Not an auspicious return to blogging, I'll admit. My penis's new name is Darth Vader the Strangely Proportioned Liquorice Strap.Name Your Penis today! Created with Rum and Monkey's Name Generator Generator.
Life is very hectic at the moment for reasons I can't blog about. Sorry everybody!
Dammit, I can't blog at the moment. My brain is too fried. So here's my entry in Dom's orgasm-drawing competition (the rules specify you can only draw in MS Paint). Clicky for big, if you really need to see it in its pixellated glory.
Went to see Derren Brown at the Cambridge theatre. He was quite funny and entertaining, but I found most of his manipulation and trickery too obviously trickery -- there were too many ways he could have been cheating if you didn't take what he was saying at face value. And the fact that he revealed he had many cameras in the roof didn't really help his claims that he wasn't looking. Also, at about 7pm today I suddenly went quite severely cross-eyed and was pretty much unable to see anything for about half an hour. It slowly cleared up. I think it was a muscle spasm in my eyes, but if I suddenly die of a stroke tomorrow let's not all pretend like there were no warning signs, ok? I have a headache from hell at the moment, which always follows eye trouble for me. This week is going to be hell, I can tell.
My latest excursion in a regular series of theatre outings with A was to Shakespeare's As You Like It at the Wyndham. It was excellently done: the language, so often a problem with Shakespeare, was so flowingly spoken and meaningfully expressed that there was no problem at all. It helped my enjoyment that the costumes were all set in the 1920s (my favourite period) and that various portions were set to music, ranging from cheerful folk songs to 1950s big-band crooning. Totally unsubtle sexual innuendo and the occasional burst of slapstick completed the picture of theatre as I love it most: unpretentious, slightly silly, a little bit dirty, and entirely fun.
I had hayfever yesterday, or so I thought, because everybody was complaining about their hayfever and I was all sniffly and stopped up. However, today everyone else was fine but I was still sniffly and sneezy, suggesting that perhaps I just happened to catch a cold on the same day as a ridiculously high pollen count. Is there any reliable way of telling them apart? Today's excursion in a(nother) packed week was dinner, coffee and excellent conversation with I, who definitely doesn't read this blog and would be annoyed to find out I'd blogged about it. He gets to write stuff with Matt Lucas, which makes him among the coolest people I know, frankly.
It's Miss-Shapes again tonight. Yay! Following up on yesterday's post: apparently, the medication you take for hayfever depresses the immune system. Thus, if what you have is not in fact hayfever but a cold, then taking hayfever medication is the worst possible thing you can do. Thus, I've had quite a bad cold. Ah well. I live and learn, and frequently injure myself in the process.
A big thank you to Holy Moly's Cunts Corner for perfectly expressing my feelings about Bob Geldof, and Live 8 in general: As if listening to your piss-poor proto-punk wasn't punishing enough. Now we have to see your smug, hedge-haired head popping up all over the place telling us we don't care quite as much as you do about the world's ills and people's freedoms - how about people's freedom to legally sell things on Ebay? Eh? Not so happy then are you? What you've actually done is turn a serious issue into something which dog-shit thick plebs can pretend they care about by watching Keane and Joss Stone with a hundred thousand other wristband-wearing irretrievable cunts before going home to do fuck all about it except bang on about how they were "part of shitting history." We knew they were poor already, and we were ignoring it. We will know they are poor after the concert, and we still won't do anything about it. The whole concert and those fucking awful wristbands are just a huge sop to...
So Saturday night was the final evening of the latest series of Doctor Who. First off, I have a confession to make: I never really watched Doctor Who before. I saw a few episodes, I knew what a Dalek was, but television in Trinidad didn't really understand the concept of schedules and seasons when I was growing up, so seeing the same show at the same time two weeks in a row was considered pretty good going, and two-parters were basically the kiss of death because you knew you'd never see the second part. So although I knew it was a show with a lot of geek cred, I didn't know why. But now I do. Doctor Who is often described as science fiction. But it's not really. Science plays a cursory and frequently ignored role (the show's main premise, time travel, is probably impossible, and it all goes downhill from there as far as plausability goes). What Doctor Who really is, I submit, is a comic book. Comic books are all about cool powers that are introduced without explanation, then hastily back-filled...
A deep, dark, angry comic book. Everything a Batman movie should be. Not as pretty as Tim Burton's dark fantasies, but a damn sight more believable and a hell of a lot of fun. And it goes without saying that Joel Schumacher's foul abortions are already a fading memory. Go see! Four stars out of five! On a completely different note, congratulations to Jamie and Davinder on their results today, and good luck to Mikey! (And if you've got your results and not told me yet, then why not?)
It's not very scientific, it must be said: You Are a Pundit Blogger! Your blog is smart, insightful, and always a quality read. Truly appreciated by many, surpassed by only a few. What kind of blogger are you? Miss-Shapes tonight, whee! Other things of note: today at work we had a 15-minute IRC conversation which consisted of shouting other people's names at random. And a 10-minute argument about who was sitting closest to whom, which involved drawing diagrams and using Pythagoras' theorem. It's that kind of office, and it was that kind of day.
Via HolyMoly: Jonathan Ross is being paid £45k to present Live8. Nuff said.
Must try harder Uncorrupted You are 81% pure! The 100 Point Sexual Purity Test written by ocicat on Ok Cupid
If you hang around geeks a lot, and heard the phrase "software patents" uttered in their presence, you'll have already experienced the barrage of invective that tends to result. What you may not have heard -- or may not have understood -- is why software patents are such a bad thing. Richard Stallman is writing about this issue in the Guardian today. But I think his case could be made more clearly: Software patents are not the same as copyright. Copyright takes a work of art and says that you cannot copy it without the author's permission. You also cannot make a derivative work based on that art without the author's permission. Whether or not you're a fan of copyright (I am, although I have some reservations), the definition where copyright begins and ends is relatively clear-cut. George Lucas can sue you if your story is about X-Wings piloted by wookies, but he cannot sue you if your story is about spaceships piloted by big hairy apes. With software patents, that's no longer true. Lucas could sue...
Q: I'm attempting to log into my server, but the site keeps taking me back to the front page and asking me to log in again. It doesn't say I've got my password wrong, in fact I know it's right. So why is this? A: You probably have browser cookies turned off. Q: I have two SQL statements with one condition each. They both work. I'm trying to combine the two, but the results are totally wrong. What am I doing wrong? A: You should be joining your conditions with a logical AND, not an OR, otherwise your answer is the union of the two sets, instead of the intersection, which is the answer you want. Q: You know, when you're in Bosnia, and you step on a mine, and your legs go flying away, what's the word for that? A: I think the phrase you're looking for is "blown off". Three for three. I was on a roll.
Fun, lots of fun. Brad is sexy, Angelina is unbelievably hot, and the whole movie hints strongly of S&M foreplay of the kind that Ms. Jolie is famous for hinting at, which makes it feel deliciously naughty to watch. There are a plethora of excellent one-liners. Manages to avoid both action movie cliches and romantic comedy cliches despite very clearly being both. Two thumbs up, for fun in the absence of serious cinematic integrity.
Therefore I went to Miss-Shapes. Okay night; Sandra played Push It by Salt'n'Pepa again (such an out of place song!) but also Goldfrapp, so I guess she's forgiven. There was a cute guy in a white shirt who could really dance. It was good enough to stay past last tube but I left by 1.30. Why am I bothering to write all of this? Ah well.