One of my favourite bloggers, Manuel, has returned in triumph with a shiny new website.
That has cheered me right up.
It also got me thinking about what makes me enjoy other blogs. Obviously I like mine best, because it's mine, and I know everyone in it, but you know, other people sometimes make me sit up and take notice.
Being a slightly anal* type, I thought I'd make a list of Things I Like In Other Blogs. There may also be a subsequent list of Things I Dislike In Other Blogs, but that seems a bit negative. Plus I am lazy. And ill. Did I already mention that?
So.
List:
1) Humour. I look for stuff that amuses me. Not necessarily laugh-out-loud comedy, but stories with a twist in them, something a bit offbeat and quirky. My favourite blogs feel like listening to a great friend in the pub telling a good story.
2) Intelligence. To be honest, I have seldom read a blog where I thought "Wow, this was written by a halfwit," probably because pressing the keyboard keys in the correct sequence to actually publish anything requires a sort of Plimsoll Line of intelligence. Typos and minor spelling errors are a fact of life, especially when you write in one hit and haven't worked out how to use the spell check function**, but stupidity is something else. Showing off your top-notch highbrow classical education is annoying though, probably because I never had one, so am suffused with envy.
3) Variety. This is a bit rich coming from someone whose life can be encapsulated under about three subject headings, but I like to read about other people having wild interesting times, things I didn't know about, places I might want to go to sometime. I've learned a lot from other blogs, sometimes too much. Dan, I am looking at you here.
4) Pictures. It took me about a year and a half to work out how to put pictures on my blog, and I love seeing them on other blogs. Especially if they have captions and/or labels. Big fan of that. Yes, I know the LOLCats franchise are teh Interweb market leaders, but I like to see the freelance sort as well. Antonia is spectacularly good at this.
5) Ranting. Well, any sort of impassioned diatribe really. As long as it's not too pious and worthy, that just bores me, being a selfish and short-attention span type of person. But a good rant is usually worth reading.
6) Swearing. As long as it is done with style. Manuel is a past master at this, which is another reason I am glad he's back.
7) Good nature. I'm not a fan of spitefulness, or maliciousness, or deliberate hurtfulness, so I like blogs which are mostly positive. Not "hello clouds, hello sky" stuff, though, that is too cloying and boring. Anything that gets spiteful turns me right off. It is perfectly possible to be grumpy and positive at the same time. I make it a mainstay of my daily life.
I started my own blog when I had a MySpace page, about 3 years ago now, and it was a way of keeping friends and family informed of stuff in a small way, plus it was a way to get myself back into writing after a very long break. I mentioned that I was lazy already? Anyway, I really enjoyed doing it, and when I kicked the MySpace thing into touch, I exported the whole lot across to Blogger, mostly because I was a huge fan of the much-missed Badgerdaddy, and liked the way his site looked.
It means that the first ever post on here is in fact about 20 posts (short ones) all squidged together, and covers a few weeks, but I can't be arsed to break it all up into individual days. I assume that if anyone is that interested, they will just scroll down the page. Do people read archives? I tend not to. Lazy. Sorry.
Hmm, that went a bit retrospective, which wasn't the intention. I guess reading Manuel's blog made me feel nostalgic, as he was one of the earliest commenters on here. Welcome back, matey. I missed you.
*Stop that
**I do that. Sorry about the typos and spelling errors.
Showing posts with label grumpy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grumpy. Show all posts
Tuesday, 5 January 2010
Wednesday, 16 September 2009
Decorated
Hell of a story on the news lately about the young Army officer who ran out of ammunition. It's very easy to imagine conflict going on at arm's length, all remote and technical like a video game, till you hear about this kind of thing. Blimey.
I was at Salisbury hospital a while back, hanging round the plastic surgery department while they assessed how well Mr WithaY's fingers were healing.
He got the thumbs-up* from the surgeon, and we headed back to the car. To get out of the hospital you had to walk along a huge corridor, passing many different side wards and rooms and so on.
As we walked, a nurse came out of a side corridor pushing a wheelchair. In the wheelchair was a young man. Well, most of a young man. He'd lost one arm, one leg (on the opposite side to the arm), most of the fingers on his remaining hand, and his face and body were a network of scars. He looked about 21. As they passed us I heard the nurse asking him "So, what medal are they giving you?"
I had to stop in an alcove and blow my nose for a few minutes.
I'm feeling a bit grumpy and out of sorts today, with a scratchy sore throat and a headache. It may just be because I am tired after the weekend and a couple of bad nights since, but if not, then I am getting a cold. Which, with my track record is bound to turn into chest infection. Ah yes, look on the bright side, I always say.
Other news: Kevin the Decorator is back! He is doing our hall, stairs and landing....walls, ceilings, woodwork and all. We bought the paint ages ago, and were full of good intentions to do it ourselves, but what with everything** going on over the summer we just didn't get round to it.
* heh
**involuntary amputation, bereavement, SSFH, all that stuff.
I was at Salisbury hospital a while back, hanging round the plastic surgery department while they assessed how well Mr WithaY's fingers were healing.
He got the thumbs-up* from the surgeon, and we headed back to the car. To get out of the hospital you had to walk along a huge corridor, passing many different side wards and rooms and so on.
As we walked, a nurse came out of a side corridor pushing a wheelchair. In the wheelchair was a young man. Well, most of a young man. He'd lost one arm, one leg (on the opposite side to the arm), most of the fingers on his remaining hand, and his face and body were a network of scars. He looked about 21. As they passed us I heard the nurse asking him "So, what medal are they giving you?"
I had to stop in an alcove and blow my nose for a few minutes.
I'm feeling a bit grumpy and out of sorts today, with a scratchy sore throat and a headache. It may just be because I am tired after the weekend and a couple of bad nights since, but if not, then I am getting a cold. Which, with my track record is bound to turn into chest infection. Ah yes, look on the bright side, I always say.
Other news: Kevin the Decorator is back! He is doing our hall, stairs and landing....walls, ceilings, woodwork and all. We bought the paint ages ago, and were full of good intentions to do it ourselves, but what with everything** going on over the summer we just didn't get round to it.
* heh
**involuntary amputation, bereavement, SSFH, all that stuff.
Thursday, 9 April 2009
Cold
As is traditional with a holiday coming up, I have gone down with a cold. Arse*. I woke up on Tuesday with a really sore throat, but put it down to my extensive muttering about protestors making me miss my train.
Yesterday I felt tired and chilly, but assumed I was just well, tired and chilly.
Today, however, I have a proper cold. Headache, shivery, sore throat, slightly snotty in a kind of "Oh you just wait till you try to go to sleep" kind of way.
And I still only have half a mobile. I can receive text messages but for some reason am unable to make or receive phone calls. I shall have to call the helpdesk tomorrow if it doesn't resolve itself overnight.
*Not a cold arse. I have one of those too, being a girly, but a cold. Arse.
Yesterday I felt tired and chilly, but assumed I was just well, tired and chilly.
Today, however, I have a proper cold. Headache, shivery, sore throat, slightly snotty in a kind of "Oh you just wait till you try to go to sleep" kind of way.
And I still only have half a mobile. I can receive text messages but for some reason am unable to make or receive phone calls. I shall have to call the helpdesk tomorrow if it doesn't resolve itself overnight.
*Not a cold arse. I have one of those too, being a girly, but a cold. Arse.
Monday, 17 March 2008
Immobile
Been under the weather today, so have done very little. Not something that normally stops me wittering on, I know, but I am not really feeling brilliant.
One thing that has contributed to the whole "not having a great day" - picked up a voice mail from my boss' boss' secretary asking me to call him "at my earliest convenience". Picked the message up at 6pm, it was left on my phone at 10 this morning.
Bollocks.
So, some explaining to do tomorrow. It's like living in the eighteenth century sometimes here.
Other news: Bugger all. Sorry.
One thing that has contributed to the whole "not having a great day" - picked up a voice mail from my boss' boss' secretary asking me to call him "at my earliest convenience". Picked the message up at 6pm, it was left on my phone at 10 this morning.
Bollocks.
So, some explaining to do tomorrow. It's like living in the eighteenth century sometimes here.
Other news: Bugger all. Sorry.
Sunday, 27 January 2008
Orange
Bastards.
My system has been having "issues" since Thursday evening, leaving me unable to run various web-based programmes, or to access certain websites.
Not even dodgy websites, mind, just normal sensible ones. Like the BT phone directory, for example.
Various helpful mates have tried stuff and offered advice but to no avail. This morning I found a forum which tells me that Orange are renowned for having all kinds of problems, news to me, thanks a lot, and that this kind of crap has left various of their customers without services for anything up to 9 weeks.
So. Am more than a little pissed off.
Can't play on-line games, can't check some of my emails, can't look up phone numbers, can't use various other services I need.*
Gah.
*Ok, want. But I am used to having everything in the world at my fingertips on demand, so it feels worse than it is.
My system has been having "issues" since Thursday evening, leaving me unable to run various web-based programmes, or to access certain websites.
Not even dodgy websites, mind, just normal sensible ones. Like the BT phone directory, for example.
Various helpful mates have tried stuff and offered advice but to no avail. This morning I found a forum which tells me that Orange are renowned for having all kinds of problems, news to me, thanks a lot, and that this kind of crap has left various of their customers without services for anything up to 9 weeks.
So. Am more than a little pissed off.
Can't play on-line games, can't check some of my emails, can't look up phone numbers, can't use various other services I need.*
Gah.
*Ok, want. But I am used to having everything in the world at my fingertips on demand, so it feels worse than it is.
Thursday, 11 October 2007
Fog
Interesting drive across Salisbury Plain this morning in the fog. I left home about 15 minutes later than normal (due to sloth and lethargy, mostly) so got stuck behind the bin lorry as it wended its way through the village. That added an extra 10 minutes to the trip, which was tiresome. I did get to watch how the binmen handle wheelie bins, though, which was mildly interesting.
In a "stuck in the fog behind a lorry in the village" kind of way.
And then across the Plain, every bend, dip and hill a new adventure as fuckwit after fuckwit risked not only their own life but mine too by overtaking in the fog. Where are these people going that is worth dicing with death like that?
It was ridiculous. I was doing 60, it's not like I was toddling along painfully slowly.
Not only were they driving on the wrong side of the road in low to zero visibility, many of them did it with no lights on. Gah! Fuckers.
Other news: Watched an episode of The New Adventures of Superman on TV last night. It was (I think) unintentionally hilarious. There was an "Oirish" character with probably the most appalling accent I have ever heard in a professional production.
I genuinely had no idea he was supposed to be Irish until he said something along the lines of "My Ancient Oirish Druid Ancestors would be proud of me". Made me laugh out loud, which frankly was a tough thing to achieve yesterday*.
Went to the gym after work, too, even though I didn't feel like it. So hurrah for me.
Off to the dentist later. It's a social whirl, I tell you.
Peg bucket still looks nice, by the way.
*Just Googled that episode. It's called "When Irish Eyes are Killing" which made me laugh out loud again. And the guilty actor is English. Which makes it even better.
In a "stuck in the fog behind a lorry in the village" kind of way.
And then across the Plain, every bend, dip and hill a new adventure as fuckwit after fuckwit risked not only their own life but mine too by overtaking in the fog. Where are these people going that is worth dicing with death like that?
It was ridiculous. I was doing 60, it's not like I was toddling along painfully slowly.
Not only were they driving on the wrong side of the road in low to zero visibility, many of them did it with no lights on. Gah! Fuckers.
Other news: Watched an episode of The New Adventures of Superman on TV last night. It was (I think) unintentionally hilarious. There was an "Oirish" character with probably the most appalling accent I have ever heard in a professional production.
I genuinely had no idea he was supposed to be Irish until he said something along the lines of "My Ancient Oirish Druid Ancestors would be proud of me". Made me laugh out loud, which frankly was a tough thing to achieve yesterday*.
Went to the gym after work, too, even though I didn't feel like it. So hurrah for me.
Off to the dentist later. It's a social whirl, I tell you.
Peg bucket still looks nice, by the way.
*Just Googled that episode. It's called "When Irish Eyes are Killing" which made me laugh out loud again. And the guilty actor is English. Which makes it even better.
Wednesday, 10 October 2007
Shopping. And dropping
At my desk trying to keep my eyes open. And it ain't easy.
No idea why I feel so exhausted, other than waking up at 5am and not managing to get back to sleep until 30 seconds before the radio came on.
I still hate the local radio station with a passion. Fuckwits. They're so smug. So self-referencing. So inane. So bloody pleased with themselves and their fabulous talent. Fucking chimps.
It is painful to listen to, really. If only we could get Radio 2. Gawd, even Radio 1 would do for the alarm clock. At least it would get me out of bed within moments of it kicking in.
So. Bit grumpy today. And my hair looks shite because I didn't wash it this morning, as I am off the gym after work. Being a girl is a pain in the arse sometimes. Ah well.
On the plus side, I took the afternoon off yesterday and went shopping for an iPod docking station. Found one in John Lewis in Salisbury (I love John Lewis. I'm so middle aged now) and it sounds fab. It's smaller than a bit of A4 paper and not a lot fatter. Amazing.
Also bought a huge pile of new towels (for when our visitors come over from the USA...I hear they like new towels in America), some posh guest soap (The soap is posh, the guests are well-balanced and relaxed) some Christmas gifts (not saying what as members of my family might read this...heh), a funky little bucket to put pegs in (yes, I know exactly how sad that is) and a load of groceries. A most satisfyimg foray into town.
Mr WithaY was happy that I found him some nice jerk seasoning. We'd managed to use ours all up. 5 different sorts. All eaten. Incredible. What fat greedy gannets we are.
Then had a very enjoyable guitar lesson where we played Cream's "Badge" rather well. My gorgeous teacher taught me the bridge so I can now play it all the way through, which is satisfying.
Also discovered the "dedicate songs" feature on Facebook. Have been annoying my mates by sending them inappropriate dedications. Well, it amused me for an hour.
It is proving expensive though. I hear the little snippet of the song they let you have, and then I have to go and buy it on iTunes. My collection of 1980s heavy metal continues to grow at a terrifying rate.
Looking forward to a weekend away this weekend. Going to see my bestest mate who I've not seen for bloody ages. And I might get to catch up on my sleep.
No idea why I feel so exhausted, other than waking up at 5am and not managing to get back to sleep until 30 seconds before the radio came on.
I still hate the local radio station with a passion. Fuckwits. They're so smug. So self-referencing. So inane. So bloody pleased with themselves and their fabulous talent. Fucking chimps.
It is painful to listen to, really. If only we could get Radio 2. Gawd, even Radio 1 would do for the alarm clock. At least it would get me out of bed within moments of it kicking in.
So. Bit grumpy today. And my hair looks shite because I didn't wash it this morning, as I am off the gym after work. Being a girl is a pain in the arse sometimes. Ah well.
On the plus side, I took the afternoon off yesterday and went shopping for an iPod docking station. Found one in John Lewis in Salisbury (I love John Lewis. I'm so middle aged now) and it sounds fab. It's smaller than a bit of A4 paper and not a lot fatter. Amazing.
Also bought a huge pile of new towels (for when our visitors come over from the USA...I hear they like new towels in America), some posh guest soap (The soap is posh, the guests are well-balanced and relaxed) some Christmas gifts (not saying what as members of my family might read this...heh), a funky little bucket to put pegs in (yes, I know exactly how sad that is) and a load of groceries. A most satisfyimg foray into town.
Mr WithaY was happy that I found him some nice jerk seasoning. We'd managed to use ours all up. 5 different sorts. All eaten. Incredible. What fat greedy gannets we are.
Then had a very enjoyable guitar lesson where we played Cream's "Badge" rather well. My gorgeous teacher taught me the bridge so I can now play it all the way through, which is satisfying.
Also discovered the "dedicate songs" feature on Facebook. Have been annoying my mates by sending them inappropriate dedications. Well, it amused me for an hour.
It is proving expensive though. I hear the little snippet of the song they let you have, and then I have to go and buy it on iTunes. My collection of 1980s heavy metal continues to grow at a terrifying rate.
Looking forward to a weekend away this weekend. Going to see my bestest mate who I've not seen for bloody ages. And I might get to catch up on my sleep.
Wednesday, 18 July 2007
Alaaaaarm!
In the office today after a rather grumpy day working at home yesterday. Was trying to get the long-term objectives for the team sorted out which ended up with me writing "retire early" on a bit of paper in big letters after a couple of hours thinking, writing, crossing-out and rewriting.
The day was enlivened by my boss ringing me a couple of times with some bad work-related news, all adding to the general mood. I was very glad I had a guitar lesson booked because by 6pm things were feeling pretty bleak.
But once my lovely guitar teacher rolled up we had a hugely successful lesson. He taught me two different blues lead riffs, and by the end of it I felt that life was still worth living. And Mr WithaY arrived back safe and sound after a four-hour drive home from his trip to the godforsaken wastes of the Midlands, so another plus point for the day.
Looking back, one of the reasons for yesterday's mood may have been linked to sleep deprivation. I had a slightly later night on Monday than was sensible, and was still awake at 1am, helpfully. Finally managed to go under (so to speak) until 2.30 am when I was woken by the pub's burglar alarm going off.
Bloody hell it's loud.
And it has a vibrant blue light that flashes on and off, just in case you can sleep through the penetrating racket. I looked out of the window, saw that our security light was on, and wondered if it was :
(a) armed desperados from Bristol, after my valuable guitar collection to make a fortune on the second-hand Fender market
(b) some idiot local who'd set the pub alarm off and then run into our garden to hide
(c) a hedgehog
I decided it was most likely (c) and went back to bed very crossly.
Adding insult to injury, at 7.15 the following morning the bloody phone rang, forcing me to leap from my pit like a young springbok, dash downstairs, pick up the phone before the answering machine kicked in, and then find it was some bloke who needed to speak to Mr WithaY.
He deduced from my hoarse, grumpy, monosyllabic half of the conversation that I was not at my sparkling best, and asked cheerfully "Sorry love, did I disturb you?"
I was tempted to reply "No, it's fine. I've been up all night entertaining the band of the Welsh Guards, what with Mr WithaY being away," but refrained.
I think people who make burglar alarms should make them play loud music, rather than emit ear-splitting atonal shrieks. It would be just as disturbing for burglars and be far less annoying for people who are trying to sleep. Maybe change the tune according to the nature of the crime being comitted.
You could have Judas Priest's "Breaking the Law". Heh.
The day was enlivened by my boss ringing me a couple of times with some bad work-related news, all adding to the general mood. I was very glad I had a guitar lesson booked because by 6pm things were feeling pretty bleak.
But once my lovely guitar teacher rolled up we had a hugely successful lesson. He taught me two different blues lead riffs, and by the end of it I felt that life was still worth living. And Mr WithaY arrived back safe and sound after a four-hour drive home from his trip to the godforsaken wastes of the Midlands, so another plus point for the day.
Looking back, one of the reasons for yesterday's mood may have been linked to sleep deprivation. I had a slightly later night on Monday than was sensible, and was still awake at 1am, helpfully. Finally managed to go under (so to speak) until 2.30 am when I was woken by the pub's burglar alarm going off.
Bloody hell it's loud.
And it has a vibrant blue light that flashes on and off, just in case you can sleep through the penetrating racket. I looked out of the window, saw that our security light was on, and wondered if it was :
(a) armed desperados from Bristol, after my valuable guitar collection to make a fortune on the second-hand Fender market
(b) some idiot local who'd set the pub alarm off and then run into our garden to hide
(c) a hedgehog
I decided it was most likely (c) and went back to bed very crossly.
Adding insult to injury, at 7.15 the following morning the bloody phone rang, forcing me to leap from my pit like a young springbok, dash downstairs, pick up the phone before the answering machine kicked in, and then find it was some bloke who needed to speak to Mr WithaY.
He deduced from my hoarse, grumpy, monosyllabic half of the conversation that I was not at my sparkling best, and asked cheerfully "Sorry love, did I disturb you?"
I was tempted to reply "No, it's fine. I've been up all night entertaining the band of the Welsh Guards, what with Mr WithaY being away," but refrained.
I think people who make burglar alarms should make them play loud music, rather than emit ear-splitting atonal shrieks. It would be just as disturbing for burglars and be far less annoying for people who are trying to sleep. Maybe change the tune according to the nature of the crime being comitted.
You could have Judas Priest's "Breaking the Law". Heh.
Friday, 6 July 2007
Still grumpy.
Still suffering with a knackered back. It's one of the consequences of being too tall (6 inches above average for the British female) and a fat bastard to boot.
I think it's also a consequence of too many hours on a very uncomfortable bus last week, and 8 hours in the car last weekend to and from London. And the trip into town on the train on Wednesday didn't help a lot, either.
Whatever the cause, it's bloody painful and very annoying. I hate that feeling when the painkillers have almost worn off but it's to soon to take the next lot. I am alternating between lying on the floor complaining, walking round the house complaining and sitting at my PC, not complaining till I try to stand up, when I go "Ouch, fuck it" a lot.
It's been a crap week workwise, one way and another. Still, I have most of next week booked as holiday because Mr WithaY's Mum is visiting from France for a bit (she's not French though, so she is allowed in the house).
Going into town tomorrow to get a much needed haircut, and to have a confidential chat with my hairdresser about my encroaching greyness. Mr WithaY and I may also take a jaunt to the pictures, depending on what's on. I love going to see films on the big screen.
Also need to get some gardening done - there is a "Sleeping Beauty" stylee bramble encroachment going on at the side of the house that is threatening to take over completely. Trouble is, it's been so wet and miserable that I have had no inclination to get out there with my secateurs and trug and get on with it. Yes, I have a trug. Doesn't everyone?
I took up badgerdaddy's suggestion and opened up a Photobucket account, and am planning on trying to post some pictures on here before too much longer. They won't be very exciting, but there will be cake. And that's a promise.
Oh yeah, was listeining (under sufferance) to the local shit radio station this morning. The shrill female sidekick was wittering on about the fact that she was going to be performing at a local festival with Nick Harper. And she had no fucking idea who he is. Gah.
I saw him a few years ago at Salisbury Arts Centre (a fab local venue for a wide variety of bands) and he was excellent. Far better than his mad old dad Roy, in fact, who he was supporting.
Anyway, this dippy bint was saying "Ooh, I Googled him this morning! He's quite famous!"
Yes, far more so than you are ever likely to be I imagine. Now fuck off and read the weather report. Badly. Like you usually do.
I think it's also a consequence of too many hours on a very uncomfortable bus last week, and 8 hours in the car last weekend to and from London. And the trip into town on the train on Wednesday didn't help a lot, either.
Whatever the cause, it's bloody painful and very annoying. I hate that feeling when the painkillers have almost worn off but it's to soon to take the next lot. I am alternating between lying on the floor complaining, walking round the house complaining and sitting at my PC, not complaining till I try to stand up, when I go "Ouch, fuck it" a lot.
It's been a crap week workwise, one way and another. Still, I have most of next week booked as holiday because Mr WithaY's Mum is visiting from France for a bit (she's not French though, so she is allowed in the house).
Going into town tomorrow to get a much needed haircut, and to have a confidential chat with my hairdresser about my encroaching greyness. Mr WithaY and I may also take a jaunt to the pictures, depending on what's on. I love going to see films on the big screen.
Also need to get some gardening done - there is a "Sleeping Beauty" stylee bramble encroachment going on at the side of the house that is threatening to take over completely. Trouble is, it's been so wet and miserable that I have had no inclination to get out there with my secateurs and trug and get on with it. Yes, I have a trug. Doesn't everyone?
I took up badgerdaddy's suggestion and opened up a Photobucket account, and am planning on trying to post some pictures on here before too much longer. They won't be very exciting, but there will be cake. And that's a promise.
Oh yeah, was listeining (under sufferance) to the local shit radio station this morning. The shrill female sidekick was wittering on about the fact that she was going to be performing at a local festival with Nick Harper. And she had no fucking idea who he is. Gah.
I saw him a few years ago at Salisbury Arts Centre (a fab local venue for a wide variety of bands) and he was excellent. Far better than his mad old dad Roy, in fact, who he was supporting.
Anyway, this dippy bint was saying "Ooh, I Googled him this morning! He's quite famous!"
Yes, far more so than you are ever likely to be I imagine. Now fuck off and read the weather report. Badly. Like you usually do.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)