Just over a dozen years ago I was hungover coding the first version of Insult. It was a Sunday in April.. I had great night the night before. See, it was my freshman year in college and I was doing new things and seeing new things (live, not online). Sure, there were some assholes at this party the night before, and of course the Overtly-Sexual-Fat-Chick flashing her boobs. Some folks were playing the How-Drunk-Can-You-Get game while others were trying to hook up. Most seemed to just be trying to figure out how to define Fun.

Fast forward a bit, and I think life became a mix of Doing-What-You-Got-To-Do, Doing-What-You-Like, and Figuring-Out-What-Else-To-Like. See, you redefine the meaning of Fun throughout life.

Returning back to present day, the situation for me is the same on a high level but my definition of Fun has changed and what I like is different.. that’s part of getting old.

The fucking douche-bags still exist. They’re not wearing their backwards hats anymore, now they’re in Ed Hardy and probably Penazzle their junk. It tends to be a new wave of douche though. The douche of 10 years ago has evolved into Generic-Guy and while he continues to be a douche has lost his luster.. Generic-Guy doesn’t Penazzle.

Now, there is another type that is pissing me off. We all know this guy because he is now Never-Going-To-Grow-Up.. he may never have been Cool-Guy, but wants to be now. He gets older, while the girls stay the same age. Despite the fact that it became a bit weird when he was 25 and hanging out with high school girls, he won’t let go. Another variant of this guy is just hanging out with 21-year-olds. Sure, he’s old but he knows he can hang. He can still hold a keg stand, in fact he is so experienced at it he can really show these youngsters how its done. He can compete in the How-Drunk-Can-You-Get game and flirt with the Overtly-Sexual-Fat-Chick. He doesn’t need to figure out how to define Fun anymore, but he doesn’t really add spice to the party. He won’t fuck shit up anymore, his joints hurt and needs to be functional tomorrow so he can file for his unemployment and wander around town all day.

Fuck you.

[insert pointless blurb about not ranting in a while]

[insert lie about posting more often in the future]

Years ago I had been working on a new Insult code base that fixed some of my pet peeves about the system. When one of the servers died I lost the will to move forward. Of course, giving up leaves a void and even with Calliander’s fine improvements my pet peeves still remain and my interest is still not there.

My desire to have that void refilled is getting slowly stronger, though probably not strong enough for me to do a fucking thing about it.

Writing a base system for what these days gets termed as a social network (like it or not) is more than just thankless. Every change made to the system may improve the experience for 98% of people but that 2% that hates the change are majority of people that discuss the change. I respect that and accept that. So I do nothing.

In the decade since the site was built, I’ve learned a lot about the world and the internet. Too much really. Understanding the true cost of building a system out is not a realization I wish on anyone.

But at least this site is about friends… the core value is nothing more than building a realm for friends to vent and bitch.

And so now I get to that wonderful point of a post where I no longer have any idea what my original point was. Shame on you if you are still reading.

With the arrival of the Magnificent Obese Aardvark expected in 2010, it has come time to deploy an update to the Insult.org server.

Please mark your calendar for October 16-18, 2009. The internet will be down during that time for all broadband folks. If you have dialup (2400bps or faster) you may apply for special exemption for the Saturday (17th of October) only. 3G or Edge users may slice 2.5mm of foreskin and feed it to Caniprokis by Tuesday, September 15th 2009 to receive a free t-shirt and internet pass for any Starbucks in New Jersey.

Special note – Foreskin that is cooked (fried, baked, grilled, etc) must be sealed in an approved container. When possible, avoid any glucose additives. Do not feed the Caniprokis by hand. Use only your penis or the penis owned and operated by another person.

I haven’t written in a while.. basically forgot all about insult. My life is busy. My life is good. My life sucks.

I wake up every day at around 5:55am. My fucking alarm is set for 0620h or 0755h depending on what’s going on. But my god damn body will not let me sleep past 0555h undisturbed.

I try to fall back asleep, I should try just getting up at that hour and go for a jog… but no, I lay in bed until 20 minutes before my train departs, take a military shower and get dressed. I catch the 0646h or the 0724h train. It takes under a minute to get to the station. Still not fully awake, I stand at the platform waiting for the never-on-time train. The train is pretty full when I board, so I have to sit in the retarded third chair with a low back… when we get to New Haven most of the shitheads get off the train, so I get myself a window seat.

Sometimes I’m on the laptop, but lately I’ve been listening to tunes on my iPod (or now, iPhone) to Stamford. A lot of fuckers get on the train in Bridgeport, sometimes they smell bad. It sucks when it rains.

The arrival in Stamford is always a clusterfuck. Half the passengers are rushing to get to shuttle buses and they’re all pretty rude New York types. I am going the opposite direction to them, so it’s fighting through the mob to get to the empty street to the office.

Work is fine.. stressful deadlines, lots of meetings, annoying recruiters calling all day trying to recommend morons for the openings on my team.. I leave at 1750h (5:50pm if you’re lazy) for the 1801h train. The station is pretty packed with folks going home, and half the time I don’t get a seat until Bridgeport (the first stop on the express). So I stand near the doorway with the rest of the folks who don’t want to sit between two fucks on the hot train. Most of the people reek of beer and booze. After so many months, I still can’t get over how fucking drunk people can be so early.

But it’s starting to make sense. I should be going to bed at 2100h or so to be up so early. I am not ready to call my life quits and go to bed so soon after arriving home, which is around 1920h. By then I’m starving, not surprising considering the unsatisfying lunch I get each day at 1300h.

Exhausted, I rarely feel like making myself food. So I go out. On a good night I get to spend time with the girlfriend. Other nights I become a step closer to being one of the alcoholics on the evening train.

So, as Caniprokis pointed out last night, I’ve got it good… but I’m fucking stressed out all the time, I can’t figure out how to unwind. I’ve had a headache for over a week now. I feel better bitching about it here… school was like this, which is why I fucking created this site in the first place 9 years ago.

I don’t have any outlets to vent. I’m angry. So I hope I keep ranting, I feel better venting the above already… it’s all stupid shit, and you probably don’t give a fuck, but it’ll probably keep me from kicking the dog tonight.

I keep getting really weird messages on one of my voicemails. It’s not a number that is listed anywhere, but it is toll free so it’s quite annoying because they fill up the maximum message time each call which costs me money.

This one I got recently:

I didn’t really listen to the whole thing, it’s very monotonous and political. Er, something ain’t right when I try to play it through this media player though, so if the flash thingie doesn’t work, try clicking here to play

Well, a cold fucking weekend in Connecticut sure picks up my spirits. I left California less than three months ago, and haven’t been here even two and a half months yet. I shouldn’t blame this prudish state.

Last night was actually sort of fun. I got some much needed energy from some family friends at dinner, and went out with Stone to New Haven and met up with a few pockets of people. The Playwright in New Haven was sort of an eye opener. I hadn’t been there on a Saturday before, typically because I’m against paying a cover to go to a bar/club. But you get a lot for only $5. We got in quite late, and everyone was a lot more spirited than I, but it was still worth going in to see that there are still girls out showing off the goods. I don’t know how they do it… going around in thirty degree weather with no jackets… but I’m glad they do.

Anyway, I had something else to write about when I started this and I forgot what… bleh.

I am the starter and finisher in many cases… or at least used to be when I was doing more business with random individuals. It makes things especially interesting when someone will try to escalate an issue up without realising that they’ve been talking to me the whole time. I’ve had a number of people tell me things like “Wow, you’re a much better rep than the last guy I dealt with. He was a total loser, you should try to get him fired”.

I’d rather not have any customers to bother me, but since they’re the ones with the money I have to put up with them. It’s fun trying to find that line of what’s just enough to give them to keep them happy.

Here’s a situation that customer service has got to love: