Head Rambles

Grandad January 26th, 2010

This is getting very fucking confusing.

A couple of weeks ago, I mentioned that nominations were open for the Irish Blog Awards.  Last week they announced that nominations were officially open.  So what’s the difference?  Damned if I know.  I think it’s a bit like using a stretch of motorway for a few weeks before some wanker officially declares it’s open?

As far as I know, any nominations that were made before the ‘official opening’ are valid, because I got emails back thanking me for the effort I had put in, and that my nominations had been accepted.

At least they now have a closing date.  All nominations must be in by the 5th of February at 3pm.  I presume they mean 3pm GMT, but who am I to argue?

If there is anyone out there who wants a nomination, please let me know.  I will get in touch regarding payment methods.

The other big news is that the date and venue for the awards has been announced.

I have never heard of the Radisson Blu Hotel.  It sounds like something you’d flush down a toilet to make a smell.

I phoned them this morning to make a reservation.  They asked me my name so I told them.  They said they were fully booked out.  Bastards.  Those fuckers from the Cork International must have told them about last year.  I phoned again and used my Uncle Jimmy’s maiden name, and suddenly they had plenty of space.  I fucking hate that type of messing about.

Yes.  I am going [bar some unforeseen incident] and there is even a rather worrying rumour that Herself is interested in going.  In fact I intend to head on after into the wilds of Connemara and have a little break for myself.  Why not?  I deserve it.

The big question now is who else is going?

Is it going to be a repeat of last year, with myself, Bock, Twenty, Robert and Peter ripping the place asunder?  Or is it going to be a different crowd?

Anyone interesting thinking of attending?

• Awards
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Grandad January 25th, 2010

Isn’t it fucking typical?

Only yesterday I wrote about my great broadband.

How did they thank me?  They fucking cut me off!  I had no sooner uploaded my latest work of genius when my connection failed.

I sat and cleaned my fingernails, and then picked my nose for a while, and eventually the connection came back.

Dashed inconvenient, what?

Everything is motoring along smoothly and then what happens?

A fucking network problem.  My precious site was dead.

Personally I’m not too concerned, but so many people rely on Head Rambles for vital information. It’s only when I look at the searches that people use to find my site that I realise what an important public service I fulfill.  “hannah montana giving blow job” or “smoking dog turds”?  These people need help [in more ways than one].

It’s back now.

I just hope that “heard neighbours sex wet leg bound” finds what he is looking for.

• Internet
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Grandad January 25th, 2010

It’s that time of year to start contemplating a spot of a holiday.

For the last two years, we toddled over the water to France.  The plan is not to go again this year.  There are a couple of reasons for this – we feel like a change, and there was that rather nasty letter we got from the Gendarmerie telling us that we’re not welcome any more.  How the hell was I supposed to know that you need a special permit to hunt tourists in France?

We thought we would spend a couple of weeks on home soil for a change.  It is quite a while since we had a holiday here, so we felt that a change is as good as a rest.

I don’t know why, but we both fancy a trip to the Bantry area.  We used to holiday a lot there and have stayed in most parts of West Cork.  We even spent part of our honeymoon in Crookhaven, in the first week of February.  If you can tolerate West Cork in the first week in February, you can tolerate anything.

I have lovely memories from the past.  There was the day we drove from Kenmare to Glengariff and stopped to watch the Betelgeuse burn.  There was the holiday we spent in Castletown and watched the planes take part in the Air India disaster.  Happy days.

So I am now on the lookout for somewhere to stay.  Maybe one of my readers can help?

We are very flexible in our requirements.  Our basic needs are very simple.

• Must be not too far from Bantry.
• Must accept dogs.
• Must allow smoking.
• Must be within walking distance of a pub that allows smoking.
• Must be quiet.
• Must be close to shops and amenities.
• Must be reasonably priced.
• Not interested in a pool, but broadband would be nice.

There.  I told you we were flexible.

Let the offers roll in……..

• Holidays
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Grandad January 24th, 2010

Many many years ago I managed to persuade my boss to let me work from home.

This was in the days before the Interweb had ever been heard of, so it was unheard of for a computer programmer to work anywhere except at his terminal.  I can’t remember what excuse I cooked up but they fell for it, and for quite a while, life was good – no commuting, no irritating office banter about sport, and best of all – no fucking boss breathing down my neck.

I had to have a special terminal, which I plugged into the mains and into the phone line.  It had a clunky keyboard and a screen about four inches wide.  If I typed a sentence, I had to wait about a minute for the characters to appear on the screen.  It was cutting edge technology.  It was fucking mighty.  In those glory days, if you made a phone call, that was all you were charged for – the cost of making a phone call.  So if you wanted to stay on the phone all day, it didn’t cost any extra.  Brilliant.  A day’s work cost just a few pence.

Years later, some eejit invented the Interweb, so this meant going on-line again.  By now the bastards had started billing phone calls by the minute, so connecting to the Interweb was quite pricey.  However, I did have a top of the range modem, so at least my connection was fast.  Fifty six kilobits!!!  Wow!!!!

Then some other twat invented something called Broadband.

I rang my phone company and asked about getting that.  After the hysterical laughter subsided, they told me to forget the idea.  They suggested I ring back in the middle of the next century. 

I persevered though, over the years, and eventually a crowd stuck masts and weird gizmos all over the house.  I had broadband.

I had some initial teething problems, but they only lasted about two years.  Sometimes it worked.  Sometimes it didn’t.  At one stage they came out to remove everything because they suddenly decided that broadband wasn’t available in my area.  Some neighbours fell for that one, but I didn’t.  I persevered.  Eventually things settled down and broadband became just another part of life.

Last night, for the first time in I don’t know how many years, it went flaky.  I don’t know exactly what happened, but suddenly I found myself in a time warp and back in the glory days of dial-up speeds.  I also discovered that the Interweb doesn’t really work very well at those speeds any more. 

It’s back at it’s normal speed today.

I lie.  In fact, it is faster than ever.  And I mean just that.  I am getting speeds way above what I am meant to be getting.  I’m not complaining.

It’s strange how one becomes accustomed to something so quickly.

What once was a miracle is now commonplace.

• Internet
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Grandad January 23rd, 2010

It is babysitting time at the moment.

Babysitting is one of those things that seems to be expected of Grandads for some reason.  I don’t mind too much, as Puppychild isn’t a bad poker player for five, and we had a good session last night.  I managed to win €20 which is better than a kick in the arse?

This morning, after doing her homework [the manufacture of explosives and poisons from common household items], she asked to watch television.

By now, you must be aware that advertisements are not my favourite form of broadcasting.  By their nature, they are repetitive and boring.  Some can be just plain irritating, and others have the capacity to provoke instant rage.  The advertisements that were on children’s television this morning where around 10 on the cardiac scale.

For some very strange reason, the majority of the advertisements were for insurance.  Out of each slot of say eight advertisements, four would would be for insurance.  I am a little surprised that the insurance industry should think that five year olds are so interested in their product and can only assume that the campaign is directed at the parents/minders/babysitters, who must be very accident prone and therefore unsuitable for the job?.  The agencies seems to have a particular mental block too, when it comes to insurance.  I have always hated that fucking cheery thing with the toy red phone beeping around the place, but my greatest desire is grab that fucking dog Churchill and douse him in petrol.  Then we’ll see him go woof.  Ohhh yes!

There was even a Christmas ad that kept cropping up.  Yes – Christmas!  The bastards are already advertising for Christmas 2010,  Fucking hell!

The art of advertising is almost dead, but occasionally one good one does crop up.  I found this one on Going like Sixty.  I’m sure he will be furious at won’t mind my borrowing it.

Now that is how it should be done.

Classic!

• Television
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