Head Rambles

Grandad November 30th, 2006

I was browsing around and came across a nice toy on the Net. It is a site that scans your portrait and then finds people who look like you, based on facial features. It measures up your facial features and then finds people with the same measurements. It’s called MyHeritage.com and it’s supposed to help you find lost relations. But it’s fun.

Of course, I had to have a go.

Being a modest chap, I don’t have many photos of myself lying around, but I did find one.

It was a photo of me some years ago, at my retirement do. I was photographed in the middle of a speech saying how sorry I was to leave, and how much I was going to miss everyone, and how sad I was to be going.

But that’s all beside the point.

I ran the photo through the website. It found my identical twin.

My God, I never realised I was so young and striking under all that hair!!

I’m in love with myself! I am damn good looking. Look at those eyes! I always knew I was a looker but…………

I’m off now to shave the beard off and get contact lenses.

Then I’m off for a dirty weekend with myself.

• Internet , Rambles
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Grandad November 30th, 2006

I live up a quiet country lane. There are a few houses. Not many. Enough to make it a pleasant little community. We all get on [reasonably] well. The lane doesn’t go anywhere, so it is nice and quiet.

But there is something that is bothering me.

Someone or something keeps dumping a turd outside my gate.

It’s not our Sandy, because it is always outside the gate. It’s not me. I don’t think it’s Herself.

And it is always beautifully placed. It is not to one side or the other. It is always bang in the middle. It is placed very strategically so that anyone coming in out of the gate is bound to step in it.

There is a lot of space around here. We are in the countryside after all. So why dump just there? It happens every two or three days. Other people have commented on it too, so it’s not me being paranoid.

I go out and open the gate, and there it is, smiling at me. It is always of the Mr Whippy variety [If you don't know what a Mr Whippy is - its a type of ice-cream cone. Use your imagination]. So the perpetrator is obviously healthy enough and is getting enough fibre.

I presume it’s a dog. It could be a fox or a badger, but I’m not an expert in animal poo. I’d put my money on a dog. [That's an expression. I hate greyhound racing]. But why don’t they crap at home? Why not anywhere else on the lane? Or in someone’s garden? No. It has to be outside my gate.

Do I take it as an insult? “I’ll show that old codger what I think of him!”

Or do I take it as a compliment? “I like Grandad. I’ll leave him a little token of affection”

I’m not really very well up on the thought processes of dogs, apart from our Sandy. She is very discreet. She will always head down to the far end of the garden and very carefully check that no one is watching before doing her business. She is a very modest lass.

I could put up a sign, I suppose. “Please do not crap here, or if you must then please do it to one side or the other but not in the middle”. But Dogs aren’t really very good at reading. Apart from our Sandy of course.

There again, it mightn’t be an animal at all. It might be human. Now that is a scary thought. I don’t want to go down that road of thought.

I might step in something.

• Around the house
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Grandad November 29th, 2006

Hopefully, this is the end of the saga.

I shinned up onto the roof yesterday. Herself gave out stink, saying I could fall off the roof at my age. Strange, because the roof is flat and half the size of a tennis court, and I have never fallen off a tennis court in my life, as far as I can remember.

Anyway, I had a good old poke around with the binoculars. And when I had finished peering into various neighbours gardens and windows, I had a look for my alternative mast. The pair I had out on Friday said it couldn’t be seen. They had looked everywhere, but there were trees in the way. But there it was. Clear as crystal. I think those two couldn’t see the world for the trees.

The broadband company arrived in force. They had a van and a cherrypicker, but they had to leave the latter in the village because they’d never get it in my gate.

I brought them up on the roof [Herself was still in bed, so she didn't see this bit]. I showed them the mast. “That looks like it” says they.

They were like that last pair – they ran around a lot. But unlike the last two, this pair obviously knew what they were doing. They ran cables all over the place and tapped away at their laptop. They rang the office a lot, but instead of saying “What ve do next?” this pair were saying things like “No problem Boss. SNR of 23 and climbing”. They oozed confidence and optimism. They banged a new pole on the side of the house, which is going to annoy the neighbours, but they are the only people who will see it.

They have left now. They were thorough gentlemen. They were horrified at the way I had been treated by the last lot. They have left me with a better connection than I have ever had before.

So it does pay to be an old grouch. It does pay to complain. It does pay to be a right pain in the backside. But you can only do these things if you are old and experienced like me.

I can relax now and return to my favourite passtime – porn Google Earth.

• Internet
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Grandad November 29th, 2006

I don’t often use other peoples work, but every now and then I come across something that I like. Maybe you’ve seen it before. Maybe you haven’t. But this one in particular appealed to me.

Anyway they say recycling is good for the soul.

George W Bush’s Hotmail account

• America
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Grandad November 28th, 2006

I like playing around with the system. By the system, I mean life in general or more specifically, those parts of life where we are expected to conform.

You know the kind of thing – you are asked on a form if you are Male or Female so you answer Yes. Or you get one of those voice recognition telephone systems and you start using profanities to see how good the programmers are. Or you ask for a return ticket, and they ask “where to” and you answer “here, of course”.

I thought I would like to have a little game with Google.

Now I know a lot of people are finding my humble little blog by way of Google. But some of them are probably not finding quite what they expected. I’m sure the people who did a search for “what is good about spiders been around the house” might have been a little surprised to find the ramblings of an old git. But not as surprised as the people looking for “trinny & susannah big knickers”.

I had one visitor who actually searched for “www”. I’d say they got a few results! A bit like sticking your head out the window and seeing if you can find any air out there.

I have had some interesting searches. A few taken at random are “sandy balls”, “bertie to be grandad”, “pregnant boobs” [I wonder if the last two were connected in some way?], “my head is all over the place” and one that probably found exactly what they were looking for – “senior citizen psychological problems”.

Now suppose I start writing about nothing at all, and just throw in a few teaser words for Google?

Suppose I start using words like teenage and sex and nude and photos? Am I going to get a lot of very disappointed visitors? I have already used words like “big boobs” and “small boobs” [perfectly innocently of course]. Words like sexy and naughty should be good too. I could use quite a few rude expressions but I don’t want to offend my readers. But naked and bare should be good. I had a couple looking for “voyeur”. Dirty gits. Or I could write about the great tits and the blue tits who are currently taking peanuts from my bird feeder. Not to mention the cock that crows every morning. The list is endless and interesting.

But the person looking for “four elderly women with hairy armpits naked in bed with a gorilla” is going to have to be disappointed.

I don’t mention that kind of thing here.

• Internet , Rambles
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