the rites

the rites turns 4

Today, the rites turns 4.

Let's celebrate in our private way.

I will do so by considering posting more often.

ritual salutations

Go on. Perform a New Year rite. You know you want to.

Family Christmas

Spent Christmas with family this year, for the first time in a couple of years. Wasn't as bad as I thought it might be.

BEEP. You may now commence bonking...

A friend of mine is trying to begin a 9 month journey of baby making. Well, 5 minutes or so of baby making, and 9 months of baby growing.

She's just told me that she uses an online service that very conveniently notifies her on her PDA when it's time to, uh, maximise her conception chances. (As you can see, those 5 minutes have to be extremely well-timed.) Her RO has started to love the sound of the beep.

I'm wondering if she's going to call the kid Blackberry.

Bum heat

There are few things more terrible in this world, than sitting down on a seat, that is warm, and that was not warmed by your bottom.

A word

There has to be a word to describe the process of repeatedly typing in your old password, for 72 hours after the work system has made you update it.

Seen on the hivemind...

Steve:
> I hope that the mind can advise me about blog sites,
> I've accumulated close to 3 years writing covering all of Asia.

Gary:
> HOLY CRAP!
> What size font did you use?!

Religion

My friend Chris, 2 years ago, when asked what he thought of religion in general, replied: "It's the biggest load of codswallop ever to disgrace us with its presence. If I had a big red button marked 'Danger! Will immediately delete all inkling of religion and god from every person in the universe,' my automatic-button-pressing-machine would be hard at work at home right now while I was out and enjoying the world."

MTN GPRS

At home. Online courtesy of MTN's GPRS. And it works really, really well.

Us

There is no situation involving us that, once considered, does not induce a small amount of panic.

Listen to me

I need a portable voice recorder. And here's why. There are serious, serious gems of literary wit that explode in my head, frequently when I'm nowhere near a PC. Pages and pages of elegantly constructed arguments, observations that would astound the great thinkers, metaphors beyond comparison, similes of divine scope, all lost because my short-term memory is big on the short and short on the memory.

I've actually got a voice record function on my phone, which I mainly use for recording conversations with people, and then playing them back at them when they least expect it. Of course, these recordings are limited to 90 seconds, and I find that most of what I have to say takes much, much longer than that. Those of you who have had the pleasure of Rory in person, will know this to be true.

I've tried one system, which I call 'social voice recording', which involves keeping lots of people around me at all times, each hanging on every word I say. This system has met with varying levels of success. It's quite easy to keep lots of people around me at all times ('horrified interest' seems to be the main drawcard), but getting them to hang on every word I say seems to be harder than I anticipated. Mainly because they insist on getting a word in, now and again.

Cough crackling

So there I was. In the pharmacy. Getting cough syrup. Of course, you have to give your name and details when you buy certain drugs these days (i.e. all the good ones). I know this so well that I'm able to tell the pharmacy droid behind the counter that my name is the second on the list on screen.

I don't think they actually use the data they collect, actively. I say that because if they did, I'm sure that by now I would have had jack-booted thugs kicking down my front door, demanding access to my stash of codeine, nasal spray (!) and asthma ventilators.

Anyway, astute readers will know that I had a cold a while ago. So I threw every known remedy at it. So it lasted about 24 hours, and then went away. Leaving me with a lingering, annoying, yet cracklingly-satisfying cough. Which is why I was in the pharmacy, getting Dilinct.

And bless the aged-pharmacist's benevolent heart, but he insisted on reading the package insert three times. Yes, three times. And we all know that aged people read like the dickens and whip through small print like it's a Clancy novel. Of course, this would not have mattered if I had not been in a hurry to get home to watch something or other on TV. Which, in this case, I was.

Anyway, I eventually got the cough syrup, after fending off offers of spoons. ("Yes, I actually do have a spoon at home. I use it when I'm cooking up crack... I'm sure it will work fine.")

Not convinced though, about the cough syrup. I'm still coughing.

Anyway, I'm off to have a cigarette.

Lap dance

Winter approaches. Actually, winter has sent its half-cousin ahead, prepping the way - it's now cold in Johannesburg in the evenings.

This means that the Great Lap War has begun. Whereas previously, my cat would wait at least 45 minutes after I had sat down before deigning to grace my lap with her furry presence, she now waits, oh, about 2.7 seconds before climbing up. The trouble is, of course, that I am human. And occasionally need to get up to fetch cigarettes, get a drink, go to the loo, cook supper, light incense, or any one of the number of things that I have not yet found a way to do while remaining seated on the couch.

Had this been summer, a mere shift in the air pressure arround my seated figure would have sent her scurrying away. Now, with the cold, when I rise, and am practically standing, my lap is a thing no more. Yet she (and her claws) will be bodily attached to where my lap used to be. She's like velcro - same sound, 1000 times more painful.

I've lost count of the number of times I have sworn to have her declawed, as I regard my ripped upholstery/clothes/skin with a grimace.

However, there has been a development as of late. She now reckons that if she falls asleep, there's no way that I would dare disturb her by actually getting up. All it means is that I rise, and she tumbles in a somnambulent ball to the side.

I have a cold

Having a cold serves, if nothing else, as a reminder of how wonderful it is to be healthy most of the time.

The top of my desk at work looks like a small pharmacy, my nose sounds like some tentacled sea creature crawling onto land, and I'm smoking less.

Guess which one of those three annoys me the most.

Energy redeployed

I have subsumed my sexual energy into personal grooming.

Of course, I say that after the fact.

Price, a figure of singular beauty

Ivo writes:

"In fact, the beauty of the single figure, price, is that it conveys
multiple messages to multiple parties. It signals information about cost
to consumers, as well as information about relative scarcity, and
sometimes also information about perceived quality or prestige. And it
signals to producers whether, given the costs, it is economically viable
(i.e. profitable) to produce something, and if so, at what volumes
demand is most profitably supplied.

And things break extraordinarily badly if that number is fixed by the state,
because it stops conveying any information at all.

So true.

MTN gets it

MTN finally seems to get it. Who wants to GPRS at the ludicrous price of R50 per MB? R2 per MB makes far more sense...

I haven't forgotten

Yes, I know it's been a long time. I haven't forgotten. There's no real reason for this ritual, other than to make sure the page looks right. Um, rite.

Who's Who in the Joburg Zoo?

"It is often said that Joburg is like a jungle, and like any jungle it has its natural wildlife, its own species of completely indigenous creatures. Now, for the first time, JHBLive's team of renowned Zoologists bring you some truly scientific knowledge on our crazy city's most often spotted herds. WARNING: One of these animals might just be you."

Some people

Some people, who send me pictures of the beach they are on, during a work day, from their mobile phone, while on the beach, are just insensitive.

Sitting down

Lately, when at home, I tend to sit down for a pee.

Is this a sign of getting old?

Footers under foot

If you're one of those unfortunate people who are stuck in HTML mail hell (where your mail server forces all your outgoing mail to HTML, even if you send it as plain text), and you have get an unwanted disclaimer appended to each email, then try this.

Place the following unclosed tag at the end of your email, in the sig or something like that:

6:18am

Sometimes, I'm at work really early. On a Saturday.

Thought for the day

Dave: "...that's why I carry my cellphone in my back pocket. 'Cos I'd rather get cancer of the ass, than cancer of the balls."

Happy Woman's Day!

Two down, a couple to go

Today, I cleared two long outstanding debts. There are other debts still being serviced, but two down is two less.

Yay, me.

Imagined conversations

Kerri writes: "I often plan to call companies to complain about people driving their company vehicles so badly - especially if they cut me off on the highway or something. I never actually do it, but I hold the entire conversation in my head. There's just so much space up there..."

Gmail

Gmail rocks.

Extremely personalised numberplates

Saw the coolest numberplate on the way to work this morning:

121NCH GP

Nice, sir. Nice.

I hab a code

It's not the slight headache. It's not the completely fuzzy feeling that my brain is languishing in. It's not even the mountain of tissue paper I have on my desk right now.

It's the sniffing.

Thank god the 3 other people around me all wear headphones.

This is one of my favourite things

Watching a 14-month old baby sleep.

Words to type by

"On the Internet, no-one can hear you spell."

Right. Where was I?

Ah, back. The reason for the extended paralysis of The Rites was due to an overzealous WebMarshall filter somewhere along the lines. It deemed The Rites of less than perfect moral values.

Bless.

Thinking back

Rhodes has changed so much since I was there. Time was, all they tracked was network usage. Now, even the weather isn't safe.

Conceivable

We've been experiencing two solid days of total BMW (Baby-Making Weather).

Cold, gray, raining skies, ideal for one-on-one intimacy, three-on-one gymnastics, or even none-on-one personal indulgences. Hey, in that case you still have one hand free for the TV remote.

Leap before you look

Happy Leap Year!

Weak ends

In retrospect, it's good that I work weekends - it keeps me out of mischief. You know what I mean.

Unlike Bloglet, which up until recently, seemed not to work at all.

Adrian has a woody

"What do I think of monogamy? I am not an expert on wood finishes, but I think I prefer a pine or red cedar finish."

Tattoos

[Rory] just so you know - nandos is giving away tattoos.

[Adrian] oh. kay. do they come attached to marines?

2004

The Rites wishes you and your headspace companions a very magical new year. May 2004 sigh your name in an ecstatic exhalation of love.

Irdeto/MIH/Naspers

Did you know that Irdeto is a subsidiary of the international subscriber platform group MIH Limited, which is a subsidiary of Naspers?

I didn't.

Chris on spam

Chris says this:

I've been getting spam from a spammer whose auto-name-generator has been fed the wrong dictionaries.

I amuse myself by imagining what these people must be like.

Single-letter Google

Brett sent me this source for a .REG file:

Windows Registry Editor Version 5.00

[HKEY_CURRENT_USER\Software\Microsoft\Internet Explorer\SearchUrl\g]

@="http://www.google.com/search?hl=en&ie=ISO-8859-1&q=%s"

" "="+"

Now just type 'g sexual wombats' into your address bar in Internet Explorer so search for (in this case) sexual wombats.

And on the subject of letters close to each other

Google mentions in its newsletter that its coding contest has ended. Interestingly, it referes to code jockeys as 'bit flickers'. Now let's see what happens to that word when we put it all in uppercase:

BIT FLICKERS.

See? Funny.

Tattoo-taboo

Picture it: a tattoo, on your inner thigh, near your naughty bits, that says: "What Would Jesus Do?"

Oooh, yes.

An email I received

A friend of mine emails me this on Monday:

--
Rory

GG--

What do you think?

It was a dark and stormy afternoon...

T'was dark and stormy afternoon
Highveld-wide, you see.
Not a worker stirred,
or spoke, just up-clicked MP3.

Simple highhats, booming bass,
muting thunder, coding space.

Ventured forth,
nicotine-dictated.
Got rained on.
Returned, irritated.

Get Fuzzy

Just finished catching up on Get Fuzzy. A whole couple of weeks' worth.

ICQ authorisations, again

I just get loads and loads of authorisation requests from young, mostly Russian and foreign, women on ICQ. Is this just me?

Monday sweat

It's an insanely hot day in Gauteng. A forecast of 27 degrees C turns out to feel much, much warmer. Well, at least indoors out of the path of the airconditioning currents. And it's 4:30 in the afternoon. Which means, as the highveld settles down for the evening (and by that I mean small-arms-gun-fire only), that it's only going to get warmer.

I tend to live by the edict "don't move, don't sweat". But when your only activity is lifting your right arm to change channels, and you're still sweating, something is terribly, terribly Jo'burg.

Thank god my office seat is fabric, not leather.

Quote this now

"If you have no imagination, you need not fret. A swedish pharmaceutical company will sell you a very vivid -- though temporary -- one for a nominal fee."
- Anonymous

Soggy Biscuit Showdown

or... "Why I wish I'd gone to a single-sex boarding school".

You know the drill—pantless pledges gathered around, each breathlessly racing to make sure he's not the last to spill seed, lest he be the sorry chump forced to wolf down the dreaded Soggy Biscuit. It's a time-tested bonding ceremony, but with so many options in the cracker aisle these days, how's a busy Pledge Master to choose the best starch for his hungry up-and-comers? Well look no further...

Conversations with God

Well, it's more like an audience with God. But at least entry is free.

(Withdrawl, however, carries a penalty.)

The Opera

I would love to see this.

Textual musings

OK, a random clearing of textual moments from my phone. The names have been removed to protect the hilarious.

"This airport is amazing. I don't know where the hell I am, or where I am going but it looks stunning."

"My seat was right next to a beautiful girl. Unfortunately, I was so busy ogling her I sat in the wrong seat. And then it was too late to change. So no... smile."

"Confusing... Been lost as hell for hours.. Finally found hotel, and bought lemon coke.. All slightly different.. Very cool so far.. Sitting in a park eating grapes."

"I want sex and candy, but hold the candy.. And give me a side order of lubricant and foreplay to share."

"I just picked up free condoms in the Mustek bath rooms. They have stickers on them saying: 'Mecer: Experience IT the right way' =)"

"Last Wednesday I fell asleep from too much GBL. Ironically while watching a program on Discovery about tranquilizers, called 'In Pills We Trust'. ;-)"

"Hey, it's like being a woman and synching our periods. My druggie sense is tingling. *takes more*"

"The biggest problem with bulk is still having left over on Monday... and then not having any more circa Tuesday evening. Hey, you know what I mean."

"I haven't even pretended to sleep in the last 3 days. My mind is crossing over into the twilight zone but my body remains anchored in reality. The shipping containers 'neath my eyes (they sure as hell don't count as simply baggage anymore) are so weighted by weariness that I have found myself checking whether I was wearing glasses."

"Catching a train to Newcastle. The train is so full I have 2 choices: sit in the smoking sectiopn, or squeeze in next to someone. What does my choice have to say about the sad state of the human race? Cough."

"Almost captures the depths of my current immobility. This antihistamine has left me sneezing but as sleepy as a sloth on strike. Probably took a wide enough variety of herbs and supplements in the last hour to account for a small ecosystem."

"So where is Stefan now? Are they scared to show him douching? And why does my phone not have that word?"

Singular discovery

Working at home, where there is no Internet connection, is highly productive.

It's also quite lonely.

Thank the deity I'm a fabulous person to talk to.

Broken vision

Sigh. I broke my glasses last night. How, you may ask? By putting them down.

Of course, yes, they're those fabulous 'unbreakable' tungsten twisty-bendy style spectacles that are never meant to break. In fact, they're the most expensive 3 pieces of metal I've ever bought.

A small piece of one of them broke a while ago. It was an eventful incident, involving me, the ex, a door and some high velocities. I replaced the piece on the spectacles. I haven't replaced the ex.

But the lousy thing about fixing spectacles is that you have to then wear your contacts while you wait for them to be fixed. And contacts are nice for a few hours, but not for an entire day, especially working in front of a PC.

I'm only squinting slightly as I write this.

Remember this...

Hanlon's Razor: "Never attribute to malice what can adequately be explained by stupidity."

Pride!

I've just realised that it's Pride next week Saturday!

How big is your script?

#!/bin/sh
echo `uptime|grep days|sed 's/.*up \([0-9]*\) day.*/\1\/10+/'; cat /proc/cpuinfo|grep '^cpu MHz'|awk '{print $4"/30 +";}';free|grep '^Mem'|awk '{print $3"/1024/3+"}'; df -P -k -x nfs -x smbfs | grep -v '(1k|1024)-blocks' | awk '{if ($1 ~ "/dev/(scsi|sd)"){ s+= $2} s+= $2;} END {print s/1024/50"/15+70";}'`|bc|sed 's/\(.$\)/.\1cm/'

Double vision

Last night I plugged in the DualView Multichoice decoder I won on Monday. First impression: it's fast - program information and menus are drawn at lightning speed. Scrolling up and down through channels happens a whole lot more quickly.

Incidentally, the second simultaneous decoding of a channel works just fine.

More bits of review and rants about things they got totally wrong to come later.

9/11 and a half

Just after noon. No planes yet. So far, so good.

Mailings

Mailings lists: also known as subscription drugs.

I need...

a new sub.

Paper towels

Consider: you reach for the paper towels with wet hands. Wet hands that cause the paper (as you try to extract a length from the dispenser more suited to drying something larger than, say, a cigarette) to disintegrate in your fingers.

Damp, and disillusioned...

We need a hand dryer in the bathroom at work.

Die spam bastards

Maid man

I have a maid again. Joy. Joy. Joy. Filth begone.

Quote this

"If you're following your heart, why are you kissing my ass?"

Make it easy.

If you want me to use your software, then make it easy. That means:

1. Download.
   
2. Run to install.
   
3. Yes to default options.
   
4. Use it.
   

OK? That's it. No jumping through hoops. No god-awful alleged interface 'toolkit'.

Sigh.

Dead boys

Adrian and I came up with this list.

1. Dead boys dont say no.
2. Dead boys don't mind swallowing.
3. Dead boys dont have to come up for air.
4. Dead boys dont want to cuddle afterwards.
5. Dead boys wont call you the next day.
6. Dead boys don't mind sharing.
7. Dead boys won't steal from you.
8. Dead boys don't care about your drug habit.
9. Dead boys don't mind being left alone all day.
10. Dead boys provide a convenient flat surface for schnarfing.
11. Dead boys get rigor mortis.
12. Dead boys don't need viagra.
13. Dead boys stay hard for longer.
14. Dead boys don't care if they're straight.
15. Dead boys dont want to go out for dinner.
16. Dead boys are dinner (cf. Jeffrey Dahmer).
17. Dead boys don't mind if you fuck on the first date.
18. Dead boys let you pick the movie. every time.
19. ... .... maggots tickle.
20. Dead boys don't take forever in the bathroom.
21. Dead boys contain their own lube.
22. Dead boys won't talk about you to their friends.
23. Dead boys dont get STD's.
24. Dead boys dont get old.
25. Dead boys don't get jealous.
26. Dead boys provide interesting dinner topic conversation (as the candle holder).
27. Dead boys don't go out of style.
28. Dead boys don't go out.
29. Dead boys dont hog the blankets.
30. Dead boys know their place.
31. Dead boys stack nicely, like dinnerware.
32. Dead boys don't embarrass you in public.
33. Dead boys dont care about penis size.
34. Dead boys dont require condoms.
35. you don't have to make a dead boy cum.
36. Dead boys can go forever.
37. Dead boys dont complain you work too much.
38. Dead boys are both cheap AND easy.
39. Dead boys are low maintenance.
40. Dead boys won't press charges.

Erynne grows and grows

There are updated pictures of Erynne in the gallery.

Blog back

Thank god. Damn db_file.

K-PAX

Saw a bit of K-PAX last night on TV. I've seen it before. It's the ideal movie for the end of a hectic weekend.

And watching it, I realised once again what a truly magical film it is: you simply don't want it to end.

I feel like a new man

"One of the greatest things about being gay is that after a hard workout
you feel like a new man, and he's right there in the shower next to you."

Tra la la la laaaah.

Insult overheard

"He has an arse like two badly parked Volkswagens..."

Winter

It's very cold. Let the overeating begin.

A:\>

It doesn't matter how advanced that new piece of PC equipment is. At some point in the process, the documentation will contain the phrase: "...please boot to DOS..."

There is a reason that Microsoft is winning...

I am reminded of something that Chris once said. A few years ago, we were working late one night on some project that was about to completely not resemble any known spec in any recognizable way. The actual details remain hazy, but one's impression of The Client never fades.

Chris lifted his coffee mug, sipped, and said: "The reason that Netscape lost the browser war was because.... they built a fucking shit browser."

True.

Coding deep

...and I find myself humming The Battle Hymn Of The Republic.

Embarked

The 7th journey of the D-Rail collective happened this weekend. Here's one person's recollections of previous excursions.

Duvet weather

Overslept. Two-point cake penalty.

Guy quote

Guy says to me: "Don't you think it's funny that sexual harrassment charges are laid?"

Well, yes. Yes, I do.

My mind is now wondering how many bad puns in a similar vein it can come up with.

People from your past

When I was in high school, Jilly Gooud was my home room teacher, and directed me in a number of high school productions. And it turns out she's still around. She doesn't look a day older from when I knew her.

Quote of the last five minutes

[15:57:22] <XSyn> -Quote of the Moment: My (real) friend Luke, on why he thinks it's ok to sleep with prostitutes: "I'm not paying them for sex. I'm paying them to leave afterwards."

Pet names

One day I want to own a pair of animals and call them "Drag" and "Drop", or "Cut" and "Paste", or "Point" and "Click".

However, the coolest pairing of names for pets I've ever heard, was these two guys who owned two dogs, and called them "Dubfire" and "Sharam".

Bugger

I think some bit of a tooth just broke off. Damn that falafal.

Nic on the Hivemind

"In other words, if you're going to write for a mass market, make sure your message is clear, concise, and unambiguous. Then only 60% of the readers will misunderstand or misquote you."

Ponder this

What's the best part about making snuff movies?

The low salary run.

A weekend of nothing

Abstinence courts introspection.

Happy Birthday Madiba!

Nelson Mandela turns 85 today!

A lack of human Rites

So the other day, Michael asks me why I haven't posted a Rite for a while.

As I peer back at him over the pile of work on my desk, I answer: "I have a job".

This happened about a week ago, and I've only now gotten around to posting it.

All grown up

You know you've reached a new level of maturity when you think nothing of using your fingers to squish down the icky bits left in the plug hole in the sink.

Well - you tell yourself you think nothing of it.

Firebird, once again, owns your bases

Firebird, the One True Browser, apparently knows no limits to its productivity enhancements. Once you've installed the appropriate Tab Extensions, you can do this: copy your to-be-viewed URL onto the clipboard (Ctrl-C), switch to Firebird (Alt-Tab), and open a new Tab in Firebird (Ctrl-T).

Et voila: your URL is automagically seen on the clipboard and loaded into the new tab.

Do the right thing.

Jabber: your sandwich is ready

Just reconnected to Jabber, the preferred IM platform of the previous company.

54 messages from Kelly, indicating that 'the sandwich lady is here'.

What is spam in Afrikaans?

All your thoughts are belong to us

Pornographied Shakespeare

"Is this a dagger I see before me? Come… let me hold it."

"Out, damn spot!"

"Alas, poor Yoric. I blew him well."

Christopher Meloni's baloney

Princess Adrian wants to be Christopher Melon's prison bitch.

I've told him he can share.

Outlook on spelling

Today I had to tell Outlook that 'Prada' is a valid word for its dictionary.

Clearly, Microsoft programmers embrace The Gap.

Sweet 21

Happy Birthday, Princess Adrian!

Quote this

"He was the kind of man who made you wish he wasn't."

A question for every South African

Tim Wood: "There is one sacred cow that South Africans will not or cannot deal with – why their country failed to emerge as a competitor to the United States. The question should be obvious rather than shocking."

419.2

Oh good. Another 419 letter. Maybe I should refer these people to ITC, which is one organisation that seems to better understand my financial situation.

Philatio Abuser Unsubtle

Whenever they have a programme on TV about male prostitution, and they interview some street walkers about their chosen profession, I just think: "Oooh - a catalogue."

Leather-beaten

Morné writes: "By the way, yesterday was our Iron anniversary. (Last year was Wood, and next year will be Wool.) Unfortunately, we missed Leather already. That was third."

Start saving for that sheep.

Waxin', waynin'

Here's a mirror of Wayne-e's mixes. Funky stuff.

Distinctive sounds

Consider, for example, the crisp snap of the elastic band of a pair of briefs contouring into place. If I’m listening carefully, I can sometimes also tell whether the briefs fit well, and to which side the wearer dresses.

Although an immediately subsequent shriek of pain is a dead giveaway of vanity.

No wonder they feed this to kids

On Saturday, I tasted breast milk. Human breast milk. Out of a bottle, though, in case you're wondering. And I'm not allowed to tell you who's it was.

But here's the amazing thing: it tastes incredible. It's a bit like normal milk, but sweeter.

Remember those countless American sitcoms where some guy mistakes his wife's expressed breast milk in the fridge for cow juice, and promptly spits out his coffee when he's told of his mistake? What was he on?

We've been led to believe that it tastes awful. Which is crazy, because they feed this stuff to newborns.

I can't believe he's married

Saw The Jeff Corwin Experience last night on Discovery. This is the greatest wildlife show on TV, mainly because of Jeff Corwin. The animals aren't nearly as interesting as he is.

Love is...

"Love is a snowmobile racing across the tundra. Suddenly it
flips over, pinning you underneath. At night the ice weasels come." - Matt Groening.

Martha Stewarts latest kitchen accessory: low blood sugar

So there Trev was, helping me fetch some stuff from the kitchen. He’d retrieved a plate from the oven, which was quite hot. I shouted out that he could find the oven gloves in the drawer to the right.

At which point Trev came bounding in with the plate, clasped in his naked hands, and explained “That’s ok – I’m diabetic - I have no feeling in my fingers.”

Firebird: throw that mouse away

Oskar pointed out to me yesterday that with Firebird (or more correctly, the Mozilla engine), if you're viewing a web page you can type the characters in a hyperlink to jump directly to that link.

Great. I hope they don't have any B's in them.

This keyboard makes one seek refuge in the mouse.

419

I've now started to keep a seperate folder for all the 419 mails I get.

The case of the locked bathroom stall door

In our office bathroom facility, which is shared by some other people in the building (read: people wierder than us), there is A Stall Door. With a lock on it. This is been a Rite begging to be written. I'll see what sort of cynicism I can drum up over the weekend, and if I can unleash suitable invective towards its anal-retentive owner. No pun intended.

Wierd ass keyboards

OK. I'm typing this on one of those Microsoft keyboards. You know, the so-called 'natural' keyboards. The ones that look like the two sides of the keyboard have had a fight and are not on speaking terms. Or, as it feels in my case, typing terms.

If it wasn't for the vanity of The Rites, I'd leave all the mistakes that I'm making in so you could see, and laugh along with me.

So far, what has this keyboard shown me?

That I've been pressing the B key with the wrong finger all my life.

Don't get me wrong. Punctuation aside, and, it would appear, for now the letter B, I'm not afraid of typing large amounts of prose. Witness the self-indulgent morass that is The Rites.

However, it would seem that I now have a split keyboard (goddamn that bloody B key. That's it. I'm not typing anything more that has a B in it. I swear.)

Where was I? Ah yes. This keyoard is split. Everyone in the office has one already. I have until now, ironically, een using a keoard that is of the... uh... straight variety. I've asked around how long it takes until the addiction kicks in. You know: you've heard all the zealots: "Oh now that I use a natural keyboard I no longer suffer from RSI. Once you've tried it, you won't e ale to go ack." True. You're still lacking a personality. And there's no Microsoft replacement for that.

My hands feel like hooked claws. I have this wierd dissociative feeling in my arms that normally only arrives after half a ottle of luricant.

uggery uggery ollocks.

Happiness is...

...cheese rolls from Woolworths.

Automatic response

You know how when you do something, like touch a hot place or stick your finger in the fire, your hand jerks back, and then you realise it was sore?

There's a name for this process - autonomic response, or similar. Basically, if I remember high school biology correctly, all the signals required to save you from certain death happen via your central nervous system, and bypass your brain.

Anyway, I think I have this sort of arrangement between my ears and my mouth.

I hear something, I say something in response, and only then does my brain kick in and try to figure out if I need to duck, or apologise.

I'm going to call this process autoquip.

Call center fantasies

Just dealt with 20twenty on the phone. As always, their over-the-phone service is excellent. My particular drone this time was some guy named Craig.

And he sounded positively gorgeous.

Fiela se car

I happen to live in the same apartment complex as Shaleen Surtie-Richards, of Fiela se Kind fame. The other morning, when I left for work, she was standing outside. She's pretty recognisable, even from behind, because she has this amazingly huge afro-style hair. Turns out she was waiting for her car, which arrived, with driver, as I walked past. The license plate? SURTIE1.

Quote of the week

"I find the concept of a tablet PC a little hard to swallow." - Anton dW.

Floodgates open, sir

Thank god the drought is over.

Please hold

"Please hold. You may select your desired hold music: for pop, press 1. For rock, press 2. For dance, press 3 repeatedly, at 136bpm."

I hate hardware

Fixation error. Argh. Brand spanking new CD writer that refuses to burn above 8x speed. Buggery, buggery bollocks.

Overheard one day in Morné's office kitchen

"There's nothing worse than weak hot chocolate. It's like a gorgeous hunk with a small dick."

Subway

I love Subway. Where else is your eating experience prefixed with the question, "would you like a 6-inch or a footlong?"

Three guys were there with me. Subway-virgins are so easy to spot: they stand in front of the sneeze-guard, heads upwards staring at the vast array of choice of sandwich components. Their eyes glaze over, their jaws go slack, and time passes. You wonder if democracy really is the best choice for some people.

I caught the eye of the sandwich artist (yes, they really call them that).

"Hello! I'd like a footlong, parmesan-oregano, chicken mayo. Mozzarello. No, no extra meat. No, no extra cheese. Yes, every vegetable. Yes, all of them. Extra peppers please. Salt and pepper? Certainly? Sauce? Miracle whip, please. To take-away, thanks."

I paid, got my change, stickers, and redundant key-ring chain thingie.

As I left, the virgin trio were still deciding on their fillings.

Modesty forbade me from, uh, helping out.

“Jack Osbourne.” “No thanks.”

Is it just me, or is Jack Osbourne (of The Osbournes) displaying all the signs of a teenage guy realising he’s in a closet, there’s chiffon, the disco music is getting louder, and everyone is watching? With cameras? And martini glasses?

You know what I’m saying here, don’t you? Good.

Nokia's Law Of Office Phones

This states that in any given office there will always be one phone which has its ringtone set to the Violent Femme's Blister In The Sun. This phone will also usually belong to someone who is frequently away from their desk, and is, apparently popular.

You will then find yourself silently praying that the phone has a vibrating option, and that it will quickly shuffle itself to the edge of the desk and lemming off quickly to the floor, and silence.

Anthropersonification. Is that a word?

Recently, I tried out a disk defragmenter. It works really well, and it has a delightful entertainment function: it makes your hard drive sound like it’s trying to liquidise a metal fork.

Also, it has the capability to do boot time defragmentation. It has to do this, because that’s the only time that it can move some of your files, because Windows hasn’t grabbed them at that stage.

But at the end of the boot time defrag, when the final tine has been blended to a smooth, well, spoon, I guess, it displays a summary of how it’s moved stuff around, and then invites you to ‘Press ESC to reboot your computer.’

Pressing any other key results in ‘Press ESC to reboot your computer’ being irately reprinted at you.

As if by that stage, it matters. I’m somewhat surprised that it didn’t include an exclamation point on the second and subsequent user chastises.

Oh, and anthropomorphization might be a better choice.

Toastscript

The toaster here has 4 settings: CANCEL (a big red button), DEFROST, REHEAT, and BAGEL.

I popped in a slice of bread, pressed bagel, and waited. Out came a toasted... slice of bread.

I'm sure there's a truth-in-advertising issue here.

Happiness is...

...some 5-HTP, a hot bubble bath, a full pack of cigarettes, a tall glass of cold chocalate soya milk, a good book, and a whole Sunday in which to get water-wrinkled.

A kitten?!

Take the What animal best portrays your sexual appetite?? Quiz

A kitten? A kitten?! Apparently so.

Here. Buy ours. It’s legit. No, seriously.

Right – so there we were. Shania, Wayne, Adrian and me, walking back to my apartment after watching The Matrix Reloaded, completely, utterly, delightfully shell-shocked. We’d gotten good shells, too.

And as is all-so-often the case in situations like this (and groups like us), a random comment by what shall be mercifully known as the innocent bystander inspired a flight of conversation that hit its head on takeoff and rapidly flew off the radar.

“I want to go to Zimbabwe.”

Right – so there we were. Shania, Wayne, Adrian and me, walking back to my apartment after watching The Matrix Reloaded, completely, utterly, delightfully shell-shocked. We’d gotten good shells, too.

And as is all-so-often the case in situations like this (and groups like us), a random comment by what shall be mercifully known as the innocent bystander inspired a flight of conversation that hit its head on takeoff and rapidly flew off the radar.

“I want to go to Zimbabwe.”

We explained (as best we could) to the innocent bystander that we were not in a position to help. Not even with money. I’m sure the Doppler effect of our voices conveyed something as well.

But of course, such a comment was not to go unremarked.

“Why does he want to go to Zimbabwe?”

Adrian, in complete non-sequitur fashion, said, again, that the movie was something of awe. “Awesome” I believe was the word he used.

Of course, as I lit my Type-A-personality cigarette, satisfying the created demand, I countered: “Agreed. I want to own that movie. Now.”

Yes, I could (given time, bandwidth, and complete lack of discerning taste and 20/20 vision), download it off the Internet. Or ask Adrian for his copy. But I don’t want that. I don’t like downloading or buying pirated movies, because there’s no guarantee.

Actually, there is a guarantee. And it is this:

• that the quality will suck, and most likely depend on the quality of camcorder used by the Spotty Herbert who taped it in the cinema.
• That the brilliance of your 5.1 digital hi-fidelity decoding hardware and the clarity of your amplifier will be rendered irrelevant, as your center speaker faithfully delivers a hissy, mono audio track.
• That should you not be satisfied with it, having bought it from someone who’s shop front kept its engine running, you will at that point (a) suffer a complete failure of customer satisfaction, and (b) realise you now have a new shiny coaster, and maybe, just maybe, a topic of conversation for the next dinner party.

And for all these reasons, with scant regard to the bank balance, I will pony up the cash, and buy the real thing on DVD. After waiting six months.

Why? I’m buying a guarantee of quality. Except for Nu Metro-released titles (where the quarantee tends to be that they’ve picked the 4x3 aspect ratio version, and made the menu system so inane they hope you won’t notice they also left off the extras, which they have. Amazon has no idea of this unwitting ally. I’m hoping that Nu Hell is an aging mono-BetaMax VCR continuously looping Biker Rock Zombies, with no vertical-hold, and no bathroom breaks.)

At this point, Wayne, Shania, and Adrian were staring at me. Most probably because I’d been quiet for more than 30 seconds.

“What if… what if.. the piracy got so bad that technology allowed a passable copy to be available almost immediately after the movie was released to cinemas?”

Thankfully, no-one pointed out that this was, actually already the case. And so it was that the conversation was allowed to belly-roll irresponsibly through the clouds of whimsy, on its way to the next laugh.

“Yeah! You’d effectively have to have the movie studios competing by having their legit copy ready at the same time! They’d have to sell it to you as you exited the cinema!”

No doubt all the while elbowing the pirated-copy vendors to the side: ‘Buy ours! It’s legit! And hi-res!’ ” Oh, the possible carnage: metallic discs flying over your head, their cheap labels coming undone in mid-air, and floating down like so much confetti at a shotgun wedding.

(Mind you: selling a product to people, as they step from a darkened cinema into the comparative blinding fluorescent incandescence we commonly call a mall, hopped up on sugar, thirsty from the salted popcorn, and somewhat deaf from the cinema sound, probably makes good business sense. Anaesthetised customers tend not to quibble. Is anyone in Hollywood listening? Hello?)

I was instantly captivated by this idea (that of buying the DVD of a movie I had just seen and loved --not the idea of semi-blinded staggering patrons. Just so we’re clear on that point.)

“I mean, as it stands now, dodgy nations like, oh, say, Zimbabwe, where pirated copies of movies have been known to happen, are readying up their shipments.”

We stopped. We stared. Somewhere a dog barked.

I lit another cigarette. We’d figured it out. We knew why Bystander, Innocent had wanted to go to Zimbabwe. He’d just seen The Matrix Reloaded, and he’d loved it so much that he wanted his own copy. And for that – he had to get to Zimbabwe.

As much as we sympathised with him and admired his dedication, we didn’t turn around. Some moments can never be recaptured.

We walked home, snuggled down in front of the 1.2m screen, turned up the ProLogic, and watched the second half of Animatrix. It seemed appropriate, both in content and media.

--
DISCLAIMER: In no way is this article meant to encourage talking to Innocent Bystanders. If you do, seek help. Don’t become a statistic.

Posted by rory at 09:12 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

Pass me a glass of Bacardi, and allow me to explain

(Note to the few who have not yet had the privilege of Chez Rites: my cat and I have an agreement. I operate the can opener, break the seal on the cat biscuits, make sure there’s fresh water available, share my Egyptian Cotton bed, and change the cat litter just before it fights back. In return, she agrees to only take off the top layer of skin when she plays with me. I, my cat, and the Jumbo “Accident-o-Prone TM” box of BandAid are very happy, thank you.)

Normally, the only thing that would entice her to my side of the bed during the warm months would be (in order of decreasing likelihood):

Nonetheless – it’s winter, and she’s gone South.

(We’ve all heard the story of Sisyphus, doomed and forever defeated in his attempts to push a boulder up a hill. I belive future generations will convey the same sense of futility and personal injury potential by glibly saying “Remember: you can’t put a cat in a box.”)

Although it’s strange – when I was younger I used to be allergic to cats. Not to this one it seems. I can play with her all day, and not sneeze once (although the light-headedness and blurred vision due the bloodloss from the, ahem, ‘scratches’ tends to overpower all other ailments.)

Ah. She’s watching me write this. I know this without looking down at the keyboard because of the biting pain in my right hand and the furry feeling on my arm.

Gotta go.

Happiness is…

…a warm cat snuggled up asleep on your lap - that came there of its own accord.

I love winter.

I gotta get my stuff back

Things I have loaned out to people (or left behind because of induced incompetence at the time) that need to be returned to me. These are the objects that I can remember.

(sung to the tune of The Twelve Days of Christmas, the way your weird drunk Uncle would do it each year) “Comedy, drama and thriller DVDs, assorted books, a Zippo lighter left at a bathhouse (don’t ask), another Zippo lighter left at a house party, a cap, a pair of pants (don’t ask), a Speedo (don’t ask), a grey fluffy top, and VHS porn (you’re welcome to ask).”

Oh, and one porn DVD. You know who you are, but your right hand is probably a bit stunned as to what it’s been put through. Or around. And don’t forget my funky green mug. PS: I have your porn DVD as well to return to you. Oh, and those books. Call me! Warm regards, sincerely, all my love, etc...

Things I have to return to other people: as above, and a sweater. Oh, and that piddling problem of crushing bank debt. You’ll get it back eventually. In the meantime, you’re welcome to borrow a book. Here, try this one. Chapter 11 is quite good. Are you OK? You’ve gone quite pale. Here, let me hold your overdraft. No, I insist. It’s really not a problem. You’re welcome. See you next month.

Eat static. Breathe static.

You know you're used to Johannesburg winters when you get shocked by static electricity 17 times a day, and you can only remember two of them.

Movie idea

Neo and John Connor join forces to fight the war against the machines. After an intense rave/orgy, they make plans for the upcoming battle.

At the same time, the Matrix and Skynet sign a multi-billion dollar merger, spelling certain doom for the human resistance. After an intense rave/orgy, the corporate giants start production on a new line of Arnold Agents and Smith-inators.

Meanwhile, back at the X-Mansion, Professor X uses Cerebro to notify all the mutants in the world about the upcoming Mutant Rave-o-thon Celebration 2003. After much Kung Fu, car chases, and explosions, everyone dies and meets God, who turns out to be Jim Carrey.

"Alllllrighty then," says God, flanked by a cadre of Charlie's Angels. "Let's get this party started."

And Neo's like, "God, why are you speaking through your buttocks?"

T A T S U Y A I S H I D A

President, CEO, Revolutionary

Thanks Guy!

16 degrees

Yeesh. It's cold.

Reloaded

Saw The Matrix Reloaded on Saturday night. Good movie. Now, I'd speak about it here, but we have a rule in the office. If anyone gives away the movie before the rest of the office have seen it, then that person has to buy cake for the office.

Paul has to buy cake, regardless. It's his way.

I reckon it gets a 7 out of 10 (Reloaded, not Paul's cake).

And make sure you sit through all the credits to the very end to see the preview of the next Matrix.

All I want...

...from life is a warm bed, a kind word, and unlimited power.

Overheard

"Thank you for your recent order in our sex shop. You asked for the large red vibrator as featured on our wall display. Please reselect as that's the fire extinguisher."

Back on track

Choo! Choo! August! And you know what that means...

How big is Openbox?

Things that go bump in the night

Last night, as I was in bed, lights out, drifting off into that void we call sleep, I heard a noise. A loud noise. It was the kind of banging crash sound that your night-soothed brain has trouble comprehending. It seemed to come from a street in the neighbourhood, and it clearly sounded to me like someone had attempted to get their vehicle and a wall to occupy the same space at the same time. But just before it, there wasn't the prerequisite acceleration sounds so common to accidents. Nonetheless, I lay awake for five minutes waiting for the confirmation sounds of sirens that were to signal death, destruction, and delays.

They were not forthcoming. Of course, this to me meant that either (a) someone was busy bleeding to death, unnoticed, close by, or (b) the sound was something else entirely.

This morning, no sign of an accident. Still no idea what it was.

Down electric

Two nights ago my electric blanket ceased to become functional (or electric). So I popped the down duvet on the bed.

With the net result that I overslept this morning. Mmmm, snuggly.

Today is a boy day

Right. So on the way to work today, it's just cute boy central. There was one outside my apartment building. Then Adrian and I just had to go buy some biltong. And I don't eat biltong. But the biltong boy was just scrumptious (to be served by, not to eat). Then in the final drag (haha) to work, we drove past what appeared to be some sort of handyman.

I keep mentioning to Adrian that this kind of flagrant boywatching is getting dangerous, because at those times neither one of us is watching the road.

I think we'll go back for more biltong later.

Rites is one year old

Today, the rites of Rory turns 1 year old. And looking back, I've realised: I need to do more rants. Hello, Nedbank.

You gotta go to the toilet NOW...

Or "why you shouldn't talk loud when people in reception can hear you."

I'm sitting at my desk, and Adrian comes running up to me.

"You gotta go to the toilet NOW!" he says.

I pause. A million unsavoury images scream past in my head. I burst out laughing, and ask "Is it because of a boy, or is it because of something you haven't flushed?"

"A boy," he replies.

At this point, we're talking pretty loudly. I should add that reception, and the toilets, is about 15 steps from where I sit, around 2 corners.

Off I go. As I step into reception, two things happen: (1) I see the boy, and he sees me, and looks at me with with a bemused expression on his face that kinda makes me realise that (2) I sit really close to reception.

At this point, subtlety and subterfuge now take center stage. I veer away from any direction of the toilets ("What? Me? Talking about you? The toilets? Nope! I'm going... um... upstairs. Yes, upstairs.") and go upstairs.

At which stage I then lingered around Thomas's desk, told him the story, and then swiped a Nando's menu from his desk in an attempt to 'look busy' as I walked back down into reception.

Oh, the boy rated a good decent 8.5 out of 10. Thanks, Princess Adrian!

The wedding

Just received my invite to Shania & Wayne's wedding. It's so cool -- one of those interactive, put-it-together kind of invites. I gotta take a picture.

Offsite

Still working offsite. And the toilets in this place hone. It's truly terrible. Yuk.

X-Men II

Saw X-Men II this afternoon. Conclusion?

The world needs more X-Men.

This is a great film. It's great because of a number of reasons. Those reasons are: Cyclops/Scott Summers (played by the James Marsden, who's cheekbones are to die for), Collosus/Piotr Rasputin (played by Daniel Cudmore, who suffers only from the relatively short amount of screen time apportioned to him, but thankfully not from wearing too many clothes in that time that he is on screen), and IceMan/Bobby Drake (played by Shawn Ashmore, who is pure cream-filled goodness).

Onwards, please to X-Men 3 - the Uncut Version.

Stimulants and snakes

"I always keep a supply of stimulant handy in case I see a snake -- which I also keep handy." -- W. C. Fields

Capricorn's seduction

The Deal Is in the Details: Capricorns, extremely goal-oriented, take romantic encounters as seriously as their board meetings. The tricky part of getting close to one of these success-seeking Goats is not to have the interview end before you think it has begun. Instead of wasting time polishing your resume, put your best foot forward before your crush gets a chance to figure out why you don't fit perfectly into any well-oiled plans for the future. Pull out all of the stops and leave no detail of a date to chance.

Seduction Mantra: Your first impression is final.

You Know It's Working When: Lucky for you, once you're in, you're really in. Charmed Capricorns are some of the most faithful lovers in the zodiac, and when they sense a good thing, they won't let it go. Early signs of interest include an open checkbook.

Schmidt happens

I went to see About Schmidt last night. I loved it. It's somewhat morbidly funny in places, and completely morbidly funny in others. And at one point it's a delightfully inane travelogue of small Americana.

However the movie does answer those burning cinematic questions: what do Kathy Bates' breasts look like? And how would Jack Nicholson look if he was completely hopped up on drugs?

And this just in...

I write short accounts of the details of my life.

I charge by the minutae.

Brace yourself

If you're a programmer, you're probably familiar with the following situation: you're struggling to track down a nasty problem in something you've written. Or worse, something someone else (entirely less qualified than you) has written. And it's usually something completely trivial, and it's entering the second day of mind-numbing text-scrolling hell. You're just about to reach that point where a cocaine-addiction would seem preferable.

It's at this stage that I remember that asking someone to 'have a look' is all it takes. They won't actually have to, because you'll immediately solve the problem 30 seconds later.

Oh, by the way - it was a missing brace.

It's a secret

Ivo on the Hivemind: I'd love to discuss the merits of being over-priviledged and rich, and why I aspire to this state of affairs. But it's a secret society, and
we can't let you in on the secret. Sorry.

ICQ Authorisation

If I get just one more request for authorisation from 22-year old Nancy, or Candi, or whatever-they-think is a sexy name, on ICQ, as a potential to spam me, I'll scream. I really will. Stop it.

Carrying a vacuum

If the brief was: design an object that defies comfortable carrying, will fall apart as you walk, and will make you look like a twit as you carry it, the resultant specification-compliant product would be: Lee and Warren's vacuum.

Going down

I don't think I've ever been happy about an erection going down. But this time it's kinda nice.

Priorities

A friend of mine, Lee, is about to have a baby. April 21st. So soon.

And this makes me think about priorities in my life: specifically, with regards to my cat, Bacardi. See, lately, since finances have been tough, there's not a lot of money to go around - and yesterday, when I went shopping for groceries, the very first thing I bought was cat food. Then I bought food for myself. Wierd how people or entities that are under our care come first in our thoughts. And I consider myself a selfish person.

The whore, or the pimp?

Seen on the Hivemind:

Gary: Who is worse, the whore or the pimp?

Sean: I've always thought that every politician should have a pimp for an older brother. That way, at least, they'd have someone to look up to.

Oh, the irony

I'm 29, have owned an ironing board for about 2 years or so, but only recently started using it. Not having a maid bites. On the other hand, if you have satellite TV, the ordeal of ironing can be significantly eased by doing it in front of the TV.

Ironing, though, is not quite as dull as this, although the comments are superb.

Bitch

On Saturday night, I went to Bitch. Completely failed to pull. Stunning club, great music though.

FFFWD

OK, make that four.

FFWD

They're not kidding when they say: FFWD - feel the pace. I've had three of 'em today. Zwiiiiing.

The wisdom of Ghengis Kahn

"Remember: FIRST you pillage, THEN you burn."

Starship Troopers

Have you noticed how the TV coverage of the current Iraq crisis feels just like the TV coverage of the bug war depicted in Starship Troopers? Only in this one we don't have Casper van Dien showing his butt. Which is a pity.

Fault finding

"Nothing is easier than fault-finding; no talent, no self-denial; no brains; no character is required to set up in the grumbling business."
-- Robert West

Camel Lights vs Chesterfield Lights

OK, I'm a smoker. Yes, I admit it. But in a pinch, when my preferred brand is not available, I'll smoke Chesterfield Lights. Only in a pinch, mind you.

Only in London

Al writes: Only in London: Can you pop to the local shop round the corner from your work to buy lunch and walk past 3 drag queens, all dolled up to the teeth. Very smartly done. If it had not been for the leg muscles I would not have been able to tell.

It's all relative. Your relative.

If there was a disease you could get from not having enough sex, I'd be dead from it by now.

An evening of text

In which I have, conveniently, omitted my replies.

1. Lee: Well done. Normally only a microwave can get it right. I had to ask Amy to help me dispose of a muirdered pigeon... my stomach is too weak.
20:01:03

2. Amy: Hehe I think the primary suspect hid the evidence in the only place I wouldn't dare to look. Will check for traces in a few days :-)
20:12:39

3. Warren: Eating dinner, listening to the resident Russian lounge act hammer it out in BAD englishnikov. My god they're bad. Bowel control must be tricky at that volume.
21:02:34

4. Lee: Not sure who committed the crime, awaiting the final report from the scene forensic team. Primary suspect is Bungi, as he's been seen singing to them and getting annoyed with them for not wanting to play.
21:36:11

5. Adrian: I am too much of a Fag. Watching fame on sabc 1 and loving it, also really digging the entire cowboy motif. Mmmm cowboys.
23:09:21

6. Adrian: i am all g'd up =) just loafing in front of the tele. Mmmm
23:14:21

7. Adrian: I really want to see kurt now. So how hot was he again... in inches?
23:20:04

8. Adrian: Where is his hot boyfriend? Don't tell me. I wanna watch it myself =) birds of prey has another really hot black guy. i'm forced to believe they are out there
23:29:02

9. Warren: A have 2 'free samples' but it's a non-smoking room with a smoke detector. Waiting for an opportunity :-]
05:25:11

Survivor: International

Ant, after being asked what he thought of an 'Survivior International' where the contestants are from different countries, and not just the States: "Yeah, but the others would probably end up cooking and eating the American."

City, sun

Spent the day frying various bits of me at Sun City. Stunning friends.

29

Today I turn 29. One more year of being irresponsible. Went out for drinks last night with Warren, picnic with the usual bunch tomorrow.

Al leaves

Al goes back to the land of Sky today. *sigh*

Warren quote-of-the-day

Birds of a feather clump like semen in water, or something.

Al arrives

Al arrives from the UK on Friday morning. And Warren either arrives today or tomorrow - must check with him. Yay, the holidays!

Guy Fawkes

Today is Guy Fawkes. And has come to be a tradition with for me with this holiday, two things happened: it rained, and I didn't celebrate it.

Which is a pity, because I love fireworks.

Phraseology

"An ellipsis of awkwardness wandered in, and hung around silently."

Ooh, yes.

Control

You have absolutely no control over anything in this universe. Absolutely nothing. But you do have absolute control over your reactions to your circumstances.

One week until Ramsgate

One week until we're all off to Ramsgate. Can't wait!

Back from Mozambique

Just got back from Mozambique. Went with Mark (boss), David (other boss), Bryce and Miles (co-workers). Stayed <a href="http://www.nhambavale.co.za/">here</a>, and David took <a href="http://www.davidepstein.co.za/MozBW/">these pictures</a>.

Restraining orders

Never underestimate the power of keeping your mouth shut.

So you want to learn Japanese?

So you want to learn Japanese? Amy sent me this this.

Family values

Adamm's Family Values - such a cool movie.

"Do you believe in the existence of evil?"

"Have you met my mom?"

Other blogs

So I show this to Stefan. And he counters with this. Cool. :)

On blogging

Well, after a morning of checking out blogging software, inspired by a webmonkey article, I settled on moveabletype. Nifty.