I always knew google wasn’t entirely honest about the translation they provide. Prime example of it is google translate. There is a number of things it mistranslates, i’ve came across a few, but this one cracked me up:
http://translate.google.com/translate_t?prev=hp&hl=en&js=y&text=stupid+french&file=&sl=en&tl=fr&history_state0=#
It always starts the same way. It’s a beautiful day - sunny, with a touch of wind that caresses your cheeks. You get in the office, poor yourself a cup of coffee and dial in a conference to get a status update from your team. Nothing out of the ordinary business as usual. One day it strikes. It crawls up on you silently from behind. It strikes with devastating precision attacking your time lines and project cost. It destroys all the days of tough labor, carefully crafted plans.
You start trying to mitigate the issues.. Phone rings in various parts of the world. Urgent meetings are scheduled. Directors are involved. It soaks up your energy better then any hygienic products advertised absorbing hundreds and hundreds minutes of your time. Minutes turn into days. New plan is put in place. everything is back to normal mode. You can relax a little, divert your attention to other things. The days are beautiful again and sunny. Nothing out of the ordinary business as usual…
This is a peace i came by that i found quite interesting.
I’ve read it a little while ago, but now under circumstancs i’ve came by it again. And it’s quite interesting. So i thought i’d share this with you.
Father Forgets
by W. Livingston Larned
Listen, son; I am saying this as you lie asleep, one little paw crumpled under your cheek and the blond curls stickily wet on your damp forehead. I have stolen into your room alone. Just a few minutes ago, as I sat reading my paper in the library, a stifling wave of remorse swept over me. Guiltily I came to your bedside.
There are things I was thinking, son: I had been cross to you. I scolded you as you were dressing for school because you gave your face merely a dab with a twoel. I took you to task for not cleaning your shoes. I called out angrily when you threw some of your things on the floor.
At breakfast I found fault, too. You spilled things. You gulped down your food. You put your elbows on the table. You spread butter too thick on your bread. And as you started off to play and I made for my train, you turned and waved a hand and called, “Goodbye, Daddy!” and I frowned, and said in reply, “Hold your shoulders back!”
Then it began all over again in the late afternoon. As I came Up the road, I spied you, down on your knees, playing marbles. There were holes in your stockings. I humiliated you before you boyfriends by marching you ahead of me to the house. Stockings were expensive – and if you had to buy them you would be more careful! Imagine that, son, form a father!
Do you remember, later, when I was reading in the library, how you came in timidly, with a sort of hurt look in your eyes? When I glanced up over my paper, impatient at the interruption, you hesitated at the door. “What is it you want?” I snapped.
You said nothing, but ran across in one tempestuous plunge, and threw your arms around my neck and kissed me, and your small arms tightened with an affection that God had set blooming in your heart and which even neglect could not wither. And then you were gone, pattering up the stairs.
Well, son, it was shortly afterwards that my paper slipped from my hands and a terrible sickening fear came over me. What has habit been doing to me? The habit of finding fault, of reprimanding – this was my reward to your for being a boy. It was not that I did not love you; it was that I expected too muchof youth. I was measuring you by the yardstick of my own years.
And there was so much that was good and fine and true in your character. The little heart of you was as big as the dawn itself overthe wide hills. This was shown by your spontaneous impulse to rush in and kiss me good night. Nothing else matters tonight, son. I have come to your bedside in the darkness, and I have knelt there, ashamed!
It is a feeble atonement; I know you would not understand these things if I told them to you during your waking hours. But tomorrow I will be a real daddy! I will chum with you, and suffer when you suffer, and laugh when you alugh. I will bite my tongue when impatient words come. I will keep saying as if it were a ritual: “He is nothing buy a boy – a little boy!”
I am afraid I have visualized you as a man. Yet as I see you now, son, crumpled and weary in your cot, I see that you are still a baby. Yesterday you were in your mother’s arms, your head on her shoulder. I have asked too much, too much.
What do you think about this? What’s your critique and opinion?
I’m sure some of you might know overture William Tell (Wilhelm Tell, Guillaume Tell, Guglielmo Tell) and even if you don’t know, i still recommend watching this video [facebook readers please follow the link to the post http://blog.yourfault.org/2008/10/10/the-mom-song ]
Anite Renfroe managed to fit into 2 minutes and 55 seconds all the things that mom says to her kid. Wonderful, funny and cheesy.
“The Mom Song”
Get up now
Get up now
Get up out of bed
Wash your face
Brush your teeth
Comb your sleepyhead
Here’s your clothes and your shoes
Hear the words I said
Get up now! Get up and make your bed
Are you hot? Are you cold?
Are you wearing that?
Where’s your books and your lunch and your homework at?
Grab your coat and gloves and your scarf and hat
Don’t forget! You gotta feed the cat
Eat your breakfast, the experts tell us it’s the most important meal of all
Take your vitamins so you will grow up one day to be big and tall
Please remember the orthodontist will be seeing you at 3 today
Don’t forget your piano lesson is this afternoon so you must play
Don’t shovel
Chew slowly
But hurry
The bus is here
Be careful
Come back here
Did you wash behind your ears?
Play outside, don’t play rough, will you just play fair?
Be polite, make a friend, don’t forget to share
Work it out, wait your turn, never take a dare
Get along! Don’t make me come down there
Clean your room, fold your clothes, put your stuff away
Make your bed, do it now, do we have all day?
Were you born in a barn? Would you like some hay?
Can you even hear a word I say?
Answer the phone! Get off the phone!
Don’t sit so close, turn it down, no texting at the table
No more computer time tonight!
Your iPod’s my iPod if you don’t listen up
Where are you going and with whom and what time do you think you’re coming home?
Saying thank you, please, excuse me makes you welcome everywhere you roam
You’ll appreciate my wisdom someday when you’re older and you’re grown
Can’t wait till you have a couple little children of your own
You’ll thank me for the counsel I gave you so willingly
But right now I thank you not to roll your eyes at me
Close your mouth when you chew, would appreciate
Take a bite maybe two of the stuff you hate
Use your fork, do not burp or I’ll set you straight
Eat the food I put upon your plate
Get an A, get the door, don’t get smart with me
Get a grip, get in here, I’ll count to three
Get a job, get a life, get a PHD
Get a dose of,
“I don’t care who started it!
You’re grounded until you’re 36″
Get your story straight and tell the truth for once, for heaven’s sake
And if all your friends jumped off a cliff would you jump, too?
If I’ve said it once, I’ve said at least a thousand times before
That you’re too old to act this way
It must be your father’s DNA
Look at me when I am talking
Stand up straighter when you walk
A place for everything and everything must be in place
Stop crying or I’ll give you something real to cry about
Oh!
Brush your teeth, wash your face, put your PJs on
Get in bed, get a hug, say a prayer with mom
Don’t forget, I love you
And tomorrow we will do this all again because a mom’s work never ends
You don’t need the reason why
Because, because, because, because
I said so, I said so, I said so, I said so
I’m the mom, the mom, the mom, the mom, the mom!!
Ta da!!!
On Friday, September 26th, the Quebec Minister of Education announced that she would be deregulating international tuition in the fields of Business, Computer Science, Engineering, Pure Science, Mathmatics, Law and Medicine.
Deregulation means that universities are allowed to charge international students as much as they want. Furthermore, the government has warned that this policy will be used to evaluate the possibility of deregulating tuition for all students, including Quebec residents.
This is really bad news for a lot of people. I’ve been telling my friends that if they don’t come out to protest international fees – they are next. Now let’s just wait and see.
Facebook readers will have to go to the post itself http://blog.yourfault.org/2008/08/30/ladies-you-will-love-these-two-men/
I’ve read about random SEO tips and now I’m trying few new techniques to get myself indexed real quick, in particular this article about “do ants scratch theirs ass”. I’m going to employ a few random techniques i picked up. Particularly the content does even have to talk whether do ants scratch their ass or not. As matter of fact it does matter.
Apparently google is using Latent Semantic Analysis. In other words it really doesn’t matter what the content is about. So i’ll give it a shot, and try to get this post indexed in a short time. This blog isn’t setup for proper SEO. It’s just a little experiment to get me indexed with search of do ants scratch their ass. I know it’s a stupid post. So please disregard it. Thank you.
Ok. So now that no one is continuing to read it, it’s time to publish do ants scratch their ass. If anyone is interested i’ll let you know. The reason i need SEO for do ants scratch their ass is to validate a tricked pointed out by some SEO gurus. I’m looking to start business online and i need everything possible in my arsenal to boost revenue. So here we go with an article about ants scratch their ass.
Now i’m going to continue with this post and publish my results. I’ve waited about 3 minutes.. My choice of the heading and wording is wrong, in order to rank high i have to outnumber the other guys who used the same phrase to get listed as an experiment.
Let’s wait and see.
Update2: Do ants scratch their asses or do ants scratch their ass? Answer they do scratch their ass. OK, on more serious note: here are two screenshots to think about.
Please not it only took 6 minutes if not less to index by “do ants scratch theirs ass” as a first place and “do ants scratch their ass” as a third search result. Pretty impressive for 10 minutes of work? I think so.
Some might say i’m a corporate sell out, it’s not true. But here is an interesting list of books that might change your outlook on life.
So this is my list of productive reading for next half year. Obviously non of that is really for leisure, although, it more about personal growth and improvement. Who knows maybe i’ll make my own startup ;)
I see this question posted with some regularity in the personals section, so I thought I’d take a minute to explain things to the ladies out there that haven’t figured it out.
What happened to all the nice guys?
The answer is simple: you did.
See, if you think back, really hard, you might vaguely remember a Platonic guy pal who always seemed to want to spend time with you. He’d tag along with you when you went shopping, stop by your place for a movie when you were lonely but didn’t feel like going out, or even sit there and hold you while you sobbed and told him about how horribly the (other) guy that you were fucking treated you.
At the time, you probably joked with your girlfriends about how he was a little puppy dog, always following you around, trying to do things to get you to pay attention to him. They probably teased you because they thought he had a crush on you. Given that his behavior was, admittedly, a little pathetic, you vehemently denied having any romantic feelings for him, and buttressed your position by claiming that you were “just friends.” Besides, he totally wasn’t your type. I mean, he was a little too short, or too bald, or too fat, or too poor, or didn’t know how to dress himself, or basically be or do any of the things that your tall, good-looking, fit, rich, stylish boyfriend at the time pulled off with such ease.
Eventually, your Platonic buddy drifted away, as your relationship with the boyfriend got more serious and spending time with this other guy was, admittedly, a little weird, if you werent dating him. More time passed, and the boyfriend eventually cheated on you, or became boring, or you realized that the things that attracted you to him weren’t the kinds of things that make for a good, long-term relationship. So, now, you’re single again, and after having tried the bar scene for several months having only encountered players and douche bags, you wonder, “What happened to all the nice guys?”
Well, once again, you did.
You ignored the nice guy. You used him for emotional intimacy without reciprocating, in kind, with physical intimacy. You laughed at his consideration and resented his devotion. You valued the aloof boyfriend more than the attentive “just-a-” friend. Eventually, he took the hint and moved on with his life. He probably came to realize, one day, that women aren’t really attracted to guys who hold doors open; or make dinners just because; or buy you a Christmas gift that you mentioned, in passing, that you really wanted five months ago; or listen when you’re upset; or hold you when you cry. He came to realize that, if he wanted a woman like you, he’d have to act more like the boyfriend that you had. He probably cleaned up his look, started making some money, and generally acted like more of an asshole than he ever wanted to be.
Fact is, now, he’s probably getting laid, and in a way, your ultimate rejection of him is to thank for that. And I’m sorry that it took the complete absence of “nice guys” in your life for you to realize that you missed them and wanted them. Most women will only have a handful of nice guys stumble into their lives, if that.
So, if you’re looking for a nice guy, here’s what you do:
1.) Build a time machine.
2.) Go back a few years and pull your head out of your ass.
3.) Take a look at what’s right in front of you and grab ahold of it.
I suppose the other possibility is that you STILL don’t really want a nice guy, but you feel the social pressure to at least appear to have matured beyond your infantile taste in men. In which case, you might be in luck, because the nice guy you claim to want has, in reality, shed his nice guy mantle and is out there looking to unleash his cynicism and resentment onto someone just like you.
If you were five years younger.
So, please: either stop misrepresenting what you want, or own up to the fact that you’ve fucked yourself over. You’re getting older, after all. It’s time to excise the bullshit and deal with reality. You didn’t want a nice guy then, and he certainly doesn’t fucking want you, now.
Sincerely,
A Recovering Nice Guy
