Excuses.
17/12/2001

Christmas: busy. Not posting (lazy).

Come back later.

Eases the pain.
06/12/2001

Well there you have it - after two and a half weeks, I've gone back to caffeine. And I feel fine. I felt no better being off caffeine than on, and it eventually occurred to me that I was a poor sleeper before I was a caffeine addict, so all I'd really done was take away the one thing that took the edge off otherwise shitty post-lousy-night's-sleep mornings.

Satisfied that I can give it up should the need arise ("need" being defined as "you must stop with the caffeine or your head will explode right now"), I've have joyously embraced Mountain Dew back into my life once more, basking in its sweet taste, energizing lift and cleansing diuretic effect. One gulp and I can honestly say I felt a lot better. Which goes to show it's just a psychological addiction (there's no way it could've got into my system that quick), so I really can quit whenever I want. Yes.

Furthermore, I was informed this afternoon that I'll be moving into my own office tomorrow - the fates clearly reward me for returning to blessed, blessed caffeine. All is right on Earth and in the heavens.

Josh's Theory of Dentists.
26/11/2001

Much like stage magicians, dentists are very commonly accompanied by attractive female assistants (AFAs). However, while the reason for their presence in the World of Illusion is fairly obvious (distract the male members of the audience with a bit of T&A while The Amazing Nigel stuffs a pigeon down his Y-fronts for the next trick), their ubiquity in the dental profession is a bit more of a mystery.

Or perhaps not. Perhaps their job is also to play on the male ego, especially in a situation where the possessor of said ego is potentially in for a bit of pain. Maybe she's there so that the guys won't whimper so much when the dentist's jamming a drill into the old bicuspids - gotta look hard in front of the lady, yeah?

And the AFA always comes into the office from a different door than me - perhaps there's an attractive male assistant who comes out for female patients - I'd never be any the wiser. Makes you think.

This theory falls down a little, though, when you consider that by making me tough it out, they lose out by not getting to charge me for anaesthetic. That doesn't add up - I mean what's more important: revenue or the manipulation of your trusting patient? Well, I have a theory there, too.

Because the other thing I've noticed is that, despite the fact that I only see him once a year, my dentist always manages to remember specific details about my life: "Hi Josh, how's it going? How's working in the computer business? Still at that place in Newmarket, are you?" My theory is that the AFA is also taking notes as you make small talk, and compiling them into a brief file of notes for him to brush up on before the consult. Makes sense.

So the man who is the keeper of my dental records - possibly the only means of identifying me in case of a gruesomely disfiguring death, who knows the actual names of all those metal pointy things, who I trust to stick stuff in my mouth, is keeping a personal dossier on my private existence. I do believe that frightens me a little.

I suppose you're wondering why I'm wearing a giant panda costume.
20/11/2001

I have had no caffeine in me for two days and I feel FINE!!!

Not sure why I decided to give up caffeine now: "I've been feeling a bit run down lately - I know! I'll stop taking artificial stimulants!!"

Well, I do have some idea why - it's either do something about my progressively widening waistline, or start buying new pants. Don't get me wrong - I'm still a skinny bastard, and in no danger of being accused of having eaten all the pies, but I'm not as skinny a bastard as I used to be and dammit do you know how hard it is to find a decent pair of men's pants these days?!

So there's that.

The addiction will be back, I'm sure. I can feel it at night - it tucks me in to bed like the Dread Pirate Roberts: "sleep tight, Westley - I'll most likely kill you in the morning."

All is not doom and dreariness, however - thanks to the wondrous splendour of my PlayStation 2 I was actually given cause to say the title of this post to a person. With a straight face.

Laziness/Apathy. I call it "Lapathy"!!
09/11/2001

It has been suggested in the past that I am a lazy person (I tend to dispute this). I have gleefully admitted in the past to being an apathetic person. It has been claimed in the past the apathy and laziness are the same thing, yet this is clearly not so.

As noted social commentator Garfield the cat once pointed out:

"Apathetic people don't care. Lazy people care -- we just don't do anything about it."

More often than not, though, the two go together, which leads to the distinction between them being blurred. You don't care about something, because to care would require doing something about it, and you don't want to doing anything, because you're lazy - or possibly the other way around (bit of a chicken and egg there).

However! Every now and then you'll see the two come into conflict, as I did the other day...

See, every Thursday at work, we have the Vision and Values meeting. This isn't just some wanky team-building exercise forced on us by a clueless exec who read it in Management for Dummies, mind - it's entirely voluntary, and the attendees definitely seem to be doing something to better foster a caring and stress-free working environment. Although the poster-sized values statements in fluoro colours that materialised on two thirds of the walls in our offices one morning scared the shit out of me, I must admit.

My dilemma, then, is this: do I attend, thereby avoiding having to do actual work for an hour or so every Thursday afternoon; or do I not attend, thereby avoiding having to care about stuff. Laziness dictates that I should take the first option; apathy insists I go for the second. A conflict between the two arises, providing conclusive proof of their distinctness, and no small amount of internal tension for me.

I don't attend the meetings, by the way - showing that I'm more apathetic than I am lazy (as I always maintained). Go me!

Insanely Twisted Rabbits.
04/11/2001

Insanely Twisted Rabbits.

You heard me: Insanely. Twisted. Rabbits.

Damn I love the Internet!

Again with nothing better to do, Josh airs his personal opinions.
26/10/2001

What it is, is I don't really believe in the concept of "intrinsic" - certainly not as it applies to people. I don't think people are intrinsically evil, intrinsically stupid, intrinsically nice; I don't think there's such a thing as an intrinsically good or bad person. All I'd be willing to say is that people are intrinsically people - what that means is up to you.

I don't believe that there's such as thing as inherently honest or dishonest; inherently brave or cowardly; inherently smart or stupid. I don't believe that there's such a thing as intrinsically manly or intrinsically girly, and that there's anything intrinsic to the personalities of men or women, purely due to their gender.

That said, I'm yet to meet a woman who liked Reservoir Dogs.

Patently ridiculous (ah - my sides, how they ache!)
15/10/2001

OK, first thing I should say is that I recently bought a PS2. Hence the paucity of updates. Just so you know.

Anyway - they've got me researching patent applications at work (so we can make our own, see). Not knowing a damn thing about patents, I've been looking through databases to see how they're done, and turned up some fun stuff. What are the inventors of our modern age up to? Why they're busy developing:

• A submarine.
• A UFO. You heard me.
• The most boring spaceship I've ever seen.
• An ion beam thrust drive for what one would hope would be a more interesting spaceship.
• A plasma gun - now you're talkin'!
• The Mars rover.
• A tie with a cow on it.
• Mutant human interferons. Not as interesting as they sound.
• A plant called Audrey (GM - you know I love it).
• Toys that bleed.
• Not to mention records of the never-ending quest for a better mousetrap. We've got the old classics, traps that are elegant in their simplicity, traps that are perhaps a little more sophisticated than need be (pneumatic?), traps that are nice and humane, and traps that are just plain mean (See Figure 3).

Marvellous.

Note: The images are all TIFFs, which you may need a plug-in to view. The site tells you where to get one. Hurrah!

With nothing better to do, Josh airs his phobias.
01/10/2001

Yes, I hate the telephone - what of it? Hate and fear it, and for this I'm a freak? Bastards.

It's like this, OK: the one thing that frightens me above all else is uncertainty. Having absolutely no clue what's going to happen next gives me the shits with way more regularity than big hairy spiders, zombie films or the contemplation of my own mortality. And with the telephone you never quite know what's going to happen next.

First there's dialling: are you sure you got the number right? Will it be a complete stranger who answers? What will you do then, wrong number boy? God bless the cellphone with its all-informing LCD display - one less thing for me to fret over. But only one.

So someone answers - what if you don't recognise the voice (and I'm gratuitously shit at recognising phone voices)? Well, that's not too bad, just ask for who you're after - at worst you'll just be told "sorry, you must have the wrong number (you incompetent fuck-knuckle)."

And then there's the real dilemma: what if you think it's the person you're after who answers, but you're not sure? If you say, "hi is X there?" and it is X, well you'll sound a bit dumb (especially if they're someone you supposedly know well). If, on the other hand, you assume it is them and launch into a conversation with a bemused flatmate or relative, you'll sound dumber still.

This costs me sleep, dammit - because yes, at the end of the day, I am insecure enough that I can't stand the thought of a complete stranger with whom I will likely never have contact again in my life, and who barely had any experience of me to begin with, might think I'm a bit of a twat.

Scary man.
24/09/2001

"Another thing is that no matter how much you think you love somebody, you'll step back when the pool of their blood edges up too close."

Somebody needs to give Chuck Palahniuk a hug.

Back to top

Last 10 Posts