D A L I F . C O M - Not Quite IRL

Lock, cuff and two burning wrists

nospam@example.com (Dalif) — Fri, 25 Jul 2008 00:08:41 +0200

As you'll probably know, I was riffling through boxes today, trying to tidy up in some of the crap I've got around. Well I did manage to sort 5 years worth of opened and unopened mail. Bank letters, all kinds of official letters, letters from various agencies... that sort of stuff. Boring, but I'd rather keep it sorted in case I needed a specific letter one day, I'd be able to find it, instead of, as usual, having no idea where stuff is. Anyway, in the box with the mail, I also found a bag of misc stuff. Some gamepads, old receipts, a few manuals for different electronic gadgets, a small piggy bank with foreign coins... I also found a pair of handcuffs. That costs me nearly 3 hours of productive time spent in agony.

I used to have two pairs. They are essentially playthings, but whereas one of them has a small mechanism for unlocking the cuffs, the other pair does not. That pair was always the most fun, seing as getting out of them actually constituted a challenge. I spent many an hour picking the cuffs in all kinds of scenarios. Locked to a chair or a table or whav have we. I managed to pick the locks of both cuffs behind my back in 11 seconds flat, with just a paper clip. Cool, I thought back then. I had the same thought for a while today. But I knew just tossing the cuffs on willy nilly would probably be a mistake. So I found a paper clip, and picked the lock of one side of the cuffs. Was easy. Cool, thought I. I must still have my mad skillz of yesteryear. So I toss the cuffs on, and start picking. But they aren't coming off as easily as I had imagined. In fact, they aren't coming off at all. I pick away, but can't seem to get the technique down properly. An hour passes where I'm focused on getting the cuffs open, without success. I consider briefly looking for a key that's bound to be around somewhere. But it'd take me forever to find one, provided I even have one still.

Another hour passes, and I'm still not getting them open. My paperclip is worn thin at this point. Has already broken once, and I'm not sure where to find another. I start prowling the apartment for items that can be used. But I come up empty. Not gonna say I panicked at any point, but.. it was starting to get pretty annoying. Also, my wrists were turning red. Finally, the left side popped open, and I went to town on the right side with renewed vigor. My dad was supposed to visit during the evening, and I slowly realized I probably wouldn't be able to get the cuffs all the way off before he came around.

And I wasn't. So I presented the problem to him, and he tried to pick the lock for a bit. But he had less understanding of the locking mechanism than I had, so I decided I'd just keep trying idly, while chatting to him. So I did. 30 minutes later, they popped off, and I could rub my burning right wrist and once more smell the clean brisk air of freedom. The cuffs are now on the kitchen table, and while I think it'll be a while before I give them a go again, I can't help but admit it was fun with a bit of a challenge. I'll need more paperclips first tho :)

Couch Sleepers

nospam@example.com (Dalif) — Mon, 31 Mar 2008 07:59:31 +0200

Right... I've just about had it. It seems to me that just about every other shift I'm working at that hotel, I find some moron sleeping on a couch in the bar or some other place. What the hell is it with me and that hotel. Are we random people magnets? Does the hotel scream: it's ok... you can sleep in a couch in here without getting disturbed, as long as you don't mind cleaning staff about you.

So this morning, it's a swedish 50 or so year old guy with plenty tattoos on hos hands and arms. The guy has even taken off his shoes for more comfort. It's about 6 in the am, and the cleaning fuckers are just loafing about. It's the second time I've experienced them not telling me when somebody's sleeping in the bar. I try to explain to them that it's important they let me know. But for some reason, they don't. Anyway, I wake him up with a shake of his leg. Not much for touching these weirdos tbh, but I gotta get him up. He's come to life, and I tell him it's go-time. He's looks a little bewildered, but acknowledges the request. My colleague tells him it's now. Not in 5 minutes. He gets up and starts putting on his shoes, while I walk towards the reception area.

I start messing around with a computer, when my colleague approaches me with the guy's credit card in hand. "Do we have any rooms.. He'd like a room", he asks me. I'm momentarily baffled. Does the guy actually have the nerve to ask for a room? I grab the card, and tell my colleague, that no, amazingly enough, we don't have any rooms for this guy. I walk over to the couch sleeper, and ask him if he understands me (seeing as I speak danish, and he speaks drunken swedish). He nods. So I tell him, either you get out of here now, or I will charge the hours you've slept on our couch, to your card. He accepts his card, and starts to walk towards the entrance. Half way there, he turns and mumbles that he's sorry. I disregard him and walk away.

So... go to a hotel and sleep on a couch for free. When you are thrown out, you ask if you can rent a room. Is it just me, or does that sound like a thief stealing a car, and when stopped by police, he says: Oh, I wanted to buy this car.. did I not mention that to the salesman? I know I was being a bit rough with this guy, but seriously. It's disrespectful to a degree where I don't understand how the hell they even think of doing it. And how do they get in? Do they have a masters degree in sneaking about? And it's all kinds of people. Had a bum sleeping in the conference rooms the other day... an elderly chap with a backpack sleeping on the couches.. two chinese girls, no more than 25-26 sleeping on a couch one night. Where do they come from? Does this happen to all hotels?

I shake my head in disbelief... it's amazing really.

"I need black magic"

nospam@example.com (Dalif) — Thu, 13 Mar 2008 05:12:58 +0100

Besides me and m'colleague at the hotel here at night, a night cleaning team also occupies the premises. That team consists of some 4-5 different guys, with usually 4 of them working at the same time, throughout the hotel. They vacuum and buff the lobby floor, wipe surfaces down, cleans the basement and the restaurant on the 20th floor.

Most of them speak little or no danish. Some speak a little english, some speak spanish, some speak lord knows what language. Common for them is, they loaf about at night, and are, involuntarily the cause of much amusement for me. The best is then they get into an argument over something, and both are annoyed with the other, but neither can communicate it in any language the other can understand. It takes a lot of self control to not just laugh out loud at them. But be that as it may. One of them, a chinese looking bloke, does speak danish failry decently. He's a skinny little fella, and when he's here, he cleans the restaurant kitchen and floors. Now, I'm not usually the go-to guy when it comes to small talk during shifts. And as such, the cleaning staff and I don't communicate a lot. But this guy is pretty funny. He's on about a variety of different topics, most of which I find somewhat dull. But that's just me.

So anyway, yesterday he walked through the reception back office area at 07 am, where most of the morning staff had arrived. They consisted solely of girls yesterday, and while it's not bad during the nights, the fresh scent of girl perfume does lend a certain ambience to the offices. So he's walking through, taking it all in. Especially this one girl, Carina. He smiles knowingly at me, and then disappears.

Tonight, however, he's back. Asking about the hotel room availability, claiming he'd like to sleep on the 20th floor, you know, for the view. Fair enough. Then he lurks about for a while, then asks me if I wasn't impressed with the way the office smelled yesterday. I know where this is going, but figure wtf... won't hurt. I tell him the girls usually leave a certain nice and fresh smell around. "Yeah" goes the cleaner, "especially that blond girl". Sure, her as well. "Yeah, her husband is probably happy". I tell him she's not married. He looks surprised. I dunno if he had figured all nice girls would or should be married. Now, this is where he turn the tables and gets the better of me. Apparently blatantly selfaware of his own situation, he philosophises on how she'd probably wouldn't ever go for a guy like him, smelling things up from cleaning chemicals, working the night shift. "No, I'd probably need black magic to get a girl like her" he said. It startled me a bit, and I sort of felt sorry for him. I dunno why. I mean, he seems happy enough, and I doubt he was really serious about her, but still. Working the night shift as a service manager, as I do, might not be the fanciest job in the world. But the pay is decent, and I have a responsibility and I get to wear a suit and what have we. Superficial, for sure, but it does maintain a decent facade. He's a cleaner. Now, it's as honorable job as any, if you ask me. But it's inheritingly one that people think less of. And that's sad in a way. I felt a pang of guilt for some reason, and also a bit of respect for this guy. He's doing his best, and I hope it will help him get where ever he's going in life.

WTF goes the squirrel

nospam@example.com (Dalif) — Wed, 14 Nov 2007 13:53:23 +0100

Squirrels are pretty amusing little creatures. They are lightning fast, and have rapid and erratic movements. They are also fairly cute. Came upon the following little clip yesterday, and watched it a load of times. I laugh the same everytime I watch it. One squirrel plays dead a record two times within seconds, to try and fool his adversary (another squirrel) in a backyard brawl. What I find the most amusing is the other squirrels reaction to this behavior. First time it goes down, squirrel two is looking like he's going: "What is this now... no come on, this can't be right!". Then Squirrel 1 comes back up, and attacks again, only to go straight down. And squirrel 2 once more looks like it's thinking: Seriously dude... you can't expect me to believe this. I don't even care about this fight anymore". The fight doesn't even really look that hardcore. It's like they're just messing with each other. Anyway, the second squirrel is priceless. Check it out.

Squirrel Plays Dead During Backyard Fight

Don't you wish...

nospam@example.com (Dalif) — Sat, 06 Oct 2007 03:01:32 +0200

...your girlfriend was just like me? No? I figured you wouldn't, seeing as I'm a dude, and if your girlfriend was a dude, you'd be gay.. unless you were a lesbian, in which case... your girlfriend... would.. uhm. It's not important really, as it was just a link to today's post, which is about the old 'let's pretend' game.

Don't you wish real life was like the movies sometimes? I know I do. Imagine, if you'd please, situations where you've thought about doing something they do in the movies. Like be the doc that studies medical journals for days and nights on end, and discover the minimal molecular flaw that caused the pregnancy to go wrong, effectively saving the child and ensuring happiness. Or be the guy that bursts into the church, right when the priest says: "speak now or forever hold your peace!", shouting your undying love for the bride, telling her you know it won't be easy making things work, but you still think she'd be better off with you. Perhaps be the guy that goes through a lot of weird shit in life, before finally one day, in what alcoholics refer to as a moment of clarity, realize what you are supposed to do with your life, and then have the motivation and enthusiasm to just make it happen.

Ever thought about those things? No? Naaaah... me neither. Sigh.

Where is music? Music gone?

nospam@example.com (Dalif) — Tue, 28 Aug 2007 08:21:33 +0200

Yup. Headphones at work have gone bye-bye. And for no apparent reason other than to make my life just a tad more miserable. I was listening to music while working or whatever the fleeting hell you wanna call my activities while here at work, and a few songs sounded a little weird. Beatles - Sgt. Pepper's and Mamas and Papas - California Dreamin'. Half the vocals were missing. Oh well, thinks I... the plug has probably come undone a bit. I was correct. Plugging it all the way in, the MSI sound driver program thingy pops up, in which you can play around with equalizer settings. I click randomly for a few minutes, and it's all good fun, making the music sound like you're under water, or in a huge arena or in a stone hallway. I'm amused, it's all good.

But they were all of them deceived! Or... I was, at least. Because it turned out, I couldn't make it go back to normal standard nice to listen to music. Oh no. It was weird. I goofed around with that damn program for hours, unplugging and replugging the cable. Listening to Alanis' Ironic everything would be just swell for the first verse, then at the chorus, it'd be muffled and the vocals would be distant and obscure. "My dear lord, what have I done.. what HAVE I done", thinks I, and for a fleeting moment I contemplate knocking my closest colleague unconscious to nick his headset. I do end up lending it to test, and it turns out sound and music is in perfect sync and harmony with his headset. Blast! Mine is broken. My only refuge in days where I'd rather run face first into a brick wall has been violently snatched away from me. The escapists only escape... gone.

My colleague, in a moment of unprecedented insight and generosity, says I can borrow his for a while. And I, in a moment of unprecedented stupidity and refusal to allow others to see my weakness and need of help, reject his offer. Now, I'm without music, and the sad thing is, I'm almost willing to listen to it through my broken headset... even tho it sounds like the music is coming through a huge pipe. Damn my pride, damn my luck.

If you're reading this...

nospam@example.com (Dalif) — Thu, 09 Aug 2007 09:38:17 +0200

... there's a good chance you're wasting your time. I hope you accidentially bump your pelvic bone in a rather painful manner. That's all. Move out!

I've often wondered #2

nospam@example.com (Dalif) — Sat, 19 May 2007 03:38:39 +0200

... when Professor Xavier is in the fake Cerebro in X-men 2, and Jason is making him kill all the humans in the world with his mind... what the hell were all the people in the world thinking 5 min after it stopped. I mean, imagine this. You're walking along, with your shopping bags, not a care in the world. All of a sudden, there's an unexplained but very powerful surge of pain in your head... you drop to your knees, and through your teary eyes and muffled scream, you see everybody around you on their knees as well. 5 minuts of agonizing pain, and all of a sudden it stops, and everybody is ok... What the hell do you think? Do you just pick up the grocery bags, and continue on with your life. I mean, we must have about 6 billion people in the world going WTF simultanously. What was done to explain it to them? Imagine this as well; a guy is doing some very sensitive virus work in a lab. He's moving a vial with one of the most potent and lethal viruses ever known to man kind. Dropping the vial would result in a world wide epidemic that could potentially wipe out man kind. He's almost there, but what is this? A seering pain flows through his mind.. he's unable to hold on to the vial... he drops it.. It's the end of the world as we know it.

Try to fix THAT problem, Professor X!

Things that make me go (h)mmm

nospam@example.com (Dalif) — Tue, 15 May 2007 03:21:47 +0200

This is one for the not quite IRL category.

As we all know, I'm a big imdb geek, always reading up on the lastest buzz, seeing the latest pics participating in the latest threads on movies etc. etc. Anyway, I read the news from Hollywood thingy everyday. Usually it's bullshit, but once in a blue moon something interesting comes along. Mostly tho, it's just a load of WTF moments plastered all over my unexpecting eyes.

But two items sprang to my attention upon first glance today. The first is a lawsuit filed against school teacher for showing Brokeback Mountain to her class. Apparently the grandfather, who of COURSE is religious, claims his granddaughter suffered psychological distress after watching the movie. The same moronic imbecile had made complaints of the language in the books that were handed out to students as reading material for class. What in the world is going on? I'm gonna have to chalk this one up to the strong beliefs in his religion. For fucks sake. Psychological stress over a movie? What the fuck is up with that? It's gay cowboys. Get over it. My suggestion: ease up on the damn principles, grandpa... let your daughter have a chance in life. If she's gonna suffer psychological distress everytime she hears the words fuck, cunt, piss, shit, tits etc. etc. or see a gay couple... she's gonna have a tough life. Kill her now, and save her, and us, the trouble. For the sake of humanity. And have all your relatives neutered or shot. It'll be for the best.

The second is the on going Paris Hilton case. She's been caught on so many occassions driving while drunk and/or without a license. And she still thinks she's 'being made an example of' by the state. It's 45 days in jail ferchrissakes. I know it'll be hard for you, because you're basically just a retarded whore who's never had to do a damn thing in your life, but seriously.. you broke the law.. you suffer the consequences. I don't care who the fuck you are. So now she's appealling the sentence, of course, and she's even set up an online petition. And as a last resort, she's appealled directly to Arnie as the California Governator. His statement: I've more pressing matters to attend to. WAY TO GO ARNULD!. I hope Paris gets locked up, and I hope the stay, if not directly causes her physical pain, then at least teaches her a lesson.

Yeah I'm controversial in wishin harm upon others.. but seriously, stupidity on levels like in these two cases should be punished on the same terms as murder and armed robbery. This is intellectual theft if I've ever seen it. They're stealing my air, my thoughts and my time in writing this post right now. Damn idiots.

Flowing visions

nospam@example.com (Dalif) — Tue, 10 Apr 2007 00:24:57 +0200

Dunno how to categorize this, so I just put it under the 3 most fitting categories.

I was talking to Tessa today (bless her), and we went over a lot of different things. It was enlightening on many levels, and just overall good to see her again. Anyway, she asked me about my writings. How I did it. And not in the sense of what keyboard I used or whatever.. but how I structured my writings. And it made me think. Not just about that, but about... how I feel a lot of the time when I'm writing. I talk to a lot of people on the internet daily, through work and sparetime. I've met many friends there and just generally, I do a lot of typing during an average day. And the funny thing is, I've noticed many times, but never taken time to analyse, my state of mind when I type.

With a post like this one here, I basically get the idea, open the new entry box, and start typing. And I keep going until the last word in the post is entered. No breaks, no thoughts through the typing. I just let it flow, kind of, from my fingers. That goes for much of the writing I've done through my life. That's one aspect of it. Another is how I sense the world I type in. It's difficult to explain, but my senses change around when I type, depending on mood and speed and purpose. My sight in particular gets distorted, and I get a lot of different impressions. Like claustrophobia inside the text... or fishvision. It's really hard to explain, but I just sort of sense the world in a distorted way. Or confined... or messy. Saw a program about a guy once, who saw numbers as landscapes. Each number had it's own. He was able to name Pi with like 5000 decimals just from the top of his head. That and multiplying large numbers in seconds. It just came to him. I know I'm not a prodigy like him at all, but that's sort of how it appears to me. Not as landscapes, but just as flowing visions. My actual vision can be distorted (of course it happens more when I'm tired), and my intellectual impressions can be weird as well. It's all pretty funky. Like typing on mushrooms.