Monday, 14th March, 2005

Of all the Bloody Days...

Dawn breaks over Lancaster. It's 7am, and Siobhan Curran wipes the sleep from her eyes, removes a cat from her face and stumbles downstairs to get some coffee, a night of bizarre dreams still echoing in her mind. She lights a fag, climbs back into bed, grabs her laptop and settles herself down to see what's been going overnight...

Bemused slightly by a rather large lag-time in opening her home page, she knocks back more coffee and amuses herself by filming George drinking from her pint-glass of cordial with his paw, and notes that she must post the AVI for the world to share later on.

(George is so cute! )

Disappointed by the lack of activity on her blog, she plunges herself into a terminal window — just to see how busy things have been overnight — knowing full well that today is quite an important day. Not only does she have to call umpteen people to Sort Things Out, and potentially do a Big Shop, there's also the impending Bloggies results to get a little bit excited about.

(Fourth would be great — the potentially only realistically high outcome I could expect. Fifth? Well, time to break out the tight grimace smile and conclude that that's what happens when you're the new girl, and really, it's such an honour to have been nominated in the first place...)

[14/Mar/2005:00:33:01 +0000] "GET /tranniefesto.xml HTTP/1.1"

Nothing since twenty five to one in the morning?! Am I that unpopular?! Is there a world wide boycott of transvestite websites...

Oh shit

Siobhan races into her studio and gasps in horror at the single static LED on her AirPort Base Station — that little box which gives out IP addresses and routes all internet traffic to Erin the server.

...

Runnning your own server is a lot of fun — it lets you do all sorts of stuff that you might not be able to do with a box that's hosted at some remote location. But it has its drawbacks...

...especially if your connection to the internet is through an AirPort Base Station that you haven't quite got round to updating the software on, and is therefore liable to crash every now and again.

...

Siobhan reboots her Base Station. LEDs start to flash all over the place. Logs start to flow, she breathes a sigh of relief.

Good job I was here this morning wasn't it?

George Likes Apple & Blackcurrant

OK, let's see if I can remember how to do an <embed> tag...

Is he not the cutest cat in the world?

...

I'm a bit worried about George at the moment though. For the past few days, he's been throwing up a hell of a lot. OK, so it's pretty grim and slightly disturbing (and it's what, initially I think, sparked off me and Kath's mammoth 'tidy the house' frenzy the other day — I needed to wash the floors), but he's always done this — I think, in a "give me attention!" kinda way.

But he doesn't seem right at the moment. He's always had an air of melancholy about him, but right now, it seems to be worse. And he's looking very old

I've put him on special Old Cat food, and it seems to have stopped the vomiting, but I'm worried about him.

I dunno what I'd do without Georgie

Out and About

Just thought that I'd mention that I'm going to be at Angelic next Saturday night. I got accused last time I went to a trannie-night of not giving anyone enough notice that I was going to be there, so hopefully a five days is enough.

I was thinking maybe I could do a little trip into London at the same time — like a day-return or something.

Dunno, I'll have to work on that.

Anyway, please note, I have nothing to wear I'm going to have to put together some kind of stunning outfit.

Oh, sorry Angelic is a trannie club night in Milton Keynes.

sigh

Oh well. Maybe next year...

Congrats to Francis though

grimace smirk tears (of joy)

Ack, way ahead of you Mike — I've been at the red wine for the past few hours.

Gin is such a depressant (and not what I need right now ) Besides, I have SUPERvolcano to feel morbid about, and well frankly, the thought of THE WORLD ABOUT TO END is a bit more tragic than coming whatever-I-did in the Bloggies

(What was I? Fifth eh? sigh ...Lesbian-Bloody-Google...)

...

Kris, don't get me wrong, the one time I've been to Milton Keynes, it did indeed look like something that Milton himself would have written about (ooh, get me and my literary references there...) — but the chance to drink booze surrounded by the mythical creatures of the night that call themselves transvestites? Frankly, I don't give a shit what city it's in — it's bound to be fun