noideadog: (monkey!)
This one time at work, I wrote "Call Tanya" on a whiteboard, and pointed a video-conferencing unit at it, and dialled it from another video conferencing unit in someone's office, and moved that to the desk of the person who I wanted to see the message. That's a pretty inefficient way to send a message.

Here's another: http://www.jamesjoycehouse.com/
(You have to look beyond the blank screen)
noideadog: (weirdofreak)

Half a pony
Originally uploaded by xymb.
There are at least three and a half ponies in my team's inventory now, probably enough to justify bringing in my My Little Pony Twinkle Toes Dance Studio. (Though [livejournal.com profile] yellowpigs's pony might find that insensitive.)

I'm told that it's worth asking [livejournal.com profile] ob_v for the documentary footage of the ponisecting, but I haven't seen the pictures yet.
noideadog: (monkey!)
[livejournal.com profile] gerrowadat gave me his WoW password to change :-D I have ULTEEMAT POWAR! Is WoW like Sims? Can I make his character do it with boys?
noideadog: (Default)

orange.jpg
Originally uploaded by xymb.
Does this blow your mind?
noideadog: (booze)
My best plans and most amusing conversations happen after two beers. Unfortunately, I had about six. We finished in the pub, and I decided a taxi would find me if I started walking. Plenty did, but walking is lovely at night, especially when you're not sober enough to talk yourself out of walking at night. It's Dublin 4 anyway. Not a lot of murdering happens here.

Three quarters way home I passed a couple of stacks of chairs, arranged in front of a garden wall. Blue and black chairs, metal frames, cloth seats, cheap but sturdy. They looked like they were for taking, but who can tell with street chairs? And it's not like I have a big chair-shaped gap in my life. I walked on.

A couple of minutes later, a laminated sign stuck up from the path, blown away maybe, or stolen, but far from home. "Chairs", it said. "Free.". I didn't want a chair. "Poor sign" I thought. "So far from your chairs. Someone should return you." I considered. It was 2am. I didn't have anywhere to be. It was the Right Thing To Do.

The chairs stood there, chairishly. I figured it would be uncharitable not to give one a home. It's the hard-knock life for chairs. They don't get a lot of chances.

I'd been carrying the chair for barely a few seconds when a taxi slowed down, a passenger rolling down the window to call to me. "Where are you going?" "The other side of Donnybrook". "Do you need a lift?" "No, I have a chair, thanks". "Alright." A second taxi slowed. "mumblemumblechair?" "No, I'm good thanks." Some passers by said something that amounted to "You appear to be transporting a chair". I couldn't in all honesty disagree.

I bought bread at the petrol station. "..there's a chair!", wondered the station guy. "Yes, I'm carrying it", I explained kindly. "Would you like a bag?" "No, I have a chair, thanks." "ok".

I have absolutely no need for a blue metal and fabric chair. It can't really go outside in the future-rain. I think alcohol may not be a very helpful decision-making aid.
noideadog: (chimney rabbit)

chimneyrabbit.jpg
Originally uploaded by xymb.
Glen says: I'm off to Cavan for the weekend. Can you look after the bunnies?

And I say: Sure, I'm going to be here, and it's not like they're any trouble.

And Fidget says: Ok, I'm going to climb into the chimney.

Does this stuff happen to other people? Spending an hour of a Saturday night with your arms up a chimney, saying reassuring things to a terrified bunny, trying to grab his hind legs because he inexplicably doesn't fit back out head first, wondering whether it'd be unhealthy to just feed him up there and let him figure it out on his own? It doesn't, does it? This is god punishing me for laughing at the Molly the Cat story.
noideadog: (science)

straws.JPG
Originally uploaded by worse than hitler.
I was changing jobs and then Glen was busy being ductally probed and then I was away, and still it seems impossible that it's been three months since we did any science.

This evening's effort was very limited in scope, and rather too enjoyable to make me feel that we're really responding to the call of the scientific vocation. Nonetheless, I present to you an experiment designed to determine the factuality of a curious piece of post prandial nomenclature: are After Eight Straws really functional straws? (I assure you that we waited several hours after eight pm before proceeding. Sloppy science proves nothing!)

They wouldn't lie to us, would they? )
noideadog: (Default)


Two USB Christmas trees. One reindeer beanie baby. Mgrice's freaky mind. The end result is far greater than the sum of its parts.
noideadog: (Default)
It's not just me.

"A few miles east of Dublin. You?"
"Nottingham."
"Does it..?"
"Really exist? Yes, Sherwood Forest, where Robin Hood and his Merry Men spent their time japing and.. what?"
"Japing!"
"Yes, it means ..like.. having fun?"
"*beam*"

Japery is alive and well, and living in Nottingham.

Listen to Paola's radio programme (Hi Paola!)
here, when streaming is fixed, real soon now.
noideadog: (Default)
Continued from the previous post, here's my Last Day In Eircom.

I pottered around the building for most of the morning, ostensibly moving things from place to place, but really saying goodbye to people on the various floors. Simo and I finally made the map of the patch panel that we'd been talking about for months and had about seven arguments with people who wouldn't recognise the usefulness of it. They'll see. *mutters darkly* Some of us went for lunch in Luigi Malones, and after that I did some final ritualising: swinging down the banisters, washing and leaving behind my coffee mugs, leaning out the canteen window, other stuff that's hard to explain. Powerman vetoed the first version of my going away essay (too staid) so I rewrote it. (It was short. These things tend to go on like an Oscar speech). And then we went to the pub.

We have an office tradition that when someone leaves the NOC (Network Operations Centre) they get a tshirt, with their years of service on the back, and an appropriately funny slogan on the front. Stu, for example, moving to a bank job got "It pays to be with AIB". Donal, immediate noticer of things you'd hoped you could cover up got "Is someone looking at..". When Natasha showed me mine, I near killed her with a bear hug. Shoddy photograph here, but check this out:



(That's why no matter how nice the people in your office are, they're rubbish compared to the people in Crown Alley. They got me money for a camera too, and a My Little Pony Twinkle Twirl Dance Studio and a talking George W Bush and a lucky bag with pink hair bobbins in it. But.. tshirt!)

Big apologies to the people who were there who I didn't speak to at all for the whole evening. I sincerely did keep trying to, but I kept being waylaid by beers.
noideadog: (science)
We've made science before. I mean, hell, we've spent whole evenings doing nothing but make science. But when I came in this evening, and Glen said "I got you a present", I somehow knew that this one would be something more. Something important. Something really debilitating. As Glen said, I don't think we made science as much as committed it. Dear people of my friends list, please allow me to present


the best science we've ever made.

noideadog: (Default)
This was stuck up on our notice board when I arrived home yesterday.

An educational diagram, by [livejournal.com profile] mr_wombat.

noideadog: (science)
G([livejournal.com profile] mr_wombat): Want some plantain?
T([livejournal.com profile] cartographer): I don't know. What happens?
G: Step one, I fry it. Step two, we eat it.
T: Hm. Don't think so, thanks.
G: There's an optional step three where we're screaming "oh my god it's 4am why won't my ass stop"?
T: ..wait. This is science?
G: Obviously.
T: Can I put soy sauce on one.
G: No! Anyway, they're Jamaican or something.
T: Jerkyhmmhmmmmangohmm.. rum!
G: ...
T: Hang on, no, it's probably irresponsible to throw rum on a hot frying pan.
G: By god, in the name of science, you're throwing rum on this frying pan.

Rum is poured on the frying pan. It fizzles appealingly. We eat the plaintains.

G: That's not bad.
T: Mm. Yep, better with rum.

Conclusion:
Good food. Disappointing science.

G: Not all science has to be exciting and dangerous.
T: *sigh*
G: Tim's going to have a seizure.
noideadog: (science)
I still can't sleep. Will science cure my insomnia? Glen says no, but I'm not sure. The cupboards are checked for scientific material. The experiment is selected. Glen declines to join in.

Glen: I won't be joining you, because I need to be alive in the morning. But I'll stay. Science needs an observer.

Equipment:
Jose Cuervo Especial Tequila. Hecho en Mexico. (attractively golden)
El Yucateco Hot Sauce. Salsa Picante de Chile Haberno. (green)
A least favourite glass.

Method:
Add one shot of tequila to least favourite glass. Incline hot sauce towards glass, allowing approximately 10cl to ooze into the tequila. Do not stir!

Shout the name of your favourite Mexican. We chose Antonio Banderas, who isn't Mexican but once played one on television and who has a good name for shouting.

Slam.

Results:

Madre del Dios! My entire system went into spasm. I crumpled up like I'd taken a kick in the belly, eyes running, nose running, sweating from every pore and shouting words without consonants. It burns on the way in; it burns on the way down; that's as much of its cycle as I'm willing to think about. It was about three minutes before the kitchen became noisily filled with noxious gases. Glen lay on the sofa laughing like a maniac for longer than was appropriate. (He's still chuckling).

When I write my auto-biography, this will be the night that it all went downhill.

Oh, if anyone's up for a more thorough round of Improbable Cocktails, we're playing for real on Friday.
noideadog: (science)
[livejournal.com profile] mr_wombat and I are adventurous types, and both of us believe passionately in science. So, when I came in from the pub tonight, and realised that I needed to try out every spice on our spicerack, he was clearly going to get involved. We used as our only equipment eight potato waffles cut into quarters. Here are the results.

1. Chinese Five Spice.
Tanya: Mmm. Spicy! Lovely aftertaste. This is really delicious.
Glen: The diahorrea you'll get from this experiment will be.. explosive.

2. Minced Garlic.
Tanya: Doesn't detract from the waffle experience, but doesn't greatly enhance it either. This is garlicy, true enough, but not all that garlicy.

3. Ground allspice.
Tanya: The ground allspice hasn't been opened yet!
Glen: Good god! This is really pushing back the frontiers!
Tanya: It's .. warm, but ultimately tasteless.

4. Majoram.
This is the point at which Glen's morbid curiosity compelled him to join the science. Unfortunately it was during one of the world's most boring spices. How disappointing.
Glen: It tastes likes somebody did absolutely nothing to my waffle.

5. Crushed Chillies
Glen: You know you want chilli flakes.
Tanya: I do want chilli flakes. I'm not ashamed of wanting chilli flakes.
Glen: Pray for death.
Tanya: Ow. Yumm. Ow.

6. Medium Curry Powder
Glen: Well, it's medium, so kind of pointless. There's sort of a suggestion of curry.

7. Ground Cloves
Glen: We're both doing cloves. *shakes liberally*
Tanya: Agh. It's like eating turf.
Glen. Fuck. Me. That's nasty. It's the aftertaste that keeps on giving.
Tanya: It's that weird tingly dentist feeling.
Glen: From a very evil dentist.

8. Ground nutmeg.
Glen: Remember, nutmeg is a hallucinogen in large quantities.
Tanya: *long pause* Nothing seems to happen.
Glen: I guess it just works with milk.
Tanya: There was an aftertaste.. I think.
Glen: It's the Des O Connor of spices.

9. Ground cinnamon.
Tanya: Oh god. Oh my god no.
Glen: *spits into bin*
Tanya: That made me want to cry. It really did. That was awful.
Glen: This is why scientists use monkeys.

10. Herbs de Provence.
Tanya: Mmm. Was nice?
Glen: It added.. something.

11. Parsley.
Glen: Do we even bother with parsley.
Tanya: Don't you understand how science works?!
Glen: Tastes like waffle.
Tanya: Yep. Entirely like waffle.

12. Rosemary.
Glen: This is going to be tricky. I think we have to balance it on the waffle.
Glen: It's.. minty?
Tanya: It's pleasant.
Glen: But boring.

13. Mustard seeds.
Glen: Let's treat this like a whiskey chaser. A shot of waffle and a shot of mustard seed. *demonstrates*
Tanya: I can't taste anything from that.
Glen: No.
Glen: Have you even seen a mustard plant.
Tanya: Ah seen a rubber plant.
Glen: You can stop that now.

14. Ground ginger.
Glen: *overloads waffle* Ohhh. You're going to taste this fucker.
Tanya: *pries self off ground* AUUUUGHHHHHH.
Glen: *spits*
Tanya: AUUUGGGGHHHHH.
Glen: *mocks unkindly*
Tanya: WAAHHHHHAUUGHHHHAHHH.

15. Cinnamon sticks.
Glen: I think this is another shooter.
Glen: We just ate a branch.
Tanya: It was ..cinnamony at the end. Sort of.
Glen: Of all of them, that seems like the best way to die.

16. Pepper.
Glen: Tomorrow, I shall be talking like James Earl Jones. I'm going to bed.
noideadog: (weirdofreak)
House moving (Does she ever talk about anything else?) is coming along nicely. If my computer desk lives in the wardrobe, my room is comfortably big. But then I have no wardrobe. It's all working out anyway. All of my furniture and heavy stuff is moved. Paul and I had fun dragging a 21 inch television balanced on a swivel chair through the churchyard, across the dual carraigeway and up and down the pavements to my new house. At one a.m. The very few people we encounted stared and giggled and we wished we'd implemented [livejournal.com profile] bringaisce's suggestion of making a large sign saying "No crime being committed here". High order japery.

I haven't moved most of my clothes yet, or a couple of hundred books, but if the old place disintegrated now, I could do without all of the stuff still there. That's a good justification for getting rid of it all, but I'm really not sure where to start. Anyone want a rather nice black metal table lamp? Or know where there's clothes recycling on the south side? I don't know what to do with this stuff. I don't have a locker any more either, so I'm having to innovate homes for all of the things that live in locker drawers. Moving house is stretching my creativity until I think it might snap.

The new place is on Beaver Row, btw. Stop sniggering. The house warming barceque and garden party is on Saturday July 30th. You are invited.
noideadog: (brain)
I'm going to designate Tea With Chillies to be #1 in my new series of Important Discoveries in Experimental Science. (IDES is entirely self-funded and does not receive financial assistance from any government or pharmaceutical company, or from The Ben And Jerry Corporation. (Though we wish it did. We're saving up for an oscilloscope.)) Presenting now

Important Discoveries in Experimental Science #2, Champagne and Chocolate Ice Cream.

Equipment:
Champagne.
Ice cream (Ben and Jerry's Chocolate Fudge Brownie)

Procedure:
Add ice cream to champagne.

Results:
Excessive fizzing. Cloying taste.

Conclusion:
Chocolate ice cream mixed with champagne is not good. The attractive fizzing does not compensate for the vileness of taste. We recommend that the ice cream be instead eaten, perhaps with a spoon, and the champagne drunk separately.

We make science so you don't have to.
noideadog: (nyom)
I've been crashingly tired and unenthusiastic since coming home from holidays, so when an energetic craving for post-work japery hit hard this evening, I didn't feel I could ignore it. There needs to be a good website for short notice caperage. Nightcourses.com is pretty broken, but one of the seven hits it gave me before crashing my browser was a wine tasting course in the Mercer Hotel, which their reception lady reckoned I could join if I went back in time four minutes, or didn't mind being late. [livejournal.com profile] trjh and I barrelled down there, avoiding a psychotic BWM driver and some crazy shenanigans at Brown Thomas, and got there in time to find people taking Wine Association Exams. Badly planned japery. No antics at all. Not a hijink in sight.

Back at Brown Thomas, we casually slowed down passing the rolled out red carpet to see what was going on, and walked into by the four hundred or so other people doing the same thing. I don't know what was going on. It wasn't japery anyway, so we went back to work, where I played saxophone blues, and trjh did work or something, and then we met Jill to go to for sushi.

On the way to Aya we passed a Moroccan restaurant that I'd probably have passed another thousand times and never noticed, so we went there instead. It's called El Bahia and everything we had was extraordinarily good apart from the beer which was still nicer than average. I failed to make a convincing case for DDR-as-dessert, so we all went home. And now I'm drinking a beer and reading blurbs for evening courses online so that I never again have to risk making my own fun. I'm mystified by what ten weeks of Awareness would cover. It's probably not a course in noticing stuff, is it? And I can't imagine how they can get five weeks out of the driver theory test given that most of the questions are along the lines of "Am I allowed take my pony on the motorway? (a) No. (b) Only if it is a white pony. (c) Only if it is a white motorway. (d) I had a pony once."

If we rented that cottage place we were looking at, I could totally get a pony.
noideadog: (scary jellybaby)


My family are the classiest people who ever lived.

Edit: But then he had a religious transformation. (The people in my office are strange)

noideadog: (me)


Our Christmas tree, with our less aesthetically pleasing livingroom painstakingly and neatly removed in Microsoft Paint. I draw your particular attention to the angel on top of the tree, final proof that [livejournal.com profile] metalrabbit probably is a danger to herself and those around her

bondage bunny )

and to the presents on the bottom right hand corner demonstrating what happens when I can't find wrapping paper, sellotape or a marker.

It is important to make use of available resources )

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