I awoke at 3AM with the necessity to calculate my age in days. I quickly called to mind that this was not the age of Aquarius, yet the Age of Information...Surely somewhere there exists an online script to do this number crunching for me and avoid the high risk of 10key carpal tunnel. It does exist, and don't call me Shirley.
One site with these features was hosted courtesy of our friends at about.com. Oh, about.com how I remember thee and the rejection thee gave me as a host to cyberculture in the year of 9 and 7. Only then, known as Miningco, I feverishly competed with other anonymous internet warriors to vie for the prestigious award to host cyberarticles and receive nominal fees for our toils. I, unlike others who shall remain nameless but know who they are, chose to create their own categories to host, therefore eliminating sanctioned competition and ensuring victory. Stanley Lamar was their god, and dot.com boom cash was their holy water. However, even the defeated were offered severance pay in this primitive internet period, and I received a C note for my troubles. I never bothered to replay, because I never really wanted to write articles, I just wanted to show that I was an early adapter and lived in the cyberculture of the day. This mainly consisted of chatting on IRC and finding out what an mp3 was long before the Napster generation. Napster the free site of yesteryear, not the pay site. But I am way off topic by now.
So I looked at the script to see my age as I cracked open a lukecool Diet Pepsi. Almost a billion seconds old! I should expect balloons and ticker tape when I hit the 10 digit milestone. Simply called "How Old Are You Converter", original I know, this is actually one of the most depressing pieces of java since the freearcade game of Fillit. Depressing because you can not believe you are not only wasting your life, but wasting your life watching the seconds of life wasted. It was at the 906,812,269th second of my life that I felt the urge to urinate.
As I passed by the mirror I stopped to observe my severely graying hair. My late twenties close in on me, but Grecian formula so soon. Just For Men, just for olde. Have you ever noticed that children always come up with two or three professions they are going to be when they grow up. Something a child a decade old might say is..."when I grow up I'm going to be a painter, a nurse and a cowgirl." Now, you and I, being of mature sound and body...for the most part, know these three are too far removed from each other to be suitable career switches. Why not combine them, tell the children..."Why don't you become a face painting nurse at a cowgirl hospital." Of course finding a hospital that only services crippled cowgirls may be difficult to locate, you do have at least 12 years including the child's college to find one. I, at the tender age of 28, find that I have three professions, filmmaker, computer technician, advertising manager. Of course only one of those pays. Well two sometimes when I can get some freelance computer work.
I usually know the problem before I get there...Spyware because of porn, or Spyware because of P2P
One site with these features was hosted courtesy of our friends at about.com. Oh, about.com how I remember thee and the rejection thee gave me as a host to cyberculture in the year of 9 and 7. Only then, known as Miningco, I feverishly competed with other anonymous internet warriors to vie for the prestigious award to host cyberarticles and receive nominal fees for our toils. I, unlike others who shall remain nameless but know who they are, chose to create their own categories to host, therefore eliminating sanctioned competition and ensuring victory. Stanley Lamar was their god, and dot.com boom cash was their holy water. However, even the defeated were offered severance pay in this primitive internet period, and I received a C note for my troubles. I never bothered to replay, because I never really wanted to write articles, I just wanted to show that I was an early adapter and lived in the cyberculture of the day. This mainly consisted of chatting on IRC and finding out what an mp3 was long before the Napster generation. Napster the free site of yesteryear, not the pay site. But I am way off topic by now.
So I looked at the script to see my age as I cracked open a lukecool Diet Pepsi. Almost a billion seconds old! I should expect balloons and ticker tape when I hit the 10 digit milestone. Simply called "How Old Are You Converter", original I know, this is actually one of the most depressing pieces of java since the freearcade game of Fillit. Depressing because you can not believe you are not only wasting your life, but wasting your life watching the seconds of life wasted. It was at the 906,812,269th second of my life that I felt the urge to urinate.
As I passed by the mirror I stopped to observe my severely graying hair. My late twenties close in on me, but Grecian formula so soon. Just For Men, just for olde. Have you ever noticed that children always come up with two or three professions they are going to be when they grow up. Something a child a decade old might say is..."when I grow up I'm going to be a painter, a nurse and a cowgirl." Now, you and I, being of mature sound and body...for the most part, know these three are too far removed from each other to be suitable career switches. Why not combine them, tell the children..."Why don't you become a face painting nurse at a cowgirl hospital." Of course finding a hospital that only services crippled cowgirls may be difficult to locate, you do have at least 12 years including the child's college to find one. I, at the tender age of 28, find that I have three professions, filmmaker, computer technician, advertising manager. Of course only one of those pays. Well two sometimes when I can get some freelance computer work.
I usually know the problem before I get there...Spyware because of porn, or Spyware because of P2P
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