Gaydar (online gay social network) never did it for me.
When I was single, I used to have a shy look around it and browse profiles for a bit, only to get bored rather quickly and disconnect. I never even thought of getting in touch with anyone I saw on it, for an irrational fear of undesirable people showing up at my front door for sex, and how could I turn them down after they'd trekked all the way from Twickenham? I found it easier to make friends when I went out in bars and clubs instead.
Then, after I started going out with Dr B., I could not see the point of looking around at all. I still enjoyed being a big flirt every now and then, but I could at least blame it on the alcohol.
So when the other day I could not match a face with a name, and a friend directed me to a mutual acquaintance's Gaydar profile to show me who he was talking about, I took the opportunity and logged on again after Dr B. went to bed.
And there, staring at me among the half a dozen profiles I had bookmarked at the time, was the photo of a friend, who I had not met yet back then, and who I probably thought was hot. Well he was, but now that I know him the magic is forever broken.
Which is probably the very reason why I never wanted to meet anyone via Gaydar in the first place.
I finally found some time to give Netvibes a try last week, and in no time I was sold it. Well, sort of, because it's free.
Netvibes lets you start putting together straight away your own personal collection of RSS feeds, sticky
notes, photos from your Flickr
contacts, and your email headlines.
If you decide you want to access it from any computer, you can register and then log on from anywhere.
I had shortly tried MyYahoo!'s very similar
offer a while back, only to give up because:
which is a shame really, because on the whole I am kind of partial to the Yahoo! experience and I'd like to see them do well among the Googles and Microsofts on the market.
After having used Netvibes for less than a week now, I look back with disbelief at a time not so far back when I had to log on to several online services to keep a lid on things.
So NewsGator is collecting digital dust now. As is our washing-up bowl since a dishwasher entered our lives when we moved two months ago. I now cannot imagine why anyone would voluntarily want to do the washing up, after having experienced the gentle hum that tells you that little pixies are scrubbing away your tea stains while you relax and get on with your life.
I did not watch the World Cup final last night.
I had planned to, but I got distracted by an almost unrecognisable mix of 'Je T'adore' at the Royal Vauxhall Tavern.
I decided instead to rely on all the kind souls who kept me up to date with their informative text messages and calls:
Allez les bleus! That means the blues in white, not the blues in blue! Hope it's a good game with a deserving winner. xx
france 1-0 italy already!
1 all. End of firat half
1 all at full time. Into extra time.
Red card for Zidane
Penelties
Frqnce missed
Italy……..have won!!!
Italy win on penalties!
We are the champions! Bellissimo!
As news of the Italian victory started to spread in the pub, people started coming up to me on the dancefloor to congratulate me, as if I single-handedly led Italy to victory on the sole grounds of holding an Italian passport.
Mind you, it did feel good. I wonder if there is an open-top double-decker bus I could ride home from work tonight?
The past three days I have popped into H&M in Oxford Circus on the way home from work to exchange a ridiculously tight t-shirt I had bought last week (lesson to be learnt: never shop for clothes after a strenuous workout at the gym; endorphins make you imagine your body is better than it actually is), only to shudder at the mess inside the shop and go home empty-handed.
On Tuesday I struggled to find something I liked, picked up a couple of items, headed for the changing rooms (one of which was closed), saw the queue and left.
On Wednesday I just picked up the same t-shirt one size up, but the second changing room still closed, so I headed for the tills, saw the queues and left.
Then today I played the safe card, planned what I was going to get in advance (my fifth pastel-coloured H&M polo shirt for work, I know that the size and the fit suit me), rushed to the fast-getting-crowded tills and I was out in no time.
And this is just a summer sale. I cannot imagine what it will be like when the tracksuit from Madonna's H&M campaign goes on sale.
And Italy scores again! Magnificent. And so very typical Italian, with that particular ability to pull out all the stops at the very last minute.
And so to bed.
Ouch. I clapped too hard and shouted 'Yes!' – Brilliant goal. Please please nice German boys do not equalise in the next ninety seconds…
Stil 0:0. I can't take the tension. So I've started looking up the German players.
So far (based solely on the FIFA World Cup 2006 official website):
Let's go through the rest of the team…
And that'll be it then.
Gianluca Zambrotta almost scored (I'm sure there is a slightly more technical term for 'the ball hit the top bar of the goalpost'). The camera cut to the Italian coach Marcello Lippi, who mouthed a very clear (if you speak Italian) 'Vaffanculo!' – with added hands gesture.
My sentiments exactly
Oops. Apparently, there's also extra time, after the injury time, and before shootouts (if needed).
Does anyone know whether Italy has a good record of winning at penalty shootouts? Just a handful of minutes to go…
I am surprised I am enjoying this match. Nothing extraordinary happened, and yet the tension is palpable. I also think that both teams, as well as the referee, have behaved very correctly and with a lot of fair play.
Mind you, we have almost finished a bottle of wine. They might be kicking each other in the face and I'd think they are being friendly and promote international understanding.
The Germans almost scored. Twice. And I found myself screaming 'No!'
I want Italy to win. They have better hair.
And we have a preference: Dr B. likes 'number 5' (internationally better known as Italian defender Fabio Cannavaro from Juventus).
From the very first of about 38,700 near-identical results for a Google search for 'the offside rule explained for women'. I was originally sent it via email as 'the offside rule explained for gay men', which works just as well.
You're in a shoe shop, second in the queue for the till. Behind the shop assistant on the till is a pair of shoes which you have seen and which you must have.
The female shopper in front of you has seen them also and is eyeing them with desire. Both of you have forgotten your purses.
It would be rude to push in front of the first woman if you had no money to pay for the shoes.
The shop assistant remains at the till waiting.
Your friend is trying on another pair of shoes at the back of the shop and sees your dilemma.
She prepares to throw her purse to you.
If she does so, you can catch the purse, then walk round the other shopper and buy the shoes!
At a pinch she could throw the purse ahead of the other shopper and "whilst it is in flight" you could nip around the other shopper, catch the purse and buy the shoes!
BUT, you must always remember that until the purse has "actually been thrown", it would be plain wrong for you to be in front of the other shopper and you would be OFFSIDE!