New IT system
20 meg connection, 50 PCs using it at once...
Just for the record, I don't think it'll work.
I could be wrong. ![]()
20 meg connection, 50 PCs using it at once...
Just for the record, I don't think it'll work.
I could be wrong. ![]()
When I was 7 or 8 and at primary school, there was a colouring competition. It was a Christmas scene that we had to colour in, from memory, and the prize was a full pack of 12 Conti Painting Pencils.
Conti Painting Pencils were at that time, in the opinion of every 8 year old child, the best pencils that money could buy. At first sight, they looked just like normal colouring pencils. BUT, if you dipped them into water, you could PAINT with them!! They were a prize well worth winning, so it would have been worth putting that little bit more effort into any competition that had them as a prize.
The night before the competition entries needed to be in, I remembered I hadn't yet coloured in my picture. I had forgotten about it up until that point, and upon finding it I burst into tears. It was about 8 at night, and I had to go to bed. It was far too late in the day to start colouring it. I realised that the pencils would never be mine, and I was absolutely gutted and went to bed very upset.
So that night, my Dad coloured it in for me.
It might be worth pointing out that my Dad is quite a good artist, and not just in school colouring competitions. Nowadays he has a website from which he sells his paintings - http://www.neilzart.co.uk - but it is something he's always been good at.
So the morning after, on the final day for colouring competition entries, I took the scene that my Dad had coloured in, and handed it into school.
At the end of the week, in assembly, they announced the winners. I forget who third place went to. I think second place went to my friend Helen, (who incidentally would also come second in a dressing up competition later in my life, when she went as "a blancmange",) and I ended up being announced as the colouring competition winner.
I went up to the front, collected my Conti Painting Pencils, and remember very little else about that morning.
The pencils stayed in my desk for months. I didn't use them. Just knowing that I owned them was enough.
So...... 15 years later, I'm sat in a pub with my semi-cousin Ivan and another good mate, Lee Phillips. Years previously we were all in the same school years, all through primary school and secondary school too. We were discussing stories from our childhood whist getting drunk.
I decided that whilst I was sat with good friends, in a good atmosphere, it was time to confess all. I started the story with "Remember in primary school, when we had that competition to win Conti Painting Pencils?"
"Yeah!" enthused Lee. "Didn't you win that?"
"Yeah! How cool was that?!?" I replied, "but I need to confess something."
They listened to me re-tell the above story.
Lee didn't take it well at all. As soon as I said the words "my dad coloured it in for me," I could see him start to fume. I thought that he would crush his pint glass in his bare hand out of rage. It's the one and only time that Lee has ever called me a b#stard.
Luckily, although Lee was absolutely outraged at my cheating, buying him another pint seemed to calm him down. I don't think he'll ever fully forgive me.
Decorate.
I hate decorating. I find it painstakingly dull. Even the word "Decorating" fills me with boredom. Not just a slight feeling of *sigh*, but a proper instant full-on feeling of dread and loathing combined.
Dragging a brush over a wall for three hours to make it into a different colour seems like a fruitless task.
When you're putting up wallpaper you first have to remove the original wallpaper. Oddly, wallpaper isn't usually designed to come off easily, so you have to soak it a patch at a time and scrape it off in small, scratchy sections. When your wall is empty you then have to put some liner up, which is like plain paper. Finally you have to cover up the liner you've just put up with different paper. I cannot think of anything more frustrating. Seriously. There was paper on the wall already...... Why would you think of struggling for days taking it off only to put more back on? You're just making more work for NEXT time you want to de-paper your walls.
*sigh*
You know when you accidentally send a text to wrong person? You know that feeling of utter dread that sweeps over you? That is how I feel about decorating, but instead of instant dread replace the feeling with instant dispair.
(I know that on the list of things I cannot to, this is technically number 11 out of 10, and so I apologise profusely to anyone with OCD.)
10 things I can't do. (things 6 to 10)
This is the continuation of the earlier section.
Enjoy! (Or, like me, cringe.)
Watch singing on TV without my throat joining in.
Just so we are clear, I can watch singing on TV without singing along. My singing is awful. In the past, while singing, people have stopped me and offered me painkillers.
What happens is that, when I see a singer on TV, my throat engages and I automatically copy the notes internally, as if I were singing but without the noise. I don't breathe out, or make an effort to be heard, but my throat follows the note involuntarily.
If you watch my neck while I am watching normal telly, it would be motionless. But if you watch my neck while I'm watching a singer on TV, you would see my adams apple bobbing up and down in unison, like a cork in a neck-shaped jar. (No, I've no idea either - my hands just typed it.)
Watching opera hurts.
Knitting
One of the things that I used to do with my girlfriend 15 years ago, (who is now my wife and has been for the last 14 years,) was try to knit. She could knit anything, usually without the need for a pattern. It was second nature to her, like typing is to me. While typing, I can look around and have a conversation with no break in my typing speed. She could do other things while knitting like make a cup of tea or, probably, drive.
She once tried to teach me how to knit. She decided to teach me how to make a 10 x 10 square of "knit." She did the first line on my needles, showing me each step, then she patiently showed me how to attach line two to line one. Then, unfortunately, she let me have a go.
Within 3 minutes with her own needles, she had knitted a perfect square. I had knitted what could be best described as woollen entrails.
I tried again over the following weeks and knitted a variety of things. I managed spaghetti, more entrails, a murder scene and a bowl of noodles without a bowl. They were all supposed to be squares, but all went badly wrong.
I've tried a few times since to get her to teach me again, but she just winces as if the pain returns with the memory.
Yawning without shaking my head left and right.
Years ago I yawned once and my jaw locked open. Since then I am really wary of yawning.
From that point I have always shaken my head while yawning, in an attempt to loosen it while I close my mouth.
It must work, because it hasn't happened since.
Understand txt speak.
I just don't get it. I'm ok with chatroom speak from years ago, like lol and a/s/l (which is going back about 10 years when I was young and able to learn new things) but I don't get modern day txt speak.
It takes me longer to read the shorter words than it does to read the full versions. It takes me even longer still to attempt to type them into my phone, as I can't understand what I'm doing while missing out letters on the fly. I often type the word out in full so I can read it, then have to navigate about to delete vowels and replace ate with an 8, etc.
Resolve misunderstanding by talking, after causing the misunderstanding by talking in the first place.
So this is the final thing I can't do. If I accidentally say something that sounds a little offhand, or could be construed as insulting, I try to immediately rectify it by explaining what I meant. This often leads to me accidentally adding further and further accidental insults, or
digging myself in deeper and deeper, until I get to the point where I want the earth to just open up and deliver me a fiery blast from its molten core, permanently ending the awkwardness I've caused, eliminating mankind in it's entirety, so not one single memory remains of the awful event.
Most people have that cut-off where they realise that the less they say, the quicker the situation will be over and forgotten. But I don't seem to have that. In retrospect I can see where I SHOULD have stopped talking, but at the time I get so concerned that I've said the wrong thing I try to backtrack without thinking everything through, a little too eagerly.
When typing an email, I usually put a lot of thought into everything. I often type something out in full, re-reading and editing it many times before clicking send. With text you get to type it, check it, edit it, check it again and finally send it. There is also often a period of time between it being sent and being read at the other end, during which you could also forward extra things if, after another re-read, you spot things that may need clarifying.
But I don't have this luxury with speech. It just comes out of my mouth and hits peoples ears without allowing that thought period in between.
What is even worse is that when I do it, I can feel the atmosphere change from a happy, friendly one, to an impending follow-me-to-doom one. And yet I'm completely powerless to stop it.
Conversations about womens ages never go well. I take "mature" to mean "grown up", "serious" or "concentrating", but it seems other people take it to mean "old". Trying to get out of a conversation where you've just called a 30-something "old" never ends well.
"I don't mean OLD, I mean you look like you're concentrating like a grown up, with a thoughtful wrinkled forehead...... No, not wrinkles like old people get, you're not OLD old, you've got ages left yet, I just mean you're not as old as me yet are you....... No, I'm not saying you LOOK as old as me, I just mean that on an "old scale" you'd only be half way........"
Age, height, gender, looks, speech, dialect, hair, shoes, clothes, writing..... very little is exempt from my amazing lack of conversational tact. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that ANY conversation that I have outside of my own head has quite a high chance of going the same way as the example one above.
I often wish there was an "end it all now" button I could press mid-conversation.
Facebook is great. But what would make it even better?
What is more ace than facebook?
