1. Your morning routine is:
– get up
– turn computer on
– check and reply to emails
– check and reply to messageboards
– shower
– breakfast
In that order.
2. The numbers 24/7 fill you with a suffusion of joy, and yet the nearest all-night garage is miles away.
3. Your neighbours, whom you’ve only met twice in three years, worry that you’re not getting out enough.
4. You work for an internet start-up which entails working long hours, mainly online. When you get any spare time at all, you spend it… online.
5. Your biggest fear about flying to San Francisco is how on earth you’re going to cope without the internet for 14 hours.
6. The fact that they have 18mbps broadband in Japan seems like a perfectly adequate reason for moving there.
7. You have become adept at calculating time differences and know instantly exactly what time of day it is in any part of the world. The figures -8 and +9.5 are particularly important to you.
8. What used to be ‘TV dinners’ have now become ‘internet dinners’, and you only cook dishes that can be eaten with a fork alone, because that leaves you one hand free to type.
9. You regularly *emote* in your hand-written letters.
10. You have a list of Ten Signs That Your Internet Dependency Is Getting Out Of Hand, all of which apply directly to you.
Right… I’m off for some cold turkey. Anyone coming?
I always knew that there was a strong risk of this blog becoming somewhat, er, circular, but I never imagined that it would happen this soon after revealing the presence of said blog to my web compatriots.
It happens like this… you discuss something on your blog. Then you discuss the same thing with someone who’s read your blog. They then quote your own posts back at you for their own entertainment. You then threaten them with publishing their comments on your comments on your blog which they can then quote back at you the next time you see them online… And so the decline into online mental unhealth proceeds.
I must admit, I toyed with the idea of a ‘what Neil said’ thread, but ultimately, MSN conversations are never the same when you read them back the next day. So you’re saved. Say thank you and pray it doesn’t happen again.
Anyway, other thoughts percolating through my grey matter today: Why won’t Blogger play happily with NTL? I have all this new web space to fill full of shite, and Blogger refuses to publish my blog to my NTL home page. I spent hours on Thursday going through every permutation of Blogger setting possible, but no dice. Instead I ended up watching Buffy trying to save Spike, again. Why she didn’t stake him first time round I’ll never know. I mean, he deserves it even if only for that godawful chipperfuckingcockney accent.
Why can’t American actors (on the whole) do British accents? This has bugged me ever since I was first terrified by the inane utterings of Dick van Dyke in Mary Poppins (Gawd bless ‘er) when I was nowt but a wee sproglet. Why do they think that if they drop a few haytches and convert a few ths to fs, they’ll sound like a Luhndaner?
At least James Marsters’ accent has improved over the seasons, but he really has no excuse considering that there’s a real Brit on set that could (one presumes) give him a few pointers. Or maybe Anthony Stewart ‘Oh would you like to come in for a coffee’ Head was too busy pissing himself laughing to be able to get a word out.
Finally, I learnt a new word last night. Scriking. Apparently, it means ‘crying’. I look forward to being able to work that into conversation very soon.