moving times

I'm just dropping a note to say I've moved again. Here.

a short weight

Two routers later and I "might" have solved my connection problem. Some niggles, nothing serious. About 1.5 to 2 Mbps on the XP desktop and a mighty 4.5 to 5.5 Mbps on the Ubuntu Linux laptop.

Back to the point. These numbers are important. I am a 5'7" ish giant who weighs 82.4 Kg, 181.5 lbs or 12st 13lbs depending on where in the world you hail from. My intention in January was to lose 1lb a week for 26 weeks to be 11st (154lbs) by holiday time. Unfortunately this was unlikely to happen as I chose to do nothing that would lead to weight loss (unless you consider eating until I'm bloated/fridge empty/nauseous as being helpful). Seeing as I booked flights today for a holiday in 5 weeks time I think even 14 lbs would be pushing it but I'm all ears for techniques involving anything other than starvation or amputation.

connectathon

Am I dead? No. But my computer is, or rather my ISP.

Without wishing to bore I've been having problems with my ISP's speed and connection since they upgraded the line to ADSL2+. It seems my router is incompatible with speeds above 2Mb.
So most of my pc time has been spent fiddling.

Not content with dealing with 1 issue I ordered a replacement CPU from Thailand for my ageing pc to give it a slight performance upgrade. This involves detaching every cable connected to the motherboard and taking it out of the case to swap the CPU. Tiny static discharges will kill the motherboard/CPU so it takes care and leads only seem to like going back on to the same place they came off!

I nearly cooked the new CPU, got an alarm after rebuild which lead to auto shutdown and going into the BIOS told me the temp was 86 C after only a few seconds. After checking the leads I discovered I'd put the heat sink on 180 degrees out of sync so the CPU had nearly no contact with the thermal grease mating it to the heat sink. Anyway, 10 minutes later and all was solved.

I said I wouldn't bore you with the details. Aren't you fucking glad I didn't spill the detail on the ISP connection problem?
Don't listen to me in future.

Planets in alignment

I need to make this short. Business meeting in Edinburgh yesterday culminating in dinner in a glass boardroom on top of building directly overlooking Edinburgh Castle. Mojitos and Bisongrass followed in Tiger Lily chased by deep fried Mars bar. Back to Malmaison for a drink (or two) and bed at 2.30am.

5.20am, my alarm call to get up to catch an early flight home accompanied by my boss to spend the day doing joint meetings with him. Can you see where things might start to wrong?

It's now 5.45pm. At 7.30 I have to be at a hotel for a formal dress industry dinner (which turns into a complete piss up) and act as host to 7 guests ( 4 of which are women) including my boss.

3 hours sleep, copious amount of drink, ladies in pretty dresses and my boss. I'm fucked, aren't I?

no tastey tastey

Do you remember when it was possible to have fun without feeling some sense of endangerment.

I wish I hadn't read this?

tittle tattle

Breasts. Two of my favourite words, if you know what I mean. I could look at them all day. No matter how hard I try to avert my eyes they always lock on, Exocet style.

A friend of mine got a new pair last week. She's not what I'd call an attractive girl. Not ugly in any sense either, a bit too skinny perhaps. Her 34As were not doing it for her so she spent £4000 on an upgrade seeing as her marriage had just ended. Sitting out in the sun on Sunday afternoon with a few friends, all female excepting me, she unzipped her cotton jersey cardy to show the girls her new playmates and "forgot" she was just wearing a crocheted dress underneath. Her "forgetfulness" was magnified by her decision to tweak her protruding nipples before casting her gaze in my direction.

To me her 34Ds still looked like a pair of rigid porn burger baps unsympathetically highlighted by a distinct lack of cleavage, there being more resemblance to the profile of the Great Rift Valley than a Welsh one.

Ladies, don't mess with nature. Find a way to better present what you have. I'll be happy to lend a hand.


p.s. take the test

My test tracked 1 variable How you compared to other people your age and gender:

You scored higher than 99% on boobs

Predictaholic

Time ticks by doesn't it? Been doing a bit of drifting. My declining post rate is down to work. I've been away a bit and when I've been home I've given myself more to do than previously which in turn generates more calls and ..... so the cycle escalates. It's not like I'm killing myself, I'm just finding new creative ways to spread 8 hours work over 17, who says executive training isn't effective? When will I learn?

On the good news front I got paid handsomely last week. Inland Revenue took an extremely generous slice and moved the decimal point over one place. Thanks tax-man!

Fitting into the fleeting passing interest/temporary hobby category that constitutes my life I've been dabbling with Linux again. Yes, that's me showing up on your stat-counter. I don't want to create the wrong impression here, I know nothing about it.

My next post will be about breasts though, that much I know.

Don't stare into it's eyes......

Here's a small update on the menace that has been taking over all aspects of my life over the last 2/3 years.
Don't let it's diminutive form fool you. It is evil.
It will not comply with simple requests or listen or be generally agreeable unless either
a/ a treat or
b/ Scooby-Doo are involved.
It does not like cleanliness or developing anything close to a regular sleep pattern.

It is the "Why?" machine, the most feared psychological weapon in all of Christendom. You have been warned!

Alakazaam

My Mini-me is 3. She's smart. For a three year old. Knows the alphabet, can count, write her own name but struggles with chaos theory and astro-photometry. Pffft! Slacker.

Now to the point; I am particularly glide-tastic in my movement. What I mean is I can walk into a room, stand behind someone for a couple of minutes and scare the be-Jaysus out of them when they eventually realise I'm there. So....each time I "appear" on my daughter she asks me how I do it.

Eventually one day I caved in and admitted that I just think about where I want to go, click my fingers and appear. She is convinced. 110%. "Daddy, how'd you do that? Show me!"

Yep, there's Santa and the Tooth Fairy but I'm the Daddy!

£s and lbs

A change of job last October and some better application has seen me earn a few pounds bonus this quarter. Should get it in my pay this month so I've already made a list of things I need or want. It starts off with a new suit (or two) and finishes off with a bike, camera lens and hard drive camcorder. Obviously, although at the top of the list, the suit will be bought last, if at all.

On the subject of pounds, I've resisted fast food for a few days. Unfortunately for the previous 14 weeks I stuffed my fat face and am a fine figure of a man if your definition of such is the view at a fairground hall of mirrors. My new year goal of losing 2 stone (28lbs) by the end June is looking unrealistic. Actually getting back to 11 stone any time is probably unrealistic. But that's why the token bike is on the list. It will at least help assuage my guilt and take up the last morsel of free space in the garage thereby making it a complete no-go zone. Win, win.

pics and sticks

The Golden Wedding Anniversary party went off without a hitch. My parents didn't have a clue until the minute they walked through the door into the room at the venue we'd hired for the day. They were instantly knocked over by the emotion. About 70 people had turned up, friends and family, and they got round them all over the following few hours.

I'd repaired old photos and blown some original wedding photos up as posters 30"x20" which were displayed around the room and made an album up of more 8"x10"s which was passed around the tables.
I thanked people for coming and my dad got up and made a short speech finishing by saying Mini-me was the love of his life. I don't think anyone had ever seen him cry before.

My lasting memory, however, is of my 8 cousins and their progeny. Someone was awfully busy with the ugly stick. Euwwwwgh!

the office

In my job there's two things I hate. Most.

1/ people not returning calls. These are the same people who would be leaving me sharp, angry messages on my voicemail or email if the situation was reversed. " This is the 2nd time I've left a message. I'd have have thought someone would have rang me back by now..."

Is it so difficult to return a call? How can they NOT return a call after a 2nd/3rd message is left? Cunts.

2/ e-mail building up quicker than I can delete it. "Inbox" (apparently one word according to Outlook) now sitting at 148 emails, 7 reminders (some overdue by 3 weeks), 22 items unread.

And what happened to ringing people. I work from home. Fine. Doesn't mean I AM at home all day. Please read where I wrote "do not email me as I will not have access to email until tomorrow, ring me on the number below". From now on I'm going to add "you fuckwit" to the end of that line. Let's see if anyone actually reads it, eh?

3/ (OK, I said two but I got thinking...) the twats that walk you up the path, commit to giving business after months of discussion then need something urgently 10 minutes before they intend to do the deal that will require everything being dropped in an attempt to comply with their impossible request, as they tell you that if you don't get XYZ to them in ABC minutes they'll take the business to EFG company/individual.

Those fuckers should burn. Slowly. Basted in chilli sauce.


Yep, it's a good day at the office today.

old, borrowed, blue......itchy and new

Busy, busy, busy. For me anyway. I've spent the last 2 years probably working about an average of 20 hours a week. Some weeks, in the previous job, perhaps as low as 2/3 hours. Not enough sunlight I think. I'm certainly not going back on the happy pills.

Anyway, busy. That's right. Busy working, trying to earn a few grand bonus money for the first time in 2 years, looking good so far. Quarter ends at the end of March so we''ll see what's in by then.

Busy scanning old photos and trying to restore some. My parents celebrate their golden wedding anniversary next Sunday and I plan to blow up some old pics I've borrowed from them. A party is arranged for them and, though a secret, they may have already guessed as we arranged one for their ruby anniversary 10 years ago.

For some reason I got quite emotional on Saturday when playing with mini-me. Got to wondering what she would remember of me if something happened to me. How would she grow up if I wasn't around, that sort of thing. It was just after I'd found what had been causing the itching under my right arm the last 2 or 3 weeks, some patches of uneven discoloured skin. I don't think it's anything to worry about, though I did for a few hours. Obviously I'm not going to go to the doctor's. Anyway, here's an old one.

Yawn

Been in Dublin again this weekend. No rugby this time. Food, drink.

Since getting the train home I've needed a 3 hour coma already.

Much sleep needed. Laters.

Lurgy a go-go

I have a retentive streak that makes it hard to throw things away. What if I find out I later need it? Even years afterwards. So I hoard, re-organise, make that decision over and over as time goes by, throw it out or keep? A never ending cycle.

My office has piles of paperwork, cupboards and boxes of articles, cds or magazines I've never re-used, though thought I might, now out-dated because of legislation or simply the passage of time.
I'm the same with the contents of my fridge. A sell by/use by date means nothing. It'll be nuked, stir-fried, boiled so surely that renders it safe, it'll taste OK, not perfect but OK. I hate waste when it comes to food.

Yesterday I made a stir fry. King prawns, yellow pepper, sweetcorn, broccoli cooked in groundnut oil, seasoned with garlic, grated ginger and lemon grass and topped off with an over generous dose of bird's eye chillies. Add some egg fried rice at the end and serve. Yummy! The prawns were 3 days past. I made more than I could eat and forgot to put the remainder away but had it today for lunch reheated in the wok. Yummy twice!

This evening however retention caught up with me. Think Johnny Cash.

and then there were none

The last few days have been a bit strange. I haven't felt like writing. My best friend left today to go travelling, a year, two years, he might return and he might not.

Of my closest friends one left to live in Canada 6 years ago. One now lives in north-east England, another in London. Exactly a year ago my other closest friend emigrated to Australia. He and the one leaving today along with myself were the proverbial three legged stool. So today marked a final chapter. We grew up in or around the same town, drank together, lived and holidayed together spanning over 20 years.

Today he arrived at my house and we drove the brief 5 minute journey to the airport. The final hug outside wouldn't have given casual observers any clues to the regard we have for each other. A quick embrace, then the last fleeting eye contact before we go our own way. If I'd doubted how much he valued me his face told the full story, probably not helped by my instinctive "see ya' soon" parting comment. Quick and painful's better than slow and painful though.

I've been angry at everyone and everything all day. Close to tears at times. And I feel very alone.

stranger than fiction

I'm still shattered from the weekend. Had my boss with me all day today and was up late last night getting ready for his visit so hope you won't mind the abbreviated version.

Oh, and a Blogger spam-bot has LOCKED my blog so this post may never see the light of day. If they delete it I'm gone. Google, there are millions of spam and commercial Adsense link blogs out there, mine is NOT one of them. Get your shit together!


Did

• get drunk
• entertain guests
• had a laugh
• convinced a client to give me £1,200,000 instead of £400,000 later this month
• drank in many, many bars
• stayed out too late
• spent lots of money
• smoked a pack of cigs (sorry Sarah, Junq)
• see Ireland inflict the worst ever defeat in England's history, 43-13

Didn't

• talk to any girls (I know!)
• fall out with my boss
• spew
• get a stingy liver the next day
• take drugs
• go to a lap dance bar

I know, I did it all wrong.

Been there, done that

Saturday sees me get the train to Dublin, where the girls are so ...well, ugly actually. Most of them. If I were a U.S. political candidate my campaign would now be over, but as I'm not and I live on this moist sod of Atlantic turf I think I can say whatever the fuck I want, within reason.

The reason for my visit isn't girls anyway, it's the Ireland vs England rugby match. For those of you with little knowledge of rugby it's what American football was based on except it's not played with cissy helmets and headgear.


Foolhardy or cheapskates, you decide. Anyway, it's arranged through work, I'm taking 2 corporate guests who get the full corporate entertainment package £400/$800 worth plus hotel drink and transport. There's no room in the budget for me to actually attend the bloody (and it will be) match so I'll have to pick a Dublin bar and watch it on t.v. through a pint of Guinness. I lived in Dublin 20 odd years ago, it's changed much, the economy has grown from a poor 2nd world economy through the "Celtic Tiger" years and is now overheating. Drink costs a fuckin' fortune, I'll get a receipt, Coke is the hedonistic high of choice, and 1 in 5 people in the city are immigrants, mostly Poles and Nigerians and it's now an Irish caricature of itself.

Regular readers will know that me, work and drink seldom (read never) go well together. I dread to think what the weekend will bring. One thing's for sure, men playing with odd shaped balls will be the least of my worries.

Snappy gifts

I have a couple of cameras. It's sounds so grand. It's not. I bought a new one a few weeks ago so now I have a "big" one to go along with my "wee" one. So, as you can see, even in my own head, that doesn't make me a photographer. I don't have the eye for it. I have an eye for spotting false breasts or for measuring cup and bra size at a glance. Different strokes....I'm just a happy snapper ....with an unusual talent for breast quantisation.
Anyway, Sarah's are lovely. Photos, that is. She has the eye, perhaps even two of them. Lucky bastard.
Photojournalists however, it's probably more about being in the right place at the right time than technique or composition. They've got to put themselves in danger quite often, but even more than that they need to have a certain type of character to allow them to detach themselves from the very inhumanity they may be recording. For that reason I couldn't do it. I was reminded of that fact when I ended up on a web page recently for competition winning photos and the subject matter for the one that started me thinking is linked below.

If you're easily offended don't click here.

P.S. the photo at the top, anyone want to guess?

If only I'd thought of this....

Funny what you come across on the interweb.

I particularly like January 7th.

Do you have a favourite?

changes

Does anyone really enjoy Valentine's day? I don't. I'm not sure I can say I've ever actually enjoyed it so I suppose I'm ambivolent. I got my first Valentine card when I was about 12 or 13 in school. It was sent to me in sympathy because 2 of the most fanciable girls in class had heard me saying I'd never received one.

When I think back that was the start of my insecurities. I felt pretty ordinary, perhaps less than ordinary and certainly lacking in confidence. I can't remember if I got another Valentine card at school, I suppose I must have but I know I didn't have a girlfriend in any way until I was about 17. Self-assured I was not. For years after I struggled to think well of myself, still do.

Isn't it funny how we can allow ourselves to be mentally neutered and how this can stretch out over years of our lives affecting all our important interactions.

I never received a card today. I'm quite happy about that.
So some things don't change. Happily, other things do.




me, now 43. with my specs on. (fretting about focus hence the dour bake)

3, 2, 1 ...go

So this is the first post under the new private-ish regime. I took the decision I didn't want people who knew me reading this blog. Well, not personally. You know , in the web sense. So not strangers in the traditional sense, not friends in the conventional sense. That's probably the strangest thing about blogging, that sense that you know or are known but at the same time balanced with anonymity. If you're one of the original invitees however you're here because what you write interests me in some way. So, welcome! Again, that is. To begin with you're very small in number but that might not necessarily stay that way as you'll see below.

There's things I can't say here in case someone from real life or business accidentally stumbles upon it. My stat-counter shows me pages where some have come from and it's all getting a bit too close to home.

Good ol' Blogger gives us "author only" or "invitees only" as the two privacy options. Being the awkward bastard that I am that's not going to be enough. Therefore I'm inventing a third privacy option that you will be complicit in.

If you think someone you know (in the web or personal sense) might be interested in reading this blog then just drop their email addy to tinyworldreview@googlemail.com and I'll send out an invite.

So, in a way it'll be a private blog but growing, not so much virally, nor even mouldily, more Arctic lichen-y.

Option 3 then. Clear as mud?


I'll link to this post in the sidebar for any newcomers there might be and post something more newsworthy later in the week when you've had time to log in and all. In the meantime all my posts have been migrated over from the old Spaces blog (sans comments) and categorised so feel free to leaf through my archives.

notice to readers

I'm going to make this blog private but grant access to those who want to read it.

You'll need to leave your email address (I think it must be a Gmail one) so that you can view it.

If you don't have a Gmail account and want one just email me at the email address contained within my Blogger profile.

drugged