Oh. My. God.

I received this from Damien_, scanned from Têtu (the French gay magazine), issue 22 of March 98, and I promptly publish it here so he can’t blackmail me. (What? Oh, no, no censorship here, it’s just like it was printed, there was a big ink smudge on my face, funny thing, I know, but it was a century ago, and you have to realize that 4-color printing was still in its infancy.)

I don’t understand: I have no memory of that. I checked the cover on the magazine’s website, and it doesn’t ring a bell at all; neither does the article. And yet I have a feeling of déjà-vu. Just a feeling, not a memory. But they were writing about me, they were showing my face (with a crappy haircut and a crappy compositing) in Têtu seven years ago? How could I ever forget that?!

P.S. Oh, as I read the scan again, I realize that I definitely mustn’t have seen it before. “Kangaroo, the name of one of Internet’s first workgroups.” I’d remember a misunderstanding like this.

I vaguely remember answering by mail the questions that gave birth to this article. If Opera’s search really worked, I’d certainly have managed to find back who wrote it — I only remember I knew him.

Pâte à gâteaux “Moelleux nature” Herta et Dragibus. Un échec. Il faudrait essayer avec une pâte moins liquide, pour que les Dragibus ne se retrouvent pas au fond — ou laisser tomber l’idée. Je pensais qu’ils fondraient.

Il me reste une pâte brisée à utiliser d’ici quelques jours : des suggestions ? (Ne me demandez pas pourquoi j’avais acheté un stock de pâte brisée alors que je n’aime pas tellement les tartes, je ne sais pas.)

When a website demands a valid e-mail address, I always give one of my Hotmail addresses. They’re naturally full of spam already, and I have no other use for them anyway.

Today, for the first time ever, I just thought of forwarding a password confirmation message to my regular address, instead of letting Hotmail erase it like the others next time my account is emptied after a month of inactivity.

Turns out I have flashes of intelligence at seven in the morning.

54 minutes, the exact length of the Amélie soundtrack networked by iTunes, that’s what it took me to type in my TV watching schedule for the week. That’s not good.

Especially when the Apple software, the design wonder, begin to irritate me. iCal in the first place: not only inconvenient at all to enter appointments after midnight, but also seriously lacking common sense when it comes to typing dates and times (when all it would take is adding a “duration” box in the properties sheet), which is all the most unnerving as its Mozilla clone emulates those flaws. But also Safari, which forces me, every time I click a link, to click inside the page again so that Page Up and Page Down will be operational.

Details, I know, but the devil is in the details. Especially if they want my two thousand euros (when I get them). I’m having trouble looking forward to such an expensive purchase when I realize some aspects will bug me every day and forever. Sure, my Windows PC is much much worse, but it cost me next to nothing!

P.S. Oh, right, I knew there was another peeve I wanted to write about, but couldn’t remember what: the lack of hierarchy in keyboard shortcuts. In Windows, menus and buttons are accessed with Alt, application-defined shortcuts with Ctrl, and system shortcuts with Win. In OS X, everything is behind the same Cmd key. I can’t get used to hide / quit being on the same level as cut / paste.

Il semblerait que le serveur SMTP du super provider de la connexion ADSL de mes parents soit en difficulté. Alors, faites signe si vous n’avez pas reçu de mail de moi depuis un ou deux jours… enfin, juste… j’me comprends… non, en fait, si vous n’avez pas reçu de moi, c’est sûrement que vous n’en avez pas à recevoir, vu que je n’écris ni réponds à personne, mais c’est qu’on ne sait jamais, j’ai envoyé trois mails depuis dimanche, alors si jamais vous étiez l’un des trois destinataires et que vous n’avez rien reçu… ben… c’est bête, hein ?

(Et, comme en plus Opera s’entête à mettre les messages envoyés dans le dossier Spam, bien que je lui aie demandé d’exclure tout message contenant mon adresse e-mail dans n’importe quel en-tête, si un mail s’est perdu je n’en ai probablement pas de copie.)

Canalsatellite "Avantage Liberté" : “Pour passer à une formule d'abonnement comprenant plus de chaînes et/ou ajouter une ou plusieurs options, il vous suffit de cliquer ici.
Pour passer à une formule d'abonnement comprenant moins de chaînes et/ou supprimer une ou plusieurs options, il vous suffit de le notifier par courrier postal à Canalsatellite.”
C'est tellement élégant.

“Smile, take a deep breath, it all starts going by really quickly after 28.”

I had forgotten how cool it was to be a webstar: even Zach Braff writes personal messages to me on his blog.

Nothing like a Nutella topping to rescue a failed experiment of a birthday cake.

My mother just told me she had resold the Amélie DVD because it was really too lame.

Dammit, Opera’s days are counted now. Not only is its anti-spam filter too dumb to ignore outgoing messages, but even adding a “And where From header does not contain garoo” rule doesn’t change anything, and I’m still finding sent mail in my Spam folder.

It’s too bad, as I really liked their original inbox system, that can’t be found anywhere else (closest approximation is Gmail’s interface, but it’s not really the same, and anyway I’m not trusting any foreign server farm with my personal mail.)

Oh, and there’s also its inability to correctly wrap lines when you answer a message. (Which didn’t bother me until lately, because it must have been a while since I last answered an email longer than two lines.) Yeah, I guess it’s definitely bye bye Opera now. Damn.