I was a little late getting to the class today. Not that that was any problem since we only had two students turn up, and they working on simple things like getting their email working. (more…)
This weekend, my partner Louise and I were visited by the lovely Katelyn from Reading (whom I met a while ago on the book of faces, and have met once since). Movies were watched, food was eaten and alcohol was consumed, as one would expect. Everyone got on well, which made me happy, and I’ve heard a rumour that snuggles might have happened too, though I couldn’t possibly comment on that, being all innocent and all. And in any case, the weather is fine this morning, no high winds, no rain, no floods or anything that’d be predicted by UKIP, so what can I say…
Actually, I can reshare this UKIP Shipping Forecast on SoundCloud, because it’s funny!
Last week, I was commenting on how Google were going to have to up their game by next summer. The idea being that after the Nexus 4 and 5, they’d have their work cut out to make a movie standard Nexus 6…
And now we hear they bought a company that makes military robots.
I think that Louise is better today. That is, she got up and went to work, and her voice sounded better. Of course, we did target most of the weekend’s efforts toward that end, giving up Ingress and social activity in favour of health. (more…)
Words can be fun, as any poet or punster could tell you.
Last night, Louise and I were giggling over words, and well… at one point she pronounced “necronomicon” as “necronomicron” (just one letter), which set me to thinking… well, cron is chrono… so time, and necro means dead. But also, in the language of t’interwebs, nom means food so… necronomicron would be… a broken kitchen timer.
I followed on from this, just being daft.
Cthulhu is a mispronounciation of Cathy Lou, a chef on an alien starship that landed on Earth about a gazillion years ago.
So the ship crashed, and chef Cathy Lou’s kitchen timer broke, and she got angry and has spent the last gazillion years trying to either get it repaired, or to find a new one.
So, H.P. Lovecraft was wrong… it’s not about eldritch horrors, it’s just about lunch!