Law Of The Playground is quite marvellous. I found the site some time ago and then pretty much forgot about it. I was looking for a reference to explain the phrase "fucking Ada" for my wife (who, being American, thought it was "fucking hate her" - I had a similar problem with the Oregon accent, so don't be too hard on her). Law Of The Playground wasn't much help, but it reminded me that my teenage years had been documented in startling detail.
You want universality? Forget that yokel Thomas Hardy: go to Law Of The Playground.
Sunday, March 28, 2004
Friday, March 26, 2004
Sp3ccylad: Now 91% Fat Free
I had my body fat percentage measured yesterday and it was a bit alarming.
Hey: I may know what you're thinking. Blogger, sedentary lifestyle. Comic Book Guy out of The Simpsons.
Worst guess ever.
9% body fat. That's not normal, is it? Actually, checking about on the web tells me that I could go as low as 3% and still have enough essential body fat. It just means that I have a body like a badly packed portable xylophone; or (to use a Russian idiom that a colleague told me yesterday) I'm as skinny as a bicycle.
"Skinny as a bicycle". Heh. I love that.
I had my body fat percentage measured yesterday and it was a bit alarming.
Hey: I may know what you're thinking. Blogger, sedentary lifestyle. Comic Book Guy out of The Simpsons.
Worst guess ever.
9% body fat. That's not normal, is it? Actually, checking about on the web tells me that I could go as low as 3% and still have enough essential body fat. It just means that I have a body like a badly packed portable xylophone; or (to use a Russian idiom that a colleague told me yesterday) I'm as skinny as a bicycle.
"Skinny as a bicycle". Heh. I love that.
Thursday, March 25, 2004
Ooh look! A giant marshmallow! I'll just impale this clown to it.
Madnesscombat.com is back with another death-fest.
It's quite engaging in a funny sort of way, and it's had a Douglas Adams makeover. Ah, go on: you know you want to.
Madnesscombat.com is back with another death-fest.
It's quite engaging in a funny sort of way, and it's had a Douglas Adams makeover. Ah, go on: you know you want to.
Toothing.
I don't get this. Nope, I really don't.
OK, I didn't get the whole dogging scene either, of sex in semi-public places with an audience. The closest I came to understanding it was interpreting it as having a kind of JG Ballard Crash style vibe going on. (Incedentally, isn't Cronenberg's Crash one of the sexiest films ever made?) But I don't know: maybe the dogging scene's lack of appeal for me reflects certain insecurities I have about my appearance. When you have a condition that affects the way the way one looks, you're gonna have those insecurities.
Anyway I prefer to build stuff up. You can't get seriously down with strangers.
But toothing: it's basically casual sex tacked onto bluejacking. In a way, it had to happen. I've been known to bluejack in Huddersfield, and if you ever got bluejacked in a bar or bookshop there, then yes: it may well have been me. I'm a mischievous person and I like fucking with people in a non-malicious, playful way. But bluejacking for sex has just a bit too much of The Dice Man for my liking. Too... random. I shag people for their brains first and foremost - if I like the way someone thinks, paradoxically it tends to send blood coursing away from my head. Funny, that. Being attracted by looks before anything else is fraught at the best of times.
Anyway: here's a FAQ file. You never know, you might like it. Good luck.
I don't get this. Nope, I really don't.
OK, I didn't get the whole dogging scene either, of sex in semi-public places with an audience. The closest I came to understanding it was interpreting it as having a kind of JG Ballard Crash style vibe going on. (Incedentally, isn't Cronenberg's Crash one of the sexiest films ever made?) But I don't know: maybe the dogging scene's lack of appeal for me reflects certain insecurities I have about my appearance. When you have a condition that affects the way the way one looks, you're gonna have those insecurities.
Anyway I prefer to build stuff up. You can't get seriously down with strangers.
But toothing: it's basically casual sex tacked onto bluejacking. In a way, it had to happen. I've been known to bluejack in Huddersfield, and if you ever got bluejacked in a bar or bookshop there, then yes: it may well have been me. I'm a mischievous person and I like fucking with people in a non-malicious, playful way. But bluejacking for sex has just a bit too much of The Dice Man for my liking. Too... random. I shag people for their brains first and foremost - if I like the way someone thinks, paradoxically it tends to send blood coursing away from my head. Funny, that. Being attracted by looks before anything else is fraught at the best of times.
Anyway: here's a FAQ file. You never know, you might like it. Good luck.
Wednesday, March 24, 2004
Tuesday, March 23, 2004
I remember it well. August 1998. Cynicism about politics in the US seemed to be at an all time high, what with the Lewinski thing and all that. There'd been air strikes on Al-Qaeda camps in Afghanistan and a suspected chemical facility in The Sudan.
Al-Who? Osama Bin What? Yeah.
It now seems that perhaps this was a highly appropriate response to an increasingly dangerous problem. The Guardian had this to say:
"The cynics will say that President Clinton has done what all American leaders do when facing a personal political crisis at home--create a foreign policy diversion.... But this is not a Hollywood script like 'Wag The Dog.'
This is a modern post-Cold War conflict.... For Mr. Clinton the firm action against those who have taken American and other lives is a clear way of demonstrating that the institution of the American presidency is about much more than the first DNA test taken at the White House."
Quite. What is most striking about this particular analysis (and the clarity of it really surprises me) is how it was at odd with the carping voices I remember from that period. Most people saw the airstrikes as a diversion from Monicagate - including the Republican majority in Congress.
I'm looking forward to the Commission reporting on the preventability or otherwise of 9/11. Particularly if the serious allegations carried in Time in August 2002 (which this cheapskate read in a dentist's waiting room in Eugene, OR) are taken seriously.
I strongly suspect that the transition period between Clinton and Bush marked the window in which 9/11 became possible - the change from "small" foreign policy adventures as characterised by the Clinton era to the "big" initiatives such as the National Missile Defence meant that Al-Qaeda became far less of a priority: still taken seriously, but overshadowed.
I think that the best anti-Bush poster imaginable would be a picture of the WTC in flames with a picture of Bush smirking and "it happened on his watch" as the caption.
It's not all that clever to make capital out of people dying, but then I'd hardly be the first: would I?
Al-Who? Osama Bin What? Yeah.
It now seems that perhaps this was a highly appropriate response to an increasingly dangerous problem. The Guardian had this to say:
"The cynics will say that President Clinton has done what all American leaders do when facing a personal political crisis at home--create a foreign policy diversion.... But this is not a Hollywood script like 'Wag The Dog.'
This is a modern post-Cold War conflict.... For Mr. Clinton the firm action against those who have taken American and other lives is a clear way of demonstrating that the institution of the American presidency is about much more than the first DNA test taken at the White House."
Quite. What is most striking about this particular analysis (and the clarity of it really surprises me) is how it was at odd with the carping voices I remember from that period. Most people saw the airstrikes as a diversion from Monicagate - including the Republican majority in Congress.
I'm looking forward to the Commission reporting on the preventability or otherwise of 9/11. Particularly if the serious allegations carried in Time in August 2002 (which this cheapskate read in a dentist's waiting room in Eugene, OR) are taken seriously.
I strongly suspect that the transition period between Clinton and Bush marked the window in which 9/11 became possible - the change from "small" foreign policy adventures as characterised by the Clinton era to the "big" initiatives such as the National Missile Defence meant that Al-Qaeda became far less of a priority: still taken seriously, but overshadowed.
I think that the best anti-Bush poster imaginable would be a picture of the WTC in flames with a picture of Bush smirking and "it happened on his watch" as the caption.
It's not all that clever to make capital out of people dying, but then I'd hardly be the first: would I?
I'm a member of b3ta.com. I have been for a little while. I'm not afraid to say that at one point last year it kept me sane - making me laugh and giving me something to do during a very difficult period in my life. My mother-in-law succumbed very quickly to breast cancer and my wife ended out in Oregon for a month, leaving me looking after a very worried 16 year-old stepdaughter about to start her first British school. B3ta's sense of funny really tickled mine at that point: but there's something in the mix these days that don't feel so good.
Trolls. That's what's been getting to me. Not the trolls, but B3tans reaction to them. There's a mantra on B3ta: "be fluffy, ignore the trolls". Yet B3ta collectively seems less able to do that these days. I've seen loads of really good images go by un-noticed the moment someone breaks B3ta protocol. Everybody rushes to be the first to say something to the troll/newbie and seems to find that more important than actually commenting on images.
To be honest, that fucks me off no end. I remember August Bank Holiday last year. A brilliant day to be on B3ta, to be honest. I couldn't tear myself away, as contributors seemed to be inspired by the flow of praise coming from both regulars and newcomers alike. It was a joy.
Ah me. Perhaps I expect too much from ad-hoc communities. Didn't stop me getting a B3ta T-shirt though.
Trolls. That's what's been getting to me. Not the trolls, but B3tans reaction to them. There's a mantra on B3ta: "be fluffy, ignore the trolls". Yet B3ta collectively seems less able to do that these days. I've seen loads of really good images go by un-noticed the moment someone breaks B3ta protocol. Everybody rushes to be the first to say something to the troll/newbie and seems to find that more important than actually commenting on images.
To be honest, that fucks me off no end. I remember August Bank Holiday last year. A brilliant day to be on B3ta, to be honest. I couldn't tear myself away, as contributors seemed to be inspired by the flow of praise coming from both regulars and newcomers alike. It was a joy.
Ah me. Perhaps I expect too much from ad-hoc communities. Didn't stop me getting a B3ta T-shirt though.
Mmm. Tuesday. Back at work. I work in local government - very much at the lower end of the food chain, admittedly, but local government it is. It's an odd little job: vital, but odd. I'll go no further than that at this stage. You want lurid, go read Belle de Jour. This is my blog and I'll bore you rigid if I want to.
Sorry.
This contact lens business is very odd. I can't seem to get clear vision at all. My right eye is very blurry - and that's normally my best eye. Can't be doing with this. Yesterday, it was the discomfort factor. I got over that. Today, it's the can't see thing and I don't know what is worse, frankly. I think the lens is sticking on my eye to be honest, and it's throwing my vision out. Bloody torics. Still, I shall stick with it. Be a patient patient.
Sorry.
This contact lens business is very odd. I can't seem to get clear vision at all. My right eye is very blurry - and that's normally my best eye. Can't be doing with this. Yesterday, it was the discomfort factor. I got over that. Today, it's the can't see thing and I don't know what is worse, frankly. I think the lens is sticking on my eye to be honest, and it's throwing my vision out. Bloody torics. Still, I shall stick with it. Be a patient patient.
Monday, March 22, 2004
A day off work, so I thought I'd start this thing: keep a record of my life and stop all those thoughts of mine from leaving my head once and for all. I can't promise that it'll be groundbreaking stuff or at some points even interesting, but I will be keeping it updated and try to be as honest as posible.
Right: first things first. I'm about to fuck with my identity bigtime. It's contact lens shenanigans for me. Again. The first time was with Specsavers in Huddersfield, who are truly the Aldi of opticians. I think over the 35 days the 5-day trial went on for I saw 6 different dispensing opticians, all of whom seemed to have different ideas over what was an acceptable standard of vision. I just got sick of one optician changing one thing, and another changing another; when many of the changes were contradicting each other. So, I switched to a teeny weeny optician. She's a lovely woman, but I never, ever intend to swing a cat in her practice. Anyway: that's not normal behaviour, is it? I got a phone call on Saturday and (come 9 am) I'll be ringing up to arrange collection of a trial pair. I'll be keeping my thoughts on this blogged.
Jeeze, it's a white knuckle ride, this.
Now: here's the rub. Do I still call meself Sp3ccylad? Meh.
Anyhoo: I made the phone call, so it's on with the Furtive t-shirt and off into the town centre. Here goes.
In the meantime, here's a totaly unpublished-anywhere tattyslop. Enjoy.
Right: first things first. I'm about to fuck with my identity bigtime. It's contact lens shenanigans for me. Again. The first time was with Specsavers in Huddersfield, who are truly the Aldi of opticians. I think over the 35 days the 5-day trial went on for I saw 6 different dispensing opticians, all of whom seemed to have different ideas over what was an acceptable standard of vision. I just got sick of one optician changing one thing, and another changing another; when many of the changes were contradicting each other. So, I switched to a teeny weeny optician. She's a lovely woman, but I never, ever intend to swing a cat in her practice. Anyway: that's not normal behaviour, is it? I got a phone call on Saturday and (come 9 am) I'll be ringing up to arrange collection of a trial pair. I'll be keeping my thoughts on this blogged.
Jeeze, it's a white knuckle ride, this.
Now: here's the rub. Do I still call meself Sp3ccylad? Meh.
Anyhoo: I made the phone call, so it's on with the Furtive t-shirt and off into the town centre. Here goes.
In the meantime, here's a totaly unpublished-anywhere tattyslop. Enjoy.
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