prolific.org

• Metaphors ! = good writing.
• There’s nothing more extraordinary than the ordinary.
• Ceiling cat is watching you masturbate

I was in town on Friday morning, on my day off, and tried to get some money from the ATM but couldn’t. I texted a colleague to ask if he’d got his salary yet and he had, so I went back home to check my bank statements, which I hadn’t done in a while.

I found out someone in the
Dominican Republic had been drawing money from my account, between June 19 and June 25. They did this until the account maxed out, robbing me of a little over 2,000 euro.

I called the bank
and was told my card had probably been ’skimmed’. Criminals tamper with
ATM’s to scan your card when you use it, and use a camera to record
your pin code. It probably happened at the ATM in my street. I was told I should cover my fingers with my other hand whenever I punch in my pincode in future.

The
bank cancelled the card and started a ‘case’, in which they investigate
the matter and contact the bank in the Dominic Republic to ask for
camera footage, etc. I was told to go to the police to report the crime
and then hand in a copy of the police statement to my local bank branch. Which I did, after I had a good cry.

Apparently I will get my money back eventually, as the bank are insured against this kind of thing, but I’m sure this will take ages.

In the meantime, once I get a new card, I’ll have to dip into my savings to get by this month. And hope not too many bills come in while the account is still empty. Needless to say I am wishing hell and damnation on the entire Dominican Republic.

The next day I clicked a wrong file and then spent most of the day trying to rid my computer of the most persistent malware I’ve ever come across, it took ages to find the right fix.

So, how was your weekend?

Someone at work borrowed my old laptop for three months. I got it back yesterday and she said ’sorry, the (PCI) wifi card is a bit bent. I’ll get you a new one if you really want me to’.

It’s practically broken in two. If I borrowed something expensive off of someone and broke it, I’d buy a new one immediately and not guilt the other into saying it’s ok.

What is WRONG with people?

Finding pictures of said colleague, partly naked, on the hard disk partly makes up for it all.

• Curvy Cross Processing in Photoshop CS3 | Layers Magazine
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Was I looking forward to a double bill of Torchwood last night? Hell, yeah! But when I switch on the computer my brain just goes *poof* and it was midnight before I looked up and realised I’d missed both episodes. Still, ve haf vays and means… it was 1am when S2e05 came in, and 1.45 am when 06 automagically arrived. So no live blogging this time, sorry folks, I’ll try to do better next time.

Holy mackerel, ‘Adam’ was good. This was the first episode of Torchwood that I don’t feel like bitching about. How can it possibly be written by the same person who wrote the previous dirge of an episode, ‘ Meat‘? 

Barrowman! Way to tone down the musical theatre vibe. Yeah, he was still over the top, but it fit right in with the madness of the episode. Great to get a bit of Jack back story. Ianto… he’s still got an ugly cry on him, but when he channeled the psycho killer he was truly frightening.

I must be starting to care for this bunch of oddballs, because I felt genuinely creeped out by the fact that the alien had messed with their memories and screwed up their personalities and relationships. I wanted the old team back, stat! Poor Rhys, I felt so sorry for him. Toshiko and Owen’s personality switch was comical more than anything else, though Naoko Mori showed her vamp is far more convincing than her geek.

The guy who played the monster of the week, living off of the memories of our heroes, did a great job, particularly in the final scenes with Jack. He had a real genuine old school tragic villain vibe about him, sort of a throwback to older episodes of Doctor Who or Blake’s 7 that I enjoyed as a kid.

So… creepy, funny, poignant… a big fat A from me. Yeah, I really prefer this series when it’s mostly about human behaviour and doesn’t have to rely on cheap CGI.

So 9 hours before I am due at Schiphol airport my hosting company tells me they want to move my account to a high volume server a.s.a.p. because Whedonesque’s traffic is dragging poor Eite (the server) down.

They say it’s ‘easy’ and can be done in 10 minutes. Okaaaaaay.

Here goes nothing…

Bye bye, Eite, you were never one of Pair’s best boxes anyway.

Why this video didn’t make either the Pitchfork or the Stylus ‘best 100 videos’ list is a mystery to me. Criminal it is, criminal.

There’s a Nick Cave song called ‘Scum’ which is about NME journalist Mat Snow (whom he was sharing a flat with at the time) because he wrote a bad review.

If I were a songwriter, I’d write a song like that. I’d probably call it ‘Cunt’.

Especially for (name deleted).

This particular member of of the press asked a friend about his companion: ‘So, is she your fuck-date then?’

While she’s standing there.

Classy.

The weekend seemed short, but that’s probably because it was packed full of goodness even if it started with the nasty: on Friday evening, I found my virginal self subjected to a brutal rogering by Celebrity Big Brother.

A moment of silence, please. … Thank you.

My initial reaction to George Galloway pretending to lick milk from Rula Lenska’s hands was a firm ‘my eyes, my eyes!’. Now, of course, I’m fascinated and want to see the drama unfold. But I can’t quite bring myself to downloading this tripe. Mr Hg will have to provide daily updates.

Emotional

Saturday morning we were off to Ramsgate, birthplace of Tracey Emin, on the isle of Thanet (well, peninsula), East Kent. A seaside resort that manages to avoid the usual tackiness and instead presents a mostly unscathed, tidy waterfront. We arrived just in time to see the ferry leave port for Ostend and after some exploring tried the day’s catch in batter.

Back in the city we headed for the Barbican to see Breakfast on Pluto. I had succumbed to watching a DVD screener of it a week ago, but it was good to see it on a relatively large screen and take in other people’s response at the same time. I think we all agreed we would have cut a few scenes a little tighter, Stephen Rea’s wishy washy part in particular. Where on earth was he heading with that character?

I could have seen it coming. I was a little nauseous in the morning and had felt  ‘off’ the night before. Hindsight 20/20.

Late in the afternoon on Monday, my lower abdomen started to feel
painful and bloated. I ignored it and continued working. But the pain
got worse and when I realised I was having another one of what I think
is IBS/spastic colon episodes, it was too late. The first and second time it
happened, also at work, I made use of a stress relief room we had. I
could lie down there and wait for it to pass. But we’ve moved
buildings, no longer have that room and it was 6pm. I didn’t fancy
spending the night at work.

My boss called me a taxi and I tried to relax in the back seat. By this
time, I could not stand or sit up straight and was unable to talk much.

I seemed a litte better when we got to my house, but when I got up off
the back seat the pain returned in full force. I paid the driver his 71
euro and then literally crawled up the stairs on my hands and knees.
Inside I grabbed a bucket for emergencies and eased myself down on the bed. I tried to
get undressed, but could only manage an item of clothing every half
hour or so. I was moaning out loud for the next few hours.

I must have fallen asleep around 10 or 11pm and then woke 3am, feeling
somewhat better. I managed to get up to get a sip of water, I had
become a little dehydrated. But I couldn’t keep the water down.

It’s 10.30am now, my belly’s still tender but only painful when I press
it or move around too much. I feel a little feverish and my head hurts.

The last time I approached my GP about this, he said IBS is hard to
determine and he seemed unwilling to investigate. Maybe it’s time I put
some pressure on him, or consult his colleague.