Back.

I’m back. I’ve been in London for almost two years now, and for some reason since I’ve been here I’ve not really found that much to talk about. I guess to some degree, I feel I shouldn't go to someone else’s city and criticise the way they live or do things. Maybe that’s why I’ve not found anything that really annoyed me or struck my attention.

Anyway, the last couple of days I’ve found some things that have really got to me, and where better to boo-hoo than here? Where no-one actually visits?

Look forward to more complaints, bad language, narcissism and just plain pessimism.

One of my companies moves forward.

http://www.prweb.com/releases/2007/11/prweb567665.htm

Cat’s have responsibilities too

You wouldn’t think it, looking at that fat bundle of pristinely cleaned cat fluff malting over your suit jacket, but they do. I found this out one night when I was absolutely trolley’d and passed out in a park. It’s a long story.

Rosie’s cat hates me (he still does, I’ll tell how I know later). I think he took it rather personally when I rudely invited myself into her life and started to take all the attention he used to get for myself. I don’t think he’s necessarily a person-cat anyway, if you know what I mean. We all know cats that would rather not have the inconvenience of humans around and he was one of them. Maybe he just hated me (strong possibility) but usually I always get along with animals.

When we all three moved in (Rose, Myself and the cat), it was my responsibility to feed and put him out as I was always the last to leave for work and always the first back. Rose would feed him when she woke up but by the time I’d slept in, thought about getting up and finally showered and got changed, Bebe (pronounced three octaves higher than normal human speech) would be fast asleep in his normal spot in the middle of our sofa. He’d pretend to be passed out so I’d not put him out for the day, and when I picked him up he’d go dead weight. I’d throw him outside where he’d hang out until I got home at night, where he’d hear my keys and come running to greet me for dinner. He knew the sound of my keys and I’d jingle them as I got close so he’d come around from the back of the apartment and demand his food. Like a lot of cats, that’s the only time I think we got any affection from him. Otherwise, he’d be in the room we weren’t in, or outside, doing anything but interacting with other species of animal.

That was annoying, as I absolutely love cats and the such, and having left my overly affectionate cat at home I would have liked to hang out with Bebe and discuss his next meal and where cats like to be scratched most. He never really gave me the time of day except for this one night where I went out drinking with my visiting brother and brother in law.

After work on a Friday we all headed down to the viaduct for sunny summer afternoon beers with the rest of the suits and ties. The beer flowed, as did the conversation and, almost directly proportionately, my brain cells and therefore processing capacity reduced. Before long I’d forgotten that I’d only had a light lunch and no dinner and we were pushing pint number 10. I can vaguely remember rocking up to a table and talking to some ladies who looked at me with great distain and then the 25 minute walk home along the waterfront back to home. I was a mess, there is no other way to put it. You can tell when it’s going to end in tears, and this time I knew it. It was only a matter of time.

After stumbling all the way along the main road, up the public stairs to Parnell (stopping more than once to rest my head on the handrail in complete defeat), I finally got home to find Rose already in bed reading the latest Richard Branson book.

“Heeeeiii swwwwweethearrrrrrt.”
“Oh dear.”
“I’lllll just beee overrrrr in de parrrkkk.”

I remember saying before going out of the apartment, over the road to our park and passing out. That was interesting. I remember starting to purge the excess alcohol while lying down and rolling in the opposite direction to get away from the results, I remember moving halfway across the park because of that, I remember Rose coming out at some point to find me (I’d been gone for an hour or so), but the one thing I remember clearest is that Bebe had come out with me, crossed the road (which he never does) and sat and watched over me the entire time to make sure I was OK (Rose did mention later she only knew I was there because she saw Bebe’s flawlessly preened white coat in the darkness). Indeed a strange thing for him to do, but it made me realise, albeit 2 years later, that even though they’re lazy fucks, they still have responsibilities and stick to them, even late on Friday nights. To date, it’s the only thing I can remember Bebe doing that was mildly sociable, but even so, pretty cool. He’s a good guy anyway, I’d live with him again if he’d have me. That night ended in me passing out on the sofa and then Rose getting me to come to bed at around 3am. A meeting was held the next day, needless to say, I was completely useless and ended up in one of the bathrooms finishing off the job I didn’t finish in the park. “Oh dear” is right.

I know he still hates me because Rose and I went out for dinner not long ago, and when I dropped her off, I saw him waiting for her (and, presumably dinner). I got out to say hi but he wouldn’t have a bar of it. I guess all those times kicking him out of the apartment every morning added up to quite some hatred.

Funny, I thought I got that reaction only from humans.

I thought only the Americans who were mentally challenged

In an email from a UK company:

"We need representatives who can help us establish a medium of getting to our costumers in Ustralia, Mexico, Canada and America."

Costumers? You’re looking for someone to make costumes? And yes, Australia is spelt how you pronounce it, but you're pronouncing it wrong, dumbass. Microsoft spellcheck is mocking you.

Why your software sucks.

99% of solutions need not be complex. People try to reinvent the wheel every time they do something, but just like with anything else, the first 99 attempts will be seriously flawed. I wouldn't be happy with some software developer experimenting with their ideas on a website that represents my company.

That said, it's interesting how many people think that "the world did it wrong". At work, the mastermind that wrote the framework I'm working on right now insists that because our application is being used in-house, they need not use password fields for passwords.

"What's the point? They're not going to use it externally".
"Yeah, but people could still look over their shoulder while they set their password."
"Never gonna happen."

My boss came over a couple of days later and overruled the decision, obviously, but I was more concerned with the thought process involved. Regardless of if you think people may use it differently, until you have hard evidence it's not working for the user, stick to the way people are used to. It's a hard thing to do because everyone thinks their way is better, but over the 20 years of initial GUI interface design, everyone has tried everything (believe me, your idea isn't new), and the best have come forward and shown themselves. Your 3 years in University playing with your custom-built Windows Calculator interface doesn't make you an expert. Password fields are there for a reason. I'm not quite sure how you think you're qualified to overrule that simple fact.

My rule when building software is to keep the interface as simple as possible. I was taught at a young age when I was playing around with design to only do things for a reason. "It looks good" isn't good enough when things have to be functional. I'm sick and tired of people getting caught up in the new way of doing things at the cost of the project. People make entire websites out of Flash (that it wasn't really designed for), and on a more recent project, the "application" (actually, it's a website, but the bosses are convinced an website application should look different for some reason) has been designed for one sized screen only, they've removed the URL bar along the top (for "security" reasons) and I think there's talk about not letting the users resize the window. Leaving it look, work and feel like a website isn't acceptable, but it should be written in HTML and PHP. If only they didn't try and "improve" on everything, their software might actually come across as professional as opposed to written by a graduate who found all these hacks and tried to fit them all into a project for "awesomeness".

I was thinking of why people don't realise interface design is so difficult. I'm not even a designer, so I don't know what I'm complaining about, but I have spent 10 years watching my brother do his thing and listened particularly hard at university when interface psychology was taught. Surprisingly, interface is logical and simple. It's when people try and over-engineer their projects ("more options, more power") and get caught up in the whole "I'm creating things!" mentality instead of "have I created something that's actually worth something??" that it truly becomes a dog's breakfast. The history of mankind is a great case-in-point. Everyone is too caught up in the development of an atomic bomb, cloning mammals and artificial intelligence to really think about the results of their actions (I'm aware these ideas aren't new: The Matrix, Jurassic Park, Sixth Day, I, Robot etc). It just goes to show it's human nature to get caught up in the concept of creating something without thinking about the best way to do it. It's not your fault, you just don't realise what you're doing.

The best examples of this has been Apple. They prove you don't have to have a million options and 400 buttons to make it good. Simplicity is the key. Less instead of more. Understand the best interface minds in the world created a 5-button touchscreen for the world's best-selling iPod. You're no better than they, are you? If you want to rewrite the books on interface, go ahead.

Just make sure you don't practice on your clients.

A stupid thing.

So a stupid thing happened on the tube this morning. No, not the fact they closed my station because of overcrowding (although that’s the second time in as many days), but this dork from Europe somewhere left his big bag unattended near the entrance of the carriage and went and sat somewhere else. Now, I don’t know about you, but that’s a fucking stupid thing to go ahead and do.

I can’t stand incompetence. I said that to my project manager yesterday when we were queuing for lunch. The Italian dude who works where we like to snack, takes our order, writes it down for the chef but promptly forgets who ordered what. Your lunch quickly becomes the property of anyone who puts their hand up first when he calls it out; he just gives them away. More than once I’ve ended up with a leftover because he’s screwed things up but I can’t be bothered waiting for him to cook mine again. Once again, I can’t stand incompetence. Most people only have one thing to do at a time (except for Mum), and it shouldn’t be hard to do it properly. If you’re sitting on a tube with a bag, stand next to it. It doesn’t take a genius.

I’m not sure what planet this prick lives on, but if he was paying any attention at all, he would know that we’ve had a couple of terrorist attacks and thwarted a couple more in the last week or two here in the UK. Tubes are an increasing (or already a large) concern to all travellers, and I can tell you I was less than uncomfortable once I realised the people standing next to me (the most likely owners of said bag) got off without it.

You really have two options in this situation: a) stand there thinking about if the bomb goes off will you feel it, won’t you feel it, or will it just take your legs off and leave you a vegetable for the rest of your live, or; b) ask the person next to you if it’s theirs. I considered option two for a bit, but realised if fellow passengers heard you talking about an unattended bag by your feet and no owner in the immediate vicinity, chaos would swiftly ensue. My workmate points out, correctly, that it’s probably better to freak a couple of people out for 15 seconds until the owner shows up than to lose your life and that of those around you.

Needless to say, another eventful beginning to my day in LonDan. Playing football tonight for the first time since I left NZ. I'm supposed to catch the tube to the grounds.

I think I’ll walk.

The online persona

Well, this isn't really a post so much as a link to a fascinating post I read from Time magazine about this “game” called Second Life. I’ve not heard of it, but I’m sure you have. Meeting people and bumming around doing things and seeing other things sounds aiight but just like I’ve been telling my friends who keep on at me about Facebook: you really have to get out more often.

My mate in Canada says:
A: You should really get your shit on facebook. I’ve found so many mates I forgot about on there, it’s stupid.
D: Well, really, I like to get out and meet the person face to face for a beer, you know?
A: Well, you know we can’t really go out for a beer, logistics and all that.
D: Dang, I guess you’re right.

I’ve been trying to avoid facebook for all it’s worth, but I think it’s getting close to the point where everyone I know is on it and, then, so I should be too. I hate online “meeting places”, but maybe it’s like the new thing that everyone will be doing. I know, deep down, that “new things” take years and years to eventually hit and I guess I’m just waiting to see if it does or not. 99.7% of people can’t finish a project they start and I wonder if Facebook is the same. Will people tire of it over time? Will there be anyone signed up 6 months from now? Only time will tell.

Until then, if you’re in the same city as the person you’re talking to online, get off your ass and go have a beer with them. Be aware that the more time we spend behind a computer, the less we are human and the more we are a drone.

How sad is that?

http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1570708,00.html

Movie reviewers explained

I’m sitting in my living room on a Saturday working out how to finish some technical bit for my personal project that is 99% done and the ad for Ocean’s 13 comes on. “10 out of 10” the reviews claim, “the best Ocean yet!” and I thought, well, almost any Ocean would be better than 12. I watched 11 the other night and realised it’s actually not THAT great. It’s good fun and a fantastic story but I’ve seen sieves with less holes. I think most of the attraction is the huge number of A-List actors and one of the world’s biggest heists. It’s worth a watch but you know as well as I do, it’s only a 7 out of 10.

This brings me to the topic of reviewers and, well, just plain statistics. When was the last time you saw a bad review on a DVD case cover or on the front of a book you’re about to read? Logically speaking, there are over 6,000,000,000 people in the world, so it can’t be hard to find someone who will rate the piece of crap you wrote. I mean, what do you think they do? Sift through all the reviews people write about them and choose the average ones? Of course not. Why do you think there isn’t a “standard body” that reviews all movies and levels out the playing field? Well, probably partly because it comes down to an individual perception of what a good movie is, and partly because that body would deem – rightly so – that 99.7% of movies are right and proper shit and not fit for human consumption.

Individualism. It’s a strange thing. Just the other night I was at a party and so I put on some warm-up tunes in the form of the Ministry of Sound Annual 2007. Some guy comes in and told me listening to that stuff would “make me impotent”. Now, I don’t know about you, but I would class the Ministry as being one of the biggest authorities on electronic music. I’m all for arguing my point of view with something I listen to or do or watch, but personal insults like that based on music just doesn’t fly. Sometimes people should keep their opinions to themselves. In a loving way, of course. Let this be a lesson to you, don’t believe anything you read on the front covers of things. Listen to your mates’ thoughts instead.

Boy, if only I could take my own advice.

Attended: Ministry of Sound Club

On a bus ride to some random girl’s place the other night (no, nothing like that), we passed the Ministry of Sound club in “Elephant and Castle” (the English name their towns some strange things). We made some passing comment we should all go and visit. After all, they are the founding members of mainstream electronic music; it was sure to be a good time. Now my brother in law is visiting from NZ, we decided we’d buy some tickets and go check out the “Gatecrasher Classics” night, and so we did. And, as expected, it kicked ass.

Tucked behind a couple of other buildings on a side street we found the entrance being watched by about 400 big black dudes donned with trench coats and big tree-trunk thick arms. Walk in the door and there’s a huge corridor with the ticket box on the right and at the end near the entrance into the main rooms was coat check. OK, same old stuff. Walk in though, and immediately the huge bar along one side of the main room (well, one of the main rooms) stands out, and the bumpin’ sounds are clear but loud. MoS has 4 rooms, two main ones and two smaller ones. Upstairs is the “Lounge” with a few places to sit down, small cubicles for seedy behaviour and another VIP glass dining room for hire for a birthday party or whatever. The lounge overlooks the small Baby Box room where the DJ has funky house on the decks, a huge bed-like structure in the middle where people pass out. Because it’s the funky/gay house room, it’s full of weirdos and geeks trying to get down. Back through the main room (electro and harder house) to the other side is the trance room and that’s where shit get’s crazy. Lighting shows, plasma screens, awesome tunes and shitloads of fog machines make it an outstanding experience where we spent most of our time. All up, it’s (once again) something just not really available in New Zealand, and best of all, it’s the Ministry so only the best were mixin’ the tunes. In all honestly, as a “DJ” you tend to pick up fuckups the DJs make but most people don’t notice, but given we were there for 6 hours, not one DJ in any room fucked up once. It all adds up to an awesome experience and I’ll have to go back a few more times. 10 quid? It’s a bargain.

If you’re in town, let’s go.

Nature or nurture?

On the tube today I saw the Comic Book guy. You know the one, from The Simpsons. He had his long hair combed to perfection and one really big belly relying on the top of his jeans to keep it from hitting his knees, undoubtedly on his way to his job as a Linux network administrator. The though crossed my mind, what the hell would that guy be doing with his time if computers didn’t exist? Would he still be a geek? Was it the computer that turned him into who he is or would he be that guy anyway, but with nothing to waste his energy on? Nature or nurture?

Honestly, there are some pretty smart geeks out there, although they sometimes do have issues communicating with us normal folks. Countless references to Star Trek and Xena would have us lost faster than a midget in a street party, but more often than not their ideas are sound and based on 4,500 manhours of Internet-research into the topic. Imagine that kind of brain power hurtling around these guys without anything to blow it on? Couple that with their obsession with "world domination" they all so strangely seem to have and I'd be one nervous camper. Instead of mocking them about their long hair their "dad won't let them cut", thick-ass glasses and the screwdrivers they keep in their jacket pockets for "emergency repairs", I'd be giving them big wide berths, trying not to make eye contact and worrying that maybe the drink I had for lunch was mixed by one of these uber-nerds and will make me grow two more hands.

Even though your computer is a pain the ass, just remember if it wasn't for its existence not only would you have to rework every one of your income tax calculations by hand, you'd have thousands upon thousands of black-jean wearing, comic-book guy looking 4-eyes thinking of the most destructive way to take earth over. And fuck me if they wouldn't succeed.

Geeks do supply a good laugh now and then, though. I was looking for an answer to an issue (database related) I'm having at work and came across a page written by an expert on the topic. He made a typo, and in the comments on the page someone had identified it and told him about it. The author replied thanking him for the heads up. The time of his reply, however, was 9.15PM on Feb. 14. Now, I don't know about you, but at 9.15PM on Feb. 14 this year I was taking a gorgeous Norwegian cutie out to dinner at the beach. I honestly have no idea what this guy was doing on his computer at the time. Surely, you can find something better to do on Valentines night.

You know what I've just done? Jinx'd myself. If you want me on the 14 of Feb next year (which you won't, obviously), I'll be wearing tight black jeans mixing myself a certain type of drink at home by myself.

DAMMIT!