I suspect that this pot is too small, and his roots aren’t deep enough to support his shoots.
I hope that it won’t hamper his reproduction too much.
Author: pete
Categories
Somewhere Peaceful and Isolated
But what if there was never going to be a right time? It’s very difficult to suddenly turn round one day and say “Oh, and by the way, I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you.†There needs to be some sort of catalyst, some sort of entry to the subject, before it can even be considered.
*“Dave said something really weird yesterday.â€*
She was talking, but Chris wasn’t paying any attention to her. His mind was elsewhere, playing hopscotch in a sea of fantasies and desires. He pictured the two of them on a beach, or in a meadow, or somewhere else peaceful and isolated. He’d be looking deep into her eyes, and running his fingers through her hair, and maybe they’d be eating pork pies on a picnic blanket, and running barefoot through the surf.
*“He just randomly announced that he loves me. I was quite surprised.â€*
Chris was snapped back into reality. A sudden intake of breath.
“Oh yes?â€
*“Yeah. Can you imagine that? Spending years pretending to be my friend, and then… this!â€*
Chris kept his focus firmly on the pavement. He studied the regularity of the slabs, the moss that grew in the cracks, the way that the roots from the trees were forcing the surface up and causing large bumps in the ground every few feet.
*“I think that I’m avoiding him now.â€*
Chris briefly tested his mouth for moisture and stability. He didn’t want this next sentence to come out all squeaky or shaky.
“Yeah, I don’t blame you. God, what a weirdo.â€
Well, that answers that then.
Categories
A little ditty
I’m trying something a little different here. The song is called “Sliding Gracefully Into Partially Frozen Malaise” and can be listened to at last.fm.
Categories
The Evolution of a Language
Howdy there, pardners.
Seeing as y’all did such a dang good job of myoo-tilatin’ that thar English lang-yoo-age, we’re a-gonna implement a few more li’l changes in the style of them that we’ve already done.
###Seasons
Since no-one seemed to bat an eyelid with the whole *Fall* thing, we’re gonna proceed with the original plan. As of now, you’ll refer to the other three seasons as *Snow*, *Flowers* and *Sun*. Yeeha.
###Clothing
Having done the whole *Pants* thing, I feel we’ve got to keep them thar dang British English speakers on their toes, y’hear? As of now, you’ll obey the following:
1. A *shirt* is now that thing that you wear on your feet to keep your toes warm.
2. A *bracelet* is one of those things that you punch through your earlobe to make you look purdy.
3. A *cummerbund* is that thing what motorcyclists wear to stop their brains getting all smashed up when they hit the ass-phalt.
4. A *shoe* is that little strip of floss what strippers wear to make themselves look purdy.
Failing to observe the above will mean you are un-American. You ain’t un-American, are you, pardner? No, I thought as not. Yeeha.
###U
Despite some initial resistance, we’ve succeeded in sneaking those pesky letter ‘u’ characters out of such words as *color*, *honor* and *flavor*. However, we’ve now got a big pile of ‘u’ characters stored up in a warehouse in Detroit, and they’re starting to smell strange. To clear the stockpile, we’ve gotta put them back in. To speed up the process, we recommend y’all throw in a few extras too. So, you can spell it *coluour*, *coluuuuuour* or *ucuuuuuoluuuuuuuouuuuur* – all these will be accepted. Yeeha.
###Stores
Continuing the vein of naming places after what they sell (I mean, what in the hell is a pharmacy supposed to be? Sheeat.) we’re a-gonna do some more of that there changing. So a bank is now a moneystore, a theatre is an actorstore, a butcher is a meatstore, and a train station is now a trainridestore.
Yeeha.
*Disclaimer: some of my best friends are American. And yes, I’m aware of the fact that [Americans didn’t invent Fall](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Autumn#Autumn_versus_Fall)*
Categories
Sleep Deprivation
I was inspired by a post on Grayblog to say something that’s on my mind.
Someone with whom I have daily contact has a teenage son. Daily contact frequently involves some sort of joke drawn from the hat of *and you’ve got lack of sleep to look forward to in a few months* remarks.
I’m never quite sure how to respond. I could matter of factly say yes, I am aware that when I become a father in 3.5 months, there will be sleep loss of some degree. I don’t see much point in trying to fight it. Sleep loss is not something which I have a lot of experience of, so I don’t see much point in investing a lot of time worrying about it in advance. My expectations are almost certainly wrong.
I pick away at the issue like meat from a drumstick, and ultimately come to this final conclusion:
**If it wasn’t worth it, then we’d be extinct by now.**
Categories
Hacking Moto
So, if you watch my linklog, you’ll notice that I recently installed [moto4lin][] on [Ubuntu][] so that I could hack my [Razr][].
[moto4lin]: http://www.ubuntuforums.org/showthread.php?t=56253&highlight=moto4lin
[ubuntu]: http://www.ubuntulinux.org/
[razr]: http://www.motorola.com/motoinfo/product/details/0,,69,00.html
The primary reason for doing this was that the external screen would display my service provider’s icon. This, to me, seemed like a bit of an imposition – why should I be forced to advertise their product? I’ve already bought it – what more do they want? Blood?
So I created a 96×80 GIF image called cl.gif and uploaded it to the phone, overwriting the existing file in /a/mobile/system/ – worked a treat.
I then went to town getting rid of all the preinstalled crap that had been marked as read-only, and hence undeletable from within the phone’s menu.
Here’s where it gets interesting, because to give the user the impression that this crap isn’t taking up shedloads of space, the phone has been programmed to subtract the mass of this crap from the total space displayed when you request a memory report.
Categories
Tale Of Pod
AWEI by Craig Ward used with permission.
*AKA Waiting For Podot
(groan)*
Karen has a pink iPod Mini, and it’s given us problems. Periodically, it will suffer from a major identity crisis, and believe that it is a fish. Or a banana. We’re not exactly sure what it thinks that it is, but it is definitely under the impression that it belongs to a species that does not possess the ability to play music.
This came on gradually. Initial symptoms were a kind of iPod amnesia, where it was still aware of its purpose in life, but it couldn’t remember any of the songs that it had been taught. We discovered an arcane magic spell that we could work on it, a kind of vulcan nerve pinch, that was the metaphorical cartoon sledgehammer required to remind it of its past.
This then degenerated into an iComa, where even long periods on a life support machine were insufficient to awaken it. No light came from its precious little screen. So we sent it back to Apple, the iGod, if you will.
It was returned a few days later. They said that there was nothing wrong with it. However, when I slapped it in the face to rouse it, the face that looked back at me was blank. Sure, it lived in the same body, but they had done something to the little fella to change it forever. Some demonic brainwash or the like. We painstakingly began the process of teaching it everything about the world all over again.
But it did not last. Only a few weeks have passed, and it is comatose once more. I await a response from the iGod. I grow iRate. It wasn’t mean to be this way.
Categories
My workspace
This is where all the magic happens.
Categories
Dear Donkey – Foiled!
>Dear Donkey,
> Remember how the girl behind the counter in Specsavers flirted with me? Well, I was really looking forward to returning there, so that she could flirt with me a little more. What happens? Well, my girlfriend goes and picks up my contact lenses for me, that’s what!
> I need your help, and I need it fast. I need a good excuse why I can go back to Specsavers periodically.
> Anon
Donkey says:
Ahohohoh! NOW we’re getting into my favourite territory.
There are a couple of options here. One superb choice would be to sneak round to Specsavers, and if the girl in question is on duty, pop inside. Look at some frames, maybe try a couple on. For this exercise, it is best if you have your contact lenses in, otherwise the next step will be very difficult.
Wait for her to look over your way. When she does, shout OI!
at her, or something equally sophisticated. Tell her that you need help choosing some frames, and ask her which pair make you look the most drop-dead gorgeous and fuckable.
You probably don’t need me to tell you where to go from there. Such a phrase is like a sprinkling of paraffin on the flames of flirt. Bask, enjoy, and most of all, enjoy.
Another option is to mix up some salt solution and squirt it into your eye. This will make your eye go all red and gross and sore, which enables you to enter the opticians and bathe in the glow of her sympathy and love. The downside of this is that you’ll rapidly be rushed through to the consulting room, when I’m sure you want to spend more time stood at the counter with Flirtella herself, and you probably also don’t want to have salt in your eye preventing you from gazing adoringly down her top.
These are all fantastic ideas. We can tell, because I came up with them.
Categories
Valet
Further to a previous post where I asked you to name my new web app, I’ve decided that it’s ready for public release.
I’ll probably tweak the appearance of it at some time in the future, but it’s all up and running now at Valet.