Bad phone day

Good evening Lums, actually, when does evening become morning its 20minutes after midnight, it seems too early to say good morning, good night sounds like I'm retiring to bed with my candle and Willie Winkie cap?

I have seriously fallen out of love with my HTC Desire Android mobile phone.

Its taken almost exactly a year. It hasn't been a sudden fracture, its been building. I've grown increasingly unhappy with its behaviour and its fickle attitude. It has shown me a side of it I couldn't have imagined during the months long honeymoon period even when it was leaving my stranded at midnight with no way home, but now I'm exasperated, lets list.

Unavailable data feeds, it is always claiming Facebook is unplugged or something, I mean , come on?

Unreliable memory card, which is a pain if you see something you want to take a picture of, but the memory card has went AWOL, even though I know its right where it should be, its just lazy. The Virgin Network is feeble, how is it I see loads of folk happily phoning, texting and tweetering on the tube with their bloody i-hypes but as soon as I walk under the bough of a tree or into a shadow I lose any signal, pathetic. About a week ago it gave up synching with my Gmail account, meaning I cant see my busy social diary, I've missed so many champagne receptions and Gok Wan parties as a result, no , not really, but I could have. I thought if I just deleted my account and loaded it again, that would sort that, its a favoured technique of the IT professional, but it wont let me without returning the phone to just out the box status. I cant access Twitter, actually I cant remember my password but this phone should have anticipated that and Friend Stream has stopped streaming, seriously compromising my 24/7 connectivity with the brotherhood of man.

Bloody Steve Jobs and his glittery shiny things, I'm beginning to covet them.

I was at a seminar today, an invite came winging my way because of the job I'm doing, you know, the big sports day in a couple of years. Why don't they have an Olympic egg and spoon race anyway, a three-legged egg and spoon race, over 400 metres, that would be good wouldn't it? I had an idea after watching The Biggest Loser for The Obesity Games, where only morbidly fat folk would compete in all the Olympic sports. The Americans would love that, hoovering up all the medals, we could make them chocolate ones to get them to try harder.

It was full of boffins and as one speaker described a couple of delegates, information security rock stars. They didn't look like rock stars.

There really is nothing funnier than technical geeky boffins being funny, well, when I say that, I probably mean unfunnier, forget the probably, I definitely do mean unfunny, sorry, that should be UNFUNNY!!

I heard the same in-joke 3 times in 3 separate presentations, strap yourself in, here it comes...Les Rogge, the famous (??? I'd never heard of him) Gentleman Bank Robber when arrested was asked why he had resorted to robbing banks (cue, 2 second pause to set up the punch-line) he replied (another, shorter pause) "Because that's where the money was". A polite "ahem" as somebody cleared their throat, it might have been me and a very gentle sonic wave of appreciation that presented itself as a kind of collective sigh. And that was the first time we heard it.

But, I tell you what, these guys love their stuff, the technical kernel sized granularity of networks and computering. For someone like me, that wonders why electricity doesn't leak all over the floor when I unplug something, its a bit confusing. In fact, I think I may have audio-dyslexia. I can see their lips moving, and it sounds like English, but all I hear is BLAH, BLAH, BLAH.

I did hear one fella though, and this is class, maybe he had a bet on with his pals to say it or something, but when highlighting an oversight of the organisers in some minor trifling matter, he called it a , this is brilliant, a cognitive discombobulation. Another highlight was a guy from Interpol or somewhere making a point by splitting a great big bag of rice with a Stanley knife, spilling slippy slidey basmati rice all over the stage, those crazhy Dutschhh.

Lang May Yer Lum Reek.