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So, yeah, I'm okay.

Unless you're reading this from a cave in Afghanistan, you probably heard a bunch of fucking rookies planned a terrorist attack and executed it this morning.

Being technically adept, I got caught up in this during the ONE FUCKING DAY I didn't have my laptop in its permanent pouch strapped to my back.

News of the attack here, or go to CNN or whatever.

For those that give a good goddamn:

I left for work at 7.50 where nothern line was already a mess due to flooding from the rain. I got to work and was getting shit together to go to the company's webhosting facility. I left my deck at the office.


As I was leaving Skeeter Spice told me that the whole of the Underground was shut down and cabs were the only way to go. Great. I managed to catch a cab and as we drove through the city you could see something was just not fucking right and shit was goinig down. But nobody knew what the hell was happening.

The guy managed to get me pretty close, but didn't want to get cordoned off by police, so I had to carry the servers about a half a klik to the facility, where I immediately had a smoke while waiting for yummy Spice to show up.

If you've never been in a modern hosting facility, theyre built much like NORAD. These places are supposed to keep your data safe in the event of catastrophy.

The thing is, after the bust, they're sort of sad places to be, but thats not the point.

We were in there about two hours or ss, becuse something ALWAYS goes wrong, and as we were weaving our way out of the place we were talking abuot how one of these places would be the perfect place to sit out a zombie attack, like in the movies.

They're really quite secure.

Anyway, as we get to the lobby, we see these signs:

For their own safety, the staff of the facility will not be allowed out of the building.

Yummy Spice and I just told them to give usour IDs so we could get the hell out of there. the guy at the front desk was niice enough to send an email to my mother telling her I was okay after hearing me say, "Oh, jesus, she's goinig to be flipping the fuck out."

We still didn't konw what the deal was or that it was big until we walked by the pub full of speechless people staring at the television. Two pints of Guiness Extra Cold later, while popping SMS messages back to the states, and I was up to speed.

So thten the death march began.. well, not death march, but the weather suddenly decided to change from cold and rainy to muggy and warm. This happened as everyone and their mothers decided o start walking home thorugh the city

As soon as we got home, it went back to being cold.


Thankfully, Skeeter Spice brought my laptop to me from the office, and now I'm online.

Other points:
The Mayor of London, who got roused by the press and his handlers from his hotel room in Singapore - probably interrupting his Olympic party involving much booze and snorting drugs off the nubile young bodies of various exotic hookers - gave a better speech off the cuff that Ol' Hopaling George.

In honor of Bratley:
"nice try, but you didn't blow us up, terrorist bitches".

[ as I said - Thankfully, these guys were fucking amateurs. ]

Best story from today so far:

A friend told us he saw this on television today as news was breaking:

A reporter was all hyped up for getting the "If it Bleeds, it Leads" story, and was interviewing a Brit ho was a car behind the bomb on one of the trains

Reporter: So, you were there, what was it like what happened?!?!?!?

Man: Well, there was a loud noise, and then a lot of smoke.

Reporter: Yes, but, well, what was it like??

Man: Oh, there was certainly a lot of dust.

(trying to work up a frenzy of emotion.)
Reporter: Yes, but what hapened to you?!?!

Man: I was knocked down.

Reporter: And what did you do?!?!

(totally nonplussed.)
Man: I got up and walked out.

R. basically referred to it as "Going back to the Blitz mentality." I dig my adopted people, even if they aren't impressed by me being just Another Goddamn American.

See Slate update below.

Funny thing happened
My machine is set up to randomly choose a sig file for the day when it boots. Today its been choosing this one:

        It's been the worst day
        since yesterday

oooooooohhh.... meeeeegaaaaa crrrreeeeeeeeeeeeeeepyyyyyyyy!

I suppose thats better than the ones about how women/life/people suck!

Being a small part of a historic event like this? Not so much fun, actually.

Still Flyin back to vegas in 3 days with a new outlook on life and not so much hatred of the place.

Of course, the FAA will probably make all of us fly naked as an extra safety measure...

"You! YOU! WITH THE CIGARETTES! Can't bring that foil on the plane. You could folt it up reall tight and poke a stweardess in the neck with it. Nope, gotta dump them. And your clothes! Cant have someone weaving hte threads into a rope and lassoing the crew! GET NAKED SPARKY! What? Are those PUBIC HAIRS... no, we gotta remove them, too... "

Man, now I gotta walk 3 klicks home in the rain.


Slap out

7 July 05

PS - Hows this for a update, bitches?

A buddy sent me this from Slate online. I cant find it, so I just reprinted it here. Bill gates can sue me for my tiny flat full of shitty furniture...

This has been an extraordinary 24 hours for London. Yesterday afternoon, the International Olympic Committee awarded London the 2012 Summer Games. I was in Trafalgar Square when the announcement came, and the place went crazy. There was shouting and hugging and dancing. It seemed somehow bizarre. It seemed very ... un-English.

But the reaction to today's attacks feels incredibly English. When I left the quiet area right around the bus bombing and returned to the busy streets of Holborn and Soho, London appeared just as it always is.

The natural state of the English is a kind of gloomy diligence, which is why they do so well in hard times. In 1940, Londoners went dutifully on with their business while the Luftwaffe bombed the hell out of them. Today, most of them are doing the same. I was in Washington for 9/11, and the whole city went into a panic. Offices emptied, stores shut, downtown D.C. became a ghost town. But in London today, everyone still has a cell phone clutched to their ear. The delivery vans are still racing about, seeking shortcuts around all the street closures. The Starbucks is packed.

And when I walked by the Queen's Larder Pub, not half a mile from the Tavistock Square wreckage, at 11 a.m., a half-dozen men were sitting together at a sidewalk table, hoisting their morning pints of ale. Civilization must go on, after all.

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