The New PC and an Old Story.

I finally took the plunge recently and got hold of a new computer. I'm not going to go into nerdish details about which kind and other various technical terms, because, quite simply, I know fuck all about it. I'll just say this, it's fast and I haven't had any problems with it (so far). I haven't gone into massive strops or sat in a simmering homicidal rage as the machine crawled and sometimes froze while I was in the middle of something, whether important or not. No, that shit is over and done with... Miraculously, I might add.

That famous final metaphorical straw was the inability to listen to a radio broadcast over the 'internets'. It was truly beyond me that such a simple thing could prove to be so complicated and downright impossible. I took a few deep breaths and decided that THAT was that.

I harbored fantasies of destroying the old PC with my bare hands (and I still may do). I had that machine for almost 9 years and never once updated it. I know, I know, it's failure to perform menial tasks was likely my own damn fault. I'm fully aware of that. I don't give a toss though. It was time for a new piece of equipment... and soon to be known as a 'piece of shit', if it causes me ANY issues.

So, I'm looking forward to watching football matches and rugby union and maybe even a little cricket, so I can figure out WTF with THAT game. We shall see...

Silliness From a While Back

So, it was a Friday night. I was invited to this place by a pal whose cousin plays in a band who was 'opening' for some ska band that it was assumed I liked. I mean, they were Ok. I apprecicate a good effort no matter what, and they gave one. I wasn't about to buy anyone drinks though, you know?

Anyway, even though I've been accused of being a fashionista, and falsely, I might add, I'll still give a quick run-down of the gear (and this is all relevant to the point I'm gonna make, it's not just me being self-absorbed, well... not entirely). I was wearing -deep breath- an off white dress shirt, black slacks, and two-tone wing-tips... no homburg and no jacket cos it was well warm and humid here that night. Was I over-dressed? Very. I thought since it was a ska band that there would be this whole rude-boy vibe and all. No chance. I couldn't make out if it was goth or emo those in attendance were trying to emulate.

So, a couple of the ska band fellas came over to the bar, which I stayed close to since I was looking just a little bit out of place. I nod nicely and one kid says (and have you ever experienced such a thing?) 'Hey, I know you.' and for a fleeting moment it flashes through my head irrationally- 'I'm famous'. And then of course, it fades... and it's replaced by equally irrational suspicion.

So I'm there, 'Yeah?', and wondering, 'From where, you bastard?'. And he's there, 'Do you know Paul MUMBLE-JUMBLE?' (I say MUMBLE-JUMBLE cos he said some Eastern European name that I'd clearly NEVER heard before). Of course I have to say no, right? Then he asks if I used to be in SOMETHING Street Killers (SOMETHING, cos now I realize he has some speech impediment... and MUMBLE-JUMBLE might well have been a name like Jones or Smith for all I know). So, I'm thinking this is gang, yeah? Something Street Killers? And I realize it's a band...and THEN I realize he's genuinely hoping I was in the Something Street Killers.... and I say, 'Nah, bruv, not me.' And I wished I HAD played an instrument and only been in that band... cos he looked a little disappointed.

Mmmmmm... Well, point is, he likely wouldn't have mistaken me for someone else if I had been dressed like everyone else. Does that make ANY sense?