#rdio Invitations
First come, first serve.
...as much as he loves a good puppy barbecue.
God, I haven't put anything up here in ages! Trust that I probably wouldn't be here reacquainting myself with hyperlinks and <gasp> italics if Mercury in retrograde weren't making it so difficult for me to proselytize the fawesomeness of the bookmarklet. I mean, let's face it: there are very few things in life more fawesome than a good bookmarklet. Million percent serious.
Let's get down to business. Last week, all the Twitter dorkuses (of which I am absolutely a wannabe) were talking about how Facebook was going to "take over the internet" with some ridiculous Like button. Actually, the quote that pushed me over the edge was that Facebook was going to make the entire internet its "tributary" (whatever the eff that means).
I still haven't really thought through the implications of this newfangled Like button, but I'm definitely over the idea that all those people were smoking it when they thinking the same thing Mr. Siegler so curiously expressed. Which, if I'm guessing right, is that Facebook wins. Game over. Facebook: internet. Google: zero.
Anyway, drag this -- Like -- to your bookmark bar. When you get it up there, right click where it says "Like," select edit, and delete everything before the question mark, including the "http://" part. (In Firefox, click on Properties instead of Edit.) While you're up there, might as well go grab some other kick ass bookmarklets like this juicy little surprise. That's right. Hit it over and over and over again. Then one more time for good measure. You know you love it.
You're welcome.
Y'all know I'm all about The Twitter, but...I dunno. This tweet by the All England Lawn Tennis and Croquet Club makes me kind of uncomfortable. Not as uncomfortable as I would be walking in on my grandparents having sex, but... the difference is one of degree, not kind.
It's not the battery. Could it be the starter? Greasemonkeys? Lesbians? Gearheads?
They're putting a third Starbucks at Shepherd and West Gray. The only thing I really have to say about that is that the parking garage isn't as ugly as I feared it would be. And I'm always disappointed by that little cafe door next to River Oaks theater.
I don't want to hear anything about how much I look like shit, assholes. I'm sick.
Tons of shit happened in 2009. For example, Myspace bought Imeem and then evidently set it on fire. (Thanks a fucking lot, MYSPACE. Now where am I supposed to find every random cover/remix of my musical obsession du jour?)
At first glance, there isn't a single thing about any these four boys from suburban Paris that I'd call "sexy." They are awkward, skinny, and too chicken to look me in the eye. None appears to have been lucky enough to know his way around the sack.
But once you hear hear their French accents fumble around an idiosyncratic English figure of speech; once you watch them re-enact their glorious days spent fencing in the shadows of Versailles; once they apply finger to guitar, all of that vanishes. They turn into an Adam Levine quartet, only without the pretense. And playing much better music.
Le Phoenix est mort. Vive le Phoenix!
ZOMG. I think I'm in love.
Probably, my least favorite thing to do is enter time. Unfortunately, this is one of the most important things I do because, if I don't, no money for riquitito. One of the reasons I hate it (aside from the simple fact that it consumes time I could otherwise spend pursuing my dork interests) is that it involves the repetitive typing of boring shit like, "Receipt and review of correspondence from so-and-so."
Enter Texter, which is a little piece of software designed by somebody from lifehacker.com. It sits unobtrusively in your system tray and acts as a text replacement tool in any application in which you can enter text. This would include your browser, Microsoft Word, or any other desktop or web app that allows you to type stuff in.
My shitty time entry software doesn't give me the option to use "hotstrings," so this is perfect for me. You could also use it to auto-correct chronic misspellings of the same word (e.g., "teh"). If I didn't have so much fucking time to enter, I could spend hours brainstorming the other possibilities.
(bigger)
Word.
