Happy Halloween. If I weren't so lame and tired, I would have worn my spider hat to work today so you could see it. It's so cool, I made it several years ago for Halloween. Now I wish I'd worn it. Oh well.
So I'm not going to be able to update much in the next few days (surprise!) because I'm going to be over at WEB2000, I'll be around the Blogger booth (on the show floor, off in the back, to the left from where you enter) quite a bit, and I'm also speaking on Bryan's web apps panel on Friday morning, so if you're around, stop by. And hey, did you see this weblogging article in the Wall Street Journal yesterday? I'd write a longer response to it, but I'm swamped.
Have a safe and happy halloween, don't eat the candy with the razor blades in it. Nobody wants to see that now, do they?
Everything is far
and long gone by.
I think that the star
glittering above me
has been dead for a million years.
I think there were tears
in the car I heard pass
and something terrible was said.
A clock has stopped striking in the house
across the road…
When did it start?…
I would like to step out of my heart
and go walking beneath the enormous sky.
I would like to pray.
And surely of all the stars that perished
one still exists.
I think that I know
which one it is
which one, at the end of its beam in the sky,
stands like a white city…
– Rainer Maria Rilke (from The Selected Poems of Rainer Maria Rilke)
It turns out the game was on TV afterall. Now I wish it wasn't. My Saturday's off to a sad start…
New York's, and World's, Finest. Ick. I've refrained from talking at all about the World Series because I don't particularly care for either team, but I had hoped to see the Mets win. I guess I was secretly rooting for the Mets, just to see the Yankees lose. Alas, no. Stupid Yankees. I hate the Yankees.
And speaking of sports, the big game tomorrow isn't going to be broadcast here because stupid children's programming is on. Kids! How come kids get priority over #1 Nebraska vs. #3 Oklahoma? Huh? The New Adventures of Winnie the Pooh? I want to see Crouch and the option crush Oklahoma, not the Mickey MouseWorks. And I don't want to go to a bar at 9 am to do it.
I'm still sick and I'm still cranky, and I want to watch football tomorrow. Waaaahhh!!!!!
I'm sick and it's raining outside. Sucky suck suck. Would someone please bring me some soup for lunch?
Some days I'm amazed that anything gets accomplished in this world at all. I went to the Department of Parking and Transportation this morning to get a residential parking permit. Since I have a garage, I hadn't bothered to get one until now. Luck was on my side this morning though, I found a parking space nearly out front, I walked in and there was no line, and I presented my credentials. I live in area J. For some reason the parking permits in different neighborhoods expire on different dates. So you could live in area M and your permit would expire next February. But in area J, the permit expires on November 1. (Why not the calendar year for everyone? one might ask.) Which means, it being October 25th and all, that I had two options. Come back in November for a permit that would be valid for one year (and cost $27), or pay $13.50 for a permit good through the end of November (at first I feared it would expire in five days, luckily they're not *that* stupid).
"Can't you just sell me the November one now?" I pleaded.
"No, I can't." said the woman, whose response time can only be compared with that of a three-toed sloth.
In the end, I settled for paying the $13.50 and getting the short-term permit. The reason? I can at least renew by mail, and avoid ever visiting the DPT office again. My hope? I won't have a car by the end of November anyway, and this whole experience will fade from memory quickly, never to be revived again.
I swear to God I wrote about mylackey.com awhile back in here, but searching through Blogger, I can't seem to locate the post. Am I just imagining past posts? Am I losing my mind? Probably. Anyway, in this fictitious post (to which I would simply link if it existed), I wrote how I couldn't wait for this service to arrive in San Francisco. And now it seems it never will. Goodbye mylackey, RIP.
Of course, this post wouldn't be complete without a little megnut speculation: maybe the term "lackey" lead to their downfall. Lackey doesn't sound very high-brow, and I hear they were charging rather high prices for their services. Maybe they needed something more upper-crust in their name? "MyMan.com" would have been good. You know in those old movies, people always had a "man." "I'll have my man bring the car around." (Of course, on second thought, this could be confused with some sort of web-based boyfriend delivery service, "Bring me my man!" or "A man to your door, in less than an hour!") "MyJeeves.com"? Hmmm….kind of taken, though if you ask me, I'd want to Ask Jeeves for more than just answers, I want action, results, "Jeeves, bring me my dry-cleaning!", etc.
What about "MyButler.com"? That could work. I think Americans secretly crave all the trappings of the upper class English manor lifestyle, what else explains the preponderance of Jane Austen film adaptations? If only MyLackey had been names MyButler…MyButler'd be getting my car's parking permit and picking up my laundry at this very moment.
James Brown 40th Anniversary Collection (it's so boogieable, I can't sit still!)
Hyper-expectant, like Christmas Eve when I was a kid. When I was little, I could barely fall asleep the night before Christmas. I'd go up to bed and just squirm, my heart would pound in my chest and it was impossible to keep my eyes closed for more than a minute or two. So I'd lay there, in the dark, in the quiet, desperately straining to hear the hooves of the reindeer setting down on the roof above my head. When you're listening that hard, every creak and groan of the house sounds like the distant jingle of Santa's approaching sleigh.
William posts some more scanned images from another UK Blogger article, this one from The Independent. The UK sure likes us. I think it's because the word "Blogger" sounds like it could be British. Just say this sentance with an British accent and you'll see what I mean, "Nigel, you bloody blogger, where's me vinegar for me fish n' chips?! And turn on the telly, ya blogging bastard!"
How many jokes can you make with the word, crampon? Isn't it a funny word? It sounds like a disease, "Doctor, we've got another case of crampon in the ER!" It also sounds like a verb, "pb, have you cramponed the tent?" And of course, it works well with America's favorite jingle, "Cramp on! Cramp off!…"