Category: Whining

Anniversary

Today’s the anniversary of the day I told Paul I was calling it quits.  I phoned Tammy a year ago today and told her I wanted to kill myself.  (I did, too, despite being told that I was being manipulative.) Instead of freaking out, she listened; at the end of about half an hour, she said, in a tone of voice that I recollect when I think I’m friendless (her tone being solemn, helpful and engaged) “You don’t want to kill yourself.  You want a divorce.”

Now I am sure that there a couple of people out there who wish I had offed myself, but frankly I’m glad I didn’t, as a couple of things have happened since that I am glad I lived through.

So today, I’d just like to say a couple of things.  The person sitting next to you may look fine and want to die.  Go easy on people; you don’t know what griefs they are carrying that you really wish you’d known about in advance.  In the rush to judgment do not trample compassion.
The other thing I want to say is that over the span of the last year, a lot of people I thought I knew have revealed their true colours to me.  A lot of people I respect have earned more of my respect.  A lot of people I like have become more likeable.  And a number of people I thought I hated have turned out to be poor, suffering bastards deserving of love and compassion and kindness.  I can’t make them like me – such is not within my power – but I have stopped hating, and that’s a really good place to find myself a year onwards.

Oh, and I think I’ve found somebody to date.  He’s very private and a bit of a Luddite, so I am mentioning his existence only as passing news, as he will not otherwise be turning up in my blog. But anybody who’s into contradancing can’t be all bad, right Chipper?

Golden Compass

Man, I wish I’d taken Patricia’s advice.  They got precisely two things right; the girl who plays Lyra, who is perfectly cast, and the fight scene between the two armoured bears.  Everything else sucked the business end of a Greyhound bus station men’s restroom mop.  Fifteen minutes into the movie I was ready to challenge to mortal combat the (screamingly politically incorrect adjective herewith deleted) music department. I went to IMDB so I could abuse who wrote the soundtrack but it was written by a committee as best I can tell and all there is a ‘music coordinator’.  The music was so badly timed to the action it’s like, “We’re going to put all the money on the screen and if the music is cheesier than a grindhouse porn soundtrack… nobody will notice.” Well I f*****g well did you morons, and if this movie cost 160 million to make and I have to watch it with the sound off because (while visually good) the script and soundtrack have me clapping my hands over my ears in horrified disbelief, you’ve not exactly got your money’s worth now have you.  I turned to Keith as the credits rolled and said, “I am so happy I didn’t pay for that.”  To which his response was a simple, “Ditto,” which concluded our discussion of the film.
In other news, I am corresponding with somebody from teh Craigslists whose pithy and entertaining posts are enlivening my life greatly.  Usually I send a pic – or forward my blog link – and the guy changes his email address and leaves town.  I can live in hope; this one hasn’t.

Stiff.sore.happy

So I did work out at Curves down the hill last night, combining it with a quick car booking, a brief and powerful shop, and a sojourn with Kopper.  Some of the machines extended the digitus impudicus at my back, but mostly I worked out and mostly I feel okay this morning. I took 6 methocarbamols yesterday, resulting in my almost complete silence at work… yay! but I think today I will get by on maybe three and maybe tomorrow none. I am maybe not as injured as I feared.
Tonight, Zombies.  Brrrrains.

Ow

I tripped and fell over a piece of furniture last night (thanks be daughter Katie was out of the room and did not, therefore, see my humiliating pirouette and crash) and now I am in a somewhat pained and feeble mood – and of course I injured myself in exactly the same part of my back as I hurt 2 years ago.  Grrrr.  However, Deadwood is keeping us occupied….  We are well into the second season.

Let’s all thank big pharma for Robaxicet, I have been sucking them back like candy.  On the basis of my mobility I estimate it will be about two weeks before I’m feeling back to normal, or what passes for normal these days.

Tasteless captions and other stuff

Patricia was over last night.  I tried to feed her, but she resisted!  Garn!  Instead we drank plunty beerz.  And whined.  She has less to whine about than I do, at least in the boy department.  Tonight I see one of the Minions of Loki, and we’ll probably whine like the whiny whiners we are.

Herewith tasteless captions (link removed for security). Not all of them are funny, but there are some gems in there.

Weeds and Food

I have now watched all of the first season of Weeds, and frankly I loved it, especially the stoner brother in law.  I further loved the notion that the lead could pop a cap in a rat’s ass in her own house without turning a hair, although rats do NOT die if you get them with a pellet gun; they just bleed furiously and vamoose.  Folks, a little realzm, plz.
I am currently cooking a double batch of biscotti for the United Way bake sale at work, and I am also making (daa daa daa daaaaa!) the dreaded Tapioca.  I am going to buy my tapioca pearls from Stuporstore in future, these larger ones take an age to cook.  It’s pushing an hour now.

I am staring at my packing list with panic, fear and loathing. Why am I getting on an airplane?  Why am I travelling so goddamned far?  The weather is going to suck and I’ll probably get dengue fever.

Deadwood Redux

Just watched the end of the second season.  Tim Olyphant, who was so joyous and physically pleasing in the first season, is now hewn from granite, with cedar spacers.  If it was possible for a man to walk stiffer without appearing robotic I’d be amazed.  Ian McShane continues to amuse and amaze.  Wish the musical scenes actually made a tiny effort to sync the music to the actions.  Noise coming from the soundtrack when the instrument is not actually be held in a playing position is the kind of thing that gets up Tonstant Watcher’s nose.  Onward to season three.

Sundry and various

Squirrel Spider Hybrid.  Very creepy photoshop – don’t look if you don’t dig spiders.

A buddy said, “I used to do scaffolding.  One of my customers paid his stucco workers half in cash and half in cocaine.  They worked like demons, man!”  Welcome to the Vancouver construction industry.

Deadwood has stolen my heart and p*ssed on it.  Keith Carradine interviews David Milch and it’s one of the most interesting and entertaining special features bits I’ve seen since Keira Knightley screamed “Oh, the horr-id filth-ay mon-kay!” in the Pirates of the Caribbean cast commentary.  Repeatedly.  Like, every time the mon-kay showed his ugly mug.

Work quote of the day.  “I know I suck; I just wish I was better at it.”

 

 

The unexpected losses

Update to this post. 

 

I’ve been pondering the Storm Worm.  Since I’ve been thinking about a piece of software that is a ‘contiguous and not quite self-aware artificial intelligence’ for the last year or so as part of a fiction, finding out about the Storm Worm has made me very uneasy.

My first problem is direct and unequivocal – personally unpleasant.  I make a living from the inertnests.  The VOIP lines that carry the customer voices to me are dependent on the existence and functioning of the internet, which is beginning to look like another Ponzi scheme.  The contact management software is also web based.  Even if by some miracle we were able to switch back to ‘land lines’ after the internet crashes – and it will, and more than once – driving so many voices back to copper will put international telephony into turmoil.

My second problem is unpleasant for my children. Who will benefit from international telephony and the internet crashing?

Think about it.

Essentially, everybody who hates science; everybody who hates freedom; the buggy whip media; and the richest people on earth, who will be insulated from the worst of it. Theocrats, neo-cons, the super-rich and newspapers all have something in common now; imagine if they were able to bring porn, citizen journalism and science to its knees in a single stroke; imagine if various governments in the world were able to profit immediately thereby by locking up anybody they felt like with impunity because there was no one to report on it and the hysteria that surrounded the collapse of the internet made all geeks suspect.

I should have been name Cassandra, so filled am I with dire predictions.  It may be the Russian Mafia behind it… and I’d bet money that’s so – but like 9/11 more than one interest group will profit by the collapse of the internet.

What on earth can I do about it? Is there a silver lining?

Running around

My bifocals are ready.  I go pick them up tomorrow.  My video is ready.  I’m too tired to figure out how to upload it to Youtube.  The cheque from the house proceeds came through – but there is a snag and a catch, as always, which I am not at liberty to talk about, except that everything is fine but for the delay.  Had dinner with Katie K (the moussaka was unbelievably good, I never had better) and did a brief shop afterwards as I have to cook something for the church supper tomorrow.

Like I said, a lot of running around.

arrrg

I came to consciousness at 7:58 this morning.  I have had the world’s fastest shower and now need to dress and run like the hammers down the hill.  Thank goodness I’m so close to work.  I may have to start setting my alarm again!  On the other hand I am NOT unhappy that I got what appears to be about 9 hours of sleep, despite current woes and issues I may not discuss in a public forum.  Yay sleep.