Natwest sucks.... more

Ahhh, you know you've made it when people on the Internet do little stories about how much you suck as a company.

I can't seem to figure out what Natwest Fraud is actually about. He seems pretty angry though.

Crapwest.com was featured in B3TA wooo!

The reason for this? I'm now trying to sort out my 'Advantage Gold' account after discovering how poor I really am to discover my bank shuts at 4:30. I can't get over how poor customer service is here.

del.icio.us Tags: Natwest banks bad*customer*service

Tags: Natwest , banks , bad customer service , natwest sucks

Zombie Land

I sat through the majority of The Cave on August bank holiday Monday. It was so boring as to be numbing and so lacking in atmosphere as to make me a little asthmatic. By the end of the film I cared so little for the characters and their plight that I rather hoped the monster would eat them all just so I had something to think about. Much like the team that fucked up the Exorcist prequel with little slippy black currant flies and Japanese computer cartoon hyenas, the monster was a conglomeration of vast technical ineptitude and dreary mistakes in scale.

What did movies do before CGI for special effects? There was The Skullwhich just kind of rolled it across the floor with scary music. It was a much better film than the cave. More recently, Bubba Hotep just had some jerky guy in a suit. Even Sleepy Hollow combined CGI with the old horse from National Velvet. They all know not to use it if you can't do it properly.

The best thing about The Crap was the trailer for Land of the Dead which gave me serious chills. It looks gorgeous, fantastic, brilliant and scary! Scary! That would really be a unique product. The only things that have been frightening me for the last few years haven't been American, haven't been European and certainly have not had zombies. What would we do without the Japanese eh? Romero's up and coming stirred up some real excitement for good old fashioned horror flicks. Braaains, say I. Braiiins....

I'm on a hunt for a film I saw once on a now defunct UHF channel that only showed old horror and bikini contests. I think it was called '10,000 Confederate Zombies' and it looked like it was late 60s but anymore, I couldn't really tell you. I remember black and white extras lurching up towards a group of scared youths with a plan wanting to exact some kind of revenge. It wasn't good as such. It wasn't even really that frightening. It was just so shameless and damned funny. I mean, how the hell would Confederate soldiers become zombies anyway? It's not like they were experimenting with HGH or stem cells back then. Yet somehow these uniquely American villians have become the walking, living, grunting, brain eating dead. They're just that special.

There wasn't any real explanation forthcoming there either. Part of what bothered me about The Cave was that the attractive and friendly female scientist insisted on bleating 'it's a parasite' or 'it's definitely a predator.' Well, obviously. The thing is trying to eat the cave divers so you know, you wouldn't call it a vegetarian. You receive no such patronizing psuedo-doctors in the old zombie flicks. They just go 'shit, that guy wants to eat my head. It might be something' and they leave it up to deduction. There are a few notable exceptions which include 28 Days and its anti-vivisection side message. Excepted because of the pure brilliance of the film.

My quest for a Confederate zombie fest has dredged up a few possibilities. The first was done in 1982 and doesn't exactly seem right but is in the kind of cannibal slave trading Southern vein. The second is about some modern day soldiers off in the woods doing training who get attacked by the apparently roaming evil Confederates. Bonus points to that one for having Nichelle Nicholls. It could be a product of the legendary film maker HG Lewis (whose only mistake was accidentally giving Natalie Merchant's band a name) called, similarly 2000 Maniacs. Perhaps surprisingly there aren't many movies about Confederate zombies.

If I am to relocate my favorite old zombie movie I might just have to watch them all. .....

Why I don't read the traditional music press any longer...

5. That Jack Johnson is a surfing enthusiast -- Often you will read a story that begins, "Singer-songwriter-surfer Jack Johnson..." Oh please, spare us. I'll look for him at ESPN's X Games.

Too many articles start out this way. Madonna the Kabbalah loving children's author... You know her ghost writer takes a Xanax every time he or she sees that. What does it matter anyway? I'm there to read about an album not Jack White Stripe's latest close encounter with baby Jaws. I couldn't care less about the well rounded perspective of his life. To become a fan I must enjoy the music first and then go looking for salacious tales of coke and transvestite hooker fucking. It's not the other way around Rolling Stone.

From here

Hope for us all

A Mom is fighting back against the RIAA's 'education campaign' by allowing them to take her to court. Reading the transcript is seriously giving me some warm fuzzies regarding the judge.

HE COURT: -- I live in perpetual fear that something
7 I don't know my kids are doing is going to come back and bite
8 me in the butt. And the difference between you and me,
9 Ms. Santangelo, if it happens to me, it will be in the
10 headlines of the New York Post.

And I think pretty much any -- I
2 mean, I'm not allowed to recommend lawyers to people, but I
3 think pretty much any general practice lawyer who does a little
4 bit of this and a little bit of that could do a little bit of
5 this.

MR. MASCHIO: No, all I was suggesting, your Honor, is
3 that, if she doesn't come with an attorney, that the more
4 direct way of doing this -- and this is just to facilitate
5 things -- is to deal directly with the conference center.
6 THE COURT: Not once you've filed an action in my
7 court.


I think it's fair to say the RIAA lawyer was bitch slapped.

Oh neato! The lawyer is keeping a blog.

Wooo!

There's a weird Chinese guy in Mike's room.

My family were movie watching fiends when I was a little 'un. We used to sit down to absorb hacked up HBO family versions of various 80s productions including the Blues Brothers, Animal House, Eddie and the Cruisers and my absolute favorite one of all: Sixteen Candles. And even after HBO was no longer a part of our family home we still sat down in front of them with old tapes that smelled of head cleaner. They've been replaced by DVDs naturally but as far as I know those old tapes are still intact and laying around in my Mom's barn somewhere. Probably a good thing since I'm getting used to seeing films without having bits that sound like distant German.

I didn't actually get 3/4 of the humor in any of the above until I hit 16. I then went sheet white with a feeling of violation and thought to myself, 'I can't believe my parents let me watch that.' That being said, I never actually heard the swearing in the Penguin's office, I had to close my eyes for the scene with the Prom Queen in the shower and I had absolutely no idea what 'three sheets to the wind' meant. I certainly er, do now.

They were a formidable development influence. The tale of the high school ugly duckling gave me hope (er,) the mission from God introduced me to a very cool genre of music, Eddie taught me about Arthur Rimbaud and Tom Berenger. I also suspect that Jake himself played a large influence on my man taste. I doubt I'm alone... I mean, who besides straight men and lesbians could possibly resist his uber dreamy-ness? And Molly was my hero. She's the everygirl who just so happens to be worshipped by a troop of nerds that included John Cusack. John Cusack in a pack of nerds! How could you go wrong? I'm getting a little flushed just thinking about that special senior man whose parents had such a great car.

And someone is betting on that to make a bit of money. I can't even be all that cynical about t-shirts that feature Jake Ryan and the king of the dipshits, he wouldn't like it and then who would I have to blow my birthday candles out with?

I ask you, have you ever done it?

Copywrong

Nifty tool, also good for checking to see if you're being quoted.

http://www.copyscape.com/

NatWest sucks

I'm aware of the all consuming evil of banks. I know they're not supposed to be nice and docile. If they were, they wouldn't make any money and then they wouldn't pay us nice people good interest rates.

What I do expect is for my bank to do what I command them. It's my money right?

Last September I went to cancel the 'advantage gold' thing I have on my current account. I've never used it and the money 'savings' aren't really anything worthwhile. This young thing sat me down at a table and had me go through a checklist of the reasons I didn't want the service anymore. I signed a piece of paper and then left the bank thinking all was sorted.

Fast forward to a year later when I'm applying for a savings account with a different bank. Rather stupidly I don't look at my statements every month. (I know, I'm terrible.) I had noticed I was about 10 pounds off when I calculated my balance which you know, is understandable. It's an amount of money someone would forget about spending. On this statement I need to send off to the nice people at this other bank I notice a 10 pound charge. I call up the lady at customer service and she goes 'oooh no...' and gives me the number for my branch.

The fuckers never cancelled the advantage gold service. That means I'm out 120 pounds.

Moral of the story: ALWAYS CHECK YOUR BANK STATEMENT!!!!

TBC....

del.icio.us Tags: natwest banks bad*customer*service

Tags: natwest , banks , bad customer service , natwest sucks

Where are you from?

My blog is tiny traffic, which is ok. (You know, size doesn't matter.) If you click here you'll see a little marker placing you and the last 20 visitors to this site. Neat-o huh?

A good thing about being a little site :D.

So, how about this, you work for us and then we might pay you.

Pretty girls! You might be missing the opportunity of a lifetime. A company in Vancouver, WA wants your headshots and newsreading capabilities all for a 'small monthly stipend.' Are you excited? I said, are you excited?!!!

There's a lot more in that job posting that's fairly offensive. I find the lack of pay to be the best though. They expect it to be a big deal, so you know commute up to Vancouver for a few cups of coffee and a maybe.

This reminds me an awful lot of The Revengers which still hasn't actually finished its casting. Been going for what, 3-4 years now? How long could it possibly take?

The trouble is, there's always some girl who's willing to do it for a fleeting chance at fame.

<3 the Internet. :(

Birthday cakes

My husband's birthday was yesterday. As part of his day I had him choose recipes from my favorite cookbook for his supper and dessert. The cookbook itself is a massive thing I picked up at a charity shop here in Wigan called 'Cookery illustrated and household management.' It even has a section called 'Cooking in Emergencies,' which is not about trying to fix a pie during nuclear war... it's if your working husband suddenly, gasp, brings colleagues home without telling you! Oh no!



Recipe from the book:
4 egg yolks
2 1/2 cups of flour
1 tsp baking soda
pinch of salt
4 egg whites
1 cup of Sour Cream
1 1/4 cups of castor sugar
2 oz chocolate
1 tsp vanilla

To do the two separate halves I er... halved the recipe. Well, except for the baking soda. I used about 3/4 tsp for each half. I replaced the sour cream with chocolate milk and cream cheese for a bit of extra richness. I used two large bars of Belgian chocolate and white chocolate for the top and bottom halves respectively with another half a bar broken up and put in. The frosting is store-bought dark chocolate with milk chocolate sprinkles. To break up the chocolatey-ness a bit I spread some rasberry jam in the middle.


You can seriously only eat one piece of this in a day it's that rich. Mr. Me loved it. :)

X-Posted to the food_porn community on Livejournal

Ahead of the Times?

Well fuck, yesterday I posted about gossip being a social regulator in regards to Damien Tullier banging his former student.

Look at what's cropped up in the New York Times today:
Juicy gossip moves so quickly - He did what? She has pictures? - that few people have time to cover their ears, even if they wanted to.

"I heard a lot in the hallway, on the way to class," said Mady Miraglia, 35, a high school history teacher in Los Gatos, Calif., speaking about a previous job, where she got a running commentary from fellow teachers on the sexual peccadilloes and classroom struggles of her colleagues.

(Use BugMeNot)

Tags: Damien Tullier, Justine Jacobs, vigilantes, New York Times, drama

The duh index

Saturday I escaped the fat wriggly lure of KOTOR and had a wander into lovely and scenic Wigan. There's a new little stand in the middle of one of the shopping centres that sells real ice cream milkshakes. Oh. Yeah. This wasn't the reason I wanted to go into Wigan really. I did have a few things that needed to be taken care of. It wasn't the idea of a sweet and cold mint chocolate chip ice cream shake that wretched me off the couch. I committed to the milkshake. I made a promise that I would enjoy it's deliciousness for all of the calories it would cost me. In short, I was really looking forward to this fucking shake.

Mr. Me and I ordered our precious shakes with food for a light little dinner. Wouldn't that be a nice way to end a Saturday afternoon? I paid the girl without realizing that in 15 minutes all hell would breake loose.

The girl behind the counter gave me my sandwich first whilst she went through all the effort of heating up Mr. Me's steak pasty. This is not the thing that goes on a stripper's nipples it's instead a savory pastry with meat in the middle. That's right, pastry with meat. The Northern English can't get enough of these fucking things. Go past Birmingham and you'd kill for a salad if at all aware of your cholesterol count.

They also eat them all the time in every conceivable shape and form, which sometimes means little animal shapes but most bizarrely, includes sandwiches. A sandwich with meat filled pastry as a filling is an enormously popular thing to eat. Amazing, no?

So we waited for the girl to bring our shakes and Mr. Me's pastry with meat. And waited. And waited. After about 15 minutes our milkshakes were delivered without Mr. Me's pasty. The girl had forgotten. Q another 5 minutes of waiting. To top it off, the milkshakes tasted like mint chocolate chip flavored... well, milk. By now I was seething because nothing was coming to plan. The shake was not delicious. I was not happy and I felt a bit like John Travolta wanting to know what a 5 dollar shake tasted like and then blowing the head off the stupid Asian girl that had dicked it all up because this was not even a 50p shake made by a day out in the community. This was also supposed to be a quick stop on the way home that had encroached on 20 minutes of my limited life.

When I begin to grow annoyed my normal hybrid accent of Wigan, Manchester, Texas and West Coast American just turns into a high pitched and fucking fast generic American. The tirade comes out speeding and strong and I start telling people they're hoochies or 'all sorts of fucked up.' I stop saying 'aye' and start swearing a lot more. My voice also projects directly at the person on the receiving end of my asshole filled fury until they can not only smell everything in my teeth but also the lovely reek of lung air. Thank god for debate training.

I geared up my quick and abusive Ameican and went to the counter. The conversation was a bit to and fro, suffice to say that I managed to get my 4 pounds back in the end. The owner of the franchise said that most people don't choose those types of icecream for milkshakes. Sure buddy, whatever. He also shouted back which shouldn't really surprise me. The English are like that: never in the wrong. The summary of the situation is that due to the girl's incompetence and the owner's asshole nature, I'll never go back. I spent my money on a small McDonald's shake which probably wouldn't have been as good but was at least cheap and efficient.

The reason for this post? CNet has a story today about how businesses that have a higher customer satisfaction index, er, make more money. Who knew?

I take pictures

Living in a tiny place that changes so much within 30 miles can be a bit strange. On Saturday we were driving through


the Peak District on the way to Sheffield

And today I'm carrying around


this

to get to here






and sit behind


this

I like to watch

I'm a frequent peruser of sites like LJ Drama and Fetish Gossip (Which will hopefully return to us soon.) Both sites encourage a cynical reality check commentary that comes in contrast with the shallow basis of a lot of Internet compliments.

My reason for the frequent reading of the above is I find other people's lives fascinating. I find people fascinating. I became an Anthropology major in college because I wanted to study everyone around me. I wanted explanations for subcultures and racism. The sites above are manifestations of people sitting around at a coffee shop whilst trying to check out everyone's agenda. Whilst I might be a techie now, I'm still a people watcher at heart and this is a unique and distanced way to go about it.

It's my theory that gossip is a social check. By repeating and embellishing a story, people's actions change and are metered by the opinions they harvest. Part of my reasoning is a lot of desires aren't manifested due to a mental switch that says 'if I do this, then folks will think X of me, which will impact future goals in X way.' If someone was considering having an affair with someone and was well known in some form of social group, the alienation of a support structure would be a paramount concern. And whilst that's a positive result of the gossip chain, the flipside is also true as well. One person doesn't think this is acceptable but a lot of other people do so majority wins.

The inspiration for the above examination comes from one of the best LJ Drama posts I've seen for a while. Damien Tullier the son of Pierre Tullier was a teacher at a high school/college hybrid in what appears to be a very nice area of Florida called Stuart.
He had a wanna be popstar student named Justine Jacobs who he also used as a babysitter. Depending on who you believe, photos of the two in very un-Christian situations taken either just after or just before the school year ended have surfaced and were spread over the Internet.

Naturally, the man formerly known as Mr. Tullier has made the argument that all of this gossip and report of his affair is 'defamation.' Since he's now confirmed the allegations in interviews with the local press, that's hardly true.

The question is are the Internet surfers that posted the photos and details of the affair violating their privacy or exposing a grade A sleaze? I'd opt for the second choice. A person in a normal situation having an affair that didn't impact immediately on my life wouldn't really be any of my business beyond going 'OMG' a bit. This guy, however, used to be a teacher. One that allegedly had a history of innapropriate behavior with his students. Would I want my children going to a school where he was employed? Heavens no. The guy has a backlog of complaints that no teenage girl should have to go through. Would I want my younger sisters dating this guy? No way, he has a history of cheating on his wife.

In this case I'd say the Something Awful goons and LJDrama readers have done a bit of good. Now, if you do a Google search for Damien Tullier you can find out all about what kind of person he really is.

Edit March 21, 2007. LOL, hi Goons. :) Thanks for the warning Kevin. I'm thrilled about this recent update to Justine and Damien's tawdry life.

Tags: Damien Tullier, Justine Jacobs, drama, vigilantes

Quests

I've recently finished playing KOTOR2. I was very, very cynical about its potential value for fun until I actually picked up the controller and built a character. Then I become hooked, hooked like I am with the nicotene or the sweet lure of coffee in the morning. I still have a job only because there are some very sloppy problems with the actual game itself. The target/combat system is horrible. You can't switch targets whilst on pause and stack your actions. Say you're stuck in the middle of a room full of Sith Assassins, you've gone and set your sites on the droid in the corner. No, you can't change until you actually enter the combat. The camera is a little insane as well. Try running away from an enemy your XBox realllly wants you to continue looking at. Not Easy.

The main reason I did enjoy it was its fundamental questing nature. God it was good. I loved making believe that I was some evil creature trying to save the universe from some other evil creatures. That feeling of wanting a purpose or being special to the grand scheme of things. Reality has yet to shake me from my fantasy of being Tiffany of the Special Quest for I've also started reading The Talisman which also involves a journey for answers. The parallel is entirely coincidental and also probably not unusual. After all, the quest is a massively used plot device so why not?

I'm still hankering for something, reading, tasting and listening to these stories of adventure. Right now I'm trapped with a minor headache from the horrible perfume of death in a boxed office with no windows. People don't say please and thank you to me. They expect me to jump when they want something and boy do they want things. The idea of making a poor choice by lifting my lazy ass off my chair and onto the road is very appealing. Who could I meet? What could I find? What experiences could I bring back?

I just need a mentor, I need someone to give me a problem and present me with a distant solution. Then I'll strap my pack on, hop on an open train carriage and eventually persevere, despite what the world throws at me.

Quest

Ahhhh

This is great:

No, I’m not dissing Yuppies again. The customers are all part of a tour group. With the exception of a few staff members, the entire crowd consists of “differently abled” or “special” people. Since Sunday’s are usually slow Fluvio booked the party and gave them a moderately priced package. Eating at the Bistro is a real change for these people. I know. Years ago I ran a group home for developmentally disabled adults. Going to IHOP was the norm.

Read the entry.

What rights?

If you would have asked me about restricting the speech of a Muslim cleric 6 years ago, I probably would have come up with a creative solution involving litter and your ass. Now, I'm all for it.

Freedom really isn't all its cracked up to be, is it? People think they're entitled to wealth and/or a good time in whatever shape strikes their fancy. Freedom means being able to do what you like, regardless of the consequences to others.

When I lived near PSU off Jefferson in Portland a car was stopped along side the road. I don't remember what they'd done to us but it sparked off some nastiness. The people in the car threatened us, saying they were going to come to our little house and beat the shit out of my housemate and I. She ignored it but I panicked and called the police. Their response? 'Well, you kids want your freedom of speech.' Apparently, saying that you're going to go to their house and kick their face in whilst approaching isn't enough to actually press charges. They have right to do that. They have to throw the blow first.

I don't believe that's actually the spirit of the ideal. Free speech was meant to be a way for people to criticize those more powerful then themselves in times of potential or ongoing oppression. It wasn't meant for neighbor's stereos or parties at 4:00 in the morning. That's our current interpretation of that freedom though, isn't it? We believe that it is our God given right to express our fun selves as we see fit, be damned of the consequences. I wonder if it's the lack of fight we have to pursue that's driven us into such a sad combination of wretched and carless sanctimony? Surely the ideal of freedom was meant as noble and higher when germinated by the men to shape our governments? But they didn't forsee our current situation, did they? They didn't see bleak existences where God, purpose and charity were discarded in favor of things that could be destroyed in a year. They didn't see that the humanity they wanted to protect, to develop into their romanticized purpose would be come such a rude and heartless group. They didn't know that our lives would no longer contain purpose, or trial. That in our future we would give up chivalry in the face of selfishness and greed.

It's no wonder we've trivialized everything that people fought, died, burned and thought for. We're so well fed that we're fat. We're so rich we can afford to kill ourselves slowly with drinking and cigarettes. We're so pompous that we think we're entitled and that life will always be this way. Perhaps it is time that some of our freedoms were taken away. If those men saw their precious freedoms being bedraggled by people who didn't use the world they created to their advantage, if they saw what soulless and arrogant idiots we've become, they'd take our freedoms away once more. And so they would be right because perhaps then we'd reclaim our ability to be decent again. After all, you don't know what you got 'til it's gone.

Walking in Conspiracy

Perhaps I've been watching too much of the Lone Gunmen but when I read this I immediately thought conspiracy theory. He was awake and talking eh? Hmmmmm. Sad news anyhow, I rather liked his song Walking in Memphis. Sadly, I never really bothered with anything else Marc Cohn may have done.

The Monster Blog has a quick write up of how other people might think you stink if you're wearing too much perfume or any at all. This particular workplace niggle is part of my daily internal monologue of hate. My rantings are usually inspired by a woman who resembles a bleached blonde black wearing mutt-poodle mix who does something in the office next door. This tiny atrocity carries around a bag of something mysterious when she goes downstairs for a cigarette. The assault on the senses starts when she leaves the office door. A trail of the horrendous scent of Giorgio Beverly Hills tags along like one of her puppies would. It's obviously not overwhelming to her but it permeates the air and probably recycles to every other company on all 9 floors. As the added bonus of the dog-woman, every nook and cranny becomes infested with its foul scent when she sprays it on in the elevator. For the rest of the day then you get to sniff the blissful smell of a rotting middle-aged housewife.

I wish it was just on the outside that olafactory crimes are committed. My office is not an adequate hiding place for my poor assaulted nose. A couple technical women have visited our center in recent months and both were wearing Clinique perfumes. Clinique knows face care. Clinique does not know how to make a woman smell nice in a 'I'm not an employee of a massage business with benefits' kind of way. How do you approach this situation diplomatically? I'm not really sure. The darling Mr. Me once purchased Lynx deoderant as a substitute for his usual Body Shop after our nearest outlet closed. The response to that was to throw things at him until he understood that the real Lynx effect is to cause your partner headaches and fits of rage until you bury it deep in the earth never to return to man again. I can't really throw screwdrivers at the women who come here for training though, can I?

Panic on the streets of London

The universe is falling apart.

Within the last 3 days, the following has happened:

- My neighbors decided my knowledge of the local radio station's offerings was seriously lacking and they would educate me. These lessons were in the early morning. Otherwise known as: when I'd like to sleep.

- Our boiler gave up the ghost. It's had problems ever since an engineer, I kid you not, serviced it a few weeks ago. We don't have a boiler as I type we have a hot water heater. No Rob Zombie movie for me tonight if my hair is to be washed.

- I managed to hear 3 different conversations at the cinema last night whilst watching Skeleton Key.

- Over the weekend a person decided my very presence was frightening enough to cause them stress. So much so they stranded their passenger threw a hissy fit and fucked off the event.

The overall lesson here is humanity is falling apart into shambles. Armageddon has come.

Somehow a few tried and true codes were beaten into my brain when I was a child that come into contrast with the above. I can't remember where the lessons came from. It's entirely possible that my parents were whispering things in my ear as I slept. I really have no recollection of how I learned to obey noise restriction after a certain time, complete projects in a certain amount of time, not break people's things, get ahold of someone relying on you, to not talk in movies and face up to things that scare you.

A lot of people evidently didn't have the benefit of that upbringing. Not only weren't they raised with the above sacred lessons they also believe that somehow living gives them the right to do things like that. Did I miss something here? I know little about the UK government credos but I doubt they say anything like 'All men doth have the right to keep their neighbors awake at 2:00 am listening to shitty Pop until they are threatened.' Where the hell to people get the notion they have a right to hang themselves? Isn't it better to avoid the noose at all? And even after it's been thrown over their heads, what the hell is the point of tying the knot if you're just going to let them stand there? You don't solve any problems, you just end up with a bunch of idiots milling around with a slack rope around their necks having as good of time as anything.

It's not even fair to warn people. That's typing, that's discrimination. If I would have known about the next door neighbor's lack of employment, I could have probably told you he would like to listen to very loud music at all sorts of times of the night. In the words of our estate manager, that's the culture. If I said out loud that his lack of job probably means a lack of socially know how, I'd be crucified for being prejudiced.

So if we can't be warned, or no one will actually solve the problem what are we supposed to do? You know, us, the people who abide by their tenancy agreements? Does anyone remember that there are people who respect a contract and the close proximity of others? How do we handle some idiot drunk with his stereo cranked up at 2:00 am who's asking if you want a piece? The government won't protect you, that much I've learned. The police don't want to know even if he's broken a bottle over your head. That money you spent to go watch a film? It's not worth enough to try and kick the trouble makers out of the cinema. You know, you have to give all of them a chance. Those chances have to be at your expense as well. Isn't that fantastic?

Motivation

What's your job like? Mine is pretty seasonal. At my review I told my boss that the most difficult part of the perks of my job is just staying motivated. I don't work in a typical buzzing office full of sales people and secretaries. My office is a communal space where I have half of it dedicated to me and my stuff. I can go an entire day and not actually speak to anyone face to face if the receptionist is out. It's the misanthrope's dream employment. The management rarely interfere with me because I'm 200 miles away and rarely make a fuss big enough to reach their ears. My working experience is pretty peaceful and very anti-Dilbert overall.

The problem with all of this isolation and freedom is lately I've been having a hard time remaining motivated. Why fix a patch cable when you can clean your Inbox for 15 minutes? When faced with two options, both being just for the sake of making things a little more professional looking but one being more difficult, I usually opt for the one that means I can drink coffee at the same time. Even if I do start one of the more difficult projects on days when I don't like easy as much they rarely get completed in good time.

What I do have is the desire to get motivated. Since I'm not going to be micro-managed any time soon and I spend an awful lot of time in this office I thought I'd look up some ways of keeping myself enthused. Perhaps unsurprisingly, a lot of time has been devoted to creating 'motivational' resources on the Internet. One of the first Google results is for a site called Motivation 123. Not motivated to find a creative name then...

The first thing they recommend is coming up with a list of personal goals. That's a bit tougher than trying to come up with career goals, isn't it? It's not like you can actually put a value on overcoming something or having a title put on something you've accomplished. Say if I was to completely overcome by dog phobia, I wouldn't known as Recovered Phobic MLS on my business cards, would I? That lack of solidity makes personal goals very difficult for me to comprehend.

Personal goals:

1. Construct better sentences
2. Stop saying 'FUCK' so often
3. Finish applying for a nice 5% interest savings account

Why those three? I want to be a damned good writer some day. That's a long and windy path through many, many brambles. I need to improve my metaphors for one. I also need a better concept of grammar for another. For some reason a lot of those old rules just kind of slipped through my head when I was a kid. It's such an issue I can't tell an active verb from my ass.

Fuck. Would you believe I use phrases like 'fucking ominous?' That's the kind of vocabulary I have. It's decent. It's a good vocabulary. I know a lot of large and condescending words. I also punctuate them with 'fuck' as a substitute for er, or ah. I know there are other words than fuck and my usage of fuck is not due to any lack of education. I just like fuck, I like to use fuck. Unfortunately a lot of people don't like fuck and think I'm being 'abusive' when I use the word fuck when in fact I'm just breathing.

The 5% savings account? I'm trying to be a grown up. Grown-ups should save 10% of their income every month in case something terrible happens. The older I get, the more paranoid I get. If I give the bank my money, I want them to give me a good interest rate. How boring is that?

We'll see how it goes. The attainment or process of attaining said personal goals should be more entertaining than coming to that conclusion. Or at least I hope.

I'm going to go get some more coffee now.

Museum artifacts, for sale

Mr. Me's birthday is in a few weeks. He's turning 36 and is completely in denial. The ever encroaching 40th birthday seems to be putting him into Safe mode. At the moment we're calling it 'that day in August' so as not to hurt the poor man's fragile self esteem. We woudln't want a reboot, would we?

I'm so over buying cheap plastic crap for people on special days. Last year we spent the afternoon at the antiques fair and European market for Christmas. It was a far more satisfying experience knowing that the things we'd purchased may go to pay inflated structural salaries but at least went direct to the pockets of the merchants. The added bonus of our outing was a lovely minted lamb sandwich. I don't know the last time I got one of those in the Virgin megastore. Mr. Me and I agreed to do the same with each other. I received a nice watch and Mr. Me got a pair of ivory cufflinks. Before the animal protection people get all up in arms, they are antiques. The elephants would have been dead by now anyway.

I was on EBay on Monday looking around for some more kind of special things to get him for 'that day' and discovered these auctions. The listing is of numerous artifacts and paintings that a mining museum in Wales no longer wants. So, you get something relatively unique and the museum raises funds for an extension or better equipment. Sounds pretty good right?

EBay is also offering further charity auctions. This is where charity shops can post nicer second hand gear for the lovely Internet public to purchase. I'm not entirely sure that some of the charities have a handle on it. I've just seen a used DKNY blouse for about 7 pounds. On one hand it's great, you get to donate to charity and pick up relatively modestly priced clothes. On the other hand, charities actually putting up the value of their donations seems a little cynical.

Well priced or poorly priced, the point still stands that you can pick up far more interesting and better gifts for people if you go outside of the mainstream. I love my watch far more than I loved the boxed set of Futurama I bought for myself. An ancient ring or lovely antique can show far more sense of personalization than something raved about in sleek magazines. Sometimes, rougher is better.

Pop Culture links o the day

Splendora points out that VC Andrews was far worse than JK Rowling could hope to be.

Bit about Madonna haterz

Within the next couple months, Madonna will try to take away Mariah’s crown by releasing “Confessions on a Dance Floor” along with the single, “Hung Up.” There seems to be a lot of buzz , but most of it seems generated by Madonna’s desperate, pathetic fans. TeamLamb will do everything we can to make this project a flop for Madonna. We will organize by calling radio stations and telling them how much we don’t like her new songs, write letters to several magazines and confirm that she is, indeed, over, and spread negative messages about Madonna on several Internet blogs.

(For the record, I don't really want to help either one. However, if it means that I can avoid another instance repeated playlist abuse of fucking Ray of Light I'm all for it.)

Ongoing gender debates

I have a real touchy hatred of those studies that says one gender's brain is different from the next. Or various other opinions from women or men that make statements on behalf of the entire gender. I find it crass, limiting and ultimately annoying for the rest of us who might not fit into that world view.

I'm a gamer. I like roleplaying games, video games and board games. Give me Trivial Pursuit and I'll play for hours. I actually punch my husband in the arm (not hard) when I lose at Scrabble. I'm competetive and I <3 games.

I know I'm at a disadvantage. I've actually seen posts about the Internet that say things like 'women don't belong here' or 'women don't know what they're talking about.' I've seen market analysis of what women want from games, gadgets and technology. All in all, women are treated like these foreign reserves of unlimited gold that are hidden behind a magical key. Or in short like the end level of most video games.

I have a clue for you there Link, we're not that tough. Think less Counterstrike and more Asteroids. Basically people all game for the same reason: they like it. Men, women, transvestites, dogs, cats all game because the experience has something to offer them that real life doesn't. I really enjoyed Doom 3. I got to bludgeon things. Whilst I do get that urge rather frequently during the hours of 9:00 am to 5:30 I'd rather not have a jail record. That's what D3 was for.

I loved Civ 3, so much so I played it for a year. Why? Because I could build an empire without having to worry about little things like tabloids spreading rumors about my supposed relationship with a man whore named Julio. I played games not for any silly hardwired related reason but because I liked them. My breasts, my vagina, my estrogen had nothing to do with me hitting the start button.

The reason I haven't completed or played some games I picked up? They were crap. The AI sucked, or the first boss was insanely and stupidly programmed to be complicated, the camera angles were fucked up (I'm talking about the publisher for White Wolf video games right here,) or the game's premise sucked ass. Again, my vagina did not impact that decision to dislike them, only my taste.



So, do yourselves a favor and just put aside the pussy for a second. Think to yourself, 'these marketing people, they think that we'll buy an Audi if Brad Pitt drives one in a movie. They are idiots. Really. These marketing people are the same ones that are pushing together contrived and annoying studies based on genders and games. They are probably wrong. I will ignore them from now on.' And now? Make some fucking good games.

(Inspired by this well meaning post)