With the news that Microsoft will finally be removing Clippy the Chirpy Paperclip Assistant from Microsoft Office we can all heave a big collective sigh of relief.
Who can forget some of his more memorable advice?
"To uninstall me you need a Microsoft Manager security rating or higher. NSA security clearance is not enough."
"To minimise me please input an 11 digit prime number"
"I am hard-coded to Always Remain On Top, and specifically designed to cover over any menus or toolbars you may wish to access."
"Whoops, you didn't want to click that. You have opened a porno pop-up, your mother has been notified."
"Your vocabulary isn't quite as good as it could be, your Internet Cookie information has been accessed and a complete set of Encyclopedias has been ordered from Amazon for you."
"I can morph into several different shapes. None of them easilly recognisable or at all pertaining to your query."
"Please input your search query into the above text box and I will randomly select a topic from the help file of an entirely different program, like Paintshop Pro."
I'd just like to thank Microsoft for introducing Clippy in the first place. Where better than in a professional package of Office-based applications can the comical characterisations of a bit of twisted metal have come to light? Our lives will be much better off without him. I'd like everyone to vote for the one category they haven't put up on his page;
Rusty paper-clip that's fallen down the back of the desk and nobody is desperate enough to retrieve because there're several billion other paper-clips out there that'll do the job just as well.
Maybe he'll come back as a staple.
Two weeks ago, I, D, bought a Logitech Wingman Digital Extreme 3D joystick cause it looked really cool and had lots of buttons and functions and was a pure gadget.
I bought it from a place I can't name for legal reasons... let's call it... Bixon's. I wanted to try out a Microsoft Sidewinder 2 first and they told me it was not their policy to allow customers to try products out before purchase. I said fine, bought it on plastic, walked out onto Oxford St, opened it, had a quick go, didn't like it, took it back in, asked for an exchange.
If looks could kill.
So, got my Logitech joystick, oooooo... took it home waiting expectantly to play Freespace 2 in all it's Nebula-glory. The joystick froze the computer up during setup and I promptly uninstalled *everything* to do with it because I hate Safe Mode.
Tried again last night and it did the same thing, I *hate* Safe Mode.
So, I went to take it back today and when I asked for a refund was told that the item had been opened. Bixon's obviously hires straight from Mensa. Yes, I had to open it to install it and find out it conflicted with other stuff. I could have a replacement if I wanted as refunds are within seven days of purchase. Yes, I'll take the replacement if its under full guarantee also. Of course sir. Thank you for giving me an unopened replacement, can I have a refund on this please? (Thanks to Scott Kurtz from PvPOnline for having pointed out this commercial loophole)
The moral of the story is, it doesn't matter if you win or lose, so long as you win.
Who says that you can't communicate effectively online? At D's office there's a girl called Elizabeth who goes by the pet name Buffy, this is not about her.
D: What's Buffy's full name?
pixeldiva: Buffy Anne Summers
pixeldiva: (I'm guessing you mean Sarah Michelle Gellar's character in the show)
D: Yeah, how would you know our Buff's full name?
pixeldiva: fanfic.
pixeldiva: :-)
pixeldiva: these guys know *everythign*
pixeldiva: everything even
pixeldiva: speaking of which.
D: I meant *our* Buff. Not the TV show one.
pixeldiva: then how would I know that?
D: (banging head on desk)
D: That's what I'm trying to say!
D: What is this? Abbot and Costello?!
pixeldiva: you asked me what Buffy's full name was
pixeldiva: I said "Buffy Anne Summers" (assuming you mean SMG) - you say yeah. what am I supposed to glean from that?
pixeldiva: why would you ask me what one of your colleague's full names was?
D: Your comment "I'm guessing you mean Buffy from the TV show"
D: My reply, "Yeah, how would you know our Buff's full name?"
D: You took this to mean I was referring to SMG as "Our Buff"
pixeldiva: easy enough done
D: When I meant that the difference lies between SMG and Our Buff.
pixeldiva: anyway. what was your point?
pixeldiva: why were you asking me her full name?
D: I didn't make a point.
D: Doireann wanted to know.
pixeldiva: and that involves me how?
D: You know Buffy's full name.
D: Is this the circle logic game or something?
pixeldiva: oh good god.
pixeldiva: i do not know the full name of the person called Buffy who works in your office.
D: Tht's what I'm saying!
pixeldiva: oh hells teeth. so why in the name of holy hell did you ask me then?!?!?!
D: Now, what's the guy's name on first base!!!!
pixeldiva: D: What's Buffy's full name?
D: Doireann wanted to know Buffy The Vampire Slayer's full name!!!!!!
pixeldiva: right.
D: You told me!
D: That was it!
pixeldiva: (bangs head on desk)
D: Now when the guy who play's first base comes for his cheque every month, who gets it?!
pixeldiva: i'm not doing this.
D: You just did for the past five minutes.
D: Please blog that.
Thank you, we'll be here all week. No applause, just throw money.
I just called D. He was in a noisy restaurant. He said he'd call back in a couple of minutes, because they were just about to leave.
I however, am at home. On a Friday night. My eyes are red from crying at tonight's Buffy episode and my parents just called from the local chippie and asked if I wanted anything brought home. My automatic reply was "a sausage supper please".
D has just called back. While walking from the noisy restaurant, with his noisy happy jolly (and probably slightly pissed) housemates, to what I assume will be a noisy pub, filled with similarly noisy happy jolly and pissed people.
I however, am on my way to nowhere, in silence, with no alcohol (okay, that's not stricltly true. I do have alcohol, I just think that sitting and drinking on my own is a road I don't want to go down quite this early in life), and no happy jolly pissed friends.
This is just one of the many, many reasons why me being in Scotland and him being in London sucks. Sucks hard. Sucks long. Sucks a golf ball through a garden hose.
Did I mention that it sucks?
Hands up anyone who thought my day was going to start thus:
Friday morning: 7:00 am: Alarm goes off.
Friday morning: 7:09 am: Alarm goes off.
Friday morning: 7:18 am: Alarm goes off.
Friday morning: 7:27 am: Alarm goes off.
Friday morning, 7:30 am (ish): Drag my ass out of bed, wash hair, get dressed, dry hair, go to work.
That many huh? Yeah, me too.
Instead, my day started thus:
7:00 am: Alarm goes off.
7:09 am: Alarm goes off.
7:18 am: Alarm goes off.
7:20 am: Mum knocks on door. Asks me to get up, and says something about my alarm having gone off three times already and that my dad won't get up either.
7:25 am: Drag my ass out of bed, thinking that Dad is just being as lazy a bastard as I am this morning.
7:26 am: Stop at my dad's room door and watch my mum shaking my dad and shouting his name repeatedly, with no response. Shout "dad" a few times. No response.
7:27 am: Start to get slightly concerned.
7:35 am: Shout "dad" a few more times. Still no response. Hover around door, feeling uncomfortable about going into the room, lest he come too and be mortified at my presence in the same room as him, while he's still in bed and wearing pyjamas.
7:40 am: Go to bathroom. Hear mum shouting dad's name a few more times while I pee and brush my teeth.
7:45 am: Stand ineffectually in the hall while mum phones the emergency doctor service.
7:46 am: Shout "dad" a few times, while mum tries to rouse him again.
7:50 am: Dr phones. Tells mum to dial 999.
7:51 am: Rush upstairs to get dressed and move obstacles out of hallway so ambulance crew can get him out easily, if necessary.
7:56 am: Send SMS message to D to let him know what's happening while I keep one eye on the window looking out for the ambulance.
8:01 am: Ambulance arrives.
8:02 am - 8:30 am: Run up and down stairs ferrying blood glucose monitor, little sticky things and the thing that makes a hole in your thumb to the ambulance crew who are attempting to feed my insulin dependant diabetic dad glucose because they think he's in a hypo, while at the same time keeping the cats under control, because they've picked up the stress in the air and are confused and upset. Open the door for the second ambulance crew who have been called because they still can't revive him enough and the first two guys can't get him out without assistance.
8:35 am: Feel slightly relieved to hear the second crew be told that they're probably not needed because he's started to come round, and also because if it's a hypo it wasn't a stroke.
8:40 am: Get in the ambulance to go to the hospital with my dad.
8:45 am: Check dad into the hospital and go outside to phone the office and let them know that I'll be late in. Feel incredibly irritated and angry when my boss asks me "what exactly happened to your dad?" as if telling him that I had to call an ambulance and am standing in the ground of the hospital isn't reason enough for me to be a little late.
9:30 am: Get home again, with dad in tow, having got a clean bill of health from the hospital, with a diagnosis of hypo and absolutely no idea why.
9:45 am: Get myself some toast, and a drink, and take several deep breaths.
9:55 am: Get changed, brush hair, and go to work.
The rest of the day was kinda blurry and blunt. The adrenaline departed eventually, taking all my energy reserves with it.
The silver lining?
I managed to stay awake all evening despite having a blinding headache, although perhaps watching tonight's Buffy episode wasn't such a smart idea. It was "The Body".
Too close for comfort, really.
Tuesday morning: 7:00 am: Alarm goes off.
Tuesday morning: 7:09 am: Alarm goes off.
Tuesday morning: 7:18 am: Alarm goes off.
Tuesday morning: 7:27 am: Alarm goes off.
Tuesday morning, 7:30 am (ish): Drag my ass out of bed, wash hair, get dressed, dry hair, go to work.
Tuesday evening, 5 pm: Leave office
Tuesday evening, 6 pm (ish): Pull quilt over my head in order to shut out all possible light/noise and go to sleep, in an attempt to ease the pounding in my head.
Tuesday night, 11:30 pm (ish): Wake up. Headache less but not gone. Try to get back so sleep again. Can't. Get up. Phone D. Not there/answering. Huh. Leave message. Sit at computer for a while.
Wednesday morning: 2:59 am: Log off irc and go back to bed.
Wednesday morning: 7:00 am: Alarm goes off.
Wednesday morning: 7:09 am: Alarm goes off.
Wednesday morning: 7:18 am: Alarm goes off.
Wednesday morning: 7:27 am: Alarm goes off.
Wednesday morning, 7:30 am (ish): Drag my ass out of bed, wash hair, get dressed, dry hair, go to work.
Wednesday evening, 5 pm: Leave office
Wednesday evening, 6 pm (ish): Go downstairs to sort out the cooked chicken bought for my dinner and make a meal from it. Bright light! Bright light! Roughly hack off one side of chicken breast, throw on plate, add black pepper, eat with fork.
Wednesday evening, 6:30 pm (ish): Pull quilt over my head in order to shut out all possible light/noise and go to sleep, in an attempt to ease the pounding in my head.
Wednesday night, 10:30 pm (ish): Wake up to sound of very light knocking on my door. Headache less but not gone. Try and go back to sleep. Can't. Get up. Sit at computer for a while. Phone D, briefly. Sit at computer some more.
Thursday morning, 00:30 am (ish): Log off irc and go back to bed.
Thursday morning: 7:00 am: Alarm goes off.
Thursday morning: 7:09 am: Alarm goes off.
Thursday morning: 7:18 am: Alarm goes off.
Thursday morning: 7:27 am: Alarm goes off.
Thursday morning, 7:30 am (ish): Drag my ass out of bed, wash hair, get dressed, dry hair, go to work.
Thursday evening, 6 pm: Leave office (hah. bet you thought it'd be 5 again, right? - WRONG!)
Thursday evening, 6:38 pm: Pull quilt over my head in order to shut out all possible light/noise and go to sleep, in an attempt to ease the pounding in my head.
Thursday night, 11 pm (ish): Wake up. Headache less but not gone. Too hot. Open window. Lie still in the dark for a while enjoying the cool breeze coming in through the curtains. Phone D, right at start of West Wing. Curse Channel 4 for dicking around with schedule. Hang up shortly after so as not to interrupt viewing of previously missed episode. Realise that I'm not going to get back to sleep for a while. Get up. Sit at computer.
Anyone wanna take any bets as to the events of the next 24 hours in my life?
Anyone?
Anyone?
Bueller?
Well, I went to the hotel, all tarted up, with my oh-so-trendy knee-length skirt with the cheeky little split up the side, and my square-toed, wedge-heeled suede shoes, and my longline single button jacket with a neat little top underneath. I even ran straighteners over my hair and put on makeup [listens for the sound of fainting friends all around].
I shook the guys hand, and I showed him my stuff [my sites, gutterbrain!] and he seemed pretty keen, like in interviews, when they change tense and say "when" instead of "if".
Until the money was brought up.
Then he backpedalled and said he wanted to see some mocks before signing. So we've got another meeting with him a week on wednesday and I need to do mocks before then. No pressure. [grabs head in pain]
I had to do something today that I haven't had to do for over 8 years. I had to phone my doctor and ask for a prescription for the injection form of the migraine medication Imigran (known as Imitrex on the other side of the pond).
I had to do this because the migraine that I woke up with was so severe that I actually threw up.
The last time I had a migraine that severe, it started in the October after my 16th birthday, and lasted until the March of the year after. Months in which the doctors did everything but give me this particular medication.
The reason? It was new and it was expensive (£88 for two pre-filled syringes, or 6 tablets) and so I suffered throught months of being dosed up with 8 (or something, I stopped counting) different types of painkiller, 5 different anti-depressant drugs (that never worked because, gosh, I wasn't depressed, just pissed off that I had a constant migraine), valium (which also didn't work - it actually made me more hyper), enduring a CAT scan and three sessions with a psychologist/psychiatrist which ended with me howling the above remark about four month headache and quacks that wouldn't bloody help and me walking out of the room saying I wasn't coming back because I was wasting my time and theirs.
Eventually, they gave in and prescribed Imigran. I can still remember vividly loading up that injector pen for the first time, and holding it against my thigh, looking at my watch, and saying to myself "I'll press the button when the second hand gets to 30.... 45... 60.... 10.... ".
It took me an hour to get up the courage to push that button, but finally, I did. It hurt like hell. I could feel the liquid burn as it spread, and then I started to feel like I was dissolving. It was the strangest feeling. I woke up my parents (who'd gone to sleep because they were bored waiting for me to get with the programme and push the damn button) and explained that I felt really icky, and they just suggested I go lie down for a bit.
I did, and slowly the feeling passed, and after half an hour, it was as if a cloud was lifted. My migraine was gone. For the first time in months, my head didn't hurt. For a split second, I wondered if I was dead, but then I realised that my leg probably wouldn't be itching if I were.
I've had migraines in the intervening period, but none of them were severe enough to warrant me requesting the new and improved injector kit. Until today.
I'm taking this as a fairly big warning sign that I need to slow down and stop pushing myself the way I have lately.
I just need to get to this meeting tomorrow, and get through it and I'm home free. I'm flying down to London on the 6:30 flight tomorrow (well, I suppose it's really today now) to spend four nights with D.
I can hardly wait. I badly need a hug.
It's 2:30 am.
I'm tired.
I want to sleep but I can't, because I spent the entire evening sleeping off a migraine that hasn't quite departed.
I had the migraine because work is getting me down right now. I have what seems like a gazillion and one tasks to accomplish, and I'm doing them all an inch at a time and not actually finishing anything, hence, the satisfaction part of the job isn't being triggered.
I'm also stressing because I have to front up to one of the newest and trendiest hotels near me on Thursday to talk to them about doing their website, which, as if it wasn't stressful enough, is in the wake of them throwing out their current web designers because the site they spent thousands on just wasn't what they asked for. If we get it, it'll be a real coup for the company, and quite a posh feather in my "designer" cap... but I'm really stressing over it.
It's not that I think I can't do the site, because I know I can, and I know that what I'm going to want to do with it is what they're looking for, I'm just less comfortable actually fronting up to them, especially when I'm going to be turning up with a) my ever-present NHS issue elbow-crutch and b) our most designer-label conscious sales person.
I know that how I look and the fact that I have to walk with the aid of a crutch (or occasionally use a wheelchair) shouldn't affect their perception of my ability to do the job, but I've come up against discrimination of that kind too often to entirely discount it. Especially when it's something as important as this.
So I'll be hitting the shops again tomorrow lunchtime in a bid to find a suit jacket that I feel comfortable enough wearing, that fits me, and is not too expensive, in a bid to minimalise the potential appearance fallout.
I fear I'm doomed.
I joined the party late, as usual... and just as I felt I was starting to really get to know noah through his site, he felt he had to get away for a while. It saddened me, but I completely understood his need to pull back and hide for a while.
Nonetheless, I've checked every day in the hope that he feels up to facing the world again, and each day, I was met with the same picture.
Until today, when the picture changed.
I only hope that this means that things are starting to improve and that Noah will be back amongst us again soon.
I miss him.
Finally got TheSpark's Test to give me the results.
Apparently I do actually have a personality, and it reckons I'm a:
MASTERMIND
(Submissive Introvert Abstract Thinker )
Like just 9% of the population you are a MASTERMIND (SIAT). You can be silent and withdrawn, but behind your reserved exterior lies an active mind that allows you to analyze situations and come up with creative, unexpected solutions. Normal people call this "scheming." Don't learn German.
Anyway, your sense of style and originality are your strengths, and people will respect your judgment once they get to know you. If you learn to be a little more personable, you could be a great leader--you've definitely got the "vision" thing down. Just make sure all the plotting you do behind those eyes of yours is healthy
Interesting, and not a million miles from the results I got doing the Keirsey Test.
How ironic. I get sucked into doing TheSpark.com's Famous Personality Test (I'm a sucker for these things) and when I submit my results it gives me a page not found error.
Is someone trying to tell me something?
So, I'm reading davezilla and I decide to check out some of the linky goodness he's thoughtfully provided for us readers today.
So, I get to divine.nu and am somewhat humbled by an absolutely gorgeous design, and so I poke about a bit, read down his list of favourite blogs and am shocked, stunned, amazed and a bit flattered to find damaged amongst his links.
So, I decided to restore both damaged and the journal after deleting them in a fit of I don't know what a couple of weeks ago.
I'm still looking for a neater way to integrate them into this, but for now they're as they were when I was updating them, and the only bit that's missing is the blog entries that I did between shutting those two down, and moving to greymatter. Not that there's anything hugely interesting there anyway.
Start a new movement - 3At PrUn3Z
Just watched the DVD of House on Haunted Hill.
What a steaming pile of poo.
Scariest part?
The director.
He scary. He really scary. I mean, that man is cracked. Just check out his imdb entry.
Eeeeuuuugh.
I swear to god I'm going to stop reading SF based blogs. It's just too depressing.
I am, once more, pea green with envy having viewed Derek and Heather's weekend in pictures.
Even standing up a ladder with a paintbrush in her hand, she manages to look the picture of elegance. It's sickening really, especially since despite trying very hard, I can't find a real reason to hate her [sigh].
They even have a cat. Called Spoo. I wonder if that's B5 related.
On top of spending the latter part of the weekend watching R&G's San Francisco and Yosemite video footage, I'm more desperate than ever to go to SF.
In fact, I wanna go now.
'Scuse me while I just go and sit and sulk for a bit about the sheer unfairness of being stuck in a stinky armpit like the West of Scotland.
Hmmph.
Received via email:
"Dear All,
This is an early warning... If you receive a phone call and your mobile phone displays...
* !?UNAVAILABLE!? *
on the screen (for most of digital mobile phones with a function to display in-coming call telephone number). DON'T ANSWER THE CALL - END THE CALL IMMEDIATELY.
IF YOU ANSWER THE CALL, YOUR PHONE WILL BE INFECTED BY THIS VIRUS. This virus will erase all IMIE and IMSI information from both your phone and your SIM card, which will make your phone unable to connect with the telephone network. You will have to buy a new phone. This information has been confirmed by both Motorola and Nokia.
There are over 3 million mobile phones being infected by this virus in USA now. You can also check this news in the CNN website.
I have contacted Vodafone and they said they haven't had any reports yet but to be cautious. If you ever receive such calls end the call, do not answer. This could primarily effect WAP phones due to the micro browsers on the handset. Please forward this piece of information to all your friends who have digital mobile phones."
Not content with sending out email virus hoaxes, these donkeys are now going for both birds with one stone.
Not only do they create problems with everyone forwarding the email around the place, but they'll phone the mobile company and check. I'm quite sure the phone dollies at the various mobile phone companies found it quite amusing the first couple of times, but are probably fed up to the back teeth of answering the phone to panic merchants and well meaning secretaries (like the one who originally forwarded the message to D, who forwarded it on to me).
I suppose this is the downside to the huge leap in affordable technology - the potential for these hoaxers to take the piss out of Joe Average must be too tempting to pass up. Sad really, because I'm betting that there will be more than a few people who will give up on trying out new technologies because crap like this terrifies them too much.
Newsflash. Chips (fries, not potato chips) without vinegar are like Punch without Judy... it just ain't right.
Note to self: next time stop flouncing around in indignation and remember to put vinegar on the chips you silly moo.
Yes, I know I'm a lazy cow - or maybe just stupid... but has anyone incorporated blogger archives into greymatter, and if so can that anyone give me a hint or two on the best way to accomplish such a task?
I ain't got much to offer in reward, other than profuse public thankage, and my eternal gratitude, but won't you help me anyway?
Pretty please?
I realised tonight while playing with pianographique (link src=the lovely calamondin) that when I doodle, sooner or later I wind up repeatedly making the figure 8. sideways. like the infinity symbol.
I wonder what that says about me...
.... on second thoughts... I don't know if I really want to know...
Davezilla has now moved up to compete with Si's position as #1 finder of the sickest/weirdest* stuff on the internet.
Case for Davezilla:
Gourd Art by Judy Reed - words fail me, they really do.
Easter Bunny Poem (House Rabbit Journal v3, issue 7) - this is just too distressing - "In memory of all the bunnies we couldn't save." - waaaaaaahhhhh!
Case for SiW (although granted, he does read Zannah and does occasionally swipe a link or two from there... but still:
Poop healthcheck - WTF???
Manbeef.com -- Home - "Catering to the sophisticated human meat consumer" - uhhh...
Not much in it, is there?
*delete as appropriate
If this ever utters the immortal words "I'm sorry Dave, I can't do that..." then run.
Run fast.
Run far.
I bought D one of these dinky little Zen Garden's for him to take into work with him, for periods of intense stress.
I just got this in an aim message from him:
"One of my colleagues just asked what the little sandybox thing was. I told him it was a desktop version of minesweeper. From before they had computers. With the rocks buried in the sand and the rake as your minesweeper...
I think he believed me..."
I'm actually now coming round to the idea that it'd be far more fun to use it that way than to try and get the lines straight and circles round the stones... because it's impossible. At least with that rake thing. I know. I tried.
Momnut is in Paris, and I'm gut-wrenchingly jealous.
So I'm afraid you'll have to excuse me as I take a short stroll done memory lane...
That trip covered a lot of "firsts".
My first "proper" passport for my first time in an aeroplane. My first time going to France (although it was my second time out of the UK). My first time meeting D's mum and stepdad. My first time in a Disney park. So many firsts, so many seconds, so many time and agains, so many things started that are still continuing to this day... including my love for the area in Judy's first picture, and in particular, Shakespeare & Co.
It's not just a bookstore... it's far, far more than that. It's an experience that you never forget. It's been there almost forever, held up by the books. There isn't a nook or a cranny in that place left unfilled, but when you go beyond what's for sale, you find the real beauty of the place.
Scattered amongst the shelves both downstairs where the books are for sale, and upstairs where the books are purely for reference, are beds. These beds are there for anyone who might find themselves in Paris without a bed for the night. The condition is that you show up just before closing, and leave when the shop opens.
I've often wanted to go there and stay for the night, surrounded by the bohemian spirit of Paris, and of all the great and the not so great people who've stayed there in years gone by, with maybe enough time (if I could stay awake long enough) to fully investigate all the shelves in there.
Since getting the digital camera I've found myself more and more desperate to go back to Paris, retrace the steps I've taken on previous trips and document the places and moments that make Paris what it is - a city where dreams can come true.
[SiW] I tried that masturbating thing.. it worked
Oh dear god.
Answer me this guys, would shit like this actually work on you?
[link via the lovely Elise]
... the online home and (not very) alter(ed)-ego of Ann McMeekin, a recently freelance Web Accessibility Consultant.
... passionate about many things, most of which will turn up on this site at some time or other.
... contactable via email.
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