Sunday 11 January 2009

The nature of belly button fluff, the credit crunch and the dissonance of LS envy

It's 10 past midnight on a Saturday night, there is a week or so to go until lotusphere. the blogsphere is alive with Version 8.5, the new entry requirements for a visa waiver and all things X-page related. ~sigh~ the lotto once again did not make me financially independent enough to afford the beer bill let alone the air fare to Florida. I suppose it is time for one of those Gallic shrugs and a darkly muttered "c'est la vie" that my French colleagues are so found of.

Anyhow here I sit in the study sipping on a "left-over-from-xmas" Stella Artois feeling sorry for myself and finding new ways to make any combination of 3 colours of paint into yucky-brown. Why is that? Try it yourself, take any three colours from a paint box mix them and you get a sort of greeny-brown sludgey colour that is to fine art what Paul Mooney is to tall people. The magnetic effect of brownness when you mix paint is in that same cubby hole of unexplained shite that is inhabited by belly button fluff. (I believe my USian readers call it "lint"), i digress ... whilst any combination of 3 paint = brown, belly button fluff is ALWAYS greyish blue. WTF? I have a penchant for white or black tee-shirts and my belly button fluff is fecking blue, wearing the colours I do, surely my BBF should either be Zebra striped or like 1960's TV glorious monotone.

Zebra striped belly button fluff would be really cool would it not? It would be the perfect starting point for a conversation with a stranger at a dinner party. Imagine it ... that pregnant pause after saying "I work with messaging and collaboration Software?" when you have been asked "What do you do?" ... I could fill that pause with ".. but I have zebra striped belly button fluff wanna see?" What friendships could be forged on the anvil of such a wonderful statment? But as the fecking stuff is always bluey gray I will never find that out.

I am getting really naffed off with the fecking credit crunch for it has borked any chance of me attending LS09 ... yes I know I should be a bigger man and worry about all those who have lost their jobs and I should be terrified by the fact that we are circling the rim of the capitalist toilet all be it nicely deodourised by the Toilet Duck of media mediocrity in preparation for the final flush. But I am a shallow callous indiviual .. so sue me ;-)

My Stella is nearly done, so it is therefore time for bed ... nite nite for the now :-)

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