<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1332985963201259931</id><updated>2012-02-16T18:48:35.211+01:00</updated><category term='World Weird Web'/><category term='Life is strange'/><category term='Tales and Stories'/><category term='General'/><title type='text'>Diversiferences</title><subtitle type='html'>Read about things you'd never have thought you didn't actually need to know about.
It's perfectly normal if some things in life don't make the slightest bit of sense.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diversiferences.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1332985963201259931/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diversiferences.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>DefCur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16345297036663560709</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>10</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1332985963201259931.post-5130446880660329494</id><published>2008-06-11T22:19:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2008-06-11T23:03:07.113+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='General'/><title type='text'>You? Who the hell are you?</title><content type='html'>Well, it's been more than a year now... wow, that must be some kind of new world record in lazyness and negligence.&lt;br /&gt;Oh, yeah, I'll get an award for that? Oh my god, that's all so surprising, I...I don't know what to say. Uuuummm.... I want to thank everyone who supported me on my way to this success, specially my incredible ability to postpone important matters to the point of no return, all the people who successfully distracted me from anything and of course a big thanks goes to real life. I wouldn't have made it this far without you guys! Thanks!&lt;br /&gt;*tear*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, being absent for so long needs a reason of course, but you'll see that not many of these reasons hardly make any sense, granted if they are of any relevance to the matter in question at all. Not that you'd care in the first place, of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Firstly, I was trying to figure out how to fly. Not a big deal you think? Well, it sure is, because I said to myself, 'Tim, you're not going to use an airplane or a chopper or even a parachute (also known as "sissy-towel") for this. You're not a coward. Real men don't need any auxiliaries to do some badass flying.' With this approach to flying in mind, the first place you'll find advice on how to do it, is check up in the hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy. Unfortunately, Douglas Adams had obviously no idea how hard it really is to get everything to work how he figured it. I decided to ask him what the f*** he had been smoking when he was writing that.&lt;br /&gt;And since Mr. Douglas seems to have perished, I had to spend some time being dead in order to interview him. (Luckily he also had some advice on how this works, but I won't tell you, I can only tell you that you need 23 Guatemalan spin-win snails, a rifle with 3 barrels and a homosexual, castrated voodoo priest)&lt;br /&gt;As things were getting much more complicated and some serious multidimensional lawsuits had to be held, I decided to get back to life again. To my surprise more than a year had gone by (you really lose your sense for time when you're dead, the only reference you have are the number of maggots having a party in your rectum)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, that's pretty much it. As soon as I woke up I came here to post..... ahh, ok, I went to the toilet first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope I don't get haunted by some people I pissed off while being dead. Dead people can be pretty resentfully, because they don't have a lot of things to do other than getting eaten by worms, which is not very entertaining in the long run.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If they leave me alone, I'll post again soon.&lt;br /&gt;Cheers&lt;br /&gt;Tim&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: I'm wondering if I now qualify as a zombie... I'll go check this up at the local office of the zombie association. I sure hope they had enough brain for lunch.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1332985963201259931-5130446880660329494?l=diversiferences.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diversiferences.blogspot.com/feeds/5130446880660329494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1332985963201259931&amp;postID=5130446880660329494' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1332985963201259931/posts/default/5130446880660329494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1332985963201259931/posts/default/5130446880660329494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diversiferences.blogspot.com/2008/06/you-who-hell-are-you.html' title='You? Who the hell are you?'/><author><name>DefCur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16345297036663560709</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1332985963201259931.post-3120006873091923940</id><published>2007-02-19T20:44:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-02-19T21:26:36.035+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='General'/><title type='text'>Where me been has?  (What?)</title><content type='html'>It's been long time since the last post. (Well, ok, not that long, but still longer than usual)&lt;br /&gt;There was a darn good reason why I didn't post anything in this time, but I forgot about it because I ran into a strut, which was surprisingly close to the ground.&lt;br /&gt;Of course it was not the strut's fault, it was just doing its job as it had been doing it for 178 years. After such a long time you tend to become rather are good at your job. The strut did indeed an awfully good job, since the house it is a part of has stood there for 176 years (originally, the house was built a little more uphill, but it obviousely didn't like the view there and caught the next best landslide 2 years after).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt fluffy  and knotty after the crash.&lt;br /&gt;I can't really describe what feeling fluffy feels like, but it somehow fits perfectly. The knotty feeling wasn't caused by knotted and twisted parts of my body, it was more my state of mind that was knotty.&lt;br /&gt;It took me a awful lot of time to end one specific thought, because other thoughts thought they needed some quality time with my consciousness and jumped out and started yelling and shouting at it.  In order to get some order my consciousness redirected the most hideously looking thoughts to my subconsciousness. At least that's what it tried to do, because my subconsciousness was out for lunch, together with my libido.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So long&lt;br /&gt;Tim&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: Another reason I hadn't written anything may be the exam session coming closer terribly fast. If it's coming any faster than now it will travel back in time...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1332985963201259931-3120006873091923940?l=diversiferences.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diversiferences.blogspot.com/feeds/3120006873091923940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1332985963201259931&amp;postID=3120006873091923940' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1332985963201259931/posts/default/3120006873091923940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1332985963201259931/posts/default/3120006873091923940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diversiferences.blogspot.com/2007/02/where-me-been-has-what.html' title='Where me been has?  (What?)'/><author><name>DefCur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16345297036663560709</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1332985963201259931.post-2740834586503985467</id><published>2007-02-07T11:18:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-02-07T12:03:16.140+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tales and Stories'/><title type='text'>Proper Project Planning</title><content type='html'>There are many guides to handle a project properly and efficiently. Most of the contain fancy graphics and tables which, when it comes down to real life usage, most precisely fail to be of any use.&lt;br /&gt;It's not only the graphical depiction of the processes you're supposed to apply that are wrong, but also the whole processes seem to be terribly inaccurate if you look back on a finished project.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's also something that's suggested by those guides so you can learn from your mistakes. However, I recommend not to do so, because most of the time you'll end up so depressed about all the things you did wrong or didn't do at all that you need a really stiff drink afterwards.&lt;br /&gt;I'd propose you just skip the looking back part and go out for a drink immediately after having handed out the project report.&lt;br /&gt;Most people already do that, but they disguise it by calling it an "end of project celebration", which is basically the euphemistic equivalent to a nice and hefty booze-up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's how projects are really handled, regardless of any advice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;Person A comes up with solution F, Person B has the idea for solution G, C knows how the solution H works and Persons D and E are arguing about the report layout.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;While A tries to convince everyone that F is the best, B and C try to win D and E for their course. The next day A says that solutions G and H are equally good, B now says that F is perfectly fine, D can't decide which of F, G and H she hates the most and E has lost track of everything. C has called out sick that day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;The following day E has finally caught up to the rest and has many issues about each solution, A is discussing with C the happenings of the previous day, B is violently trying to get F to be the final solution, C keeps unsuccessfully insisting on a democratic selection and D is nagging about the lousy teamwork and how the project is failing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;After the more or less worst solution has been found, everyone agrees on going on with it so they can finally have their cup of coffee (except D, she hates coffee, she's just lazy). After everything is thorougly calculated and estimated and the deadline is drawing closer, E finds out that the solution is not working after all and that A,B and D are lousy jerks nobody can possibly work with.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;The following quarrels and lengthy nightshifts result in a completely reworked report, which is all but correct or even useful.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Despite all these problems, the projects are usually a striking success and nobody really knows why (and nobody actually wants to know).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So long&lt;br /&gt;Tim&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1332985963201259931-2740834586503985467?l=diversiferences.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diversiferences.blogspot.com/feeds/2740834586503985467/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1332985963201259931&amp;postID=2740834586503985467' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1332985963201259931/posts/default/2740834586503985467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1332985963201259931/posts/default/2740834586503985467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diversiferences.blogspot.com/2007/02/proper-project-planning.html' title='Proper Project Planning'/><author><name>DefCur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16345297036663560709</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1332985963201259931.post-7415126418615427337</id><published>2007-01-29T00:07:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-01-29T00:52:47.201+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life is strange'/><title type='text'>A strange place to eat</title><content type='html'>Did you ever notice that people act totally different in restaurants?&lt;br /&gt;Normally, everyone is rather keen on keeping their money. But when it comes down to pay things in a restaurant, they always start arguing who can spend their hard(ly) earned money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or that one time back then.&lt;br /&gt;A family, mother, father and son, waiting for their food to be served. The little boy is naturally very unpleased about the subject of waiting. Due to the lack of any other entertainment he concludes that he should cause some mischief instead. This includes tossing forks at other guests, tripping up waiters or simply crying out loud for a change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All this is of course not very well perceived by the parents and the other guest, particularly the guests with the forks sticking somewhere unconfortable in their body.  The waiters don't really mind that much, because they get paid for all this stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Usually the parents would just keep saying things like: "Shhh, sweetie, please be quiet" or "If you don't hush now you won't get any dessert afterwards". These sort of requests or threats are very obviousely entirely useless and the parents very often know that.&lt;br /&gt;If they wouldn't be sitting in a restaurant they would just say: "Shut the **** up you sh****** brat. If you don't shut your ***** at once I'll ****** you with a ******* and ********* until you don't know where's up and down!!!!! Geez, damnit!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are very inapproprte words to be set free in a peaceful average restaurant. Not because the restaurant itself would mind being the host for some serious swearing (the only buildings that do so are churches, they are really not that easy going if you ever get to talk to one), but the people within it would.&lt;br /&gt;So the parents are restricted to the useless talk, and the little brat keeps producing noise and pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All this inevitably led to the invention of McDonalds where you can shove your kids in some small plastic playground if you get tired of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So long&lt;br /&gt;Tim&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: No, I don't have kids&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1332985963201259931-7415126418615427337?l=diversiferences.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diversiferences.blogspot.com/feeds/7415126418615427337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1332985963201259931&amp;postID=7415126418615427337' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1332985963201259931/posts/default/7415126418615427337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1332985963201259931/posts/default/7415126418615427337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diversiferences.blogspot.com/2007/01/strange-place-to-eat.html' title='A strange place to eat'/><author><name>DefCur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16345297036663560709</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1332985963201259931.post-7492021511004499763</id><published>2007-01-19T20:07:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-02-19T21:29:40.844+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tales and Stories'/><title type='text'>Surviving death</title><content type='html'>I went through a painful week.&lt;br /&gt;I had to deal with this really annoying customer. He was trying to get a refund for his broken leg, because it failed to serve as a crowbar. I tried to explain to him that we don't have any spare legs in stock, since our branch hospital isn't that big, so he should address to our Head Hospital. He didn't like that and started yelling at me more or less, but rather more than less,  incoherently.&lt;br /&gt;I hung up because I was needed in the operation garage to explain to another customer that it is not possible to replace his heart with a green 12 cylinder diesel engine.&lt;br /&gt;We ran out of the green ones yesterday. He then also started yelling at me more or less, but rather more than less,  incoherently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many people always get off their initial topic when getting angry about something.  Some scientist say this is due to the limited mental abilities (and the lack of any knowlegde about platinum based nanocells for semi-purposeless use in quantum medicine)  of normal humans, but most of those scientists are elitist smart-asses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite their hateful attitude, they still have a point there. If you have ever watched someone being really furious (best enjoyed at a safe distance of at least a bit more than armlength, so you won't get involved in severe fist-to-face complications), you surely noticed the tremendous amout of energy the person is wasting on pointless tasks like smashing furniture or learning French.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, all this energy has to come from somewhere; in most cases it's sanity that has to bear the reduced power supply. The worst thing you could do at this stage is pointing at the raging person and laugh.&lt;br /&gt;There are, however, three things you can do in order to survive the rampage.&lt;br /&gt;Sit-and-Care, Sit-and-Bear  and  Sit-and-Stare.&lt;br /&gt;The last one is the easiest, because it's almost effortless to sit still and create an air of mostly unoffending indifference. Just sit and stare at a random point anywhere nowhere near the person and their surroundings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sit-and-Bear is for all the masochist out there, who love to get a nice beat up from time to time (This method may become Lie-unconsciousely-on-the-floor-and-Bear at some stage, but you'll have managed the worst part by then, so don't worry about that)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sit-and-Care is hard to do, but can have astoundingly positive results. The general idea behind it is to pretend you'd care about the persons feelings and thus try to confirm them in their temporarily distorted opinions. Eventually, you will have to stand up and smash some precious porcelain to assert your point in a physically convincing way. If you do well, you'll have finally found someone who helps you to move into that nice new flat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers&lt;br /&gt;Tim&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1332985963201259931-7492021511004499763?l=diversiferences.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diversiferences.blogspot.com/feeds/7492021511004499763/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1332985963201259931&amp;postID=7492021511004499763' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1332985963201259931/posts/default/7492021511004499763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1332985963201259931/posts/default/7492021511004499763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diversiferences.blogspot.com/2007/01/i-went-through-painful-week.html' title='Surviving death'/><author><name>DefCur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16345297036663560709</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1332985963201259931.post-2764195326867234772</id><published>2007-01-14T22:47:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-01-14T23:34:10.206+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='World Weird Web'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tales and Stories'/><title type='text'>Lies, untruths and other unimportances</title><content type='html'>I've just overheard...errrm I mean overread this conversation between person A, B, C and D on a forum. It started all after Person B posted a picture of his desktop on which you could see Firefox running in 3 different windows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;A:    What kind of Firefox user are you? Tabs, man, TABS.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;B:    What you don't realize is that each of those windows contains about 57 tabs each.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;C:    Fifty seven tabs you say?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;        Triangle Fellow... I am going to accuse you of spewing untruths.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;B:    Hey, there's a lot of pretty girls posting pics of themselves on the internet these days.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;C:    Lies.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;        Most of them are men.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;B:    No.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;D:    Correction. Lots of them &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;used&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt; to be men&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Of course, such conversations happen every day in the Net, but you just can't possibly get them all. Unless you are some kind of super being that sees and hears everything, like that guy...what was his name again? Something with a G and an O i think...damn my memory for names.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, yes, now I remember, Gordon. Really cool guy, you know, but not the brightest. He once said that although he knew almost everything about anything there was something to know about, he had never figured out why exactly the chicken crossed the street. I told him it crossed it in order to get to the other side, whereupon he seemed to think about it for a bit and then told me what a unconceivably dimwitted answer that was and ran off crying and laughing at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've never met him ever since, but I heard he had snapped completely because of me and after spending 4 years in the Happy People Adjustment Asylum he decided to shorten his name and to found his own relgion. (The nurses told me, that, the day before he left, he came to them and asked if it was ok for them if he escaped now)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd really love to know what has happened in all this time...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So long&lt;br /&gt;Tim&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1332985963201259931-2764195326867234772?l=diversiferences.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diversiferences.blogspot.com/feeds/2764195326867234772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1332985963201259931&amp;postID=2764195326867234772' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1332985963201259931/posts/default/2764195326867234772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1332985963201259931/posts/default/2764195326867234772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diversiferences.blogspot.com/2007/01/lies-untruths-and-other-unimportances.html' title='Lies, untruths and other unimportances'/><author><name>DefCur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16345297036663560709</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1332985963201259931.post-4419244031601127490</id><published>2007-01-11T23:34:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-01-12T07:47:40.079+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tales and Stories'/><title type='text'>Death is imminent</title><content type='html'>I was supposed to get up at 6 this morning and leave at 7, but I didn't, because I had some very serious and important things to do in bed, most of them involved a lot of lying around and snoring. Luckily, attendance was totally voluntary, so I didn't cause any problems for someone else (which would also have somehow been fun to do). Of course I was fully aware of that when my alarm clock rang, I always instantly know what I need to know after waking up. I'm not of that sort of people who suffer from overnight-oblivion. As most illnesses, an annoying and absolutely useless one. If you want to know wheter you are infected or not go through the following check list (it's the only way to find out, believe me):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Before you go to bed, put your cat, your parrot, your guinea pig and your mouse in your wardrobe.&lt;br /&gt;2. Try memorizing which animal you put on which spot and go to bed.&lt;br /&gt;3. Sleep&lt;br /&gt;4. Wake up.....I said: WAKE UP!......there we go&lt;br /&gt;5. At this point, if you get off to the kitchen to get some tea for breakfast, you seem to be a very severe case of overnight-oblivion, because you didn't just forget your pets in the wardrobe, no, you also forgot that you hate tea. You are doomed and there's not point in making a fuss about it now, you'll eventually die sometime anyway.&lt;br /&gt;If you happen to remember what you did last night, try to write down where exactly the pets are supposed to be.&lt;br /&gt;6. Open the wardrobe.&lt;br /&gt;Analysis&lt;br /&gt;First case: Cat: occupying one random spot Parrot, mouse and guinea pig: more or less absent&lt;br /&gt;Tough luck, buddy. You very probably didn't remember their positions correctly, did you? You have slight overnight-oblivion.&lt;br /&gt;Second case: The animals are exactly where you put them. Congratulations, you successfully starved your pets to death without even noticing. Jubilate, this means you don't suffer from overnight-oblivion but from devasting stupidity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good luck&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tim&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1332985963201259931-4419244031601127490?l=diversiferences.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diversiferences.blogspot.com/feeds/4419244031601127490/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1332985963201259931&amp;postID=4419244031601127490' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1332985963201259931/posts/default/4419244031601127490'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1332985963201259931/posts/default/4419244031601127490'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diversiferences.blogspot.com/2007/01/i-was-supposed-to-get-up-at-6-this.html' title='Death is imminent'/><author><name>DefCur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16345297036663560709</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1332985963201259931.post-418651727207051980</id><published>2007-01-08T21:35:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2007-01-08T22:44:59.867+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='World Weird Web'/><title type='text'>"I broke the internet, can you fix it for me?"</title><content type='html'>I have just stumbled over this neat website.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.rinkworks.com/"&gt;http://www.rinkworks.com/ &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's some really  fun stuff around. I haven't checked everything yet, but I recommend you to look at "&lt;a href="http://www.rinkworks.com/stupid/"&gt;Computer Stupidities&lt;/a&gt;" and "&lt;a href="http://www.rinkworks.com/said/"&gt;Things People Said&lt;/a&gt;", unless you tend to be rather stupid and/or are uncertain about computers.&lt;br /&gt;On second thought, you'd better look at them nonetheless, because you might actually learn something. Except of course if you are absolutely incapable to learn anything at all because you don't know how. If you are in such a hopeless situation, the average educationist will come up with a lot of paperwork to make you learn how to learn, which naturally is impossible,  since it's a major paradox. Even though the average educationist is perfectly aware of that, he still wants you to do all that useless stuff, because that's the only way for him to lay his clumsy fingers on the paycheck.&lt;br /&gt;Highly trained elite educationists, however, are able to bend known reality in order to avoid the mentioned paradox. Unfortuantely, it's unknown how they exactly do that, because this ability could also solve some of the worlds most severe problems, like dirty public toilets, politicians or my neighbours cat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers&lt;br /&gt;Tim&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1332985963201259931-418651727207051980?l=diversiferences.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diversiferences.blogspot.com/feeds/418651727207051980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1332985963201259931&amp;postID=418651727207051980' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1332985963201259931/posts/default/418651727207051980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1332985963201259931/posts/default/418651727207051980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diversiferences.blogspot.com/2007/01/i-broke-internet-can-you-fix-it-for-me_08.html' title='&quot;I broke the internet, can you fix it for me?&quot;'/><author><name>DefCur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16345297036663560709</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1332985963201259931.post-6707329864143224741</id><published>2007-01-07T16:50:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-02-19T21:36:54.298+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tales and Stories'/><title type='text'>Oh, the memories...</title><content type='html'>I was rather startled to meet that old school mate again this morning.  It was in no way a positive surprise, like finding your long lost car key in your dog's droppings would be. No, it was more like the feeling you have just before you get the chance to analyse what your stomach has done to your breakfast. As you might be guessing now, I didn't really appreciate his presence. Hey, good guess! He used to be a real jerk and he somehow managed to maintain his very unpleasant state of mind over the past 5 years. The reason for my surprise was not really his inert character, it was more the fact that he was in no way supposed to be where I was this morning. I have moved several times since I had left that hicktown and I've taken only minor interest in what has been happening with it or its citizens. Specially not in that particular person and I think so did he.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I took a nice walk in the not so nice weather to the local bakery. The shortest way there led me across the railway station (a very small one, there are two directions you can choose: Either you go to a thriving city or you don't.  Also, the station was once the scene of a ghastly accident, which some people still claim to be an "unghastly" crime, but that's another story). And there I met him. Stupidly, he noticed me first, so I didn't have the chance to avoid him. We were going through some painful small talk, just the usual stuff, when I suddenly remembered that lesson in phys.-ed, which made me burst out in laughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were playing football (no, the real football. I refuse to use the "s" word) in the hall. As usual I was the goalkeeper, for I was good at it and not because, as it happens very often, being the small, fat boy who no one wants to play with. Then, all of a sudden, he was in front of me, attacking, and no defendants around, just him and me. I ran out to intercept the ball coming from high above. He ran forward to do a header. Very unfortunately for him, he came first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Usually it's a good thing to be first on the ball, but not in this case. I can't really say how it exactly happened, but he must have rammed his head down towards my rapidly ascending head. The next thing I remember is me, lying about 3 meters next to ground zero, where a, for sports halls, unusually large amount  of blood was covering the floor. Eventually I found out, that all this blood used to flow through my opponents veins, but obviousely it decided upon impact to take a look what being outside of his body was like. I think I was unconcious for longer than I thought at first, because he was just being carried out and everybody else seemed to be standing somewhere outstandingly different from where they stood just before I passed out. I guess I had been gone for at least 30 seconds. After answering all the Are-you-all-right questions coming from my immediate vicinity with a yes, I began to feel better and better. Not only because my body was recovering from the vast tremor (or the fact that most bystanders thought this carnage to be very entertaining and free time producing), but also because of my malicious joy of knowing to have unvoluntarily kicked some serious ass without the ill-effect of having to bear a punishment from a higher level of jurisdiction. Now, that's basically not a very nice thing to do, but in the end it actually was (and still is) funny, since he was an idiot and really needed it.&lt;br /&gt;A lot of people seemed to agree on this point and were quite happy with the result of the event, which was a broken nose (not mine, obviousely).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I got of my early sunday morning trip were four buns and two croissants for breakfast, a pair of wet sneakers, and an old schoolmates heartfelt hatred towards me.&lt;br /&gt;What a nice day, isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers&lt;br /&gt;Tim&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1332985963201259931-6707329864143224741?l=diversiferences.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diversiferences.blogspot.com/feeds/6707329864143224741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1332985963201259931&amp;postID=6707329864143224741' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1332985963201259931/posts/default/6707329864143224741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1332985963201259931/posts/default/6707329864143224741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diversiferences.blogspot.com/2007/01/oh-memories.html' title='Oh, the memories...'/><author><name>DefCur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16345297036663560709</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1332985963201259931.post-3087256992903139908</id><published>2007-01-06T17:49:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-01-06T21:42:34.510+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='General'/><title type='text'>Hi there</title><content type='html'>I'm trying to get some things straight here. For the time being you'll just have to wait and entertain yourselves with something else, like saving an endangered species or cleaning the bathroom. Whatever pleases you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers&lt;br /&gt;Tim&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1332985963201259931-3087256992903139908?l=diversiferences.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://diversiferences.blogspot.com/feeds/3087256992903139908/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1332985963201259931&amp;postID=3087256992903139908' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1332985963201259931/posts/default/3087256992903139908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1332985963201259931/posts/default/3087256992903139908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://diversiferences.blogspot.com/2007/01/hi-there.html' title='Hi there'/><author><name>DefCur</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16345297036663560709</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
