I have a night off being sociable. This means I have to tidy my room and Sort Stuff Out.
So instead, I've read most of the friends page (damn you all, write less, use smaller words, something), and found a rather nifty site listing and reviewing rock, glam, AOR and metal bands. Nice. I went through and clicked every link with "sleaze glam" next to it for a couple of pages, and came up with... stuff I already have! Hurrah. There were a few more names to look for, mind, but that would require me to go to a CD shop. That was actually a hobby of mine once, but I gave it up a couple of years back, and haven't got back into it.
I had a serious point to make about work, people at work, narrow mindedness, racism, selfishness and excuses for it, poverty, idiocy, and the way mankind deserves oblivion because most of it is worthless, but I got distracted by the idea of shiny things, so I'll let you extrapolate it for yourselves. Suffice it to say that normal people need to learn to think, and I have no idea how to make them.
*sigh*
It seems my glorious outfit idea may fail, due to a surprising lack of UV-ness in the clothes. Feh. The backup plan is ready and waiting, but it's not magic. I have an idea involving a four-quartered waistcoat, but that may have to wait until I can afford some more fabric.
Incidentally, who would be up for a Moulin Rouge batfink?
In , I still don't have an interview date for my own job. It's getting a bit fucked up. Of the people who've been doing it longer than me, one is leaving and tends to run on autopilot anyway, one is the TA and has some interesting knowledge gaps, two are part time and have only just started VWF (the more difficult of the two types of claim we handle), and the last is perfectly competant but part time and never hadnles the complicated queries. On tuesday I broke the new productivity sheets by logging all my time as complicated queries but still making payme nts. Meanwhile I attracted a snotty email from some twat who assumed that being a claims adjuster meant he knew what he was doing. Hurrah. The little dipshit then criticised me for sending him an email instead of turning around and talking to him. This is the point at which I learned who he was and made the correlation between the self-important dipshit I was dealing with and the arrogant and ignorant twat who sits behind me and talks too much.
I've been musing about fundamentalism, racism, westerns, and the BNP. I think one of the main reasons that these things attract people is the stark simplicity they place the world in. It's all a big complicated mess, and people can't handle it. They want the easy answer: "There's the bad guy, if you kill him, then everything will be alright". Unfortunately, the easy answer is bollocks.
I have also been musing about a film called Secretary that I saw the other night. Initially, I thought of it the same as of The Story of O (which I vaguely recall reviewing at some point), finding a problem with the idea that the story basically consists of the heroine proving her love for her man through a variety of BDSM techniques involving suffering. Then I compared it to conventional love stories, where the Hero proves his love for the heroine through a series of heroic actions involving suffering.
So, the common theme is that you will suffer for someone if yo ureally love them, and in return they will, er, accept you. How gracious of them! Meanwhile the difference is that while men are supposed to be heroic and mighty and clever, and endure a bit of suffering on the side, women are supposed to look good bent over, with the endurance being their primary ability.
Or to put it another way, women are decorative and good for beating, but not much use.
Which is basically why I disliked those two films.
More
and just in case you don't know thegreatgonzo, try this:
http://www.thomasscott.net/emergencies/index.htm
So instead, I've read most of the friends page (damn you all, write less, use smaller words, something), and found a rather nifty site listing and reviewing rock, glam, AOR and metal bands. Nice. I went through and clicked every link with "sleaze glam" next to it for a couple of pages, and came up with... stuff I already have! Hurrah. There were a few more names to look for, mind, but that would require me to go to a CD shop. That was actually a hobby of mine once, but I gave it up a couple of years back, and haven't got back into it.
I had a serious point to make about work, people at work, narrow mindedness, racism, selfishness and excuses for it, poverty, idiocy, and the way mankind deserves oblivion because most of it is worthless, but I got distracted by the idea of shiny things, so I'll let you extrapolate it for yourselves. Suffice it to say that normal people need to learn to think, and I have no idea how to make them.
*sigh*
It seems my glorious outfit idea may fail, due to a surprising lack of UV-ness in the clothes. Feh. The backup plan is ready and waiting, but it's not magic. I have an idea involving a four-quartered waistcoat, but that may have to wait until I can afford some more fabric.
Incidentally, who would be up for a Moulin Rouge batfink?
In , I still don't have an interview date for my own job. It's getting a bit fucked up. Of the people who've been doing it longer than me, one is leaving and tends to run on autopilot anyway, one is the TA and has some interesting knowledge gaps, two are part time and have only just started VWF (the more difficult of the two types of claim we handle), and the last is perfectly competant but part time and never hadnles the complicated queries. On tuesday I broke the new productivity sheets by logging all my time as complicated queries but still making payme nts. Meanwhile I attracted a snotty email from some twat who assumed that being a claims adjuster meant he knew what he was doing. Hurrah. The little dipshit then criticised me for sending him an email instead of turning around and talking to him. This is the point at which I learned who he was and made the correlation between the self-important dipshit I was dealing with and the arrogant and ignorant twat who sits behind me and talks too much.
I've been musing about fundamentalism, racism, westerns, and the BNP. I think one of the main reasons that these things attract people is the stark simplicity they place the world in. It's all a big complicated mess, and people can't handle it. They want the easy answer: "There's the bad guy, if you kill him, then everything will be alright". Unfortunately, the easy answer is bollocks.
I have also been musing about a film called Secretary that I saw the other night. Initially, I thought of it the same as of The Story of O (which I vaguely recall reviewing at some point), finding a problem with the idea that the story basically consists of the heroine proving her love for her man through a variety of BDSM techniques involving suffering. Then I compared it to conventional love stories, where the Hero proves his love for the heroine through a series of heroic actions involving suffering.
So, the common theme is that you will suffer for someone if yo ureally love them, and in return they will, er, accept you. How gracious of them! Meanwhile the difference is that while men are supposed to be heroic and mighty and clever, and endure a bit of suffering on the side, women are supposed to look good bent over, with the endurance being their primary ability.
Or to put it another way, women are decorative and good for beating, but not much use.
Which is basically why I disliked those two films.
More
| You are 24% geek |
Take the Polygeek Quiz at Thudfactor.com
and just in case you don't know thegreatgonzo, try this:
http://www.thomasscott.net/emergencies/index.htm
</td><td valign="top">OK, so maybe you ain't a geek. You do, at least, show a bit of interest in the world around you. Either that, or you have enough of a sense of humor to pick some of the sillier answers on the test. Regardless, you're probably a pretty nifty, well-rounded person who gets along fine with people and can chat with just about anyone without fear of looking stupid or foolish or overly concerned with minutiae. God, I hate you.</td>