I was very, very bored, so I went across to Dell’s UK site and configured a quad-processor server worth Â£96,405.22 – and you can be sure they’ll take that 22p – by the simple expident of choosing the most expensive components on offer. Hmm. I think a nap is indicated.
After I buy two or three of these servers, of course…
In an idle moment, I was glancing over the shelf of cleaning equipment in the bathroom as I brushed my teeth, and something struck me as being quite strange. Nearly all the products tout the word “professional” in their descriptions, as if that was some badge of wondrous merit. So we have:
1. Professional Dettol Anti-Bacterial Surface Cleaner
2. Pledge Natural Furniture Polish – Professional
3. Mr. Muscle Glass Cleaner – for Professional Use Only
4. Professional Windowlene
5. Flash Bathroom Spray – P&G Professional
6. Spot and Stain Remover – Johnson Wax Professional
That last one in particular makes me… er… wax lyrical. It’s so good to know that we don’t have mere amateur cleaning products here in Brockwood – we have Standards!
This is all very well; in fact, I’m glad we have professional bathroom spray, furniture polish and glass cleaner, but what really caused the old eyebrows to move northwards was the fact that we use this product:
Yep. Professional toilet paper. Strange but true. Nothing but the best for the posterior here! Ah, what would we do if our toilet paper wasn’t up to standards? Horror!
I confess to being quite excessively irritated when I come across poor grammar and spelling on forums and in conversation – unless someone is putting it on as a joke, or English is clearly not their first language. I’m not vindictive, and I don’t say anything, but I admit there’s a quick twinge of irritation when I see someone type “lense”; or someone who doesn’t use capital letters, or neglects punctuation altogether.
I’m not quite sure what it is that irritates me so much, but there it is. I have to sit on my hands occassionally to prevent myself posting or making a snarky comment (something I find myself doing more and more, both online and in conversation).
Yes, I’m old-fashioned and fuddy-duddy. :p
My candle burns at both ends,
It will not last the night,
But ah my foes and oh my friends
It gives a lovely light.
– Edna St. Vincent Millay
Lovely sentiment, in theory. In practice, it’s scarcely a lovely light, it’s more of a dull throbbing behind the eyelids, and a feeling of general world-weariness. Why, oh why did the APs have to call at that god-forsaken hour of the morning?
…If it wasn’t for the convenient fact that they have all been cremated, and not buried. This morning I just realised that in this climate, I’m only having a shower every other day when my lifestyle is this enforced sedentary one. It’s terrible! Tragic! I can feel the eagle-eyed glare of my grandmother, bless her name, boring through my head like a steel gimlet from every inch of her 4’11”, daring me to even consider not being pristine every morning – but hey, what do I do to warrant it? I sit around most of the day, walk a little – and that’s about all I can manage. I do of course see the necessity of washing away one’s sins after exercise, but in gentle spring weather, what need?
But as I said, I’m sure they’d be turning in their graves, and I’m sure there are some fish in the Bay of Bengal that are starting to feel a strange rotary force. I’m sorry! I have sinned! Forgive me!
Damn allergies! Damn pollen! I hate sniffing and snorting my way through the morning, every morning. It may last only a couple of hours, but I dislike it. Intensely. I can only imagine what it would be like to be a severe sufferer, and give thanks that I am not.
Now it all goes horribly wrong (if it doesn’t, increase the sleep time until it does).
How lovely. I have it all working fine, and then you tell me to break it. Then you want me to fix it. I had it working already!! Sheesh!
Yeah, yeah, I know the point he was trying to make – this just amused me, that’s all.
I woke up this morning feeling somewhat disgruntled and dissatisfied with life, mostly because of lack of sleep (I was talking about Brockwood with various people till close to 2 am), and in that mood I discovered I was also hungry, so I scoured the room for any sign of edible objects, only to discover that all I had was a packet of dried pineapple slices and one of chocolate raisins. In a moment of weakness, I scarfed down most of both, and I am paying for it now. As Billy Idol’s “Dancing with Myself” echoes through the room, I can hear my insides reproaching me for my lack of foresight in choosing a breakfast food.
What makes it even worse is that there are probably alternatives available in the house; but I was too lazy to go investigate. Oh well. Perhaps cleaning up will help restore some sense of internal order.
I know it was fairly sedate, austere even. I’m just wondering whether that’s made me naive or sensible. I certainly didn’t have the opportunity to experiment with drugs or alcohol when I was in school – it just wasn’t available either in school or at home – and I certainly don’t think it’s been a loss. I know my own mind now, and I feel competent to take my own decisions, which is much more than I could have said when I was a teenager. Peer pressure or boredom is a most idiotic reason to get into something which could have serious consequences, and I’m glad I was shielded from that until I became an adult and took complete responsibility for myself.
Of course it’s partly a cultural thing, and partly a personal thing, but I was just wondering. A little square, perhaps, some people might say, but I feel it’s right for me. I don’t think every experience is necessarily good or needs to be gone through, and while I have no wish to foist my view on other people, it strikes me that diving into something without scope for pause is… shortsighted, at the very least.
Carefully disguised as an extract from “The Hobbit”, but spam nonetheless. Fascinating.
V I A G R A
V A L I U M
P r o z a c
A m b i e n
L e v i t r a
C I A L I S
X a n a x
seemed supper-time would soon do the same. There were moths fluttering about, and the light became very dim, for the moon had not risen. Bilbos pony began to stumble over roots and stones. They came to the edge of a steep fall in the ground so suddenly that Gandalf’s horse nearly slipped down the slope. Here it is at last! he called, and the others gathered round him and looked over the edge. They saw a valley