ones released as Fad Gadget, and Tovey's switch in names allowed him to expand his creativity. He decided to learn how to play instruments properly, a move that was prompted by his daughter. Asked by his daughter to play one of her songs, Tovey realized he couldn't really play anything, so he took up the guitar and made a conscious decision to write and record with more traditional instrumentation. 1989's Tyranny & the Hired Hand witnessed Tovey at his most organic. The labor-inspired album featured covers of modern and traditional protest songs. And for his following two albums, 1991's Grand Union and 1992's Worried Men in Second Hand Suits, Tovey continued his folk streak with a trio of Irish musicians dubbed the Pyros.
In 2001, Tovey dusted off Fad Gadget and began performing again under the name. In addition to an appearance at London's Elektrofest, Tovey opened for Depeche Mode on his labelmates' Exciter tour. Mute released The Best of Fad Gadget, a two-disc set of ace material, B-sides, and remixes. New material had been written and plans for new recordings were laid, but Tovey unexpectedly passed away in his home on April 3, 2002. ~ Kenny Kellman, All Music Guide Comments ()June 17th 2003 15:00 CDT
On outages
So, I pitched up to work this morning to find it bereft of any power. After a meeting that was cut short by the phone system dying, I had another meeting in the Caribou Coffee shop across the highway, then returned to work to find it still powerless, and getting increasingly hot. I therefore hoofed it home to a place with power and a network connection. As of now, there appears to be no power still (I can't get at my work network).
Is it or is it not absolutely unbelievable that this is the 21st century and we can lose power for hours at a time? I thought electrical supplies were organized for redundancy and that's why they are refered to as grids? Apparently not.
Comments ()June 15th 2003 06:10 CDT
On aging
So, I was thinking yesterday that one of my oldest friends (literally and figuratively) will be 35 on Wednesday, which means that next birthday, I will be 35. Now hitting 35 means hitting half-way to the three score and ten and it struck me that given my lifestyle, I am unlikely to hit three score and ten. Ergo, I'm probably over half way through my life. Clang.
If it wasn't six o'clock in the morning, I'd crank a beer. Thinking is vastly over-rated.
Comments ()June 14th 2003 14:05 CDT
On a grassy knoll
I'm in a quandary. I've just mowed the grass at the front of the house. The neighbor's huge truck is parked at the side of the road, in the bit that overlaps his and our yard which meant that I missed about a 2 feet by 6 inch bit of grass for fear of damaging his vehicle. Normally, I would file this under "out of sight, out of mind silly job to do in the future" (ie next mow), but I can see it from my computer and it's annoying the shit out of me. I have a strange feeling that as soon as that truck moves, I'll get the mower out again to get that square foot of grass and oh how the neighbors will laugh at my anally retentive nature. The irony is the rest of the house is completely destroyed by kids, the basement looks like we've had squatters and yet that square foot of greenery is making me want to make a deal with the devil.
The act of mowing the front is normally a twenty minute exercise however today took over an hour due to The Bean's fascination with rocks. She had transferred a sizeable amount from the rock bed to the middle of the yard, so we had a good "bonding" hour as we picked up the myriad bits o' shingle and hand-transported them back to the rock bed. Now that's entertainment, not.
In other news, I was surprised to hell to find a little Old Glory sat in the front yard this morning. I have lived here for years - why is it that I have only just heard of "Flag Day"? And worse still, why did Natzoid give me some cock and bull explanation of why the flag had appeared and not the real reason. I happened upon the real explanation over at Jack's place.
Comments ()June 13th 2003 21:40 CDT
On the importance of being earnest
I had occasion to talk to one of our development team in the UK today, one Steve Power, and he warned me that I might want to censor my feelings towards my work. So to put the record straight, I'm not frantically looking for a new job. That's not to say that were a decent offer to come along combined with an interesting field that I wouldn't take it; that's just life. Right here is just bitching and moaning because I can.
After a bad start to the day, it actually didn't turn out that badly which is always a pleasant surprise.
Upon arriving home, I ironed out most of the wrinkles in Natzoid's CSS file and therefore the new template is now up and running. There remain some issues with the Safari browser that Pete pointed out but everything works in every browser on every platform that I have access to.
I'm off into the genealogy again so if you don't hear from me this weekend, I'm spending boatloads of wonga on the 1901 census. Don't tell Natzoid.
Comments ()June 12th 2003 19:40 CDT
On moving
God damn it. I leave the orifice office for a week and return to find that someone has played musical cubes. No longer do I have my nice big high-walled cube that allowed me to (every now and again) check blogs, but a crappy little thing from which my "stuff" spills out and that is noisier than hell (customer service to the North over a tall wall, the service team to the East and the whole of the bloody sales team to the South). How on earth am I meant to think? Or read blogs?
Apologies for all the ranting recently, but events are conspiring against me, of that I'm sure. I've decided that these are all signs (hotels, cubes, travel abominations) and I think I know where they are pointing me...cometh the offer, cometh the man if you get my drift.
I think I'm going to bite the bullet and start returning calls from head-hunters. Just kidding. Or am I? A return to pure software sounds like pure heaven at the moment. It's oh so tempting. And I know enough seriously talented developers (not in the USA though) to raise venture capital. Again, it's oh so tempting. But then we get into that damned responsibility thing again...I don't want responsibility, just power. Sigh.
Comments ()June 11th 2003 16:30 EDT
On his way home
As it turns out, my hotel in Boston was worse than I could have imagined. The people in the next room were partying until 04:30 this morning which inevitably meant that I didn't sleep until past five o'clock this morning. I keep a little black book you know? Most males with little black books have ex-girlfriend's phone numbers in them. Not me. I bequested that to my ex-wife so she could set up a "we hate Kenny" club. My new little black book contains the details of hotels that suck. I'm notorious for not quoting The Simpsons but I have to say that my hotel this week was the suckiest bunch of sucks that ever sucked.
And what did I say when asked how my stay was? "Fine thankyou." Grrr.
I've got an idea for a website - I'm going to check out whether www.hotelsthatsuck.com is owned by anyone. If it isn't, when Uncle George sends me another tax rebate, I will do the world a favor.
And I may start a sister-site www.worldclubsthatsuck.com. I'm in the Boston one and it doesn't have a smoking section. Grrr.
Comments ()June 10th 2003 17:45 EDT
On the T word
Post deleted due to overly political content. I'm not a leftie or a rightie so I should keep schtum.
Comments ()June 10th 2003 09:30 EDT
On accomodations
If you really want to annoy me, you can book me into a hotel without a restaurant, without broadband, without a coffee machine in the room and then charge me $129 a night to stay there. Further, you could advertise the fact that there is a shuttle from the airport but not tell me that it's on demand and that there is a 30 minute response time.
Synopsis: avoid the Holiday Inn Express in Boston, on Boston St. Worst hotel ever.
Comments ()June 9th 2003 11:40 CDT
On the East coast
So once again, my happy butt is on a plane in a couple of hours, this time to Boston. The Yates on the States™ roadshow continues. Tickets to the dog and pony show are generally free, but are on a first come, first serve basis. Bribing the dog or the pony with vino is always an acceptable method of moving up the ticket list.
Exercise for the day: go here and guess who is who. It won't be hard.
Oh, and congratulations to Leandra who had a baby girl on Friday.
Comments ()June 8th 2003 08:10 CDT
On being anti-social
Last night, we had real live people over. Aside from the odd UK visitor, this is unprecedented. Natzoid flirted outrageously, while I opted for the age old tradition of having probably one or two more tipples than I should have. In addition to publically declaring a jihad on Moveable Type, I think I might have declared that I'm running for president, because that's what you do when you've had one over the eight(y).
Given that excess abounded last night, I'm left wondering why the hell I awoke at 06:00 this morning. Conditioning or my body's way of saying "don't do that to me ever again or you will be subject to early mornings for eternity"?
Comments ()June 6th 2003 20:20 CDT
On why I was destined to be poor
The last twenty four hours has made me realise why I was never destined for extreme riches; I wouldn't want the life. The presentation that I gave and the panel discussion I was on were both conducted in a country club (to an audience of 50 engineers so you can imagine the nerves). The drive from the hotel was consumed with talk of golf, cigars and fishing. I don't know one end of a golf bat from another. I'm a cigarette smoker so cigars are too strong and repulsive to me. And I have an alternative name for fishing; drowning bait. As we arrived at the country club in question, dress codes were visible, golfers swanned in and out and all discussion that was not business related was to do with one of the three subjects above.
The logical progression went from fishing to boats to Florida to Mexico and then came back in a full circle as the proximity of Florida to Cuba revitalized the cigar debate. Fifteen years ago, I would have spat on these people. Now, I'm dealing with them on a day to day basis and I have to be nice to them.
The employees of the country club are obviously either invisible to the clients or are scared of the members. The lack of gratitude in the members was incredible, although I'm sure they make up for it with a good wadge of cash at the end. The only exception to the invisibility rule is for attractive young ladies. Now call me a working class English prude, but I actually don't feel superior to a twenty-something attractive girl. In fact, I feel positively awkward, and every physical imperfection that is mine immediately springs to mind. If anything, I envy their youth and their looks, not in a lecherous way, just in a "damn, why wasn't I that lucky in the looks" kind of way. That's just me. Others seem to think that their membership is a license to dominate. It really is quite sickening.
When I'm rich, I'm going hang around on the web all day, maybe write some code every now and again, and spend my time traveling around the bits of the world I want to, with my wife and kids. And I will have a bloody Mary for breakfast, but I'll be damned if it will be in some pristine country club with horticulture that has been designed like it itself is a coding project, bereft of inspiration or taste. And I won't be playing golf or smoking cigars. I might try fishing again, but not in Mexico.
On the other hand, maybe I'll never be rich and that there's a natural order to things that will prevent me from being so. The fact that I can't hobnob with the chattering classes (thankyou Oscar) is probably a barrier.
Anyway, I'm home. Thank someobody, but not the woman with the parrot, or America West or coach travel. Although productive, the last three days sucked donkey, and I don't apologise for the terminology...there are no better words.
Comments ()June 5th 2003 07:20 PDT
On a dial-up connection
I'm on a dial-up connection, dripping individual electrons down a piece of copper at 21Kbps, trying to do my morning read. Ug.
I'm in Santa Ana after an horrendous flight from Minneapolis to Phoenix where I sat next to a lady with two kids who would not sit down during take-off and landing and who had some mad parrot in a bag, squawking away for three bloody hours. The lady, who I'm sure is a lovely person (sic), antagonised the gentleman sat to my right by complaining when there wasn't space for her 9 carry-on bags. I gate-checked my bag and disappeared into the land of Powerpoint. On a different day, I may well have torn her a new one. Who takes parrots on planes? In a bag? Please.
And I've decided I like Arizona much more than California, even though none of you buggers turned up to buy me a beer.
Comments ()June 4th 2003 12:40 CDT
On globe-trotting
In a couple of hours, I'll be on a plane heading to Orange County via Phoenix. If you're in Phoenix airport between 18:00 and 19:00 this evening, be sure to pop in and buy me a beer. At lunchtime tomorrow, I'll be on a plane to Detroit, again with a stop-over in Phoenix, arriving in DTW very late. I'll then have to fumble around some bloody suburb trying to find the place I'm staying. During all of this joy, I have two presentations to write and myriad other administrative tasks to perform.
At 20:00 on Friday, I will arrive back in Minneapolis. Monday afternoon will see me disappearing to Boston for a couple of days.
Three days, three places, one topic.
I really do wonder what it must be like for you people with lives.
Comments ()June 3rd 2003 19:15 CDT
On being cool
During the course of today, blogrolling spontaneously decided I had updated my blog. I'm very touched that they should think me so cool as to merit a random update but I must be truthful here; I'm not that cool. Proof positive:
Told you -- I'm not cool.
In other news, I dropped a bollock at work today, sending an email out prior to another event happening. Fortunately, it only affected me and only I look like a prat. This event has had me reeling to the extent that I think that each day, I should list the top three things I've achieved and the three disappointments, just so I can put them into perspective. How cool is that?
Comments ()June 2nd 2003 07:05 CDT
On Monday morning syndrome
After a weekend of beautiful weather, pottering around the garden, grilling and partaking of the odd glass of Chardonnay, the inevitable has happened. It's Monday morning and time to re-engage one's brain (a vastly over-rated state).
It is this time each week when I wonder what on earth possessed me to call a meeting on Monday morning.
This week will see me doing a whistle-stop tour of the US, California on Thursday and Detroit on Friday. Next week, it's Boston. All together now, I don't like Mondays.
Comments ()June 1st 2003 11:35 CDT
On black sheep
I stole the title of the black sheep of the family from a cousin of my father. He is affectionately refered to as "The Oddy" partially because of the aptness of the name and partially because it's a bastardization of his surname. The Oddy has been married three or four times; I think even he has forgotten how many times.
The Oddy sprang to mind after the ritual phone call from the maternal parental unit yesterday morning. He has not worked in over twenty years, instead relying on welfare after an "accident" at work left him nursing an allegedly injured knee and claiming benefits. This knee appears to trouble him greatly at times when work needs to be done yet if you stick a few pints in him (a few to the Oddy is around a gallon or so), he quickly takes to the dance-floor. This is troublesome since his son is to be married later this year. His future daughter-in-law lives next door to the doctor that The Oddy has been conning seeing for the last twenty years and he has been invited to the reception. And so The Oddy is in danger.
The Oddy is the life and soul of every family gathering with his boisterous personality, extended repertoire of anecdotes and limitless capacity for storing and reciting jokes of every grade. He is the nearest to an extrovert that our family has ever produced.
Mrs Oddy the fourth/fifth: I've booked a taxi for 7 [o'clock].
The Oddy: What the bloody hell did you do that for? There's only two of us.
The Oddy will see a police transit van and shout "Taxi for ten."
Last weekend, he had two functions to attend serially. The first was my grandmother's birthday party and the second was his ex-wife's 60th birthday party. It speaks volumes about my family that even my grandmother's eighty-fourth birthday party involved an afternoon of beer-swilling and vino consumption, to the extent that only my mother, the designated driver, remained standing at the end of the function.
As The Oddy was getting ready to leave the first function, he was asked what the second function was. His response was "the ex-wife's sixtieth bash - the kids want me to go."
The painfully obvious question came up. Which ex-wife? Stunned silence is accompanied by an uncomfortable vibe from The Oddy. "Bugger," says he, "M******* [name blacked out to protect the current Mrs Oddy] which one is it?"
The Oddy was the only person in the whole of my extended family to have been divorced until I joined him in the black sheep club. I nearly took the title from him when I moved outside of suburban Manchester and into Yorkshire, but when I moved continents, the passing of the mantle from one generation to the next was complete.
I share the busted knee syndrome with The Oddy too, except mine is legitimate and it doesn't stop me working (although some day it may stop me walking). I just hope that The Oddy's self-control can overcome his party-animal nature at his son's wedding. Any more than a couple of pints and the knee that has so plagued him for the last twenty years may end up being a bit more painful. In the wallet, if you catch my drift.
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