And looking at WordPress again...
And DON'T click on the links:
http://dirty-sex-wk.blogspot.com/
http://autopropaneconversionkits-aot.blogspot.com/
http://pugvfnadsagrpeu.blogspot.com/
http://gaqqdidaeqduwig.blogspot.com/
Well done, blogger.
Just add slake lime, then cook for a long as possible
Showing posts with label blogger's craptacular excuse for a spell checker. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blogger's craptacular excuse for a spell checker. Show all posts
Wednesday, 5 December 2007
Friday, 19 October 2007
A word in your ear if I may
Are you a school teacher stuck in a monstrous traffic jam on the way to the airport to catch the plane that will take you to sunnier or more interesting parts for the duration of this forthcoming 'half-term' holiday?
If so, good. And I hope your uber-expensive holiday turns out to be a miserable week from beginning to end.
May your flight be over crowded and delayed five hours at take off. May your airline send your baggage to the wrong continent and your tour operator fail to provide a courtesy coach for you at the other end of your flight. May you find yourself staying in a cockroach infested partial development on a building site within sight but not walking distance of a beach, with an algae encrusted swimming pool, surly staff who insist on talking foreign, pour drinks over you at any opportunity, spit in your food as they carry it to the table and then stand at your elbow until you tip them.
I hope your mattress is made of concrete and your walls are made of cardboard. I hope you discover that the roof leaks, during an unseasonal torrential downpour, and find rabid bats roost in your (communal) bathroom.
May you suffer influenza and dysentery then find yourself the lust object of a deranged 7ft tall transsexual nurse.
Apart from that, have a nice time.
Don't forget to write; just a few words on the back of a post card will do. I'm the woman at home teaching my child maths while you're away in some hopefully rat infested holiday spot or other. When you come back to 'work' do try to get the children back into 'school' mode and up to speed within a fortnight of school's resumption.
After all there are not that many weeks until the end of this term and the two week holiday they have over Christmas and New Year, not including the winding-down period during which they learn nausea-inducing nerve jangling ditties mistakenly referred to as Modern Christmas Carols and carry out other pointless winding down type and strictly non-educational activities.
And let us not lose sight of the fact that once they do return at the start of the New Year there will be all the post-Present receiving excitement to wean them off before you can settle them back into a receptive frame of mind; do try to accomplish that well ahead of the essential pre-half-term winding down period so that they are all in the right mood to enjoy their holiday totally and so need a good week or so to get back into stride for the second half of the term.
Are you beginning to get my point yet?
These next five terms are crucial and you're having a lousy holiday on the Costa del Rodent, or so I hope.
Love and Kisses, Hen
PS sorry to harp on about this but, would you believe it: blogger's spell checker might not recognise Sri Lanka but it has not problems with Transsexual. How frightfully er, something or other that is.
If so, good. And I hope your uber-expensive holiday turns out to be a miserable week from beginning to end.
May your flight be over crowded and delayed five hours at take off. May your airline send your baggage to the wrong continent and your tour operator fail to provide a courtesy coach for you at the other end of your flight. May you find yourself staying in a cockroach infested partial development on a building site within sight but not walking distance of a beach, with an algae encrusted swimming pool, surly staff who insist on talking foreign, pour drinks over you at any opportunity, spit in your food as they carry it to the table and then stand at your elbow until you tip them.
I hope your mattress is made of concrete and your walls are made of cardboard. I hope you discover that the roof leaks, during an unseasonal torrential downpour, and find rabid bats roost in your (communal) bathroom.
May you suffer influenza and dysentery then find yourself the lust object of a deranged 7ft tall transsexual nurse.
Apart from that, have a nice time.
Don't forget to write; just a few words on the back of a post card will do. I'm the woman at home teaching my child maths while you're away in some hopefully rat infested holiday spot or other. When you come back to 'work' do try to get the children back into 'school' mode and up to speed within a fortnight of school's resumption.
After all there are not that many weeks until the end of this term and the two week holiday they have over Christmas and New Year, not including the winding-down period during which they learn nausea-inducing nerve jangling ditties mistakenly referred to as Modern Christmas Carols and carry out other pointless winding down type and strictly non-educational activities.
And let us not lose sight of the fact that once they do return at the start of the New Year there will be all the post-Present receiving excitement to wean them off before you can settle them back into a receptive frame of mind; do try to accomplish that well ahead of the essential pre-half-term winding down period so that they are all in the right mood to enjoy their holiday totally and so need a good week or so to get back into stride for the second half of the term.
Are you beginning to get my point yet?
These next five terms are crucial and you're having a lousy holiday on the Costa del Rodent, or so I hope.
Love and Kisses, Hen
PS sorry to harp on about this but, would you believe it: blogger's spell checker might not recognise Sri Lanka but it has not problems with Transsexual. How frightfully er, something or other that is.
waste receptacles
blogger's craptacular excuse for a spell checker,
education
Have attitude, will travel
And the distance travelled will reflect the amount of attitude.
And when it is the sort of attitude displayed by the England cricket selectors, then that metaphorical distance travelled won't be great. I know they're 'only' playing Sri Lanka, non-Titans of the international cricket (five day) scene, but this is an away series and England could do with a heartening display of Winning and yet ...
The England selectors have:
awarded Andrew Strauss a central contract then told him not to bother packing his bags
picked a squad that includes a lot of youngsters who qualify on the grounds of having performed 'well' in recent One Day Internationals.
included Phil Mustard as a reward for having made a 'satisfactory impression'
What a muddled message. No wonder the selectors have overlooked the claims of Ramprakash for a place in the squad; he'd hardly sit comfortably in the midst of this overwhelming mediocrity and inexperience.
PS: this effing Spell checker can't even recognise Sri Lanka. What am I supposed to do? Call the place Ceylon? Grr
And when it is the sort of attitude displayed by the England cricket selectors, then that metaphorical distance travelled won't be great. I know they're 'only' playing Sri Lanka, non-Titans of the international cricket (five day) scene, but this is an away series and England could do with a heartening display of Winning and yet ...
The England selectors have:
awarded Andrew Strauss a central contract then told him not to bother packing his bags
picked a squad that includes a lot of youngsters who qualify on the grounds of having performed 'well' in recent One Day Internationals.
included Phil Mustard as a reward for having made a 'satisfactory impression'
What a muddled message. No wonder the selectors have overlooked the claims of Ramprakash for a place in the squad; he'd hardly sit comfortably in the midst of this overwhelming mediocrity and inexperience.
PS: this effing Spell checker can't even recognise Sri Lanka. What am I supposed to do? Call the place Ceylon? Grr
waste receptacles
blogger's craptacular excuse for a spell checker,
extreme sports shorts
Sunday, 14 October 2007
Something you didn't know about me
I've played football at the Melbourne Cricket Ground. Yes really. Seriously.
I was reminded of this fact by the post-match commentary of Inverdale1 and Dawson (the latter having recovered admirably from the hangover which left him nearly speechless during this morning's broadcasts). In the aftermath of the Boks' win over the Pumas - so sadly it will be 'Allez Les Blancs2' next weekend, the pitch was invaded by tiny rugby players exhibiting far greater levels of enthusiasm than skill. Pint sized versions of future Rugger Buggers running the line as fast as their little legs could carry them had big men going rather misty eyed.
Years ago, before paranoia took officialdom in its steely grip this sort of pitch invasion was SOP at the MCG and, as far as I'm aware, most top level Aussie Rules grounds.
As the match would draw to a close the miniature fans would crowd the boundary fence with ball in one hand, autograph book in the other. As the siren sounded we'd go over the top, much like WWI soldiers, and into the fray. The idea was to target a specific player, track his movements in the dying moments assiduously - putting aside all considerations as to the result no matter how close the issue, and then after getting over make a bee-line for that player using whatever weapons might come to hand in the way of an old woman at a New Years' Day sale.
Only once the autograph had been secured would the secondary matter of having a kick-about on the hallowed turf be turned to - and it was. Just about ever other weekend for years. There's a bit of turf that metaphorically has my hoof print in it.
I was reminded of this fact by the post-match commentary of Inverdale1 and Dawson (the latter having recovered admirably from the hangover which left him nearly speechless during this morning's broadcasts). In the aftermath of the Boks' win over the Pumas - so sadly it will be 'Allez Les Blancs2' next weekend, the pitch was invaded by tiny rugby players exhibiting far greater levels of enthusiasm than skill. Pint sized versions of future Rugger Buggers running the line as fast as their little legs could carry them had big men going rather misty eyed.
Years ago, before paranoia took officialdom in its steely grip this sort of pitch invasion was SOP at the MCG and, as far as I'm aware, most top level Aussie Rules grounds.
As the match would draw to a close the miniature fans would crowd the boundary fence with ball in one hand, autograph book in the other. As the siren sounded we'd go over the top, much like WWI soldiers, and into the fray. The idea was to target a specific player, track his movements in the dying moments assiduously - putting aside all considerations as to the result no matter how close the issue, and then after getting over make a bee-line for that player using whatever weapons might come to hand in the way of an old woman at a New Years' Day sale.
Only once the autograph had been secured would the secondary matter of having a kick-about on the hallowed turf be turned to - and it was. Just about ever other weekend for years. There's a bit of turf that metaphorically has my hoof print in it.
- Blogger's craptacular 'spell checker' will not accept Inverdale and offers 'infertile' as an acceptable alternative. Poor John.
- On the same theme, the above mentioned 'spell checker' will not accept Blanc and offers Blank as an alternative. It isn't perfect, but sometimes it does get things rights. Let's wait and see.
waste receptacles
blogger's craptacular excuse for a spell checker
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