Severe Jam Damage

Is anyone else thinking boingboing is now nothing more than a place for Cory Doctorow to pimp out his books? What happened to the amusing \ weird \ strange newsbites from around the web?

Is bad for your health.
Oh dearie me, how am I expected to get any work done when I just HAVE to keep checking back to see who’s updated what now?

Very, very bad.

Of COURSE Bennet’s first name is Noah.

It’s only taken me the summer to figure it out. doh!

So I know I don’t talk to you often, but seriously like…

Where has our summer gone? This weekend was the last summer bank holiday and I spent the time indoors staring out into murk and rain and water. I briefly considered building an ark but then realised a.) there are no animals I would want to save and b.) I don’t particularly want to be stuck on a boat with other people either.

This morning it looks bright and balmy but that’s absolutely NO HELP as I am stuck in a stuffy office.

So please God, get your finger out and give us at least ONE nice weekend this summer.

Yours,
a very bedraggled
Eli

Blogsome now has a ’stats’ tab in the admin section of the blog. The info is a lot easier to interpret than that awful ‘google analytics’ thing which makes my head ache everytime I look at it.
Anyway here’s a few of the search terms that people have used (and that amused me) to find SJD:

-vomit smell in house
-sexy jason barry (this is just wrong, wrong, wrong.)
-sluts fucking in basques (*speechless!*)
-jennifer connolys tits (ooo-kay)
-in and out went the prick of steel (dude, I dont’ even wanna know)
-raclette night (thats cheese right?)
-pouches for holding order books in restaurants (I’m sure you could have improved this search to return somewhere more relevant than this blog.)

In the office the third lift over is always breaking down. Arrive at floor and ‘ping’ the doors open 2 inches and then stop. This means standing around in the lift for 5 minutes until the doors reset themselves and close, then shoot you up to a floor you don’t want to be on. Once the doors open we are so happy to be free of the lift that we walk back down to the sixth floor, rather than take the chance on the lift doors getting stuck again.
Never, never, never has a man the likes of the Diet Coke Bloke come abseiling to our rescue. Our office is full of overweight, middle-aged men in glasses who guffaw loudly at their own jokes and sport large red whiskey noses. Which, if I told you where I work would make perfect sense.
Think, old school.
Think, old boys club.
Think, money.
If anyone did come abseiling into the lift it would be one of rather large and out of shape security guards. Then again, I guess Coke wouldn’t sell half as much if the Diet Coke Bloke had a beer belly and combover.

Just sayin’ like.