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Are the faces of people in our dreams of people we already know? Or are they completely fabricated? I’m young, but I have yet to see a face in my dreams that I don’t recognise.

We are all guilty of being the man that stands on the shoulders of giants and complaining, usually loudly, that the giants were not tall enough.

Today’s my last day at a job I mentally checked out of years ago.

Pious. Religious. Spiritual. Pick two.

Why is it that when the wife is pregnant everybody wants to rub her enlarged belly and say “Congratulations.” But none of her friends want to rub your cock and say “Good job!”

I worked through lunch so I wouldn’t feel guilty about doing nothing between 4 and 5.

I seem to have developed an absolutely rotten head cold. I must have picked it up from one of my friends or someone at the pub when I was out on the weekend. I mention my bad head cold to my Mother, and you know what her response was? “It’s because you keep playing around… Needing to read the rest of “Computer virus?” Click this!

Don’t count the years, count the adventures you had.

No matter your gender, your orientation, your culture, your nationality, or even what language you speak, when you smile, it’s all the same language to me.

Hacking away the new BBS setup with a friend. I’m bitching continuously about how the world needs to be running UNIX and not DOS or CPM or all the proprietary, toy operating systems people keep coming out with when my friend turns to me and says “You’re crazy if you think you can make them… Click this link to read the rest of this post