leran somthing new evaryday dept.:

if a cop puls u ovar for spedign u may thikn its kinda funy to stuf a fivedolar bil in is pants but dont try it.

mabe he wulda bean more rasceptave to a tewnty.

upadate!

reder jef ponits out that if u say 'pants' enuogh times ovar an over it suons amost like a real worde!

4:30 pm

Blow nose twice. From my desk, wisps of thin high cloud are visible above the trees across the parking lot. The sky is otherwise blue.

4:32 pm

A girl from another company in this building walks left to right along the sidewalk outside my window, speaking into her cell phone. She is very unattractive. I can't pin down why she is not pretty; on paper, she ought to be.

4:37 pm

A man wearing a windbreaker walks by in the drive from right to left, leaning forward, facing into the sun and grimacing hideously.

4:38 pm

Blow nose.

4:40 pm

The entry point of a service is ServiceMain. Caller passes it a pointer to an array of pointers to TCHAR and a DWORD count of the array. Yes, yes... One so often does.

4:43 pm

Blow nose. Dammit.

4:44 pm

Clouds over trees have shifted. Thinner now.

4:46 pm

Not-quite-attractive girl drives by from right to left in purple Honda "hybrid". Probably an Evangeline Walton fan. Still yapping at cell phone.

4:48 pm

Somebody's phone is ringing.

4:49 pm

It was mine, apparently. They can call again, if it's that important.

4:51 pm

Nine minutes left.

Eight minutes and fifty-one seconds.

Eight minutes and forty seconds.

4:53 pm

Several small birds fly over the parking lot from left to right.

Six minutes and twenty-four seconds.

hatchet smatchet ratchet!

if dr sueuss had been inta agravatad asualt hed of had a glodmine thare.

latchets no good darn it. unlesn u garrote somboddy wiht it. but theree in a row aint bad anyhow.

updaate!

reder spalterbatam sugeasts 'scratch it'.

im prety sure 'brachet' rymes with somghign else antirly. damit. not taht ud wana hit somboddy with a dog anyhow. but i mean evan if u did it wuldn help.

in teh msdn crt docs for _vsnprintf it is nowhare stated taht a termanatign nul charactar is not apendad if teh sterng lenth is gretar then or equel to the size of teh bufer.

well taht does hapan to be teh case. it works liek strncpy. givan the prafesions danm near unaversel cluelesnes on that litle numbar an the reletive obscuraty of _vsnprintf/_vsnwprintf/_vsntprintf the omision is a godamn outrage. i have sean aleged prafesoinals screw that exact pooch in released code (an pas a usar suplied string for teh format too! teh witerign bosthoons...).

an u can quoate me on taht.

sory about teh geeky psot but i got steam ocmign outa both ears ovar here.

my dad says uor famely has a moto!

'tell them nohthing'

liek al stories abouont our famly its a damn lie im sure but taghts okay.

update!

whats cooal about it is taht i was gona hafta go wiht 'downshift an floar it' but u cant traslate that inta latin or medieval french so what good is it?

anothar update!

whilale i was away norrean psoted my guest-cnut thigny at emeril boyle. wahoo!

anothar nother update! ok!

our staff latanist teh fab dr maroun traslates 'tell tehm nohting' as reticio an 'downshitf an fluor it' as diecio et conculcare whihc form what e says culd as esily mean somthing like 'knock em down an stomp on em'. which totlaly rules. but im quite at a los for coganates on teh secand one so itmight just mean somthign dirty. so i win both ways.

people should hae chins. im not gona be a makng any acceptions hare. its just not taht musch ta ask.

u see em all teh time wiht a smug dubm look on ther face like 'im ok ur ok an waths in a chin aftar all isn it wahts insied taht cuonts?'

bzzt! wrogn! it is teh chin wihc is on the uotside that count's. please rectafy teh prolbalm soonast u epacene freak thx.

udpate!

gona be away til teh 27th. be good.

teh canedian flim broad is gona remake some ol french 'romantic derma'. but their gona rename it putain, poutine. think itll go?

update!

ok i was serchign on gogol for pichers a poutine (note ol vladamer as vague pradicted in the comants!) an i fuond a cool bolg taht made me drooal uncontrolebly.

so some blockhead wroate a traslation of teh ifnero whare teh gimick is its a modarn guy form caiformia naratign it out loud. in thery. in fact its a writar (an not a real good one) writing like a writar an than insertign a variaty of 'comon speach' tics to make it suond 'vernaculer'. its all painfuly contriaved an selfconscious. er. wel ok ive read only the bits on amazon. but holy crap they realy suck.

he usas 'some' as a indefinate article. the swine. the swine! writers awys do that whan their tryign to sound all 'plain folks' but they dont know how. the author is asking imself 'how wuold a reglar guy say what im tryina say here?' wel teh answer is he wouldn say it. hed say somthign equaly stupad but it wuld be a very difernt kind of stupid. if teh narator is a mouthpiece for the author he hasta be like the author or its not gona work. sam delaney screwed teh same pooch in tales of nevèrÿon. god what a painful read taht was (startad off wiht a betar premise though. coping riffs offa borges is good start). they do it in holy wood all the time. thares always some wise folksy ethnic heartwarmign ol minor character dispensign ghastly plainfolksy homespun wisdom in teh form of scriprwitars platitudes. whan i cnosider that wopie golberg an morgan freman haveta spount taht dreck to get work i almost weep. but than i relize they get paid a godawful buttload a money an i feel better.

evan if this inferna thign had been done well its a thredbare gimick. that stuff can work played for laughs — for about one paregraph. aftar that the jokes ovar. you dont need thirtyfour goddamn cantos of it. who woudl bother writing all that? its like that dweeb pushing a pea across london with his nose. literary flagpole-sitting.

arparantly the whole mess is some sily crap about the spiritul povarty of modarn life. gime a break. an anyhow hes worng. i know a guy whose phone plays the 'sanford and son' theame song when it rigns. put that in ur black turtalneck an smoke it mr anomie-an-alienation. pfft! spirutial poverty bollocks.

UPDaste!

kinda rambles a bit donit? oh well. no bigie. if ur time we're wroth much u wuldn be here to bagin with.

i read tihs book abuot hell. turns out hells one a theose placas whare u go thare an all u meet is people from back hoame. like hemagwys circle in paress.

but what buged me is whatsteh busines model? howre they gona make tish thign pay? i dont see any potential fr revanue an if this book is a fair sampal of there moarketing i dont know whathre to laugh or cry. on topa taht its badly run! the guy in chrarge nevar even leavs his ofice.

no wondar god fired im.

...in the springtime, many years ago, ever so far up Tinkly-Winkly Lane and behind Old Farmer Fumblwumble's very biggest lovely haystack could be seen a vast glabrous excresence, pullulating obscenely and blanketing the neighborhood in a repulsive stench.

bob devnar is dead atlast. teh rain of terer has endad. miloins of rotan wihnign snotnoased litl chilreadn can now sleap soudly in there beds.

but whail alda stil lievs they're is yet work to be done.