Thursday, February 22, 2007

ByePod.............. for good???

I have finally parted ways with my iPod. I know, people, this a bit of a shock to all of you. If you have been reading this blog for a while, you will remember the rather chequered past that my iPod and I share. I believe that it was exactly a year ago that I first started posting about the weird shit that my 'pod was doing. I was confused that sometimes it froze and occasionally when I switched it on, the 'unhappy iPod face' logo popped up:



How naîve I was. How young and foolish to think that such a thing as the unhappy iPod face was a real problem and that the occasional freeze was a serious cause for concern. How small-minded was I to think that that was the limit of things that could go wrong with my iPod! How magnificantly insignificant were the boundaries of my mind, to conceive that the worst that things could get was unhappy 'pod! I was like a blind man, but in recent months my eyes have really been awakened to the vast possibilities available to the really demanding iPod-breakage connoisseur.

For example, in the last few weeks, I have encountered the following scampish little errors occuring in my little white box o'joy: All of the buttons seem to have changed their functions to "go back". Therefore, pressing the 'menu' button repeated the song. Pressing 'play' repeated the song - if no song was selected, then no song played. Pressing 'pause' repeated the song. Pressing 'go back a song' did nothing as that button for some reason is permanently stuck down. However, the buttons also occasionally did what they were supposed to do, but only if you jabbed them really really hard and repeatedly with one finger. Meanwhile, this would make the songs skip backwards repeatedly.

Therefore, if you were on the playlist 'Hardcore', and wished to change to, for example, the smooth funky-rock-beats of 'Cake', it would be neccesary to press menu like five times. During these five times, the iPod would skip back five songs. Therefore, before you get to hear "Comfort Eagle", you'd have to listen to the starting beats of, for example, "Hardcore Heaven (Rat Pack & Shimano Remix)", "Funk D'Hardcore (K-Komplex Special Bonkers Edit)", "SMD#1-[Sparky & Sytronik Remix]", "SMD#2-[Vibe & Hattrixx Remix]", and even "SMD#4-[Alistair Storm Remix]" (don't have SMD#3, unfortunately, so I couldn't tell you how good it is). Of course, this is assuming that the iPod did not freeze up at, say, the beginning notes of any of those songs, the termerity of pressing a button, or halfway though changing a menu. Therefore the chance of actually changing a song successfully is as low as, I would say, one in five. This is a lot of effort and stress, just to get to listen to an admittedly not very good band. It is also quite difficult to do with one hand while driving down a dark road at forty mph, avoiding foxes and old ladies and old lady foxes.

Of course, that isn't the whole story. When an iPod usually freezes, all that it is necessary to do is to hold menu and centre button to reset it. As has already been discussed, these buttons weren't really in the most helpful of moods and that tends to do very little/nothing. Therefore, the only thing left to do was to leave the iPod alone in my pocket until it decided it wanted to be nice, something that could take hours or EVEN DAYS. However, something I discovered after a few week's worrying - essentially, banging the iPod against a hard surface (brick wall, floor, forehead of mongoloid) a few times tended to kick start the motherboard or the magic elves or tiny orchestra or whatever inside and reawaken the magical iPod powers. I could tell this by holding the 'pod up to my ear and listening to what was going on. If the iPod was making a high pitched screaming/siren alert sound, then it was not working and needed an extra couple of kickstarting bangs. If it was whirring or silent, then all was good inside and it should reawaken for at least another few songs presently.

This was how I lived my life, from song to song, always grateful when a song played and didn't freeze up halfway through (something that was becoming more and more of a daily occurence). To be honest, I was getting upset. This iPod had been my friend and companion for more than a year now - surely SURELY it wasn't going to keep freezing up on me, not playing music, and, in reality, not letting me understand what was going on within its seemingly pristine shell? This was upsetting - my old friend was making me feel like a villain for trying to listen to its sweet music. With every bang against a wall, I felt like myPod and I were drifting further apart, and I felt more and more frustrated because I just could not understand WHY. I suppose I was not a perfect iPod listener - I dropped it a few times and my awesome trick of juggling it in the air probably didn't do the motherboard much good - but I treated it with real love and respect and thought that we were in with it for the long run. So why was it treating me so shabbily? Why was my iPod not letting me understand what was going on?

I tell you, my iPod caused me some sleepless nights.

Eventually, I thought to myself - this can't go on. This iPod is gearing up to completely break down on me any day soon. I should initiate the first move, just to figure out what's going on and see if I can prevent it. So I tried to prise open the case. In doing so I dropped it and the case came open and I think something disconnected because now the 'hold' switch is stuck on 'on', and so I'm not even allowed inside the pod at all, something which was (and is) causing me some real distress. I decided that things had come to a head. I had to bite the bullet and just ask the questions that needed to be asked. So I did.

"iPod", I asked tenderly, "Do you even want to be my mp3 player any more? I think that if you have had enough of this relationship - which you clearly have judging by the way that you are acting - you should just tell me now. It will save us both a lot of heartache down the line."

The iPod didn't really say anything. It kind of sat there whirring to itself. Then it started playing a song. However when I plugged some earphones in, no music came out. This was distressing. Were we really not communicating at all? I decided that the iPod had probably had enough of me. I had certainly had enough heartache because of it, so we decided to part ways. I put it in a drawer and went to Argos and got a new one, because I feel that I have earnt it after all the misery and worry caused by the last one.

But as I unwrapped my new friend, fears started to sprout. They germinatd in my belly, unfurled up my throat before flowering in my brain and dropping worry-pollen into my eyes. I blinked a few times. What was I doing? Why was I abandoning my old companion? Just because it was unable to let me inside, because it couldn't express its feelings, because there were things that it felt it was unable to share with me... was that a reason to simply dispose of it, to throw it away into the wheelie bin of my existence? The times when I had felt that things between me and the iPod were over had been innumerable, but every time it has amazed and re-energised me by doing something amazing - playing the entire Pink Floyd album in order, for example, or working perfectly for an entire drive to Dorney Lake, or beating up a mugger, or doing something equally excellent that made me thank the Lord that I had not gotten rid of it.

So what to do? Embrace the new shallow flashiness of my new 'video' iPod, or somehow manage to patch things up and go back to the model that I know and love, no matter how hard and bumpy that might be? What do I do??????

This is a difficult decision.

* * *

In conclusion, my girlfriend and I slightly kind of split up a bit recently. Some of this post may have been analagous.
The bit about getting a newer model from Argos wasn't.

Friday, February 16, 2007

Google Image Search Rap

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN... FROM MEMORY... THE FRESH PRINCE OF BEL-AIR THEME TUNE... GOOGLE IMAGE SEARCHIFIED!!!

Now, this is a story all about how
My life got "flipped-turned upside down"




And I'd like to take a minute
Just sit right there
I'll tell you how I "became the Prince" of a town called Bel-Air:




In West Philadelphia born and raised
On the playground was where I spent most of my days
"Chillin' out maxin' relaxin' all cool"




And all shootin' some b-ball outside of the school
When a couple of guys
Who were up to no good
Startin makin' trouble in my neighborhood
I got in "one lil" fight and my mom got scared




She said 'You're movin' with your auntie and uncle in Bel-Air'

I begged and pleaded with her day after day
But she packed my suitcase and send me on my way
She gave me a kiss and then she gave me my ticket.
I put my walkman on and said, 'I might as well "kick it"'.




I whistled for a cab and when it came near
The license plate said fresh and it had dice in the mirror
If anything I can say this "cab is rare"
But I thought


Seriously, what the hell am I doing? I just double-checked myself and I did not like what I was seeing. Kind of when the alcoholic realises that he is licking spilled turpentine off the floor of a pub, I just realised that I am typing out the full lyrics to the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air theme tune, copying random phrases from it, then google-searching those phrases to hopefully find amusing photos, and then linking those onto my blog. On a Friday evening at seven o' clock. Seriously, dude, WTF.
There must be something more productive I could be doing. I mean, I spend my days at school patrolling the corridors like Travis Bickle from Taxi Driver, glaring at all the morons that make up the lower classes of my schools. I look balefully at them with their fashionably long hair and their unique ways of tucking their ties into their shirts and their non-standard shoes and I think to myself 'Oh, if only I had a high-powered hunting rifle. Or sufficient testosterone or wit to be sure of defeating all-comers with either blistering comebacks or the blistering powers of my fists'. Then I think about how much I hate 99% of my school, on the principle that they are probably younger and happier than me, by which point the original culprit (who to be honest had only performed the crime of walking past me looking happy and/or young) has already escaped my riteous conquering fury.
The only thing that stops me from jumping off the top of the school onto my head, and thus killing myself, is the thought that somehow I am filled with bare skillz that I will somehow explode onto the world, when only I have a chance. I'm not sure what these skillz are, but in past weeks I have been thinking 'Writer', so I have been planning the day when I will be The Best Writer In The World and I will get bare respect and do bare magazine interviews and have bare groupies. No shit - I am seriously picturing myself as like "The Rock-Star Short Story Writer - Women want him, men want to BE him, he walks about looking really cool in a long leather jacket and with a minimum amount of stubble". Yeah, that would rule. And what am I doing now to further my writing career and become king of the scriveners? Why, I am writing down the theme tune to a fair-to-good 90's sitcom starring black people in order to pick out certain words and phrases which an anonymous internet searching program will associate with pictures which I find amusing.

This is actually quite worrying; I now think that I do not have the correct artistic temperament to write the next great novel. I fear that Oxford Interviews in fifty years will not concern the above blog post ("So, Miss Small-Clever-Indian-Child, what do you think about the semantic usage of the word "chillin" in this context?" "Why, I think that it raises some important issues about the position of women in modern day America, especially when one considers Tannen's opinions on the Dominance vs Difference Gender asymmetry inherent in contemporary phallocentric society" "Facinating. Is it true that 'phallocentric' is to do with penises?" "Yes" "Hee Hee you said willies.")

The above parentheses and the entire post that it followed are, I feel, not the sort of thing that TS Eliot would have spent his days creating. Or Danté. I was bored with feeling like a complete intellectual pear so I went to the library today and got out The Divine Comedy, Danté's bare long poem. Its pretty good so far. Basically, this guy is wandering through this forest trying to climb up a mountain, when he gets attacked by wild animals. He runs away, and then meets a Long Dead Poet called Virgil (when I say 'long dead poet', I mean a poet who has been dead a long time. Not a dead poet who happens to be very long, although who knows?) who is from Hell.
Virgil is like "Yo Danté, you can't get past the wild animals because they represent your sins and this is a very allegorical poem, you get me?" and then Danté is like "Yeah fo-sho bruv you my wizzly but I wanna be climbing this bare big hill, can you send me some aid, yo?" and then Virgil is like "Well check it my homes I can take you on a drive-by of Hell and then you'll be able to go up the hill for some reason," and then Danté is like "Nah blud Hell aint my deal, you wizzle?" then Virgil is like "Check it there's this chick in Heaven who wants you to go, she be called Beatrice" and then Danté is like "Woah fo shizzle, B-eatricizzle? Take me away, pimp daddy," so then Virgy and Dants walk to a river where some old guy on a boat yells at them then takes them across, but for some reason Danté falls asleep (which leads to my theory that the last line of the poem will be "He woke up and it was all a dream", although that was my expected ending for Lord of the Rings, the Harry Potter series, and anything that Haruki Murakami has ever written). Danté wakes up and they go through Limbo, where everyone is really fed up and naked and being stung by bees, then after that they hit the 1st Circle of Hell, which is full of naked people being blown about by some cold wind and that is as far as I have read to.

It is a truly gripping read and I encourage anybody with a hankering for some Italian Allegorical Punishment Poetry (IAPP) to give it a go. I also discovered that the sign "Abandon hope all ye who enter here" which is mounted on the door of my room, is actually a little motto written above the door to Hell. You learn something new every day.

See, this post has been both entertaining and educational. And I didn't even have to look anything else up on Google Images to get a cheap "laugh".



GOD DAMNIT THAT DOESN'T EVEN HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH LAUGHTER

Today's Shockingly Craptic Crossword Clue:
Shoes blocking pipes (5)

Thursday, February 15, 2007

I WILL blog soon

Actually, that is a lie, no I won't. I am going away for a bit soon.

Perhaps I will blog tomorrow. If not, then a long time will pass. Perhaps Monday. Who knows? It will keep you on your toes

Tuesday, February 6, 2007

A Google Image Search Story

Once upon a time, there lived a "brave young warrior"...



He lived far off in the mythic land of "Middle Earth"...



... in a small but prosperous "farming town"...



... spending his days practising his swordsmanship, fencing, and archery in a small hut in the middle of the forest, at the tutlelage of his "wise mentor".



After many years, the wise mentor said to the young warrior "Young Warrior, you have indeed worked long and hard, and I feel that it is time for you to head off into the big wide world to seek fame and fortune. I have packed you a lunchsack with provisions and will give you this trusty pony so that the long roads and harsh terrain will not "hurt your feet".



The warrior thanked his wise mentor, and climbed on the pony and set off to lands far away. On the way, he had many "exciting and dangerous adventures":







However, after many months of travelling and killing beasts like some retarded World of Warcraft geek, he thought to himself "Perhaps I will stop in a town and find myself a girlfriend". So that is what he did - he shouted "HUP" to Clancy (his pony), and rode full speed to the nearest town, which was called "Safetyville".



Safetyville was known far and wide as being the safest place about - the perfect place for any warrior to rest and recuperate from a long hard day's fighting of identikit demons. After saddling Clancy up at the local stables, he headed straight for the tavern to find a suitable lady. And lo and behold, what did he spy working behind the bar? Why, a truly lovely barmaid! Her name was Eric, and she was truly a "busty wench"!



He fell immediately in love, and danced up to the bar to order a pint of Carling Edge (with extra citrus). She was so immediately enthralled at his "handsome face"...



... that she too fell deep in love. After a night of whispering sweet nothings to each other, they vowed to get married. However, her father - the barkeeper - was a very overprotective man who "disapproved".



On the other hand, he realised that the young warrior could be a decent potential mate, so he thought up a cunning plan to test his mettle. "Young lad!" he cried. "In the woods near here lives a mighty dragon. If you slay the dragon, I shall let you marry my daughter!" The warrior thought about it for a bit. It seemed quite a lot of effort just to get his leg over. However, the rest of the girls in the pub were "damn ugly"...



... so he thought "What the hell I'll do it". After another few pints of dutch courage, he uncertainly climbed back onto Clarence and rode in the deep dark woods. On his journey towards the dragon's lair, he saw many a "scary sight"...



Finally he reached the dragons lair, which was, like, an old mine shaft all covered in goo and stuff. It was really horrible and to be honest the brave warrior considered packing it all in. However, he thought for a bit, built up his courage, did a few vodka jelly shots and went into the dark abyss. Inside, he came upon a huge cave. Inside the cave was a pile of treasure. And curled up on top of the pile of treasure, sound asleep, was the "evil dragon"!



The warrior was so scared he nearly peed himself. However, he bravely overcame his fears, wrapped his thick fleece pullover around him, crept up the pile of treasure without waking the sleeper, and, before the dragon could react, kicked its head in with his thick manly "hiking boots".



When the dragon was dead, the warrior took some photos and, in the interests of ending this story quickly, teleported back to the pub. Hearing that the dragon was dead, the old man was "very happy"...



... and blessed the marriage. Then the warrior and Eric got married and had lots of "beautiful children".



Unfortunately the warrior got bored after a few years, and there was a very 'bitter divorce'.



THE END

Hahahahhahahaha... I have far too much time on my hands. This isn't even the limits of my creativity today. I spent half an hour drawing pictures of what my girlfriend would look like if she had blonde hair. I can tell you, the results were H O T. She looked like she had a cheese omlette on her head. Hahaha. Is it obvious that I am off school sick and buzzed on Lemsip and Under-3s Calpol? I am. Hahahaha well making that made me laugh, even if nobody comments on it. I love the internet.
And I didn't even get to use the best picture of all, which I came across during the making of this piece. I could think of no convenient place to slot it into the main narrative, so instead I will insert it here as a convenient coda - the equivalent of the "Extra Scene" at the end of the credits of such films as Pirates of the Carribean or Bug's Life. It makes me laugh.

Enjoy:



Today's Crapic Crossword Clue:
Waggle a weapon, writer! (11)
 
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