Ok, there’s a new msn virus spreading faster than the clap after the Navy leaves port. You may have gotten this insidious virus and not even known it. You’ll get a message from someone who has you on their list. It’s a link and a wink that looks about like this
http://www.tabya.info/list ;):
The actual website link might be different; I’ve seen a few versions of Link and Wink.
If you follow the link you’ll be told to log into your msn account at this page so you can see everyone who has deleted you off their list or has blocked you. After that, well you fell for it.
It’s sneaky for sure; my friends send messageless links to me all the time. My bastard’s cap is tipped.
After words, you’ll be logged out of your msn messenger because you signed in somewhere else. Don’t worry, that’s just the virus link and wink going out to everyone on your list.
So, how do you stop that? Just change your password. Simple right?
Apparently not! It took me a few minutes of clicking around to finally figure it out. And I know some of you don’t have the patience, so here it is (because it’s just as bastardly to ruin their fun):
The Bastard’s MSN Password Changing Walkthrough:
From your MSN IM, go to TOOLS and then to OPTIONS. The option menu has many sections, the top one, PERSONAL is where you need to be.
From there, find and click the EDIT PROFILE button, which will bring up your profile in internet explorer. In the upper left hand corner is the Windows Logo in a circle with the accompanying words “Windows Live”. Click that and select “account” from the drop down menu.
This time it’s safe to log in, so go ahead and put your password in. From here you’ll see all of your account stats.
You’ll see a section called “Password reset information” in bold, under which is the Change Password link you’ll need to change your password—which robs Link and Wink’s ability to log you in and send itself out to your collected bunch of cyber sluts* and tarnish your good name.
*Everyone is a cyber slut.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Heath Ledger is a Cunt (but not a Bastard)
I had to leave work early when I looked down at my msn messenger’s where the news teasers try to provoke you to click the conveniently placed link and read the news, “Heath Ledger, Dead.”
I even forgot to clock out. This morning my boss was pissed until I explained myself. I didn’t get in any trouble. In fact, we had a good, manly kind of cry together.
I went home and watched Brokeback Mountain and just fucking cried the entire movie.
Here’s three bastardly things about celebrities dying.
1. Goodbye Work Day! The second the morbid news hits my office, everyone turns on the gossip mode. Granted, I spread the word, but only to girls and gay dudes and anyone who’s first response is likely to be to the tune of, “But he was hot! Like hot-hot! I masturbate to him all the time!” Well d'uh! Who doesn't masturbate to Heath Ledger all the time? Guess what--you still can!
Everyone spends the rest of the day goofing off to the theme of whoever just bit it. It usually follows a pattern of stopping people wherever you encounter them, making sure they’ve both heard the news and can reference the proper image of the departed via a movie you’ve both seen. Next, talk about how he finished filming The Dark Knight and then quietly admit you’ve seen Brokeback Mountain*.
2. Drugs. I resent that rich people not only get the high quality drugs, but they get high quality drugs in such quantity they are able to kill themselves with them. Way to rub it in, jerks. Why not just shoot yourself with a diamond and ruby encrusted gold bullet?
My understanding of drugs is that they are fun. I also understand that there are drugs one can consume that would take near impossible amounts to ingest before you die. What ever happened to potheads?
3. It’s a Persona. I knew nothing about Mr. Ledger until yesterday. None of those little tidbits of gossip had reached my bastard's ears. Who knows what anyone famous is really like in real life. We are presented with an image of famous people that is conducive to all things that go into the tidal waves of money that follow the famous elite.
I never hear about an actor’s job being intriguing—look at all the methods they employ to get their characters across (at varying levels, you have to admit). It boils down to attraction level. Nevermind what is attractive shifts with sands.
I can honestly say it is sad to me that Mr. Ledger’s daughter has to grow up with that hole in her life. I hope she, and all kids who've lost a parent or two, has some very positive role models around her (and her piles of money—her mom’s an actress too. If you don't want to feel bad focus on the piles of money).
*I haven’t! Neither I nor my wife** like romance movies.
**Ladies, this will increase your awesome factor nicely, depending on the heterosexuality level of your man.
I even forgot to clock out. This morning my boss was pissed until I explained myself. I didn’t get in any trouble. In fact, we had a good, manly kind of cry together.
I went home and watched Brokeback Mountain and just fucking cried the entire movie.
Here’s three bastardly things about celebrities dying.
1. Goodbye Work Day! The second the morbid news hits my office, everyone turns on the gossip mode. Granted, I spread the word, but only to girls and gay dudes and anyone who’s first response is likely to be to the tune of, “But he was hot! Like hot-hot! I masturbate to him all the time!” Well d'uh! Who doesn't masturbate to Heath Ledger all the time? Guess what--you still can!
Everyone spends the rest of the day goofing off to the theme of whoever just bit it. It usually follows a pattern of stopping people wherever you encounter them, making sure they’ve both heard the news and can reference the proper image of the departed via a movie you’ve both seen. Next, talk about how he finished filming The Dark Knight and then quietly admit you’ve seen Brokeback Mountain*.
2. Drugs. I resent that rich people not only get the high quality drugs, but they get high quality drugs in such quantity they are able to kill themselves with them. Way to rub it in, jerks. Why not just shoot yourself with a diamond and ruby encrusted gold bullet?
My understanding of drugs is that they are fun. I also understand that there are drugs one can consume that would take near impossible amounts to ingest before you die. What ever happened to potheads?
3. It’s a Persona. I knew nothing about Mr. Ledger until yesterday. None of those little tidbits of gossip had reached my bastard's ears. Who knows what anyone famous is really like in real life. We are presented with an image of famous people that is conducive to all things that go into the tidal waves of money that follow the famous elite.
I never hear about an actor’s job being intriguing—look at all the methods they employ to get their characters across (at varying levels, you have to admit). It boils down to attraction level. Nevermind what is attractive shifts with sands.
I can honestly say it is sad to me that Mr. Ledger’s daughter has to grow up with that hole in her life. I hope she, and all kids who've lost a parent or two, has some very positive role models around her (and her piles of money—her mom’s an actress too. If you don't want to feel bad focus on the piles of money).
*I haven’t! Neither I nor my wife** like romance movies.
**Ladies, this will increase your awesome factor nicely, depending on the heterosexuality level of your man.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
When Bastards Watch Your Kids so You Can Go Out on Your Birthday:
“Applebee’s, this is Cass,” she sounded calm. I listened for the mad roar of a packed restaurant in the full swing of a rush—it wasn’t crazy. My plan could procede.
“Cass, my brother in law and his wife are eating there right now. It’s his birthday, but he’s one of those guys who won’t tell his server and get his free cake. If I describe him to you, could you find his server and let ‘em know it’s his birthday?”
I know it’s annoying and not many of us enjoy the parade of servers clapping their hands and signing their company’s approved birthday song. But goddamnit, birthdays stop being cool the second you have the ability to buy your own stuff, I had to do something to liven up the event.
Cass laughed, and asked me to describe them.
“They’re a bigger couple. He’s wearing a black, long sleeved shirt with white stripes going down the sleeves,” I say, checking the notes I secretly took when they dropped their kid off. “She’s in a grey top, dark pants. It’s just the two of them.”
A few seconds of silence passed as she scanned her restaurant. “Got ‘em. I’m looking right them.” she says. I knew when I called there was a chance that “Going to dinner” meant “Going back home for no-baby-in-house sex," and they might not be there getting dinner. I didn’t really care, I would have watched their brat either way. But I was glad they were there. This was much funnier.
“Cass, you are awesome to the awesometh power.” She agreed with me and got off the phone. I flipped my phone shut and smiled my satisfied bastard's smile.
“Cass, my brother in law and his wife are eating there right now. It’s his birthday, but he’s one of those guys who won’t tell his server and get his free cake. If I describe him to you, could you find his server and let ‘em know it’s his birthday?”
I know it’s annoying and not many of us enjoy the parade of servers clapping their hands and signing their company’s approved birthday song. But goddamnit, birthdays stop being cool the second you have the ability to buy your own stuff, I had to do something to liven up the event.
Cass laughed, and asked me to describe them.
“They’re a bigger couple. He’s wearing a black, long sleeved shirt with white stripes going down the sleeves,” I say, checking the notes I secretly took when they dropped their kid off. “She’s in a grey top, dark pants. It’s just the two of them.”
A few seconds of silence passed as she scanned her restaurant. “Got ‘em. I’m looking right them.” she says. I knew when I called there was a chance that “Going to dinner” meant “Going back home for no-baby-in-house sex," and they might not be there getting dinner. I didn’t really care, I would have watched their brat either way. But I was glad they were there. This was much funnier.
“Cass, you are awesome to the awesometh power.” She agreed with me and got off the phone. I flipped my phone shut and smiled my satisfied bastard's smile.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Fucking Irony
I hate holidays in general, or at least what they've become. The history of the holiday is usually pretty interesting. I'm so old school (Old skool) the original practices usually sound more interesting than the collective assault from advertisers competing for my dollar.
I hate Jesusmas, but I love my kids, so I'm more or less stuck celebrating it. And, watching open their crap is a warm fuzzy (warm fuzzies are allowed if you of the hairy bastard breed--and trust me, I'm allowed MANY warm fuzzies).
However, I have to say it's pretty ironic that Mrs. Bastard has the first name of Noel. French, for xmas. The one person I'm living life with has a namesake of one of the most symbolic events of monetary based evil.
Fucking irony.
I hate Jesusmas, but I love my kids, so I'm more or less stuck celebrating it. And, watching open their crap is a warm fuzzy (warm fuzzies are allowed if you of the hairy bastard breed--and trust me, I'm allowed MANY warm fuzzies).
However, I have to say it's pretty ironic that Mrs. Bastard has the first name of Noel. French, for xmas. The one person I'm living life with has a namesake of one of the most symbolic events of monetary based evil.
Fucking irony.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Disgusting
I work for an internet company. The thing about internet companies is they tend to dabble in a bit of this and a bit of that. Where I work, employee A has no idea what employee B is doing atthe other end of the office.
Me, I'm right in the middle, so I have a general sense about most our products. One of our bits of this (but not of that) is we were hired by a non-profit organization to increase the amount of blood it collected. Our program was very simple and basic; you donate enough blood and you get to pick an item off a website we're hosting. A prize for giving away your blood rather than sell it to make up companies.
Some people though, they don't care for an item and chose a "Nah, it's cool" option rather than get a gift. Which is such a waste for some many reasons. We didn't like the idea of unspent prizes though. We had to think of something useful to do with the people uniterested in prizes (that's right, fuck off altruism.)
I had the idea of putting a donation alternative for another charity that does a lot for children (many of whom I selfishly hope are lil bastardlings). It's a little institute called St. Judes. I got everything ready to go and was enjoying the warm glow I get now and then when I deviate from my bastardliness. But, what did the non-profit blood organization say?
No.
"If they're going to donate to anyone it should be to us."
Sorry kids! Try and get better so you can donate blood when (and if!) you get healthy--but until then you can fuck right off. Oh, and try to ignore the fact we sell your blood for a mininum of $80 a pint and that we recently increased the amount of blood gathered by almost double (thanks to an internet company incentive).
Greedy vampires. Might as well sell your blood folks. At least they're not hiding behind a comfortable facade of charity, you know, when it's convenient.
Me, I'm right in the middle, so I have a general sense about most our products. One of our bits of this (but not of that) is we were hired by a non-profit organization to increase the amount of blood it collected. Our program was very simple and basic; you donate enough blood and you get to pick an item off a website we're hosting. A prize for giving away your blood rather than sell it to make up companies.
Some people though, they don't care for an item and chose a "Nah, it's cool" option rather than get a gift. Which is such a waste for some many reasons. We didn't like the idea of unspent prizes though. We had to think of something useful to do with the people uniterested in prizes (that's right, fuck off altruism.)
I had the idea of putting a donation alternative for another charity that does a lot for children (many of whom I selfishly hope are lil bastardlings). It's a little institute called St. Judes. I got everything ready to go and was enjoying the warm glow I get now and then when I deviate from my bastardliness. But, what did the non-profit blood organization say?
No.
"If they're going to donate to anyone it should be to us."
Sorry kids! Try and get better so you can donate blood when (and if!) you get healthy--but until then you can fuck right off. Oh, and try to ignore the fact we sell your blood for a mininum of $80 a pint and that we recently increased the amount of blood gathered by almost double (thanks to an internet company incentive).
Greedy vampires. Might as well sell your blood folks. At least they're not hiding behind a comfortable facade of charity, you know, when it's convenient.
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