Chapeaubien
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A window into my mind. Don't worry, you can close the curtains any time.
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Sunday, February 05, 2006

wugga wugga wugga beep

Jan from URL

@ 9:43 PM

Sunday, August 01, 2004


Currently Reading









bagombo.jpg


Bagombo Snuff Box: Uncollected Short Fiction by Kurt Vonnegut







The Subtle Knife


The Subtle Knife (His Dark Materials, Book 2) By Philip Pullman

Jan from URL

@ 8:03 AM

Thursday, July 22, 2004

The

Jan from URL

@ 2:13 PM

Monday, July 12, 2004

The University of Blogging

Presents to
chapeaubien

An Honorary
Bachelor of
Babbling

Majoring in
Psychotic Ranting
Signed
Dr. GoQuiz.com
®

Username:


Blogging Degree
From Go-Quiz.com

Jan from URL

@ 9:59 PM

Saturday, May 18, 2002

Your guilty secret’s safe with Blog-a-matic

I have this, er, friend who blogs. Or rather, who has a blog but doesn’t keep it current because she, uh, doesn’t have the time.

It suddenly occurred to me that she can’t be the only one. So why don’t I (and my even more talented friends who write) start a Blog-a-matic service that will keep their blog current – for a small fee?

Put an end to those embarrassing comments on your most recent blog (yeah, the one dated December 2001). Never again need you feel guilty or embarrassed about the state of your blog. Blogsnob will love you! Stand up and be counted among Blogger’s “Most recently up-dated” list – every day!

A quick interview to determine your likes, dislikes, grammar style, interests, enemies, allergies and quirks is all it takes for Blog-a-matic to produce a zinging little passage for you on a regular basis. Scintillating entries daily, semi-weekly, weekly, monthly – whatever your audience has come to expect from you (and so much more!), Blog-a-matic can provide.

Our Blog hosts (nudge, nudge, wink, wink) are at your service at the swipe of a credit card. What are you waiting for?

Jan from URL

@ 2:25 PM

Life in Little Boxes

You could be excused for thinking I was bragging about my property empire again. How wrong you would be.

See previous posts about commuting between houses. I have gone back to doing that, with the added excitement of doing a different job in each place I am living.

Three days a week I’m out supporting the crimefightin’ guys and gals of the Forest Division of Sussex Police by promoting their activities to selected media outlets.

Saturdays and Sundays find me in London, guiding discerning clients around Britain’s beauty spots.

Thursday and Friday are blank at the moment, but there’s a plot to shoehorn me back into my old insurance company press office part-time on those days.

I’m not the mathematician of the family, but it’s obvious even to me that the good Lord in Her wisdom should have given us an eight-day week.

Now each job requires suitcases for the right clothes, scramble bags for the right gear and a cosy shoebox for the right mindset. This isn’t so much commuting as Chinese platespinning.

Jan from URL

@ 2:10 PM

Friday, May 10, 2002

And another thing

It is a truth universally to be acknowledged....that I and many of my friends have spent the last few years looking for work.

See They Won’t Buy The Cow, by my sister-in-law/friend/mentor/nemesis Elaine (link thoughtfully provided to the right. Yeah. Right there.). See Eric’s Squished Frog blog. (Whaddya mean, is there a link? Am I not your friend?)

Now, we know we can do anything. You want something written? Researched? Publicised? Beaded? Negotiated? Shovelled? Cured? Bought? Wrapped? Watered? Cooked? Delivered? Organised?

Look no further.

We are all capable, talented, articulate people who possess an astonishing depth of general knowledge, with skills and experience to match.

So why – why? – is it that one paragraph can freeze us in our tracks and turn us into quivering wrecks?

“In this section, tell us about the qualifications, experiences and qualities that make you the ideal candidate for this job. Use additional sheets if necessary.” (Italics mine.)

Well, I finally got to the point where I had been dinged (Eric’s word, and a damned good one) so many times, I was feeling reckless and devil-may-care. The hell with ‘em. They weren’t going to hire me anyway. I might as well say what I really thought.

“The truth is that you will not find a better candidate for this job. My experience of journalism, coupled with my broad outlook and profound general knowledge, means that I am ideally suited to putting forward the best possible image of your organisation. I am fully computer literate and well versed in broadcasting, in-house public and media relations, and consultancy work. My present availability and your need are a happy coincidence.”

See? Both barrels.

I start on Monday. Wish me luck.

Jan from URL

@ 1:26 AM

Thursday, May 09, 2002

A Plague on Both My Houses

OK, so. Here I am with two houses: double-un-homeless, as it were.

Friends, either you are closing your eyes to a situation you do not wish to acknowledge, or you are unaware of the calibre of disaster indicated by the presence of ........ (and a prize for the one who pinpoints the source of that quotation. No, Lauren, not you. Or you, Dad. That wouldn’t be fair. Let’s not always see the same hands.)

What no one tells you when you acquire the second home is that either you need the memory of an elephant and a suitcase the size of Delaware (oh, all right, a trunk, then. I wasn’t going for the cheap laugh, but if you must......) or you need two of everything.

Otherwise what happens is you get to one place and you are missing.......well, hey, fill in the blank. Shoehorn, face cream, thyroid pills, aromatherapy neck pillow, the murder mystery you’ve nearly finished..... Even the things you take for granted. Sheets. Towels. No, it never got as far as toilet paper, but that’s only because the gas station around the corner is open until midnight. In my case it was usually my hairdryer, without which even the scarecrows’ union would think I was a member. Or clean underwear. Nuff said. I posit here Hatwell’s Law: Whatever you need, want or promised faithfully to someone else by two hours ago is always in the Other Place.

Eventually, you see sense and get yourself organised. You cave in and buy a second hairdryer. You leave underwear in both houses. You hunt and hunt and finally find more sheets to fit your outsize beds. But the greatest energy you expend is persuading the family that you can’t do it for everyone else at once (I think this must be the Corollary to Hatwell’s Law).

Now, I know all you folks are the right kind of parents. I’m gonna be perfectly frank. Wouldja like to know what kinda conversation goes on......... er, well, sweet Jesus, the arguments. “What do you mean, we didn’t pack my/your/her/its clean socks/sewing kit/algebra book/flea powder?” Them’s now fightin’ words in this house. And that one.

Jan from URL

@ 10:47 PM

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