09:00
Christmas day in Dublin:
1960 BORN: Paul Hewson, AKA Bono, at the Rotunda
10:00
Heyyyy! New music website calls for a usability and interactivity report. Maybe a three week stint. Let's plump for four, to be on the safe side. Who knows what it could turn into? A little bird tells me they've got funding. My On This Day in History sidebar project starts testing today, contract meeting this afternoon. Now to check up on my other content deal for a Daily Trivia service on SMS and WAP. This is on the master roadmap for location-based information services, with which we will light up the whole island of Barbados, block by block.
10:25
Organic construction assets on the street outside my window. Hard hats and high vis. Nothing new there. This time, however, they're flirting with each other. I'm looking down at two men and two women. By the white safety helmets, clean boots, soft hands and clipboards quite clearly I can tell they're functionaries in the engineering end of the boom.
In this little tableau, the men are competing with each other to be funny. There's a blonde you see, and she's kinda cute and in the scheme of these things, rather fetching in her white helmet. There's also a shy, nerdy, girl-next-door brunette riding shotgun as the dull chaperone. In my imagination, the scowling eyebrows buried behind her spectacle frames suggest she may be somewhat resentful of the attention her co-sex colleague is attracting.
The lads are all jibber-jabber like goats. The blue-eyed engineering resource in her twenties is indulging both their attentions.
10:40
On they go. Jabber jab jab, blooty bloot. The brunette's just not getting in on the game. She's a real dryballs, in her ol' woolly jumper. At this point, because they're stalking my building, I speculate that they wish to get in here. I shan't let them through because I don't know who they are. Except her. The other three wait outside. She can come upstairs to try on my hard hat for size, if she likes.
10:49
The party of engineers have been let in by someone from the management company. All I have to do now is go out to the stairs to be seen. Then, I'll wink at herself and say "Oh somebody let you in at last, good". The gentlemen will see this and they will know I witnessed their flirting whilst their poor wives were at home slaving over the hot coffee and feel deep, everlasting shame. Chuckles for me.
13:03
I'll make a date with my girlfriend. Using the power of technology. Take in a Tommy Tiresome comedy gig in Vicar St, Friday week, the 19th. I'll book the tickets and bring her along. I'll book first and text her later.
13:27
The casual cruelty of a master search engine for tickets, colder than the Point Depot at a November concert.
13:37
“Booking fee”? What the hell is that about? A fee for buying their tickets? If I went down to the shop to buy bread and they had a “bread-buying fee”, there would be a revolution. Heads would roll. Basements would fill with blood.
Christmas day in Dublin:
1960 BORN: Paul Hewson, AKA Bono, at the Rotunda
10:00
Heyyyy! New music website calls for a usability and interactivity report. Maybe a three week stint. Let's plump for four, to be on the safe side. Who knows what it could turn into? A little bird tells me they've got funding. My On This Day in History sidebar project starts testing today, contract meeting this afternoon. Now to check up on my other content deal for a Daily Trivia service on SMS and WAP. This is on the master roadmap for location-based information services, with which we will light up the whole island of Barbados, block by block.
10:25
Organic construction assets on the street outside my window. Hard hats and high vis. Nothing new there. This time, however, they're flirting with each other. I'm looking down at two men and two women. By the white safety helmets, clean boots, soft hands and clipboards quite clearly I can tell they're functionaries in the engineering end of the boom.
In this little tableau, the men are competing with each other to be funny. There's a blonde you see, and she's kinda cute and in the scheme of these things, rather fetching in her white helmet. There's also a shy, nerdy, girl-next-door brunette riding shotgun as the dull chaperone. In my imagination, the scowling eyebrows buried behind her spectacle frames suggest she may be somewhat resentful of the attention her co-sex colleague is attracting.
The lads are all jibber-jabber like goats. The blue-eyed engineering resource in her twenties is indulging both their attentions.
10:40
On they go. Jabber jab jab, blooty bloot. The brunette's just not getting in on the game. She's a real dryballs, in her ol' woolly jumper. At this point, because they're stalking my building, I speculate that they wish to get in here. I shan't let them through because I don't know who they are. Except her. The other three wait outside. She can come upstairs to try on my hard hat for size, if she likes.
10:49
The party of engineers have been let in by someone from the management company. All I have to do now is go out to the stairs to be seen. Then, I'll wink at herself and say "Oh somebody let you in at last, good". The gentlemen will see this and they will know I witnessed their flirting whilst their poor wives were at home slaving over the hot coffee and feel deep, everlasting shame. Chuckles for me.
13:03
I'll make a date with my girlfriend. Using the power of technology. Take in a Tommy Tiresome comedy gig in Vicar St, Friday week, the 19th. I'll book the tickets and bring her along. I'll book first and text her later.
13:27
The casual cruelty of a master search engine for tickets, colder than the Point Depot at a November concert.
13:37
“Booking fee”? What the hell is that about? A fee for buying their tickets? If I went down to the shop to buy bread and they had a “bread-buying fee”, there would be a revolution. Heads would roll. Basements would fill with blood.
