It has been an interesting couple of months in the life of the Laughing Wolf. I have been trying to get used to being out of work, and have only recently managed to not get up at 06:30 every morning. I have also just this past week or so, managed to not refer to any of my ex-colleagues as “xxx from work”.
I have started German lessons in earnest and have been told I am doing quite well. In reality, my German skills are not as bad as I often tell people, what I lack is the confidence to make a mistake..which in turn makes me clam up and say nothing. I am pleased to say that the lessons are helping me overcome this.
I have stopped going out drinking almost completely thanks to the need to be careful with my money these days, and the nice side effect of this is that I am losing some weight finally. I have also taken to sporting a goatee in recent weeks, everyone seems to think it is ok, I am as yet undecided. This indecision makes me “worse than a woman” according to CW, but *meh*. Clearly I haven’t blogged in some time, mainly due to the relaxed nature of my life at the moment, nothing is really happening, so I don’t have a lot to write about.
I say relaxed, but in reality I am pretty busy most days. I have German lessons three times a week, have been doing websites for people, learning Linux (DB0 will be loving that), sorting the apartment out, finally going to the Doctor to try and sort out my dodgy ankle, rebuilding peoples PCs, helping people move and get setup in their new place, writing Shrooms and various other activities.
I finally had a clear out of the apartment last week…well, I say “I”, but in reality CW and HAN cleared it out for me. I got back and it was like someone had stretched the rooms. My Dads comment was “You let two women have a clearout in your flat? I am surprised there is anything left”….yes, he has been to my flat…but no, there is in fact some stuff still left in here.
What I really want to talk about though is assumption, assumption can really bite you in the arse if you are not careful. I guess there is a reason that they say “To assume is to make an ass out of u and me”.
Take Monday for example. I had been to see the Doc on Friday about my ankle problem, which has been getting progressively worse and more painful over the last couple of weeks. I had avoided going to the Doc as, last time I went about it, he said it would need surgery if it got any worse. On Friday, he seemed surprised that he hadn’t checked my blood for a particular acid level and immediately did so, at the same time making an appointment for me to come back in on Monday. The Monday appointment was to see a specialist that they have a few times a week in the practise. We will call him Dr Tom, for that is how he is referred to.
Dr Tom is a big man….actually that’s not strictly true…I am a big man, Dr Tom is a frickin’ monster. If he were to wander around heavily wooded areas, wearing a dark furry jacket, we would have a series of Sasquatch in Frankfurt news reports. There aren’t many guys that can make me feel like one of the Borrowers, but Dr Tom certainly can…I think you get the picture. The impression wasn’t helped when I seemingly ignored his shouts that notified me that it was my turn.
For reasons that escape me, German people (generally) can’t help translating my last name into the German equivelant. It’s really bizarre and happens regularly, and I am normally listening out for it. On Monday though, I was in considerable pain and there were around 15 other people in the waiting room…so it took me 2 or 3 yells of my translated last name before I realised he wanted me. He seemed to be a little upset about this…and upon seeing him. so was I.
From my discussions on Monday with my Doctor, I was under the impression that Dr Tom was an Orthopaedic Doctor (assumption #1), that they would have fully discussed my issue (assumption #2) and that they would have worked out the best method to fix the issue with my ankle (assumption #3). Assumption #1 was clearly incorrect when, after asking me to stand in front of him, he proceeded to tell me that the left side of my body was “wooden” compared to the right side…and then quickly, without warning, grabbed me in some sort of Full Nelson thing until my back made a rather unpleasant noise. That said, my back immediately felt better and I thought “This guy could actually fix me”.
He told me to lay on my stomach and lift my foot up to him…there was no discussion of the issue, so assumption #2 was (in my mind at least) confirmed. When he had my foot in his mahoosive hands, he proceeded to perform a movement, that I can only think was designed to unscrew my foot so that he could get a better look. He was putting some serious effort into it, and I was putting serious effort into a) not throwing up and b) not passing out. Dr Tom then instructs me to lay on my back and performs the same movement, with an added “thumb directly into the ankle” bonus. I am fairly certain that the table, that I was laying next to, will require a team of highly skilled carpenters to fix.
He drops my foot and instructs me to stand up. At this point I pretty much can’t, but am a little scared to tell him this. I make a couple of attempts and then have to sit down and describe the pain. He umms and aaaahs a few times before giving me a referral slip for an Orthopaedic Doctor.
W
T
F
When I go to the Orthopaedic Doctor, I am going to need to him to provide references, sit a written exam and preferably have his Medical School teachers confirm to me that he is, in fact, an Orthopaedic Doctor. I may also take a bodyguard and quite possibly a gun.
Right, I am going to hobble off to my German lesson now….
So my new tattoo is finished and I am more than pleased with it. TD did the work and it is absolutely superb, message me if you are in Frankfurt and want a tattoo..I will give you TDs details, you can’t go wrong.
The thing about tattoos, at least for me, is that they need to mean something. You have to be prepared to wear whatever design you choose…well…for the rest of your life (laser removal not withstanding).
I must confess that my first tattoo wasn’t particularly sentimental, but was something I was willing to wear for the rest of my days as it encompasses two things that are fairly synonymous with me these days, Liverpool Football Club and a wolf. My new tattoo, however, is full of sentiment (and wolves)
The Wolf thing has really geeky overtones, I wasn’t raised by wolves…nor do I consider myself to be a re-incarnated wolf or try to live like one etc…none of that. Many years ago, I was a more traditional geek…involved in online chatrooms and communities, gaming as much as dial-up would allow. Even back then, it was almost impossible to conjur up a unique and recognisable nickname..so I came up with PureStress. I wasn’t particularly stressed at the time, but it worked for me. The only problem it had was that I would constantly get messaged to ask why I was stressed out.
People didn’t appreciate the paradox when I blamed being constantly asked what my name means, which left me with one option. A public renaming. I dropped into my fave chatroom of the time and announced my decision. Once all the abusive ones were filtered out, there were some good ones. I liked LoneWolf for an equally geeky reason (Those “Do you want to run? (turn to page 11) or fight? (turn to page 55) or look up her skirt? (put the book down you perv!)” books), so I went with it. Then I discovered that I would be LoneWolf8856834 on everything I signed up to and glued Pure to the front of it.
PureLoneWolf was born…and lo, I was the only one around. I renamed my old jokes site to the LaughingWolf, created WolfLAN LAN Parties and everything else online relating to me became wolf’esque. It sort of clicked with me in a number of ways…I am incredibly protective of my family and friends, but can go it alone for long periods (and occasionally prefer that). Fast forward to my first tattoo and, having been referred to as a wolf for so long, it seemed only right to get a wolf stuck to my arm. Over the years the wolf thing has become more and more significant and recognisable to those around me, gifts would be wolf related (Native American dreamcatchers, fleece blankets etc).
As all of my children live in the UK and I am here in Frankfurt, I wanted to get something done that would be representative of the kids and would let them know that I am always thinking of them. I had been talking to TD for almost a year about the idea, and I finally got off my arse a month or so ago and went to see him. The following day he started it.
Oh..I must tell you…when I was in for the first session a couple of giggly ladies walked in to the piercing section of the tattoo parlour. They were confident and excited and were speaking in quite animated tones to the piercing guy. I was lying on my stomach at this point and trying to ignore the discomfort happening to my back, so I didn’t really get what they were talking about. A few seconds later, I notice that the screen has been pulled around the piercing station…”Aye aye”, thinks I..breasts or clit. 2 minutes later there is what can only be described as a yelp from behind the screen and the laughs fade. Unfortunately I didn’t see them walk away, but CW assures me that one of the two ladies was walking rather gingerly away…. I hope it was worth it love, I really do.
Anyway, the tattoo is basically a male wolf surrounded by his four cubs. They are sat in front of a tree (not representative of anyone) and the tree goes over my shoulder where the branches lead into a tribal wolf on my left arm.
Yes the tree looks sore in this picture…it had been finished about 10 minutes prior to the picture being taken. It will fade slightly over the next week or so and look more natural with the wolves. Also, no, despite the freckles on my back..I am not a ginger. Oh, and the browny/red on the wolves is supposed to be there…like the eyes, I think it makes the tattoo stand out. TD really does do amazing work.
From top left: Me, Brandon-Lee and Zak
From bottom left: Ellen, Ethan
Top: A tree
I love it. CW loves it and I know the kids will too – That’s all that counts
…for the renegade master (apologies for the terrible 80’s song reference).
Ok, ok, it’s been a while…I know this, you know this…and yet I write it anyway.
So what has been happening in the land of the Laughing Wolf? Well..I am officially now bumming around Frankfurt as I am out of work. It’s not as bad as I thought it might be at first and it is giving me a chance to recharge and more importantly….reflect.
I am giving serious consideration to an out and out break from IT…provided I can support myself and my kids. I have been under unbelievable stress for the last two years, and am not entirely sure that I want that for myself anymore. The only problem is living in Germany..once they get your CV at the unemployment place, they pretty much will only consider you for positions that you are skilled for. Not too much of a problem in normal circumstances and certainly better than being sent to apply for a job as an underwater basket weaver or something when you are in the UK.
Admittedly, I am now being forced into some serious belt tightening exercises..something I have always allowed my ample girth to stop me from doing up until now 
Now onto rant mode….Facebook.
At what point do we think that you can update too much? Could it be when you feel the need to wish Happy Birthday to your 2 year old. Not announcing that it is the birthday of your 2 year old, I can kind of understand that…especially if you are horrendously busy trying to prepare a party etc…but actually wishing Happy Birthday to him. I mean, does he have an active Facebook profile? If he does then you are raising one ignorant super-genius kid…they didn’t even say thanks.
That said, you did manage to achieve a relatively high number of “Dickhead likes this” thumbs ups though…way to go! Are we really saying that these people like the fact that your child has managed to get to the age of 2? Do they doubt your parenting so much that they feel they should celebrate when anything you have to rear lasts more than 2 weeks….sure you can’t seem to even keep a cactus alive more than 5 minutes and your back garden is what Steven King based Pet Sematary on, but still….feed them, change them, play with them, make sure they go to school (eventually…especially if you don’t want to end up in jail) and you can’t go wrong really..
It gets right on my tits….people will facebook or twitter every time they or some snot nosed relative manages to wipe their own arse unaided, like it’s a bloody masters graduation ceremony or something.
It’s almost as bad as joining a group, where the criteria for doing so seems to lie entirely with making sure that the group is exactly the sort of group that people on your friends list think you should be joining. We will ignore the fact that 99% of these groups have absolutely zero affiliation outside of Facebook itself, so they are all just pat yourself on the back self-sanctimonious coffee house smoke filled crap. You would be aswell to forward on those fucking chain emails that insist that Microsoft will donate £2,000,000 to the Society for Anaemic Grasshopper-Legged Lesser Spotted Wombat Conjuctivitis Research Center in Botswana, for every message forwarded.
Yeah, let’s make a group to protect the <INSERT PERSON AND/OR GROUP> of <INSERT LOCATION> from <INSERT TRAVESTY HERE> because a group of lifeless, friendless tossers who have stopped leaving the house for anything less than mini kievs can succeed where the police and/or government fucking couldn’t…you care..we get it…we do honestly.
If you do follow this notion and decide that joining these groups is really your thing….please don’t expect me to join, or even be grateful for, the 20 or so a day that you spam me with. It doesn’t make me care less…it really doesn’t. Let’s be honest, if I have managed to spurn the advances of the combined might of Viagra/Cialis and any number of tempting weightloss and penis enlargement patches…you can imagine how little chance groups, with titles and descriptions WRITTEN ENTIRELY IN CAPS or with teribal missspelingz everwere, stand.
Hmm that felt good….maybe I should get back into this blogging malarky properly
This rant brought to you by an LW idea 
Cheers matey, I look forward to destroying Frankfurt with you in a few weeks
I realise that I haven’t been blogging much recently and based on past posts you may have (quite rightly) put this down to my relationship with CW keeping me busy. On top of that, we have been creating a webcomic which went online the other day.
Based on characters that CW has been doodling for years and my somewhat dodgy sense of humour…We bring you “The Shrooms“. Right now we are trying to release a comic strip every day, but this will probably move to a weekly release after a while.
Hope you enjoy it…here’s a sampler…
oh, and normal blogging service will resume here soon
Some years ago my Dad decided that we really needed to go for a hike around the Brecon Beacons and I am not quite sure why, but I didn’t try and get out of it.
In fact, Dad managed to rope in my brothers to it aswell and off we jolly well went. Not content with wandering through the natural beauty of the Brecons like any normal group of people, Dad decided that we needed to take the “road less travelled”..so to speak.
Geared up with hiking boots and all the necessary accoutrements (backpacks, waterproofs etc) we set off. A small amount of very simple rock climbing, stone hopping across streams…a picnic at the top of a climb and everything was pretty good. Dare I say downright enjoyable. Sod it, I do dare It was enjoyable.
With the exception of Dad, all of us slipped and fell knee high into a stream or two and it never ceased to raise a laugh when someone did. It was a pretty good boys day out…Kev and Paul even dove from a pretty high cliff into a lake.
We climbed up a small waterfall and when we got to the top, discovered that we would need to cross a stream to get where we were heading. This meant navigating our way around the ledge of the waterfall…which was pretty slippery. Dad showed us that we should get our feet set and then fall onto the main waterfall with our arms outstretched. Then move sideways, always keeping our hands on the waterfall.
Dad went first to show us how it was done….then me, then Kev and finally it was Pauls turn. Paul, being the youngest was also, unfortunately, the smallest. As he stretched out his hands and fell forward, he was submerged beneath the falling water…all I remember, through the laughing and almost falling into the water myself, was hearing *blubblubdaadblubhelpblubglugblugbglubdaad*
Dad stepped into the water properly, waded across and lifted Paul out of the water with one hand. We got to the other side and collapsed into hysterics, with Paul alternating between angrily complaining and whining. That’s when we noticed what appeared to be a school trip taking place and the teacher heading over towards us. I assumed that he was going to have a go at us for setting a bad example or something equally banal.
We try and calm down in readiness for the impending telling-off, Dad is washing his face in the stream…and the rest of us are drying and eating. When the teacher arrives, he leads with “Do you know what you are doing?”. He doesn’t seem particularly angry, but still…he is a teacher and this is very possibly his normal anger tone. My Dad explains that he is a quite an experienced hiker and that, while he apologises for setting a bad example to the teachers class, he does in fact know what he is doing…thanks so very much.
To which the teacher replies…”Ok, so you know that rats piss in this stream? Just upstream from here as a matter of fact….enjoy your hike”. With that he smiles, turns and walks away while we start immediately trying to vomit out any water we all might have swallowed, whilst simultaneously laughing at the previously aquatic Paul.
We never did go hiking with Dad again…I am not entirely sure Mum trusted him after that…and we ran out of ant-bacterial mouthwash about 4 seconds after getting home.
Good times…
I realise that this may seem like a relatively tame..ney bleedin’ easy target, but Take That have been responsible for more female teen incontinence than White Lightning Cider or Thunderbird Red in the UK combined. So it is only right that I at least attempt to review/analyse their genius. In particular a song that was inexplicably one of the best selling love songs when it was released. I give you Back For Good by Take That:
I guess now it’s time for me to give up
I feel it’s time
Got a picture of you beside me
Got your lipstick mark still on your coffee cup
Got a fist of pure emotion
Got a head of shattered dreams
Gotta leave it, gotta leave it all behind now
The song starts off strongly, but clearly Mr Barlow is not a man of his convictions or this song would have ended after the first line, and we could have gone on with our lives. But no…he chooses to toy with our emotions, lulling us into a false sense of hope and optimism. That said, he feels it’s time…so who am I to argue.
Now, he has a picture of her beside him…ok, the lad has gone through a break-up, I can understand having pictures of her. Maybe it is a dirty picture…that would certainly explain the “fist of pure emotion”, but c’mon Mr Barlow…admit that you are having a wank…it’s perfectly natural. I can’t be sure about the shattered dreams…maybe he never got the chance to have that threesome they always talked about, if that is the case that would explain having to leave it all behind. Maybe leaving the desire for the threesome behind will mean she might come back to him…I suppose it’s possible.
Whatever I said, whatever I did I didn’t mean it
I just want you back for good
Whenever I’m wrong just tell me the song and I’ll sing it
You’ll be right and understood
It’s a decent attempt to apologise…you have realised that you did indeed fuck something up royally. That said, you can’t figure it out and you are playing straight into her hands. We all know that women love to play this card…you know.. “If you don’t know what you’ve done, there is no point me telling you!”..that one. Think man, think! There must be something. Maybe you left pubic hair in the soap…wiped your cock on the curtains once too often…continuously left the toilet seat up (or down, but you peed on it)? There has to be something you are prepared to admit to, if not to us through the medium of song, at least to yourself. Obviously with the lipstick marks left on cups from the first verse…you don’t wash up very often. It’s often the little things.
You want her back for good, fair enough…but it sounds to me like she left you. Maybe she left you because you like karaoke a little too much. Why can’t you just talk to her? Do you really need to sing it, and if so..can’t you pick a meaningful song for yourself, instead of expecting her to pick the apology song. I have to say though, she gives you the apology and you accept it, unquestionably??? Do you even own a testicle?
Unaware but underlined I figured out this story
It wasn’t good
But in the corner of my mind I celebrated glory
But that was not to be
In the twist of separation you excelled at being free
Can’t you find a little room inside for me
You mean to tell me that it was underlined?!?…oh ffs…she left you a note explaining things? Why didn’t you mention this before? It doesn’t leave you an awful lot to figure out then…she frickin’ told you the reasons…with underlining (and probably a highlighter pen…I realise rhyming anything with highlighter pen could be complex though) aswell. I must confess to a small amount of intrigue though…what glory are you celebrating exactly? Did she dump you for loads of things, but not the one thing you expected…therefore as a man, you consider that a victory? Don’t get me wrong, I get it…I really do – Us men have to take the wins where we can get them…it doesn’t happen too often after all.
Whatever I said, whatever I did I didn’t mean it
I just want you back for good
Whenever I’m wrong just tell me the song and I’ll sing it
You’ll be right and understood
Back to this again…even after reading her note, you still can’t work out what you did? We get that you want her back, you told us already. And for christ sake, enough with the Karaoke fixation…Even I want to leave you and we haven’t even met….and I am not just referring to my dislike for your music.
And we’ll be together, this time is forever
We’ll be fighting and forever we will be
So complete in our love
We will never be uncovered again
Did you ever consider the possibility that you sound like a stalker who plans on keeping her in a specially constructed love “cell”? It’s not too likely she will be coming back of her own free will…and anyone seeing you at the local hardware store buying duct tape, rope and asking about the availability of chloroform will propably be a little suspicious….
And fighting?? Fighting?? Are you serious? Didn’t your Mum and Dad ever teach you that fighting never solves anything?….and honestly, I realise you look like you would struggle to fight your way out of a wet paper bag, fighting a woman is a definite hallmark of the distinctly testicularly challenged. Also, I think we have massively different definitions of love if you expect your actions to make you both complete in it….
Hang on a minute…the last line there “…never be uncovered again” – Are you saying that your love “cell” is a love bunker? Or are you, dare I say it, planning on killing both yourself and her in some sort of “together for eternity” bollocks… Someone should call the authorities…
Whatever I said, whatever I did I didn’t mean it
I just want you back for good
Whenever I’m wrong just tell me the song and I’ll sing it
You’ll be right and understood
Back to this again? I am pretty sure that she wasn’t interested anyway, but by repeating the same shit 3 times…maybe she will reconsider eh? 10 out of 10 for persistence Mr Barlow…. I will give you that much
I guess now it’s time, that you came back for good
I guess it’s time for the police to be called, her to enter some form of witness protection programme, the courts to be prepared and you to be fitted for a made to measure nice white “cuddle yourself” jacket….but that’s just me…
Ok, so this isn’t going to be a real review…I am not honestly sure that I have one within me anyway. That said, I went to watch “Watchmen” the other day with CW and frankly I was underwhelmed.
Firstly, it felt like about 4 films rolled into one with very little flow..very disjointed. Secondly, it was fast approaching an hour too long. Thirdly, it wasn’t anywhere near as dark as the comics and finally, if you are a being made entirely of energy (or whatever…and I am speaking to Mr Manhattan here for the uninitiated)….you would give yourself a decent sized schlong surely. You would possibly even consider being Super Schlong, with the super power of “Sperm Tsunami(tm)”, none of this teleporting and scattering everyones newspapers around nonsense. Ok, so he could grow himself to 200 feet tall, but that has limited benefits in a sexual situation….and let’s face it, most people want superpowers for just that reason. I did like his ability to clone himself though, it would certainly stop all that “trying to find someone suitable for a threesome” rubbish too…although if he could clone her, that would be especially useful…
That said, some of the action scenes were really good…the trouble was that they were over in seconds and there were not enough of them…and they were generally cut with stylised nonsense that distracted from the action going on. I can honestly say that I felt like leaving on no less than 6 occasions during the film and that has only ever happened to me once before.
As I said before, I almost walked out in the middle of Event Horizon, a piece of AliensWannabe nonsense that only kept me in the cinema because it was raining outside and I had a ticket to another film immediately afterwards. I can pretty much sit through any shite, even if I don’t particularly enjoy the film. Don’t get me wrong, I will try anything to avoid chick flicks and anything with Pauly Shore, but if cornered and the goggle box goes on…I will sit through it until it is over. At home I have only ever turned off 2 films… Natural Born Killers and Signs. Never in my life have I seen a more pointless film than Natural Born Killers…and I watched Rony and Michelles High School Reunion FFS. The least said about Signs the better…I wanted to put some silver foil on my own head and hide from “Them”..you know the “Them” that chose to release this insufferable piece of shit.
So with all that in mind, I think I will head out and see “The Pink Panther 2″ or “Confessions of a Shopoholic”…I should be safe with those at least
Seen any disappointing films recently?
There is a conspiracy in Germany that Bielefeld does not exist. There are even Wikipedia entries about it. So, for any Germans reading this, it may surprise you to know that I have actually been there, eaten food and drank various soft beverages there and in fact was arrested in that veritable Bermuda Triangle of Germany.
First, the conspiracy:
Apparently it started off as a Usenet joke which took on its own life. Made much worse some years later when Google Maps misaligned their satellite hybrid view, so that the street overview was placed on a blank forest area. Apparently the council of Bielefeld even went so far as to create an advertising campain with the slogan “Bielefeld gibt es doch!” (Bielefeld does exist!” and they still recieve calls and emails that doubt the very existence of the City.
There are 3 questions that you need to ask yourself:
Do you know anybody from Bielefeld?
Have you ever been to Bielefeld?
Do you know anyone that has ever been to Bielefeld?
If you answer yes to any of the questions, you are part of the conspiracy…
Based on this, it is my belief that the Flying Spaghetti Monster is based there and not, as people were led to believe, in Kansas.
My personal memories of Bielefeld as a city are somewhat cloudy. I get glimpses of the place in sort of random 4 second snapshots…Almost as if my memory was wiped in an alien abduction/probe kind of way.
That said, I do clearly remember being there with around 5 other guys, at about 8 in the morning on a Sunday. I don’t actually know why though, seeing as there a no shops open on a Sunday. I quite like that, even though I am not religious, you get Sundays as a proper day of rest…unless you work in a Bakery.
Or a restaurant. Or a bar. Or cafe. Of course the Kiosks are open obviously. Other than that nothing is open. Oh, mustn’t forget the people that operate public transport. So other than bakeries, restaurants, cafes, bars, kiosks and public transport…everything is.. wait, swimming pools. And fitness centers. Almost forgot cinemas…oh and the souveneir shops. As you can see, they feel really strongly about making sure that the Germans get their day of rest…you can even get in trouble for washing your car!
Anyway, back to Bielefeld…so myself and 5 others were wandering through Bielefeld playing Def Leppard at a reasonable volume (if we were deaf) when the police arrived and asked us very politely to turn it down arrested us. It might have been OK if we had simply turned it down when they turned up and spoke to them, instead of scattering like cockroaches when you turn the light on. Apparently, the police don’t like getting exercise that early in the morning…especially before they have had their morning doughnuts and coffee.
It took them around 20 minutes to round us up. We were slowed down considerably by not knowing where the hell we were running to..although let’s face it, where we were running from was more important at the time. We, of course, played the dumb English card to try and get away with it…the 2 German lads that were with us did this too, albeit somewhat less convincingly. Unfortunately English is a little more widely spoken than we gave credit for and we were well in the shite. Well…as in the shite as 6 kids can be when facing a noise pollution charge…it’s not like we robbed a bank or anything. I am pretty sure they were just trying to shock us. The problem was that we were cocky little bleeders…at least I was. I may have even tried to tell them we had diplomatic immunity *cough*
Still…we got away with it and our parents were none the wiser.
Actually, speaking of the German lads trying to pretend they were English.. A loooong time ago, I was heading to visit my folks in my battered Morris Marina when I remembered that I needed to get some cash out of the bank. I left work early and headed into Newark to do just this.
I was in holiday mode and not really concentrating too much…so much so that I just followed the traffic into the Market Square. I pulled up outside the bank and nipped inside. I left the keys in the car as it was impossible to start without knowing how. I got to the cashiers desk and was waiting for my money when I heard the distinctive sound of my car trying to start. A quick glance out of the door and I suddenly notice the world. A world in which the Market Square is full of Market traders…on Market day no less. I had followed market traders onto the market square and had parked in just the right position to stop any of them moving their vans around to pack up and leave.
Thinking quickly, I whip off my work ID badge, pickup my money, put on my sunglasses and head outside. It is fair to say that the guy trying to start my car, along with his 10 friends…were not happy. He immediately starts swearing at me to move my “fucking car”. Panicked, I put on my stereotypical German accent and pretend to speak broken English. I am left with the image of my getting into the car, starting it up and then being guided whilst reversing by a load of market traders talking loudly and in very simple English words. Trying to explain where to head and making sure everyone was out of my way… I got my karmic retribution though, a 3 hour journey took 9 hours thanks to an accident on the motorway…
Accents are fun…and can get you out of the odd sticky situation I guess…just try and using them for good
…are hopefully over now.
I suppose these things are sent to try us. Initially I thought I had been hacked like last year, but a quick sweep around the system showed me that nothing was wrong. You see the server would run fine for a day and then die at around 19:00. Weird.
So I backed up and bit the bullet to reformat and start again…I figured it wouldn’t take me all that long and it would give me the opportunity to upgrade all of the software at the same time. Something I have been meaning to do for a while anyway.
That was the plan anyway. Some of you may have noticed a distinct Wolf shaped gap in the blogosphere over the last week…so clearly the plan failed. Not only did it fail, it failed spectacularly. Add to the 19:00 failure and necessary restart to the fact that I couldn’t request a remote reset from my control panel and had to wait hours each time for the (undoubtedly busy) datacenter technicians to reboot the server manually. I eventually decided to get them to reboot into recovery mode so that I could backup and start the reformat.
This is where things really started going wrong. Firstly I decided to ask them to check the physical server for errors. Something that took some time, but ultimately paid off when they mailed me to say that the server had been rebuilt as the hard disk had been replaced. They, of course, waited until I began a vitriol against how “stable” linux was on twitter. Ah well..
So I start installing the necessary packages and restoring my data. Except I couldn’t access my sites. Odd, thinks I…maybe I should check a few logs and see what is happening. Turns out a piece of software that is pretty much just “Install and run” is failing to start properly. In true style, it couldn’t be something basic and unnecessary. Oh no dear readers, it had to be something complicated and absolutely necessary to the operation of the server. I figured I had done something wrong, so cue reformat and install from scratch again…still not working….ok, reformat and install different linux distro…still not working.
W
T
F
?
Hmm.. I try the old version of my distro. The troublesome software springs into life. Yey, thinks I…until I look at the vital other software I need to install…where the first line says “If you are running the old version, upgrade first….” – Fuck!
I remembered an offer from the company I rent the server from to install the server and their software for me, so I finally give up after delving into the rather scary linux world of compiling your own software from source.. and probably starting the next world war instead of getting a successful installation. Checking the news regularly shows me that the world is no more fucked up than usual, so I assume I have gotten away with it and ask the company to put me out of my misery.
They do this and dutifully mail me to advise that it is up, running and working. 2 minutes later I discover that they are, in fact, wrong. I gleefully inform them of this and they decide to install manually from CD for me the next morning.
So a mere 5 days after the server went down, it was back up and running..leaving me the joyful task of restoring everything.
Then came the test and everything was working…sort of. Wordpress decided that it wouldn’t allow half of my plugins to work properly. It was in no way and shape due to me forgetting to install a PHP Module…nosireebob. I would never do that.
So there you have it, The Laughing Wolf is back…now I just need to write something. I feel another server outage coming on
Arse.
Working in IT means that in 90% of job hunting scenarios, you will be utilising the services of a job agency. After some time, your CV will be basically everywhere. This is a good thing and leads agencies to get in contact with you when they feel they have something that meets your requirements.
Even when you aren’t looking for work, there is a deep satisfaction and a nice ego massage when someone calls/emails to say “We want you”. That said, I have been recently contacted to see if I would be interested in a number of positions that I don’t think I am entirely suited for..
Web Development Manager
Senior Corporate Counsel
Financial Director
It’s quite an impressive and spectacularly annoying failure on the part of their software I think. Clearly they are just scanning the CV for any of the words…seemingly contained in the dictionary and when they find a hit, send me a frickin email.
My personal fave though has to be a recent email for the position of Thunderhead Developer. I mean, I like Thunder and I have a head…but I certainly don’t have either of those things on my CV, not even in my decidedly boring hobbies and interests section. Or maybe I am being recruited by a Bond villain as a henchman evil designer. Trying to develop the latest and greatest Moon based giant laser beam and shark tank combo. I could help with the interior design of the Volcanoe hideaway and recruit other henchmen to do my evil masters bidding.
I could even become his (or her…let’s face it, women have the greater capacity for evil anyway) right hand man, you know..taking over the duties when they are on holiday, or incarcerated in a maximum security cryogenics facility.
Anyway, back to the job agencies…I think I will amend my CV and have keywords hidden in white, 2pt text at the bottom. So far I am thinking “Evil, Kidnap, Lair, Sharks, Laser, Moon and kittens”. Should be interesting to see what they email me about after that lot.
In other news, I will try and get back to blogging more frequently…I just keep getting distracted and frankly the distractions are more interesting than writing anything
