I need your help. I want this to be the top of the tier. I want to make this blog as banal as possible. I’m really going for the gold here – the world’s most unreadable blog, not because it’s riddle with typos and bad jokes, or because it’s filled with intensely personal ruminations that should have been left locked within a flower-printed diary with a few faint tear stains on particularly dog-eared pages- no, i’m going for the truly execrable. Nonsense that’s not clever. Ruminations that are just….plain….boring.
Think of a hairball. Picture it in your mind.
There you go!
The date attached to this image says 2002, but I think it’s a fair bit older than that. I was trying to make an ‘artsy’ image of a berry smoothie that my wife had just made, alongside her collection of power-pole insulators. It came out okay, nice purdy color on that there berry stuff.
Some time later, my harddrive got corrupted, completely tits-up, unable to boot or recover. Likely some windows nonsense, in fact i’m sure of it. I bought this ‘industrial strength’ data recovery program to try to suck at least some of the information off the disk before reformatting and starting anew. As the results below demonstrate, it wasn’t entirely successful in recovering the data accurately.
However, the image came out even artsy-fartsier! I can now call myself a post-modernardist.
I hear tell that people like pictures. Images. So hey, let’s spice up this area of the internet intersection where left and right turning cars and through traffic never go, and there’s that little accumulation of gravel and wire and grommets that sits there for months on end. You know?
I cut my own hair. Have for decades. Generally do an okay job. Once in 2003, I kinda had a twitch in the old elbow, and found myself having to really ‘fine tune’ things to make it look like less of an accident. Did i succeed? Not so much.
(Postscript: Had to reduce the image size as it was scaring the neighbors)
Yes, apparently that’s a real site. I just saw it go by in the G**gle ads over on the right (G**gle doesn’t allow you to mention the ads on your site, for fear it will encourage people to click on them. Or something like that).
Well, as a matter of fact, I am a slacker mom. Even though I’m male and have no children. But the idea of being a slacker mom – well, could there be a better life? Hangin’ out, chillin’ with my homeys in the hood, sippin’ a cold ’40, wheezin’ some chronic blunts, oh yeah. Snoop Dogg got nuthin’ on me.
Wait. That’s urban. Slacker moms are sub-urban.
This post brought to you by little more than a few moments of boredom.