Friday, February 25, 2005

Ah, in case you haven't read dear Orkney Dullard's comment below and checked out Go Fug Yourself, I sincerely recommend you do. This is true snarkiness. The level of snark that I would express if I had time/motivation. Admirable and excellent.

Thursday, February 24, 2005

Vicious Cycle

I feel a bit guilty for not writing anything recently, and the guilt is compounded when I read the many glorious posts on my favourite blog, Manolo's Shoe Blog. This blog, it is super-fantastic. The Manolo, he is the shit.
However, I feel less guilty because I am don't think anyone is reading my blog. Granted, that might be because I don't write anything. Ah, the vicious cycle.

Monday, February 14, 2005

A few notes on using the telephone...

The weekend was a tempestuous mixture of good and evil-- mostly it was fun, but someone also nicked my wallet, which does sort of put a damper on things. However, there is a silver lining even on this cloud (which is quite dark, as I particularly liked my wallet), as one of the finest weekend moments occurred while I was cancelling my credit cards. I dialed 1.800. something-I-can't-remember.5878, which I had written down as the VISA cancelling number. In case you were wondering, this number is not correct. You would actually want to dial 5678, unless you were actually looking to be greeted by a throaty voice saying: 'Heee-llllo, Handsome. Looking for the raunchiest live phone sex? Then hang up now and dial 800.10.10, only 89 cents a minute... Baa-aby. Let's go, hot stuff.' While I was intrigued, it was not by Bambi/Trixie's compliments on my assets, but by the distinct changes in her voice: sort of dead-souled spinster receptionist when giving the numbers and prices, and then completely different (wannabe Bond-girl, really) when she was telling me what a stud I am. It is even more upsetting as even if I had wanted raunchy live chat I no longer have a credit card, and so Trixie would almost certainly deny me her lovin'. Capitalist bitch.

On a vaguely related note, this morning I answered the phone to one of my greatest pet peeves. The conversation went like this:
Dev: Hello?
Stranger: Hello.
Dev: Hello?
Stranger: Yes.
Dev: Can I help you?
Stranger: Who is this?
Dev: I'm sorry, but who is this?
If this person calls ME, in my own home, in what universe do they have the right to ask who I am? I rate this sort of phone activity right up there with the incidents in my early teenage years where a boy would call 'to talk,' but not actually have anything to say, and would just breathe heavily into the receiver, or worse yet, play the guitar.

Other things happened this weekend, including a dinner party, a night out at the pub, a great deal of cooking and dish-washing, a movie, and quite a bit of TV, but I thought I would stick with a theme. Mostly because I am lazy, and can't be bothered to write a blow-by-blow of it all. Just as I assume you wouldn't be bothered to read it.

Tuesday, February 01, 2005

I have been reminded of my failure to mention two additional exciting events of this weekend:
1) The indie creations of Tiny Monkey on Friday night were wondrously supported by the return of Josh on the decks. Unfortunately, Jeff and I left to tend to the washing machine shortly after he began, so I cannot report on the value thereof. It does seem that he got a round of applause at the end-- a vast improvement from Gaia, the previous regular venue, where I think one's sucess is measured by how many underage drinkers vomit alco-pops on the dance floor...
2) It was Bekah's birthday. I may be 4,000 miles away, but it remains a momentous occasion.