The Morse code was one of my favourite forms of communication after I had read about its origins when I was a kid and I’ve loved using it occasionally to express how I feel. Recently, I’ve started using Morse code again to transmit my painful heartbreak and the last time I used the Morse code conversion site was on 3 Jan 09. I had written “.. …. .- … .- … .- -.. – — — .-.-.-”
So of course, Google’s logo today is aces.
Look at me, I mean something
According to this Telegraph UK article,
“The witty doodle is intended to honour Samuel Finley Breese Morse, the inventor of the single wire telegraph, who was born on April 27, 1791.”
Happy birthday, Sam!
I have never heard of the guy until today, which is a pleasant surprise. According to my mate, Yimura’s music can bring her somewhere. I have no idea where, but I would assume it’s somewhere magical, given her wistful fonts on the chat screen.
Q says: It’s so emotional. Just unique on its own. You close your eyes … feels so peaceful … yet a little sad
Imaginarator says: But my mouth is wide open…
Q says: (still describing her feelings) … a little hopeful … (then she realised I was speaking non-Yimura)
Q says: Hahaha why ??
Imaginarator: Coz I am smiling!!
Anyway, the instrumental song is indeed perfect for a nice soothing night in with a good book or even better, Interweb conquering.
For that little groove you need to get through a Monday or a heartache. Either way, it was good to get my feet tapping and get energy moving all over. I don’t feel like dancing, dancing even if I find nothing better to do. Don’t feel like dancing, dancing.
Whenever I want to take the train, I would have to walk past a group of tables and benches on the way to the station. Other than a resting spot for the elderly and people who can’t be arsed to walk, these benches are also a premium smoking spot, a gathering of like-minded who enjoy taking a drag or two… thousand puffs.
This is The Imaginarator’s impression of the unofficial smoking corner. Incidentally, I also like to put forth the theory that this is probably how clouds form.
When does condensation start?
The past few days were a constant bitch in my side. To even describe how I felt would been another mental nightmare. Obviously. So I like to give it up for French philosopher, also possible mindreader and fortune teller, Voltaire. He had brilliantly predicted the words which would summarise how I felt exactly. Like ages ago.
“Madness is to think of too many things in succession too fast, or of one thing too exclusively.”
Anyway, my mate appeared in the nick of time to send me this image which cheered me up tremendously. Peace is sometimes just that. It arrives only when you desperately need it, I’m afraid.
Everybody, Ommm now!
You know a hairstylist is good when he spends 3 ½ hours making love to your hair. I only wanted a haircut by the way.
But the end results are promising indeed, even though I felt a tad awkward walking down the streets yesterday. The cut is real sharp, starting at the left side of my ear slanting down towards the back and tailing off to the right side like a tick sign. Which means, I have an asymmetrical hairstyle. Let’s put it this way, if you look at me from the left, I look like your typical handsome English pageboy. From the right profile, I look like a bloody hot girl. Drop me a line if androgyny floats your boat. Hahaha!
Well, the verdict’s out with a total of seven compliments. I totally rock this new cut. It was three and a half hours well spent, I have to admit. My mate said it best among all. After checking out my new haircut, my mate says, “Nice, now you can go attract some sweet young things.” ROFL!
Why you, Penelope Cruz, how dare you tarnish Nate Silver’s predictions?! HE was my foolproof plan to win the office’s Oscars pool! Never trust one who does election predictions again.
And the bloody cheek of Sean bloody Penn. How dare he robbed me of the remaining 90% chance of winning the office’s Oscars pool. Mickey Rourke, I blame your chihuahua.
Reading the whole commentary on the Oscars earlier and one of the funniest quotes has ought to be Defamer’s remark on the Winner of Best Picture, SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE. “We believe that’s the brownest-looking Oscars stage we’ve ever seen.” You may chuckle now.
Anyway, the funniest bit of the whole four possibly terminal butt-numbing hours is hands down Tina Fey and Steve Martin’s screenplay-like presentation. Literally. Interior: Kodak Theatre… and the dig at Scientology. Oh and the chemistry. They should host the Oscars next year.
Here’s Ben Stiller taking the mickey out of Joaquin stoner Phoenix by the way.