Erroll The Computer Bug.

I've got my own little computer bug. How nice. He's called Erroll and he's an earwig. He's inside my keyboard.

I can see him because the keyboard is mostly clear plastic.

I've tried to shake him out, but he won't go. He's just cruising round the letters going, "Oooohhh, so theeese is D" in a little earwiggy exploratory voice.

I feel really worried about typing on him.

Do you think he wants to become a pet?

The curse of metaphysical spots, the problems with believing in them and how to get rid of them 'belief stylie'.

It occurs to me that I know a fairly large amount of people who for one reason or another spend a lot of their time hissing 'Out, out damn spot.'

A lot of their time.

It appears to be a vital component of their lives.

They hiss at their hands, at their computers, at their diaries, at their phones. Or even their own heads.

And it has come to my attention that possibly the best way to 'Out, out damn spot,' is not to constantly hiss 'Out, out damn spot' in an obviously failing mantra, during an obviously flawed ritual, but possibly to completely forget that there was a spot to out in the godamn, fucking first place.

I mean, if the spot is completely forgot, then the spot is nothing, right? It's only the attention of the 'Out damn spotter's' that keeps the spot being tangible. Isn't it?

Isn't it true that things only exist if they are believed in? If they are seen and acknowledged?

So if we all forgot there ever was a spot, then surely there would be no spot at all. Any more.

There would be no spot.

Would there not?

On un-PC thoughts, the limited strength of women and why some roles are truly the domain of the male.

Why do the men who fix the wheels on cars tighten the bolts so tightly? And why do the men who design car parts make spare wheels so heavy?

I'm really starting to feel like it's a big conspiracy to make the female tyre-changing populace feel useless.

I mean I know how to change a tyre. I know where the jack goes and I know to loosen the bolts before I jack the car up because otherwise the wheel just spins and you can't undo them. I know where all the components needed for changing a tyre live in my car, and I know the correct application for each (odd looking) tool. I can, in theory, do it.

What foxes me is a/lifting the spare tyre from the wheel well in my boot and b/loosening the bolts on the flat tyre in the first instance.

Not being able to do these things makes me feel affronted. I feel feak and weeble and what's worse is that it makes me feel the following: that because I have breasts what I really should be doing is flagging down a hunky man to help me, whilst I simper pathetically over his shoulder being impressed with his strength. And his oily hands.

But you want to know the really annoying thing? The really annoying thing is this: Why, WHY when I know how to do this job and I can do it perfectly well given the right amount of time, thankyouverymuch, why is it that as I try to heave the fucking spare tyre out of the wheel well and it defeats me, why is it that what goes through my head is not inspirational thoughts encouraging myself to do the job successfully, oh no.

What goes through my head is the immediate knowledge that a man could do it very easily, followed by the desire to have said man on hand in order to assist me, followed by the horrible frustration of knowing a/that there isn't one available and even more upsettingly, b/that what I actually truly wish for is one to do it for me in the first place thereby relieving me of the problem entirely.

You see, when I saw I had a flat tyre I wanted to cry because I knew, KNEW it would be a hassle to change it. And it was.

It's all very well being a modern, independent, free-thinking woman, one that thinks 'I can do anything!' But sometimes I really feel like that's just not true. In the time it took me to change one tyre I could have cooked 'the man that could have changed it for me' breakfast, lunch and tea. AND done the washing up. And put the washing on. And probably even started the ironing.

***

What? WHAT?!

I know that's not terribly PC, but I could have!

And the worst thing is, I don't know whether to feel good or bad about that. Does that mean I am really forward thinking and can assign the correct tasks to the best people for them, or am I just a useless female who is better at keeping house than manual labour?

And if the latter is true, is that so bad?

I really want to know.

Is that honestly so bad?

I Have won an X-Box. Apparently. "THIS IS NOT SPAM."

But is it spam? Have I won an X-Box? You tell me...Only do it QUICKLY. I only have 72 hours to 'comply.'

Here is what I got in the mail:

***

Greetings,

Your email address was entered into our Microsoft X-Box promotional competition
by either yourself or a friend, or perhaps a family member, at http://www.gift-winner.com

This is a prize draw, you have actually won a brand new Microsoft X-Box Gaming Console!

Your package also includes these top 5 games:
- Halo: Combat Evolved
- Grand Theft Auto Double Pack
- NBA Street Vol. 2
- Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time
- Tom Clancy's Splinter Cell Pandora Tomorrow

You are now invited to login to our website and claim your prize that you have won.
There are only 5 winners in total this month, out of thousands of emails, so do count yourself lucky!

We have provided the following web link for you, it is temporary and expires in 72 hours.
If you do not login within this time, your X-Box shall unfortunately be returned to the prize pool.

Here is your link!
*** Dodgy link - these are my words not theirs for you to click on. ***

On this page you will need to enter this pass code number to proceed:

29071

***

(N.B: I post this passcode here so that you can clearly see the whole deal. f you enter this passcode it's you and not me that is falling for the scam and I wish to make sure that EVERYBODY KNOWS THAT!)

***

This is very important. Do not lose that number!

Put in your address, and we will send your X-Box to you.

We hope that you will enjoy your new X-Box gaming console.

Best Regards,

From Microsoft and the Gift-Winner.com team!

***

So have I? I think not, since I have to pay the shipping costs.

But have I?

Answers on a postcard please...

Do All The Things You Have Been Dreaming Of.

Get a life, get a reason for being, get a place to be it and a way to do it. Get a way to be it and a place to do it. Get a sensible attitude and a reasoned way of living, get a reasonable attitude and a sensible way of living.

Get the point.

Get something. Anything.

Take your finger out of your belly button and stop waiting for life to come to you. It will not happen without you, you are it, this is it. Did you know that some people subscribe to the view that this life is the actual Heaven that people are eternally searching for?

Stop wanting to be wanted and start wanting. Stop needing to be needed and start needing. Stop caring about what others think and instead think of the others that care about you.

Stop reading about other people. Stop reading about them and if you can't do anything else, for fucks sake, write your own fucking story instead.

Get off your arse and back in the fast line, get fast, and out of the slow lane. Get into the story and stop observing, or observe and write the story yourself.

Get the point, get the goddamn, fucking point.

Stop the indecision and make a decision.

Gather the happiness in armfuls, like harvested corn and then throw it up in the air and watch it, feel it as it showers down all around you, covers you with the dust of grain and kernels. Note the beginning of everything.

Stop deliberately making the happiness into badness, sadness.

Stop going to to bed. Stop going to bed and dreaming of the things you should be doing. Stop living life virtually and instead, instead, actually go and actually do all of the things you have been dreaming of.

Or even go to bed and be awake and alive and inspired and challenged and live. Because at least that would be something.

Find your master skill. Skillfully master something.

Stop closing your eyes.

The colour red may not be red. Have you thought about that?

Open your eyes, pick yourself up, dust down your skirts, pull out your secret weapon, call upon your master skill, rely on no-one, look inward, gaze outward, take in the scenery, observe the landscape, compose yourself, take a deep, deep breath and then...

GET. ON. WITH. IT.

Stop reading, stop writing and stop thinking about it. Really stop.

***

Now start doing.

On your marks....
Get set...
GO.