That last post was a little out there. I apologise. Never really came around to finishing my whisky story.
By the way, just found out that one can spell whisky two ways: whisky or whiskey. But, if you spell it with the e, then that is Irish whiskey, and if you spell it without the e, the it is Scotish whisky. Who knew?
I woke up this morning to the sound of seagulls. You don't that every day. Well, perhaps my loyal readers who live on the coasts do.
Anyway, I recommend it once in a while.
Friday, February 24, 2006
Scotland I
Well, I'm in Scotland right now, Dundee to be exact, my friend Doug's parent's house to be exacter, and I'm sitting on their sofa in their living room to be even more exacter still.
Flew up on EZY147 last night (that is easyJet flight 147, direct from Luton to Aberdeen, the granite city). Pretty unpleasant flight to tell the truth. The guy in front of us was watching a DVD with his son about planes blowing up, which I wasn't nearly as offensive as the fact that he wasn't using headphones, and had in fact plugged in a set of external speakers. Having to listen to multiple explosions through cheap speakers with a lot of tinny-sounding treble and no bass and not seeing the actual screen, while sitting in the most uncomfortable seats in the industry and having to deal with the left over odors of my neighbor's Pret deluxe sushi set, did not make for a very good flight.
Then again, I paid £34 for it, so I can't really complain.
After we landed, Doug's friend Chris picked us up and drove us an hour to Dundee. I hear Scotland is a beautiful country, but it doesn't look any different from Sri Lanka in the dark. The roads seem nicely lit though (good street-level reflectors too), which might put it a step ahead of Sri Lanka.
Got to Doug's house, ate some food, watched some television and drank some whiskey. Doug's father asked me what kind I wanted. Now, I would consider myself to be in the early stages of novice-enthusiast when it comes to the whiskey. I know what big brands not to drink and I have a healthy disregard for Irish whiskey. That is all that can be reasonably expected of me at this point. I have a few favorites, but I keep them to myself.
I went to a Burns' night celebration a couple of weeks ago, and there were like fifteen whiskeys there, and I hadn't heard of any of them. I was about to ask if one of my favorites was there, but then I didn't want to be looked down on as the guy who drinks "corporate whiskey," the equivalent of the guy who listens to "corporate rock" when there is an obscure, poorly produced, cacophanous band of too-kool-for-skool hipsters who could ruin the experience just as easily, but then I wouldn't be giving in to the Man. (That last sentence was all about emotion, so I don't care if it doesn't read well... or at all.)
Anyway, I drank whiskey, and life was good.
Flew up on EZY147 last night (that is easyJet flight 147, direct from Luton to Aberdeen, the granite city). Pretty unpleasant flight to tell the truth. The guy in front of us was watching a DVD with his son about planes blowing up, which I wasn't nearly as offensive as the fact that he wasn't using headphones, and had in fact plugged in a set of external speakers. Having to listen to multiple explosions through cheap speakers with a lot of tinny-sounding treble and no bass and not seeing the actual screen, while sitting in the most uncomfortable seats in the industry and having to deal with the left over odors of my neighbor's Pret deluxe sushi set, did not make for a very good flight.
Then again, I paid £34 for it, so I can't really complain.
After we landed, Doug's friend Chris picked us up and drove us an hour to Dundee. I hear Scotland is a beautiful country, but it doesn't look any different from Sri Lanka in the dark. The roads seem nicely lit though (good street-level reflectors too), which might put it a step ahead of Sri Lanka.
Got to Doug's house, ate some food, watched some television and drank some whiskey. Doug's father asked me what kind I wanted. Now, I would consider myself to be in the early stages of novice-enthusiast when it comes to the whiskey. I know what big brands not to drink and I have a healthy disregard for Irish whiskey. That is all that can be reasonably expected of me at this point. I have a few favorites, but I keep them to myself.
I went to a Burns' night celebration a couple of weeks ago, and there were like fifteen whiskeys there, and I hadn't heard of any of them. I was about to ask if one of my favorites was there, but then I didn't want to be looked down on as the guy who drinks "corporate whiskey," the equivalent of the guy who listens to "corporate rock" when there is an obscure, poorly produced, cacophanous band of too-kool-for-skool hipsters who could ruin the experience just as easily, but then I wouldn't be giving in to the Man. (That last sentence was all about emotion, so I don't care if it doesn't read well... or at all.)
Anyway, I drank whiskey, and life was good.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Not quite sure how I came upon funglish.com, but I can assure you that this guy wants to show you lots of crazy Japanese things with lots of crazy Japanese hand movements.
Each page of this site is chock-a-block with Mr Hand Signals pointing or gesturing. On one page, Mr Hand Signals is showing us how to hold a vase, a crazy Japanese vase, so crazy that it doesn't even exist! Wacky!
This page seems to be some sort of wacky Japanese bulletin board, where people leave disturbingly titled video posts like I just cannot stop.
But, wait! There's more crazy Japanese wackiness. See Mr Hand Signals and how he sparkles, in a super-efficient Japanese kind of way.
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Fd up txts
CNN.com - SMS boom leads to digit damage - Feb 22, 2006
Apparently 3.8 million people are suffering from RSI because of text messages. Can't quite figure out how this is happeneing. I mean, no one is being forced to text, right? There aren't computer programmers telecommuting via text message, right?
Everyone I know with RSI got it using computers for 8 hours a day, so unless people are sending texts for 8 hours a day, I think there must be something else going on.
Well, it turns out that people actually are spending 8 hours a day texting. 10% of survey respondents say they send 100 texts a day. That is roughly one every 15 minutes for an entire day.
I'm guessing that the people who send 100 texts a day are the same people who talk about what he said to her after that guy came over, and oh my god! I can't believe she just said that!
You know what I mean.
Except each text conversation would go something like this:
Hey
How ru
k
book (the cool kids use book instead of cool, notice how I still use cool)
ru bzy
no
wanna hang
k
when (same person, by the way)
8
where
my haus
book
l8rz
l8rz
I could have condensed this whole thing into three texts, possibly two if both texters are smart.
Hey, I'm bored. Want to hang out later?
Sure, how about 8 at my house? Text if that is a problem.
I get 160 characters for every text and I use those 160 characters to their fullest extent. You can say a lot on 160 characters:
Whoa! Had an amazing day! Managed to get fired, get a new job making 20k more, plus I robbed a bank and donated the “proceeds” to charity. I’m Robin Hood!
It has everything, tells a good story, has some sarcasm (denoted by the quotation marks around proceeds), plus it is punctuated.
Anyway, I think I've gone a little off topic.
PS I still have six characters to play with on that last text!
Apparently 3.8 million people are suffering from RSI because of text messages. Can't quite figure out how this is happeneing. I mean, no one is being forced to text, right? There aren't computer programmers telecommuting via text message, right?
Everyone I know with RSI got it using computers for 8 hours a day, so unless people are sending texts for 8 hours a day, I think there must be something else going on.
Well, it turns out that people actually are spending 8 hours a day texting. 10% of survey respondents say they send 100 texts a day. That is roughly one every 15 minutes for an entire day.
I'm guessing that the people who send 100 texts a day are the same people who talk about what he said to her after that guy came over, and oh my god! I can't believe she just said that!
You know what I mean.
Except each text conversation would go something like this:
Hey
How ru
k
book (the cool kids use book instead of cool, notice how I still use cool)
ru bzy
no
wanna hang
k
when (same person, by the way)
8
where
my haus
book
l8rz
l8rz
I could have condensed this whole thing into three texts, possibly two if both texters are smart.
Hey, I'm bored. Want to hang out later?
Sure, how about 8 at my house? Text if that is a problem.
I get 160 characters for every text and I use those 160 characters to their fullest extent. You can say a lot on 160 characters:
Whoa! Had an amazing day! Managed to get fired, get a new job making 20k more, plus I robbed a bank and donated the “proceeds” to charity. I’m Robin Hood!
It has everything, tells a good story, has some sarcasm (denoted by the quotation marks around proceeds), plus it is punctuated.
Anyway, I think I've gone a little off topic.
PS I still have six characters to play with on that last text!
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Bobsled
I find it very disconcerting that the British refer to the bobsled as the bobsleigh. Sleighs are for things like Santa Claus and going to grandmother's house, over the river and through snow. Sleds are fast and fun and Olympic in nature.
I also find it disturbing that the British refer to the leader of the curling team as the skip. They also refer to the big containers for trash removal as skips. They are wrong: the captain of a team is a skipper and I can't think of the name for the other thing, but I'm pretty sure it isn't a skip.
A skipper can also be the captain of a ship.
I also find it disturbing that the British refer to the leader of the curling team as the skip. They also refer to the big containers for trash removal as skips. They are wrong: the captain of a team is a skipper and I can't think of the name for the other thing, but I'm pretty sure it isn't a skip.
A skipper can also be the captain of a ship.
Olympics II - the weekend
Did a great deal of Olympics watching this weekend. Woke up early on Saturday to watch the men's Super G. The first half of the field went down the slope but the event was postponed due to poor visability. That was a real pisser for Pierre-Emmanuel Dalcin, the Frenchman who was leading the field prior to postponing the event. Many a skier far superior to Dalcin were coming in with times more than a second slower, which, in the world of skiing, is like fifteen minutes.
It is a little odd that Dalcin has a fan page; I didn't think skiers who ranked 38th in the world commanded that much affection. But who am I the judge. I had a fan page once, but I had to ask my mother to take it down -- it was making my sister jealous.
Anyway, when the weather cleared, the competition began again and Norway's Kjetil Andre Aamodt ended up winning, edging out Hermann Meier. After Dalcin failed to finish (he missed a gate) he flicked off the cameras. Classy. The French are just pissed of because they missed out on the 2012 Summer Olympics. Who ended up getting them? Oh yeah, I remember.
I managed to get in the entire biathlon, that heady mixture of skiing and advanced weaponry. Loyal readers will recall my lack of enthusiasm for the biathlon. The thing is, I enjoyed watching it. It was exciting and the shooting really did add that je nes sai qua (did I spell that correctly?) I didn't know, for instance, that every time the skier misses a target, he needs to ski once around a 150m loop. Miss three and you need to ski nearly half a kilometer to make up for your shooting deficiency.
Heading into the last loop, Vincent Defrasne was leading Norway's Ole Einar Bjoerndalen, because Bjoerndalen had missed three targets out of the first fifteen and Defrasne had been perfect. Bjoerndalen was catching up though, and the race became truly exciting when Defrasne missed two targets and had to ski an extra 300m. Bjoerndalen passed Defrasne on the last loop and led for much of the way into the stadium. When Defrasne made a move to pass Bjoerndalen, Defrasne stumbled and it looked as thought the athlete who led for the majority of the race would not be the winner. But Defrasne managed to regain his composure and ski past Bjoerndalen in the final fifty meters.
I also watched my fair share of Olympic curling, something that just seems to get better the more I watch it. The US team managed to kick to British ass, beating them 9-8, but the US lead the entire match, with the British playing catch-up for the final seven frames. Watching curling is kind of like watching a tennis match between Monica Seles and Maria Sharapova: there's a whole lotta grunting and sounds of a generally animalistic nature. That is how the shooter (s/he who throws the hammer) communicates with the sweepers (they who sweep the ice, thus melting it and slowing the rate of deceleration of the hammer). Yeah, that is all I have to say on that. I like the grunting.
Was a little disappointed today because the women's Super G was postponed until tomorrow because of th weather. That means I won't be able to watch it and the BBC has been crap about replaying these kinds of things. I'm also going to miss the men's giant slalom.
Fate has dealt me yet another cruel blow.
It is a little odd that Dalcin has a fan page; I didn't think skiers who ranked 38th in the world commanded that much affection. But who am I the judge. I had a fan page once, but I had to ask my mother to take it down -- it was making my sister jealous.
Anyway, when the weather cleared, the competition began again and Norway's Kjetil Andre Aamodt ended up winning, edging out Hermann Meier. After Dalcin failed to finish (he missed a gate) he flicked off the cameras. Classy. The French are just pissed of because they missed out on the 2012 Summer Olympics. Who ended up getting them? Oh yeah, I remember.
I managed to get in the entire biathlon, that heady mixture of skiing and advanced weaponry. Loyal readers will recall my lack of enthusiasm for the biathlon. The thing is, I enjoyed watching it. It was exciting and the shooting really did add that je nes sai qua (did I spell that correctly?) I didn't know, for instance, that every time the skier misses a target, he needs to ski once around a 150m loop. Miss three and you need to ski nearly half a kilometer to make up for your shooting deficiency.
Heading into the last loop, Vincent Defrasne was leading Norway's Ole Einar Bjoerndalen, because Bjoerndalen had missed three targets out of the first fifteen and Defrasne had been perfect. Bjoerndalen was catching up though, and the race became truly exciting when Defrasne missed two targets and had to ski an extra 300m. Bjoerndalen passed Defrasne on the last loop and led for much of the way into the stadium. When Defrasne made a move to pass Bjoerndalen, Defrasne stumbled and it looked as thought the athlete who led for the majority of the race would not be the winner. But Defrasne managed to regain his composure and ski past Bjoerndalen in the final fifty meters.
I also watched my fair share of Olympic curling, something that just seems to get better the more I watch it. The US team managed to kick to British ass, beating them 9-8, but the US lead the entire match, with the British playing catch-up for the final seven frames. Watching curling is kind of like watching a tennis match between Monica Seles and Maria Sharapova: there's a whole lotta grunting and sounds of a generally animalistic nature. That is how the shooter (s/he who throws the hammer) communicates with the sweepers (they who sweep the ice, thus melting it and slowing the rate of deceleration of the hammer). Yeah, that is all I have to say on that. I like the grunting.
Was a little disappointed today because the women's Super G was postponed until tomorrow because of th weather. That means I won't be able to watch it and the BBC has been crap about replaying these kinds of things. I'm also going to miss the men's giant slalom.
Fate has dealt me yet another cruel blow.
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