Wish I Had a Fwend In Wome!

I arrived at the office to complaints . . . gentle ones because they knew I was 'easing' back in but Sunday night's storm had triggered the UPS which refused to automatically restart as it should and the network was down. So within minutes of parking my handbag I was prostrate on the floor in the server room, pressing little restart buttons to get the server up and running. Staff are happy, they can access their funny emails. There's nothing like a closed network to give the girls the hump!

I then filtered through 935 emails despite having my Outlook "Out of Office" Assistant on while I was away. She had not properly done her job of deterring people from emailing me so I turned her off, sent her packing. Most of them were trying to sell me watches, software, electronics or viagra or asking me to 'call them' because they were alone and had some nice pictures for me to view. Clearly the spam filter is not working again and pictures of Collosseum Otter Nose vendors filled my head. . Things were getting silly.

Then a brief from TheBoss, predictably telling me how he has looked at himself in a 'roomful of mirrors', 'run a couple of things up the flagpole', 'thrown some ideas on the tarmac to see which would stick'. He was waxing lyrical about how exciting 2008 was going to be with new Debt Installment Warrants, Business Succession planning and could I have the bones of a Marketing Plan together by Thursday. I was beside myself with joy and enthusiasm and thought cynically how fortunate I am to work in such a thrilling industry - Debt Installment Warrants - now it doesn't get more exciting than that! Only Margin Lending could top it!

Then I killed my PC. Don't know how, I just restarted it after a lunchtime freeze and it looped between the Windows login and the startup screen. No amount of cajoling, kicking or profanity would bring it back online. I even got prostrate again and unplugged it. All this lying down was making me feel rather holy and sanctimonious. I twiddled all those little coloured plugs in the back and reconnected the power. The day was moving from slightly ridiculous to properly Pythonesque!

So, logged into the server and called the Helldesk to resolve the issue of clients being unable to get into their logins and view their portfolios on the website. After having a hissy fit, making a few phone calls, feigning tears and pleading with the higher ups, I was able to get hold of a real techie and spent about 4 hours talking to a very nice 'Matt' from our Database suppliers who spoke suggestively and seductively of digital signatures and IP Addresses, remote assistance and "GoTo" meetings. He toyed with my desktop before aknowledging that the issue was 'pointing to the wrong IP address'. I asked him not to talk dirty to me but he couldn't help it. He loves his job. I was now feeling like a song and "Always Look on The Bright Side of Life" came to mind. He was very nice, softly spoken and very funny so I liked him even if he didn't solve the problem and will probably flirt outrageously with him again tomorrow unless he can't fix the problem in which case I'll regard him as the rest of the supergeeks . . . not the Messiah, just a very naughty boy!

By 5:30, I hadn't touched anything other than IT issues. Letters remain untranscribed, redemptions unmailed and followups well . . not followed up. I had my tuna and avocado salad at 4.00pm (no need for tea). I did manage to get to Medicare and HCF and complete my medical claims which put $230 in my purse . . very welcome the day before payday! And I managed to get a quick email off to JD who has been feeling a little low lately. So . . first day back . . . panic attack and it's like no water has passed under the bridge!

The Biatch is Back . . there is once again a driver for the 'he said' 'she said' IT bus and hopefully we'll see some ACTION tomorrow. Poor little IT Dude is pleased to see me back. I think he's been thwown to the gwound Centuwian and tweated vewwy wuffly since my departure and is quite pleased to hear the voice of reason, even if it's not telling him what he wants to know. Charmaine is very happy to see me back . . now she doesn't have to put up with the inane interruptions. Good job I'm less flighty now that I've been desexed!

Why I Didn't Get Out of My Pyjamas and Swore A Lot

Language Warning

I have spent the whole day in my fucking pyjamas. No not the ones that I wear during romantic interludes and not because I'm that attached to them, despite the fact that they are very comfy and cool but because it was apparent, the Dell wasn't well. My morning habit is to wake very early - make a cuppa, crank up the old battleaxe, check the blogs and emails, then shower, dress and get on with the day. Only if I'm happily distracted by some overseas Skype pal am I ever in me jimmy jams after 7:00am.

After a few spits and squeaks and numerous restarts, Ctrl Alt Deletes, Task Manager manipulations, Disk Cleanups and Defrags and even a half hour cooling off period and some serious power point poker, the bitch decided to give up the ghost for about half an hour hastening panic among the humans in the house, "Shit, shit, shit, shit . . motherfucking PC. I only wanted you to last until the end of January . . fuck! fuck!" from me (practising my best Four Weddings and a Funeral 'fuck') to accusatory "What the fuck did you do mum? If I can't get my photos on a disc, I'm fucked! I need them for Fringelet's birthday present!" from the normally quite politely spoken DrummerBoy who's romance collage for the Fringelet's birthday relied on him downloading a disk of carefully chosen snooxy photos.

I managed to get the old girl resurected but with a few provisos:

• She started slower than frozen treacle
• She refused to let me load a new version of Nero
• Simply wouldn't allow Quicktime
• Stalled every 3 CD's due to exhaustion
• Positively went into a spin over MSN and Hotmail
• Made a totally inappropriate buzzy/farty noise if I moved the mouse too fast
• Will not open Word most times and when she does, all the drop down menus appear to jump all over the screen
  
• Simply turned off the screen ad hoc if I swore at her

Biatch!

I wouldn't mind in a month or so . . . I know I need a new PC and this six year old Trojan doesn't really owe me anything but after a $470 ignition replacement in the Hoonda and $270 of new brakes on top of the Christmas spendfest and exorbitant council rates, the last thing I can afford is $2000 for a decent PC. She has to last until 31st January when I can clean out the iMac of ClareBear's images and optimise the whole shebang. Lets face it, I only use my home PC for Internet and Skype so the Mac should do me for a few more months.

The rest of the day was spent 'nursing' files onto a CD so that when the old crone finally carks it, I have my photos and files intact. (For God's sake don't tell her I called her a Crone . . she already takes half an hour to download a You Tube vid!). The big problem besides a cancerous processor and 512 RAM is hard drive memory. DrummerBoy has so many narcissistic Aktor jpegs, iTunes, Winamp and band (not banned- although I didn't watch them all!) video files that even copying them to disk took veritable hours while he plonked along with his gesture of romance for the girlf! (which looked very pretty when he'd finished with it by the by!)

So for those of you on dial up . . .trust me . . your PC's are faster than mine!

Maybe Ms Dell has been talking to this guy . . .

Some of My Best Friends Are Geeks

Now before I get into this angsty bit of prose, it's important that you know I am not an IT person. I have two home computers, a Mac which I have no idea to use as it's ClareBear's Design Machine and a cheap as chips 5 year old Dell which is now considered an antique but serves my bloggy purposes for the moment. My skill is influencing and communication according to a barage of psychometric tests I've endured over my many careers. I am considered a 'creative' with the ability to communicate complex issues with abject simplicity. I think that means so that a moron will understand. I think this is why I've always been nominated to 'deal' with IT types. I have patience, ask the right questions and I'm not afraid to have a go at the simpler troubleshooting.

However, I returned to work today amid chaos and collusion. The planned server upgrade for the weekend, orchestrated by our lovely little IT Geekybyte failed over the weekend. An issue with our industry database and some data integration instructions not being available. OK that sounds like I know what I'm talking about but basically it means that Geekybyte wasn't well supported and had to halt proceedings - all would be completed next weekend.

Despite an email I had sent to all staff saying that if the new servers weren't fully implemented this weekend, they would be next weekend, absolutely everyone assumed they would roll in on Monday to a bigger, brighter, better, faster (Gawd, sounds like a Daft Punk lyric) operating system. Obviously, disappointed they began to fume. Whilst I was standing next to Arky at an Automatic teller in Federation Square, all hell was breaking loose at work. Outlook had stalled, people couldn't log in, Word was freezing, Excel was crashing . . . only the very cool Argentinian had nothing to say about the matter. I was contacted by Charmers to troubleshoot the Outlook issue and thanks to Arky was able to resolve that particular problem over the phone but today . . . ahh today . . .

Every man and his dog reported problems. The message I got was, Geekybyte will be in on Friday to resolve them. Now that's not in his contract, he's supposed to offer support within 4 hours! Apparently Charmers had fought with Geekybyte who had been arrogant in response. Thommo had clashed with Geekybyte and the hairs on her arms were still raised with angry static. TheMostAnnoyingParaplannerInTheWorld (TMAPITW) signed incessantly at the slowness of her computer and the odd surprise pop up. TheBoss retained his Sgt Schultz demeanour. Sgt Bilko seemed unaware that anything untoward was going on. TheReceptionist was all a flutter and TheMauritian managed to delete a whole Excel Worksheet and blame it on server malfunction.

Fine, fine, fine . . the Bitch is back with her battle gear on so Geekybyte was emailed, frostily I might add. Aspersions about his ability and perhaps having bitten off more than he could chew were made. I also called his mobile but to no avail. Even I became a little hot under the collar, flung the 'F' word about in relation to IT people having crap communication skills, vented via MSN to Ark and aroused as much sympathy as a shrew deserves by the way, they stick together you know. By three I even shouted at a Tree Hugging Hippie volunteer manning the phones at the Wilderness Society because he couldn't operate a telephone . . poor mite, wasn't his fault.

So you get the picture. The workplace is a festering viper pit. Men pretty calm. Women like a rampaging rut of pre-menstrual monsters all ready to lynch this 8 stone, kid with skin that's never seen sunlight because their computers were . . well . . .SLOW?

Poor little lamb must have got a fright from the catty email. Departed his conference in Canberra and turned up on the doorstep at 4:30 to 'explain' what had happened. All was plausible. Most of the issues very simple to resolve and the slowness . . . well that will just have to wait until next weekend when the new servers are up and running. The whole thing was a lack of communication and for the most part a misunderstanding.

Now, herein lies the rub. Non computery types don't want to know how to use computers, they want someone there, 24/7 to pander to their whims and solve their problems . Geekybyte types want to solve their problems but in this case are outsourced and have a 4 hour telephone response time and a 12 hour on-site response time. Clearly something had been lost in the communication. Umm, that would be my fault.

He said: She was rude and snapped at me and wanted an immediate on site response
She said: he was arrogant and took an hour to call me back
He said: These problems won't exist next week
She said: it's all your fault I can't log on
He said: well maybe but you just have to change "Administrator" to "Parkside"
She said: Well it shouldn't have been changed to "Administrator" in the first place
He said: Point taken, sorry about that
She said: My excel spreadsheet is empty
He said: well you've deleted data
She said: but this didn't ever happen before you came along

Get the drift? Add another 20 lines and you see my afternoon with absolute clarity (I was not the 'she' saying these things by the way - they are a composite of complaints)

So, tomorrow I will have to call a meeting of the minds. Explain the 'arrangement' we have with our outsourcer and lower service expectations. Some smartass will try to change the subject completely and ask for a new screen. Another will then demand that we get someone who is capable of answering our every beck and call but for $150 an hour. (Tell 'em they're dreamin') Then, I'll have to go to Geekybyte and ask him not to be 'arrogant' and 'patronising' which are actually euphemisms for knowledgeable and technically minded.

I don't mind him. OK he says funny words like, 'offline' and 'hung applications' and 'go to start run'. But for some reason, my workplace wants his head on a platter more desperately than Herod wanted John the Baptist. Who's gonna protect him whilst I'm gone? Some of my best friends are geeks of the highest order. TheBenchwarmer isn't rude or arrogant, Arky certainly isn't rude or arrogant and I really don't think GeekyByte is either, just a little lacking in communication skills but in my experience, they make world class macchiatos, damn good tour guides and delicious barbecued beef. Not to mention a natural ability to play Guitar Hero Where would we be without their geeky little bones? They'd just say "Meh" and rule the world anyway . . .

Faeces Fighters

So you think you're privacy is safe on Facebook . . .that only your friends can see you? Not if you write in notes . . there's a glitch that shares your information with anyone. Now there's a more insidious way to capture a new demographic via Facebook . . pitched and personal appvertising. (God I wish I'd thought of that).

Many youngsters and some wannabes like myself are joining social network sites like Bebo and MySpace but the flavour of the month, at least in Australia is Facebook.

I joined mainly to checkout ClareBear on her travels but since she also has a blog, I don’t use it a lot. It seems that since the introduction of the Throw app . . .the one where you can throw sheep, cows, food . . you can even throw poo .

It seems that Facebookers would rather pelt each other with virtual faeces (Daz' fave word) than safeguard their personal information. At least, that's the word from Seth Goldstein, co-founder and CEO of Social Media, a company that enables virtual doo-doo tossing.

Social Media introduced a Facebook application called Food Fight which they creatively call a "Throw app" (rocket scientists these geeks), Typically, the app allows Facebookers to purchase virtual food items and throw them - at virtual friends. It plays off the Facebook "poke", a kind of online hello.(Well hello- o-o haggis!)

But you don't pay real currency for this virtual food. You pay virtual dollars. And you acquire these virtual dollars by giving up personal information. (Did you know that kiddies? I wondered why I had so many $ in my growing gift app.) Food Fight is part of a larger network of tools used for "appvertising". That personal info will eventually be used for marketing purposes.(so if you don’t want to be bothered by virtual junk mail – be careful!)

What happens is the advertisements you receive will not only know who you are but also your friends, your spouse or those you are in a relationship with. Providing an opportunity for ad networks to provide the holy grail: personalised advertising.

An example might be: "Christmas is coming soon and Baino would lov a special gift from Qantas, like a round-the-world-air-first-class-air-fare or a holiday in Vanuatu!” (can’t blame a girl for trying) The thing is . . . all the information is given up voluntarily when you’re on Facebook.

Throwing poo however costs more virtual dollars than a quick chuck of a ruminant - $20 to be exact . . Apparently people are more than happy to pay the premium and the response rate has gone through the roof. There are a lot of people out there throwing poo at each other! It’s surprising how willing people are to give up their personal details for a faeces fight . . . perhaps you'd better put your poo where it really belongs. . . bless you little monkeys!

Computer Bugs and Free Hugs

No proper post today. Everyone seems to be angry, abusive, melancholoy or conspicuously absent . Work has been tough this week so I’m heading home for a chota peg and a smoke!

Skype me if you like me . . I could do with some virtual hugs. Or maybe I'll get on this guy's bandwagon . . . he gave free hugs, got banned, developed a petition, sense won out and now he's begun a world-wide phenomenon!

Two Words that Rock My World - 'System Rebuild'

A conversation you don't want to have outside a disaster recovery simulation:

Him: The Legislative Update script has a flaw and is causing the server to keep rebooting before the desktop builds
Me: Um well call COIN and get a resolution
Him: I'm analysing the disks now so the server will be down for about 2 hours, I should be able to find the offending file.
Me: Ok everyone, might as well take an early mark. We won't be up until after close of business
Him: It's no good. I have to do a complete . . . .system restore . . .
Me: That's OK we can retrive data from the tape
Him: Um . . .the last successful backup was last Thursday . . . do you have any floppy disks?
Me: *floppy disks? WTF*

Actually, it was slightly more technical than that . . .the upshot. . . total system REBUILD of our 2003 server. He is still at work reinstalling. I am at home having hot flushes and working out how to explain this to a staff that have no interest in IT, are completely blindsided without an operational server, no understanding of it's idiosyncracies and wondering why the last four days data has gone screaming off into the ether like Darth Vader after a brief conflict with that Skywalker chap! I don't know who to blame . . .Microsoft, Him or . . I'm having a nervous breakdown . . . .

.

I Used to Think There Was No Such Thing as A Stupid Question

I have been tortured by a cantankerous internet today. A WAN Cable error on our Linksys router (like I have a clue what that means) has meant incoming emails were received but nothing was sent and all knowledge remained floating out there in the ether, ethereal as ever and unaware of our sudden ostracism from the world at large. It slipped in and out of consciousness throughout the day and I received the odd email from ClareBear and managed to get a virtual card out to birthday boy and a slightly failed “Go To Assist” with a software administrator that was quite entertaining.

What really struck me was the attitudinal dependency of the entire office upon this ubiquitous and fragile medium, without which all life as we know it ceases to exist apparently. To add insult to injury, this dodgy connection was somehow attributable to me as the IT Guru (their name not mine). Since the departure of our full time IT Administrator, who our powers that be did not see fit to replace, I have become the whipping girl for all things malfunctioning that relate remotely to Information Technology. And I work for people who think that fax machines and printer drums are also information technology. In fact one thinks that Excel is something only a Network Administrator can fathom – hence his adoration of our Excel specialist who is the biggest wanker on the face of the planet but that’s another story.

Ok a few of the banalities I’ve had to put up with:

“The internet doesn’t work . . .”
No kidding, I just sent you an internal email saying that you fucking rocket scientist
“I can’t save this document in COIN . . .”
Really, that’s because you don’t have editing permission you shit-kicker
“I can’t login to the boardroom computer . . . “
Locked ourself out again have we due to a forgotten password, then abused the receptionist and the IT misfit as if it’s their fault you forgetful fool
“My VPN doesn’t work” That’s because you’re on your work computer, not logging in remotely
“Will you email me when the server’s back up please” – umm . . . You’ll have logged out so that I can restart the server so you won’t be able to read my email.

We knew we’d be reconnected at some stage during the day but the response of “Oh can we get an early mark” or “well what are we supposed to do now?” And from the principals of the company “Just how long is this going to take . . .” like I can somehow 'will' the World Wide Web to perform on cue. One principal even questionned the suitability of our IT Outsourcer because he didn’t lob on-site the minute I called him about what is probably an external ISP issue.

Crispy, TheBenchwarmer, Brianf – I wouldn’t have your IT client liaison jobs for quids. Clients are thankless, stupid and have unrealistic expectations of the abilities of IT problem solvers . . . you are all saints in my book!

And another thing . . what is it about some person, and we all know who he is, taking the last clean spoon and not washing it!

Oh and on a completely different note, Brianf has a birthday today (23rd August). So go visit and wish him well. He doesn’t post much these days because being your typical male, multi-tasking isn’t his strong point and he's too busy eating veal and conning chefs out of their skilets. Plus his rather demanding job sees him travelling during the week and gives him the perfect excuse to be a lazy ass. Happy b’day Bri. Have a blast!

Mega Dick

One of my duties as IT Manager (don’t laugh, I have an outsourced expert to do the tricky stuff) is to go through our spam filter in-box each morning and ensure that it hasn’t trapped any legitimate emails and to relegate the nasty ones to the blacklist.

There are a plethora of “I’m lonely tonight, look at my sexy pictures” emails, Cialis and Viagra advertisements, University Degrees without studying, economic opportunities that are just too good to be true - but it’s the penis enlargement ones that really make me laugh. Not for their claims and most certainly not because I’m impressed by a big dick unless he's a tall, tanned, boofy bloke called Richard.

No, what really impresses me is the way they try to ‘target’ the nationality of their audience. The sincere attempt to corner the demographic in various international markets. I’m sure they’re using Babel or something to translate. We end up with this hilarious combination:

For the prim:
Womens always laughed at me and even gentlemans did in the urban WC! Well, now I laugh at them, because I took Megadik for 4 months and now my phallus is excessively best than civil market

For the Americans:
Dames always whizgiggled at me and even youths did in the not private toilet! Well, now I shriek at them, because I took Megadik for 4 months and now my putz is dreadfully longer than national go shopping

Now if I had to write one for the Aussies it would be:

Sheilas used to piss themselves when they saw my poor excuse for a love muscle, even the pooftas in the loos wet themselves laughing. Now I can stick it right up 'em cos I took Megadik for 5 months and me schlongs such a doozie, I have t' strap it t' me inside leg with me bulwhip.

I didn’t realise that so many women were in the habit giggling at their teensy weensy members. I think it would be quite a prank for a hens night bunch to go hanging around the 'gents' poking fun and laughing at at wee willies.

So if the mood takes you, and the opportunity presents itself . . . . have your giggle then remind the poor sods with the diminutive pricks that there is a way to make their phallus "excessively best than civil!"

Face Off to Face Book

Owww . . .my head hurts. First there was MSN which I still use mainly at work. Then there was My Space which I only joined to enable me to comment on ClareBear and Aktor’s spaces. Then there was Blogger, which has turned into an unhealthy obsession. Then I dabbled in Wordpress but decided it was too techy for me for just now. There's Outlook which is my main email communication method. Then I was clued up to Skype which I really . . . really . . . really . . . love because it’s messaging and audio all rolled into one and it’s free. But now. . . friggin Facebook which I have to join if I want to follow my kid’s travels around the world has reared its ugly head.

I remember Grandad talking about 'poking' and confusion on Facebook but others have told me it's "My Space" for grown-ups - well I haven't seen ANY evidence of that. I’m really not sure about all this food fighting, hugging, working out how much alike you are and everyone poking each other, either! If I want a poke, I’ll ask for it. And if someone throws something at me I want the satisfaction of a splattery-splodgy sound. As for a virtual drink or a piece of virtual cake – what’s the point in that! It's as satisfying as a virtual hug! Gimme the real thing any time!

Plus, when am I going to have time to ‘live’. I can’t possibly indulge all these online obsessions working full time and managing a five acre property, spending time with my poppets, looking after animals, cleaning, washing, socialising . . . not to mention the need to face up to the camera and post a picture . . . OMG . . .that's going to take ages given the amount of spackfiller and vaseline required for a soft focus!

Within seconds, I’ve got three friends and am being encouraged to add more - which is very nice but now there’s pressure to decide upon which application to use when speaking to them. I already have quite a few virtual and real friends with whom I Blog, Skype and Email surely throwing cake at them and poking them on a daily basis is a bit of overkill . . . plus, their sites are far more sophisticated than mine so I'm under pressure to make it look pretty and I haven’t got a clue. ClareBear . . . Help!

Mission for tonight: Explore, expand and expunge if it turns out to be a crock.

Conversations with Computers

Part of my job includes chasing up social security issues for clients, particularly age pensions and entitlements, health cards and the like. Centrelink, our fantastic and paradoxically de-centralised social security branch of the Federal Government has one of those fantastic recorded messages that asks you to ‘speak’ into the mouthpiece of your phone so that they can identify your query and move you on to the appropriate department, which again paradoxically is never the most appropriate department. I had a lovely conversation with a nice lady machine this afternoon:

“If you require pensions, say pensions”
“If you need to register for Centrelink, say register”
“If you need unemployment assistance, say employment””

So says I: “Pensions”

She comes back and asks me to identify which pensions I’m after:

“If you have an enquiry about the age pension say age pension”
If you are enquiring about a single parenting allowance say single”

Again, I comply and say ‘age pension’

So far so good. The last machine like this was at a Share Registry last week. Their lady widget somehow thought that Bluescope Steel sounded EXACTLY like Coles Myer Limited. Needless to say, we had a fight but she retained her compusure and eventually put me through to a real live operator.

Back to Centrelink. After about 5 minutes of Barber’s Adagio with Strings strumming soporifically in my ear, another nice lady comes along and says:

Please say your 9 digit reference number

Well she asked so nicely so obediently, and whilst wiping the dribble from the side of my mouth as I had fallen asleep listening to the adagio, I clearly enunciated “087 465 321B”

Was that “087 465 321P” she asks “If yes, press #”

. . . . "no no no" I yelled down the phone
It’s “087 465 321B” As in bugger, bastard, bum, biatch . . .

“I’m sorry but that number does not exist on our system”

Clunk.

And the reason for the call? Centrelink in their wisdom had revoked our ability to enquire about this client on their behalf because “the client has requested it”.

No they didn’t. It turns out that the nominee authority expires after 3 years and because they don’t have an appropriate form letter to send to nominees notifying them of their need to renew, they send one that simply tells big fibs.

Ah the public service. I think it’s the same around the world.

I Do Not Stammer (normally)

I’m not going to bore you with politics because our two major political parties are barely different, making the choice impossible. However, it is a well known fact that Australia has one of the worst internet/broadband networks in the world. Yet we’re so far away from civilisation who do you think needs it the most?

The issue of widespread and improved broadband has been an election promise of both parties in contention and is now gaining weight. And the “Australia Connected” initiative has been born to bring fast broadband to city and rural communities. Labor’s plan, should they be elected, is to to invest $4.7 billion in cross-country fibre optic networks delivering minimum speeds of 12 megabits a second.

The good thing is that our emails and/or voice won’t have to kangaroo hop half way around the world, taking the longest route, to actually get to their destination. Or so the theory goes . . .

After attempting to talk to a couple of US pals on Sunday, I realised how truly shit our internet is. I have ADSL at home, it’snot the best but it’s OK. I can gasbag to the Irish, the English and the New Zealanders with ease and no break up or delay, however, it seems the east coast of the States is out of bounds. It could have been a ‘hopping’ issue as I was technically informed as one server tried to find another as if it had bought a round the world air ticket and could only progress in one direction – obviously it took the long route via Asfuckistan.

I don’t care about bits and mips, bytes or bandwidth. . . I just want to be able to make a phone call to the US without m-e-e-e-e-e- s-o-u-n-d-i-i-i-i-i-i-ing, like I have a st-a-a-a-a-a-amm-e-e-e-er or without hearing my own voice on delay 20 seconds later which leads to the longest silences on the line you can imagine .

Then again, it could have been something to do with our foul winter weather, a summer storm brewing in Atlanta, or a wombat digging up the copper cable in Cunamulla!

I Know You're Out There

Ha! I know you're out there . . . I installed a Stat Counter which I thought would be VERY depressing but I've had 24 hits between 7.00pm and 9:53 . . . so leave a comment/suggestion you bludgers! Bolster my ego and reveal yourselves!

Emotional Rescuers

This is not a depressing post. In fact, it’s about an awakening, an emotional rescue by both predictable and highly unpredictable influences.

I do not cry. I have rarely cried. I cry only when I am absolutely furious and frustrated or injured by surprise, like when you crunch a toe on a concrete step or bang your finger with a hammer, no amount of swearing eases the pain, but a good cry does the trick. I might cry whilst listening to emotional music. Oddly enough bagpipes and Elton John’s Circle of Life bring a lump to the throat – go figure? In fact anything to do with emotions rarely makes me tear up.

I feel a little emotional these days. It’s a combination of my place in the world at the moment, separation anxiety, work, age, insecurity, loneliness, financial woes and frustration with my lifestyle – all of which come into play at different times - but something’s happened recently. It could have been Thommo's epiphany talk. She told me to bite the bullet, face the family and sell the property for sanity’s sake. She told me I need to get a life, get out more and to acquire the will and the means to do the things I want to do. But her overwhelming concern and finally actually having the nerve to ‘tell’ me did move me to tears and definitely had an emotional effect. As do her ‘seven second hugs’ (they always make me feel better but still make me cry).

ClareBear’s ‘stop worrying and being so unselfish' talk also hit home. I'd never really thought of myself as being unselfish. I’ve been hanging in, raising and caring, feeding and tidying and worrying about others when I could walk away with enough money to be debt free. This might not solve all my problems but it takes the biggest out of contention. I’ll have money to visit ClareBear during her gap year overseas in 2008 (the thought of 12 months without seeing my daughter is overwhelming). . . money to buy DrummerBoy a new kit and having the ability to throw him a 21st Birthday Party and discharge both their HECS debt and set them up quite nicely for the future - it's all within my grasp. Finally, money to take the holiday that I’ve had planned in my head for so long – Eastern USA, Canada, England, Paris and Santoring and the possibility of visiting the owners of some of the voices I have come to know so well through podcasts. Money to regularly visit Stan and the InstaFamily in New Zealand who always seem so close and yet so far.

Yep, now I am an emotional being but in a good way. I read an email about someone’s emotional state, family sadness or heartfelt issues and I’m sitting here with tears welling up with both empathy and a gladness that they’ve chosen to confide in little old, unimportant me. I read a blog that moves me and I’m overflowing with empathy. I hug my best friend or my children and am overcome with the emotion of it all. I even pat my dog on occasion and just think what a fabulous creature she is and how much happiness she brings simply by doing nothing. I tickle my son (too cool for cuddles) and we swap silly names . . .but even that makes me well with pride and love.

It has clicked. It’s not me falling apart, it’s simply that I have learned to relax about the emotional me. I have been able to talk openly, write openly, express myself truly openly for the first time in a very long time, thanks to Thommo and Clare and in no small part to two people I have never met . . . I have started to feel ‘in touch’ with my soul. I don’t care if I cry at the drop of a hat. It’s a good cry, it’s a caring cry, it’s a cry from the heart that lets me know I can feel again.

I’ve been on comfortably numb 'pause' for so long, waiting for the kids to finish Uni, waiting for the block to be sold, waiting for early retirement, waiting for Mr Goodbar, you name it, I’ve been a lady in waiting for nearly 10 years now and I’ve realised that I’ve had enough. The numbness that has enveloped me over this past decade is slowly melting away. I’m feeling alive, conscious, concerned, happy, ambitious, sad . . . the bottom line, is I am feeling.

The work done by my fleshy friends has been consolidated by two bloggy and email pals who whilst worlds and years apart, have touched my heartstrings, shared some very private thoughts and befriended me in a way that I find surprising, flattering and wonderful. I’ve learned as much from their resilience as from their frailty.

So to you contributors of my emotional well-being . . . you all know who you are . . . thank you for coming to my emotional rescue.

Crikey it's Skype!

OK you all probably know all about this but it's news to me. Just when I thought I had my internet obsession reduced to a reasonable amount of time spent blogging, chatting and visiting . . . I've been introduced to Skype. You can call your friends all over the world for free if they're also members, it's amazing. It's got an instant messaging service too . . I rang Brainf to test the line today and it was FANTASTIC. Although I was a bit 'reserved'. Nervous actually. It's weird hearing yourself talk with the cans on let alone speaking to someone you've never met.

CRIKEY, how cool is it? All you need is a headset and microphone. Plug it in, join Skype and you can talk to anyone in the world for freeeeeeeee! Now I just want to call everyone I know and have a conversation . . . if only I had something interesting to say.

One Step Further Away from Technopeasantry

My internet didn't work yesterday, or this morning and I realised just how addicted I am to checking my mail and blog comments and browsing my little list of faves. ClareBear too was freaking out because she had to do some online templates and couldn't get her messages from TheCricketer. Shit happens. So, after venturing into the pouring rain to meet the farrier at 9.00 in the morning and being snotted on by two very wet and dishevelled horses whilst they endured a muddy manicure, I ventured into the RTA to register my vehicle. Thirty minutes of people watching and listening to a persistent 'bing' alerting punters to their need to attend an i-mac booth to pay the exhorbitant fees required to be allowed to drive on our shitty roads was not a fun experience. Especially since my shoes were drenched with water, covered in horse shite and my jacket swathed with pony snot and little grey hairs where Chippy chose to rub against my shoulder just to be annoying. Car registered and the Virgin Mastercard (contradiction in terms, it's a whore of a card and has been used many times) absorbing even more credit, I ventured to EB to buy what I thought I required to get the internet up and running - a router. OK, I'm a technopeasant surrounded by smartass geeks but there wasn't one handy this morning so I took my life into my own hands and wafted (literally) into the store.
Me: "I need a router with 8 ports please"
Geeky Indian: "Wireless?"
Me: "How the fuck should I know . . .the one I have now has a plug" *real response - I don't know*
Geeky Indian: "We have one with a single ADSL and four data ports"

*ring ClareBear to get her to count ports*

Me:"Ok I'll try that one"
Geeky Indian: "It has an inbuilt modem, wireless capability, ADSL and 4 data ports, you'll be happy with that one madam."
Me: "I'm cold, wet (again not in a good way) smell like a horse and have snot on my jacket, just gimme the dam thing . . ." *real response was 'thank you'*

So I drive home once again, squish into the kitchen, gingerly take said router out of the box and it looks absolutely nothing like the little thingamy at the back of my computer which turns out to be a 10/100Mbps switch. BabyBro has the router on his server and we're networked in. What I need is just a DLink switch with 8 ports.

Fark. Now I have to go back to the store and since I can't be bothered getting out of the now damp rather than sodden horsey gear, I just change my boogey smeared jacket into something a little smarter and go back to the shop.

Nope, they don't have a switch. So I wait half an hour for a refund. It wasn't wasted, I browsed the heaters while I was there and got a demo model for $10 off so my bargain hunger was satiated. Off to another shop. Yep, they had the gear. 8 ports, guarantee, warranty, all the bits and jiggers to go with it. So, back in the car again and assemble the DLink. Nup . . still no joy.

It turns out that BabyBro had a new firewall installed on Friday morning and since all the networked computers were switched on during the installation, nobody had rebooted so that the server recognised the LAN. All it took was everyone to reboot and life as we know it resumed. So . . I'm $79 poorer. Have 2 data switches (a spare is always handy I guess) but importantly, I'm back on the net before anyone missed me. Now there's some arrogance for you . . .

See, I now know the difference between an ADSL port, a data port, a router with inbuilt modem and wireless capability and a simple data switch. I have also learned that the blue cables are the computers and the grey cable is the ADSL but I'm not sure what the yellow one is yet.

I learned a lot. I am now only 98% technopeasant and 2% Super Geek. Yay!