tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25792996227416359682024-03-19T11:47:49.578+00:00Vestrus' WorldFrom time to time I post thingsIvanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07363726002199490850noreply@blogger.comBlogger52125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2579299622741635968.post-2517879057472696722014-07-06T23:45:00.001+01:002014-07-07T00:02:59.146+01:00Birthday, The Princes Bride and ChilliesIt has been a long time since the last time I posted something here ... :-P Anyway, as it has been my birthday let me make you all a gift: a silly story that happened to me recently!<br />
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It all started with "The Princes Bride". It is one of my favourite movies despite Steven Seagal not being on it. Still, it is worth seeing. It is, from <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0093779/" target="_blank">IMDB</a>: "<i>A classic fairy tale, with swordplay, giants, an evil prince, a beautiful princess, and yes, some kissing</i>". In one of the scenes you can see the main character has to win in intelligence and logic: a "battle of wits". Basically he puts poison in one of two goblets and lets the bad guy decide who is going to drink from each one.<br />
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<span id="goog_2073861855"></span><span id="goog_2073861856"></span><span id="goog_2073861855">The bad guy, Vizzini, starts a logical reasoning about if it was safe to drink from the glass in front of him or not. In the end he chooses one and ... mystery ... emotion ... it had poison on it and he dies! Basically the hero wins because he had put poison in both goblets as he had spent the past year building up an immunity to that particular type of poison.</span><br />
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<span id="goog_2073861855"></span><span id="goog_2073861856"></span>So ... do you see it coming? Why is this post titled "Birthday, The Princes Bride and Chillies"?!? I already explained the Birthday part ... just explained about the Princes Bride movie part ... So yes, you are right: one evening when I was cooking somehow I though it would be a great idea to build an immunity to chillies the same way the hero from the Princes Bride built an immunity to poison ... If it happened in a movie, it could clearly happen in real life! ... If you don't know me, right now, you might think that it just was my fourteenth or fifteenth birthday. Wrong ... you have to double that ... and still add some more! :-D<br />
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It all started quite well: in my local supermarket I would buy packs of diced pickled chillies and start eating some aside with each meal. I like hot food so I was already quite used to it. Still, it took some "sessions" to have my mouth completely immunised to chillies. Next step was getting the throat and nose used to them. So, some more sessions and I could eat a considerable amount of chillies without any tears at all. The plan was going great! Then I realised that I had to get the stomach itself used to digesting the chillies, so a few more weeks of eating quite a lot of chillies and I had my stomach strong as a rock! I was ready to go to any Mexican restaurant and order the hottest food and leave all my friends crying in tears trying to eat the same, or only by them sitting next to me. The immunity plan was a success ... or so I thought.<br />
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Next it was one of those Fridays I had nothing to do. The plan was just to relax a bit and watch TV. When preparing dinner I saw that I had a full pack of diced pickled chillies unopened ... tempting ... that was the opportunity I had been looking for: the final test! So, I started eating chillies one by one until I finished off the entire packed. Something like 250g of chillies, about half a pound. The best thing is that I was perfectly OK: no tears, I didn't have to run for water (or milk, a professional chilli consumer knows that water does not help at all) or any of the other nasty effects of chillies and hot food. So I was happily laying in bed watching TV thinking how amazing I was for building an immunity to chillies like in the Princes Bride and how could I best use my new "super power" ... when ... all of a sudden ... the chillies started abandoning the stomach to make its way trough the rest of my digestive system. Oh oh ... that part of the body hadn't been tested yet ... and even less with about half a pound of hot chillies poured there all at once! It was the worst sensation I have ever experienced, I can tell you that it felt like being on fire from the inside! And the worst thing: what could I do? Drinking milk or throwing up would not help as it all had already past the stomach ... there was still some time to wait until it reached the other end ... so ... the worst two or three hours of my life! :-D I could feel every single corner of my intestines! I was in foetal position without daring to move all time long. The worst part is that you can feel them reaching the bottom part of your belly ... and then going up again so you know that they are in still for quite some time! Noooooooooo! All time long leaving your insides with a burn sensation that lasted for quite some hours afterwards.<br />
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And there is nothing you can do ... well, I could have called a doctor:<br />
- What is the problem?<br />
- I was building and immunity to chillies after watching the Princes Bride ... is there something that could help?<br />
- Yes: here I have some pills against stupidity, please take them all at once!<br />
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So I thought I would better save me the embarrassment ... and instead post it on the Internet ... those pills again, can I have some?!? ...<br />
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One of the worst ideas I had for quite some time!<br />
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So, my gift to you is a story, hopefully a smile (if not a loud laugh) and a recommendation: Don't do it at home ... don't do it at all anywhere! :-DIvanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07363726002199490850noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2579299622741635968.post-41955302478283631602010-05-14T03:10:00.003+01:002010-05-14T03:28:59.835+01:00Amazing MemoryI have got a friend that is really worried about the effect drinking alcohol has on neurones and memory. For example, the day after a after a light night out he would start asking:<br /><pre><br />- What did I do between two thirty and two forty five? What did I do?!?<br /> I remember getting in the club and going to the dance floor and then ...<br /> nothing until that joke you told about Gianna Michaels and the dwarf.<br /> WHAT DID I DO?!?!?<br />- Nooooooothing, you didn't do anything worth mentioning at all, probably<br /> just queueing for fifteen freakin' minutes to get a freakin' drink <br /> because it was freakin' packed.<br /></pre><br /><br />The point (that he doesn't seem to get) is that you don't have to remember every single second of your day. For example, I don't remember what I had for breakfast ... actually, did I have breakfast at all today? ... I am serious! And I haven't been drinking ... yet. Anyway, people don't have to have an exact recollection of every single action they do during the day; why should it be different by night, independently of how many beers you have drunk? You only remember what it is worth remembering ... I bet that, in my friend's case, if the waitress had had the "attributes" of Gianna Michaels he would definitely remember those fifteen minutes of his life as he has a bit of a fetish for ... hmmm ... anyway ...<br /><br />Now, having said all that, it is true that during and after a really serious drinking session your memory of the real facts is somehow compromised ... My theory is <em><b>that copious amounts of alcohol in your blood and brain don't really affect your memory as such but that make you change the scale of what is worth remembering and what not</b></em>.<br />For example: Why should I remember the name of what I am drinking if the waiter already knows it and I get another one just by pointing at my empty glass?, Why should I remember the name of the band that is playing if they are awful, their pants are suspiciously tight and they started to play four hours late? Gun's and what? or Why should I remember the name of this girl if I am already way past second base? ... :-P<br /><br />And, to illustrate my point a real story that happened to me a few weeks ago. One night I went out to a club with a friend and a couple of her work colleagues. One of the work colleagues, a girl, was sooooo drunk that it seemed she could barely stand up ... but, actually, she had quite a lot of practise at drinking like a fish, so that was a normal (even a slow) day for her.<br /><br />My first conversation with her went, more or less, like this:<br /><pre><br />[her] - Hi, who are you?<br />[me] - I am a friend of your work colleague.<br />[her] - Ah, ok, what is your name?<br />[me] - Ivan.<br />[her] - Where are your from?<br />[me] - I haven't been there recently but I have Spanish passport,<br /> so I guess I am from there.<br />[her] - And what are you doing here in Brazil?<br />[me] - I came for work but it all went pear shaped, so now I am<br /> just trying to conquer the World with an army of zombies<br /> and also selling nuclear weapons on the Internet ... the<br /> usual.<br />[her] - What is this you are drinking? It looks quite nice.<br />[me] - They call it a "torito", it seems it is like a "mojito" but<br /> rather than rum they have done it with Osborne brandy, which<br /> is a Spanish brand of brandy famous for having a bull ("toro"<br /> in Spanish) as a symbol, hence, I guess, the name of<br /> "torito". And, by the way, you are drinking exactly the same<br /> and I was the one that ordered it for you!<br /></pre><br />(and so on)<br /><br />Then she went God knows where and God knows what for and came back after a while. As I was speaking with her work colleague, my friend, she came to me and the second conversation went more or less like this:<br /><pre><br />[her] - Hi, who are you?<br />[me] - I am a friend of your work colleague.<br />[her] - Ah, ok, what is your name?<br />[me] - Ivan.<br />[her] - Where are your from?<br />[me] - I haven't been there recently but I have Spanish passport,<br /> so I guess I am from there.<br />[her] - And what are you doing here in Brazil?<br />[me] - I came for work but it all went pear shaped, so now I am<br /> just trying to conquer the World with an army of zombies<br /> and also selling nuclear weapons on the Internet ... the<br /> usual.<br />[her] - What is this you are drinking? It looks quite nice.<br />[me] - They call it a "torito", it seems it is like a "mojito" but<br /> rather than rum they have done it with Osborne brandy, which<br /> is a Spanish brand of brandy famous for having a bull ("toro"<br /> in Spanish) as a symbol, hence, I guess, the name of<br /> "torito". And, by the way, you are drinking exactly the same<br /> and I was the one that ordered it for you!<br /></pre><br />(and so on)<br /><br />Then she disappeared again for a while and when she came back, she looked at me as if she had never seen me before and, guess what, our third conversation went more or less like this:<br /><pre><br />[her] - Hi, who are you?<br />[me] - I am a friend of your work colleague.<br />[her] - Ah, ok, what is your name?<br />[me] - Ivan.<br />[her] - Where are your from?<br /> ...<br /></pre><br />ok, you can imagine the rest ... if not, just go back a few lines!<br /><br />And that, believe it or not, happened eight times! I had exactly the same conversation with her eight freakin' times. I was counting them because after the third I couldn't believe it myself. Eight! And the fifth and sixth were non-stop. Incredible, after the last question she just went back to square one without even blinking!<br /><br />And you must be thinking, how does that prove my previous point that alcohol rather than affect the memory as such just affects what is worth remembering? Well, during the sixth conversation at some point they started to play samba music at the club. Some people around started to dance a bit, despite of the lack of space because the place was packed, and she asked me if I knew how to dance. Actually I do, I have done a few years of salsa and here in Brazil I decided that "when in Rome" ... do learn samba.<br />But one of the things all these years of dancing have taught me is that if you are in a fully packed place, with a girl that can barely stand up and in the middle of the route to the toilets: don't even think of dancing. So, after having previously seen the stubbornness of that girl regarding letting go a drink that was looking pretty disgusting I decided to tell her a bit of a "white lie" and to say that I didn't know how to dance at all. Besides, having in mind that she already asked my name six times I though that she wouldn't have the tiniest recollection about that particular part of the conversation ... wishful thinking!<br /><br />After having yet again the very same conversation with her a couple more times (but without the dancing question, so I thought I was safe) she disappeared again and, as they were still playing some samba at the club, my friend asked for a dance and we started doing what we could in the tiny amount of space available. Then, all of a sudden I hear:<br /><pre><br />[her] - YOOOOOOU, LIIIIIIIIIIAR!!<br /></pre><br /><br />I turn around and I see her, dancing with the other work colleague (that had a terrified look in his face whilst trying to maintain her in the vertical plane), pointing at me and shouting that I lied to her when I said that I didn't know how to dance. Note also that she was shouting "you" not "Ivan". Actually I am quite amazed that she even recognized me! So ... having in mind that she asked for my name eight times and that she only asked once if I danced ... hence prove that you only remember what you find important at the time, regardless of the amount of alcohol in your brain.<br />In this case for some reason for her knowing if I knew how to dance was a lot more important than remembering my name, where I was from, what I was doing in Brazil or what she was drinking herself. If alcohol affected memories the same way she wouldn't have had any recollection of my dancing skills the same way she had no recollection of any other information about me.<br /><br />So, apart from confirming that what you remember on a night out (or on a normal day) does not depend in any shape or form on alcohol (or any other funny substances) you take, another important lesson I learned is that girls are like a living lie detector but worst ... and they can scream quite loud.<br /><br />So, from now on, no more white lies. Girls, note that down: never ever ask me again about those four pounds you took whilst on holidays! ... You have been warned! :-PIvanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07363726002199490850noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2579299622741635968.post-75345655088319842292010-04-15T00:44:00.003+01:002010-04-15T00:57:14.947+01:00How to Sell a Plant on eBayA few years back I wanted to get rid off a plant I didn't fancy. I have to admit it was not the nicest looking thing ever and it was pretty big ... and none of my friends fancied it either. So, rather than taking the easy option of turning the plant into compost to grow my tomatoes (I had had the plant for a couple of years already so ... I couldn't do that to her) I decided to try to find a new home for it.<br /><br />But how? Well, at the time I was buying and selling stuff in UK's eBay, so I decided to take a look at the possibility of selling it in there. I saw that people were actually selling plants in eBay ... but ... not the most exciting adverts ever ... three or four views a week for plants' adverts ... with luck maybe seven ... so the chances were slim.<br /><br />But ... I had a "marketing plan"! So I made the following advert and I got something like three hundred views ... got a couple of bids and I managed to find a new home for it ... and I got a healthy profit of about ten pennies if I remember correctly! :-D<br /><br /><div style="text-align:center;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRurcobIvcKyRWUmer1rilDdFc2dZTaHYn4wz24R521pc47kKoJRQPgPh3D2iyPb_m_nCESI9J_UIl45YVSwkKq6Y_2E5EfTpo42ODEtCreJSR8u-FiJVWT7SC7LTL_RLWpgNyuQHm1FE/s1600/DSC021221.JPG"><img style="margin:5px; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRurcobIvcKyRWUmer1rilDdFc2dZTaHYn4wz24R521pc47kKoJRQPgPh3D2iyPb_m_nCESI9J_UIl45YVSwkKq6Y_2E5EfTpo42ODEtCreJSR8u-FiJVWT7SC7LTL_RLWpgNyuQHm1FE/s200/DSC021221.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460144982611307730" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz6THzqpNsPSXEEDS3kNbEMhcXXvBPFfWmfmJe1B9Weoxy7W72BMXKUt2ZUS_vVgaRV1ic3XS5CFP0ejI5y5J4hmt9ZZuwvXqt_HLof4aEYcLRgG9M4JUF3FGAGs5xCY6PK02RnIHjq3I/s1600/DSC021201.JPG"><img style="margin:5px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz6THzqpNsPSXEEDS3kNbEMhcXXvBPFfWmfmJe1B9Weoxy7W72BMXKUt2ZUS_vVgaRV1ic3XS5CFP0ejI5y5J4hmt9ZZuwvXqt_HLof4aEYcLRgG9M4JUF3FGAGs5xCY6PK02RnIHjq3I/s200/DSC021201.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460144974928712850" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi1BOvxKEgRkWnNJ2VGQifItBc3a1ngELv_4Y-rupb4TpnMm2muEyhQvcqJ5h3k8603TIeIDf6nX88pH40GMjdb5NhNVqtK7P45UZr1k7Ki1KmuD3bhrYZhg7B3ujnW4_2Ep5fLnohS3M/s1600/DSC021111.JPG"><img style="margin:5px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi1BOvxKEgRkWnNJ2VGQifItBc3a1ngELv_4Y-rupb4TpnMm2muEyhQvcqJ5h3k8603TIeIDf6nX88pH40GMjdb5NhNVqtK7P45UZr1k7Ki1KmuD3bhrYZhg7B3ujnW4_2Ep5fLnohS3M/s200/DSC021111.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460144967680539154" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnZzTpLkQAHnNHJx7hLSZoaPQSskSQdFOweADInNLlFAC0eTx861dXAtJ0KBynvM2O5H-7STxc_Lgs3B66D180ff8aTK1qZ3f8OG8LWiYnqUN680FE86RYTHXnrHO5Ac7cAMkzxfgdpxc/s1600/DSC021071.JPG"><img style="margin:5px; cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnZzTpLkQAHnNHJx7hLSZoaPQSskSQdFOweADInNLlFAC0eTx861dXAtJ0KBynvM2O5H-7STxc_Lgs3B66D180ff8aTK1qZ3f8OG8LWiYnqUN680FE86RYTHXnrHO5Ac7cAMkzxfgdpxc/s200/DSC021071.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460144966003266450" /></a><br /></div><br /><em><br />Hi,<br /><br />I need some help; I have been living happily in this house for quite a long time ... but ... now that she is long gone he is not taking good care of me! I am poorly watered (not that I mind being a "monstera deliciosa") and I have to do thing no plant should ever do! <:-|<br /><br />First I have to cook for him ... not that I mind because I learned quite a few tricks just watching him cook (... Spanish people cook amazing things ...) but he is getting a bit to complacent and I ended up even cleaning his clothes :-(<br />Come on, I have been chatting with quite a lot of other plant friends and that is not what they do! Besides every weekend he arrives at home completely plastered and I have to clean up everything! That is not nice at all!<br /><br />I've got enough!<br /><br />I need a new home. A home with full light but not direct sun light. A home that waters me regularly but that leaves my compost dry a bit (I am originally from South America so I like dry climates). A home where I do not have to cook or clean never ever again. I want to be just a simple plant again!<br /><br />I am about 1.70m tall, 0.60m wide, I come with a a white speckle-mannish (horrible ... now that he is not looking) pot and I managed to get a spare mosspole, just in case.<br /><br />Please; bid me!<br /><br />I cannot stand any more living with this man ... he is too much for me ... heeeeeeeeeeelp!!!!!<br /><br />Thanks a lot!<br /><br />Montse.<br /></em>Ivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07363726002199490850noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2579299622741635968.post-40030394685583047372010-04-03T21:10:00.005+01:002013-08-17T04:32:10.152+01:00Manga Avatars and Mine SweeperA couple of quick updates that I didn't have time to post until now:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPLX7aTWbjanfZYARsITS15F27lWXACtNv0YBWhyphenhyphenwbxECxSxoJIpcCCIFzLOOPpn4L22rHlfAZzbi3wFeYSLf7v2PbNOWpaTCh7GhZKdmwSkmxOa8pf5I7fOXIrYxrGXOqilH-1vctaGI/s1600/mangatar_20100403_133154.png" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456006664733952338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPLX7aTWbjanfZYARsITS15F27lWXACtNv0YBWhyphenhyphenwbxECxSxoJIpcCCIFzLOOPpn4L22rHlfAZzbi3wFeYSLf7v2PbNOWpaTCh7GhZKdmwSkmxOa8pf5I7fOXIrYxrGXOqilH-1vctaGI/s200/mangatar_20100403_133154.png" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 100px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 100px;" /></a> Yet another avatar creation web site, now you can create your own <b>Manga (or mangaish) style avatars</b>: <a href="http://mangatar.framiq.com/">http://mangatar.framiq.com</a>. I hope you find the bits and pieces you need to create something you like ... if not, join the Facebook fan page and give me some feedback because I'll be doing updates from time to time.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLhU16lSRgPUtKb4yaGmBq_wIr8mhu3BrLOuNWisMr3-DNKG7YHx7j3VhPi9Ue8lvyVIB7ECU8i-dnJRiImkKy9141BehPYKmuiGFxfxW_Nuyt1WnnH8qkoC2vrBK0d5_F3wBnuItz2-A/s1600/mine_sweeper.png" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456006830036134690" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLhU16lSRgPUtKb4yaGmBq_wIr8mhu3BrLOuNWisMr3-DNKG7YHx7j3VhPi9Ue8lvyVIB7ECU8i-dnJRiImkKy9141BehPYKmuiGFxfxW_Nuyt1WnnH8qkoC2vrBK0d5_F3wBnuItz2-A/s200/mine_sweeper.png" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 100px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 100px;" /></a> And another game, a version of the traditional <b>Mine Sweeper</b>: http://minesweeper .framiq.com. In this case the difference compared to other versions is that the difficulty (board size and number of mines) is chosen by the other players and you can influence theirs! :-)<br />
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Enjoy!Ivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07363726002199490850noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2579299622741635968.post-31137844138409297862010-03-29T14:44:00.002+01:002010-03-29T16:51:38.207+01:00Computer Engineers vs Artists<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikYld6znQmeyEo51lorXPuDJOnn00HCbFnAwsSwWyZMDPPr-tPmt705w1ob-wEv_4UBIPelAPYINSelN2y8g9-Mr5K3X0DY2yRlG6Us8n8ITIKSErKlvsBDy_GXrU7tvr2nl8qEdS9kro/s1600/barbie-engineer.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikYld6znQmeyEo51lorXPuDJOnn00HCbFnAwsSwWyZMDPPr-tPmt705w1ob-wEv_4UBIPelAPYINSelN2y8g9-Mr5K3X0DY2yRlG6Us8n8ITIKSErKlvsBDy_GXrU7tvr2nl8qEdS9kro/s200/barbie-engineer.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454075831606038802" /></a> There is people that say that Computer Science is more of an "art" than an actual "science". I really never gave it any thought until recently when I was reading a post about start-up e-companies that taught bosses how to make the most of the computer freak's weird work patterns and inspiration. Also, a few weeks ago I was "on holidays" in Uruguay and I somehow (beer helps) ended up in the table of the local artists and they were telling stories about their "profession" to a swarm of girls and make me realize that actually that statement about computer science could have some truth behind ... except that the "artists", amazingly, managed to pull a lot more girls ... Let's look at the facts:<br /><br />Similarities:<br /><ul><li>Both composing music and writing computer programs are creative processes so there are times when we are "inspired" and we produce a lot (or something new and amazing) ... and times when we are not "inspired" and we produce shit. I have to say though, that "artists" have the advantage that they don't tend to have a boss nagging them when not inspired.<br /></li><br /><li>Some of our best ideas come after/during a night of heavy partying and other people find them crazy ... but then the Internet proves we were right! ... or not ...<br /></li><br /><li>We both get paid shit unless we are very, very famous on our own right or we sell our soul to the devil and work for some of the big companies like Microsoft or Simon Cowell.<br /></li><br /><li>Dress code is pretty similar and with a bit of an effort I think computer engineers could manage to shower as little as the artists.<br /></li><br /><li>Given we earn enough money even the weirdest looking of both of the groups can find a nice looking girlfriend and a group of fans/stalkers on the Internet.<br /></li><br /><li>Do you think that artists sometimes make extravagant requests when setting things up to perform on a concert? Don't ever try to make a computer engineer stick to an email software he doesn't fancy (like Lotus Notes!). And always let us change the wallpaper to anything we want because we will do anything it takes to have Princess Leia on the background, no matter how many times we have to edit the "registry" or how many times we have to hack into the network administration properties!<br /></li><br /><li>We both have Barbies to our professions! (and the computer engineering one, as seen on the picture, even comes with a "binary pattern" T-shirt ...)<br /></li><br /></ul><br />Things we, Computer Engineers, should work on:<br /><ul><li>When travelling (going to a Comic-Con or so), if we end up running out of money and we have to go back home hitch-hiking, without showering for a week and only with a pack of mouldy chocolate biscuits to eat, we should learn from the "artists" and put a different spin to the story so girls instead of saying "You are a dumb freaking idiot" say "How cool! I wish I was there with you!" instead.<br /></li><br /></ul>Ivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07363726002199490850noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2579299622741635968.post-8123594113919224072010-02-26T20:05:00.001+00:002010-02-26T20:07:47.120+00:00And now a Navi avatar creation website<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0d7bNbRQ3wIlh7QpAJuX3FQOYdrk87pDe6RAW3F0tvc0Rl1Li2Qn75-fVqotekQA3C5cybyLzsRXAhXgWNLo7PSR6kVX7FCQPKuLHeydTSRY51An_RGvQHY8ZZ3JMv8FZiHAS9ZG1HLk/s1600-h/navitar_20100226_130634.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0d7bNbRQ3wIlh7QpAJuX3FQOYdrk87pDe6RAW3F0tvc0Rl1Li2Qn75-fVqotekQA3C5cybyLzsRXAhXgWNLo7PSR6kVX7FCQPKuLHeydTSRY51An_RGvQHY8ZZ3JMv8FZiHAS9ZG1HLk/s200/navitar_20100226_130634.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442646243604705522" /></a>Yes, I am on fire with the avatar creation websites: my latest creation: a web page where you can make your own <b>Navi Avatars</b> for free: <a href="http://navitar.framiq.com">http://navitar.framiq.com</a>. There you can create avatars for all your social network needs based on the latest James Cameron film: Avatar.<br /><br />Don't worry, I am going to stop this avatar creation madness for a little while. Except for the Navis the Zombies and the Cthulhus are going to be part of my next game and I am going to work on that for a while now. Yes: as promised before a game with Zombies and Cthulus, ... possibly ninjas, pirates, aliens and Steven Seagal in the future as well ... and probably you are going to see a "ninjatar" and/or a "piratetar" and/or "something-completely-silly-tar" in the next months ... we will see! :-DIvanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07363726002199490850noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2579299622741635968.post-46538814017857373732010-02-23T18:45:00.004+00:002010-02-28T15:00:53.244+00:00Cthulhu is coming!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR8bvfyaGW_HjqmOQOn3dJapeJCYiCf4-RBBvB5YmJK4pvGBMU-QpQyyshqWY8ypgOaYStodMqYxVLJsz7h-rcPEeyIHN5HQI-ZuXplHjPzFsW0-wK4zZbijLhgA06P0i4bn64-utNndk/s1600-h/cthulhutar_20100223_115009.png"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR8bvfyaGW_HjqmOQOn3dJapeJCYiCf4-RBBvB5YmJK4pvGBMU-QpQyyshqWY8ypgOaYStodMqYxVLJsz7h-rcPEeyIHN5HQI-ZuXplHjPzFsW0-wK4zZbijLhgA06P0i4bn64-utNndk/s320/cthulhutar_20100223_115009.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441513329883540722" border="0" /></a>And now, continuing with the theme of "freaky things", my latest creation: a web page where you can make your own <b>Cthulhu Avatars</b> for free: <a href="http://cthulhutar.framiq.com/"> http://cthulhutar.framiq.com</a>. Actually is not only Cthulhu avatars but also "Deep Ones" ... a marine themed website in a way! :-D<br /><br />I have to admit that I am not a huge H.P. Lovecraft fan. Neither a horror novels expert as I don't really like to read. But I have quite a few friends that are quite into Lovecraft and I find extremely amusing the idea of a cosmic entity shaped like an enormous octopus buried (but later awaken, take care!) in a sunken city in the Pacific Ocean, down south ... a bit to the left. And the best thing: he has a cult of followers centred in Arabia but with followers reaching as far as Greenland and Lousiana! :-D<br /><br />I mean ... who, in their right mind, would be able to resist the temptation of creating a website for people to create Cthulhu avatars?!?!? It is hilarious! Everybody needs one! :-DIvanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07363726002199490850noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2579299622741635968.post-45726142610157599872010-02-16T13:51:00.001+00:002010-02-16T13:53:13.117+00:00The mythical Polish Woman storyThis is an old story that happened on May 27th 2006 and it is written in Spanish (without any accents, sorry but I have an UK keyboard and I am pretty lazy). Still, by popular demand, I think it is time for me to put it properly on the Internet for everybody's enjoyment. I already gave away the publishing rights for a couple of beers to a friend of mine, so no more stories based on this event please :-P<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Otra "aventura" de Ivan en el país de la lluvia! (no paro)</span><br /><br />Ya se que muchos de vosotros os pensabais que despues de mi ultima aventura con el "chav" igual tendria una temporada larga de tranquilidad ... bueno, unos tres meses, no esta mal del todo!<br /><br />Todo empezo despues de una noche de "fiesta loca" tipica de Inglaterra (mirar una peli en casa de alguien). Me volvi yo a casa tranquilamente y, al ser informatico, decidi de hacer actividades altamente de riesgo como mirarme el email (por si en las tres ultimas horas alguien me habia escrito ... llamadme triste) y como mirar internet para saber si al final le habian penalizado a Schumacher (hace ya unos años que sigo un poco la Formula 1 ... llamadme triste).<br />Total que mientras estaba yo con mis actividades de riesgo de repente llaman al timbre de la puerta! Casi las dos de la mañana: los ingleses se van a dormir sobre las 10, los pubs cierran a las 11, los clubs del centro cierran sobre la 1 pero eso esta a tomar pol culo ... emocion, intriga y dolor de barriga! Total, ya sabeis que ice, no: abrir la puerta! Supongo que nadie esperaba menos de mi, no? :-P<br /><br />Abro la puerta y me encuentro con una mujer bastante borracha. Me pregunta:<br />-Donde esta la calle khfvjhjgdfhd?<br />-Comorl?<br />-Me he perdido, donde esta la calle fsdsbdsshdy?<br />... vaya, pienso aparte de ir borracha debe ser de algun sitio de Europa del este porque no se entiende nada de nada ...<br />-Quieres decir la "dale road"?<br />-Si, esa me vale!<br />-Un momento que pillo el mapa y lo miro, que esta aqui al lado.<br />-Puedo pasar?<br />-Noooooooo!<br /><br />Total, que pillo el mapa y miro donde esta la calle en cuestion. No esta lejos o sea que se lo intento explicar:<br />-Buena mujer, se me va hasta el final de la calle, sube la cuesta, derecha, camina hasta las luces de la rotonda y alli esta a la derecha. Vale?<br />-Me acompañas?<br />A veces me siento taaaaaaaan cansaaaaaado!<br />-Vale, te acompaño hasta la calle.<br />Cojo las llaves, dejo el mapa y ala, a tirar millas. Empiezo a andar y la tia pregunta:<br />-No cogemos el coche?<br />-?????? El coche, pero si esto esta a dos minutos andando! (internamente pensando: ahora se porque estas asi de gorda!)<br /><br />Total, que empezamos a andar y como la tia iba bastante borracha casi se mete un par de piños con los peligrosos bordillos de las aceras y decide de agarrarseme del brazo.<br />-Quita bicho! ... Bueno, va, que si no te vas a matar.<br />Total, que durante ese trayecto a duras penas le sonsaco que es una queli (trabajadora de la limpieza: "QUE LImpia) del hospital, que es de Polonia, su nombre que ni que quisiera me podria acordar y que lleva un par de años por aqui. Total, llegamos a la calle y la tia empieza:<br />-Shit, fuck, shit, fuck, ...<br />-Que paaaaasa ahora?<br />-Esta no es mi calle, no se donde vivo ...<br />-Como no vas a saber donde vives?!?!? A ver, que igual no te he entendido bien: deletreame el nombre de la calle.<br />-GHSGJSNBNDKS<br />-!?!?!?!?!<br />-POOVMDUDHDH<br />-Bueno, no entiendo nada! A ver, como no he cogido el mapa y no me se las calles pues nos volvemos a mi casa y lo miramos con tranquilidad, vale?<br />-Vale.<br /><br />Volvemos para casa. Llegamos y entro para volver a pillar el mapa.<br />-Puedo pasar?<br />-No, no te molestes, si va a ser un plis ...<br />Total, que me giro y la tia ya estaba dentro y sentada en el sofa ... evidentemente no me sorprendi ni pizca: ya estoy acostumbrado a que las tias no me hagan ni puto caso, no iba a ser esta la primera!<br />-A ver, deletreame la calle:<br />-DHGHGIUHJKH<br />-?!?!?!<br />-DOKJUYUHJKK<br />-Buenu, aqui tienes el indice de calles por la D, me la buscas y me la señalas ...<br />Vaya, parece que no sabe o que no puede leer ... como las letras eran muy pequeñas (y se movian) le daremos el beneficio de la duda y supondre que no las podia leer. Viendo que no nos entendiamos ella dice:<br />-Dame un papel y un boli y lo escribo.<br />Buena idea, igual no va tan mal como parece. Total que le acerco papel, boli y la tia escribe: "Derby Road". Derby Road esta en la mitica area de St. Marys en Southampton mundialmente conocida por no ser una area demasiado buena, por no decir directamente que es una area mala. Tambien es conocida por no estar ni remotamente cerca de donde vivo yo.<br />-Vaya, pues parece que si que vamos a tener que coger el coche. -dije yo- Ala pues!<br />-Dejame quedar cinco minutos!<br />-Noooooooo!<br />-Cinco minutos y despues me acompañas a casa.<br />Claro, que cara la tia. Pero claro, que otras opciones me quedan: hecharla a patadas?<br />-Vaaaaale, pero solo cinco minutos y despues te acompaño donde sea que vivas. Quieres un poco de agua?<br />-Si.<br />Le voy a buscar un vaso de agua. La tia se habia quitado los zapatos y ... Dios que pestazo! Suerte que estoy entrenado gracias a Ramon (yo tambien te quiero) y consegui mas o menos mantenerme en pie y no caer inconsciente pero me fui rapida y disimuladamente a abrir todas las ventanas.<br /><br />-A lo mejor me puedes arreglar esto.<br />Me dice ella y me saca una cadena de cuello y una pulsera tambien de estas tipicas de cadena que estaban rotas. No se, me vio cara de joyero o algo. Total que se las pongo a sitio y mas o menos da el pego.<br />-Y eso como lo has roto? -esperando una respuesta tipo: me he caido borracha como una cuba y se han roto.<br />-Es que Rkjfdks me ha cogido por el cuello y me a estampado contra una pared.<br />-!!!?!?!!!?!?!!?!<br />-Y luego me ha cogido todo el dinero que tenia.<br />-!?!?!?!?!!!!?!!?!!?!?!?!!?!?!!. Pero y este tal Rkjfdks quien es? De que lo conoces?<br />-Es mi pareja.<br />-!!?!?!!?!!!?!?!?!!!!!??!!!?!?!!!?!!!. Pero esto cuando ha pasado?<br />-Hoy.<br />Todo esto con mas gestos que no palabras ya que la tia tenia ciertos problemas con el ingles y no eran solo debidos a la bebida. Pobre tia pienso, claro que no quiere volver directamente a casa. Tampoco la puedo llevar a estas horas y en este estado a la policia.<br />-Quieres algo de comer? -a ver si con algo en el estomago se le pasa un poco la cogorza-<br />-Si.<br />-Mas agua?<br />-No, quiero vino!<br />-Vino?!?! No creo que sea lo que te siente mejor ahora mismo.<br />-Vino, vino, vino, vino, vino, …<br /><br />Le cocino una hamburgesa rapida con un poco de lechuga y tal y abro una botella de vino para servirle un culito para que se callara, total un dedo mas de vino no iba a hacer diferencia alguna en su estado. De mientras le habia puesto su mobil a cargar que no tenia bateria y decidio ella de llamar al susodicho Rkjfdks. <br />Evidentemente escuche la conversacion pero la verdad es que aunque se pasaron como 15 minutos no se dijeron nada interesante ya que la tia no rascaba bola de ingles. No paraba de decir: "quiero mi dinero", "quiero mi dinero".<br />Ahora bien, no es oro todo lo que reluce y habian un par de puntos dudosos en toda su historia. Primero que las marcas que tenia en la cara de haber sido empotrada eran de hace un par de dias y segundo que con Rkjfdks estaba hablando en ingles cuando ella me habia dicho que tambien era polaco ... misterioso pero como tampoco no se habia explicado ella muy bien ... Total, que cuando termina de hablar por telefono pues le pregunto que que queria hacer, si ir a la policia o que? Me dijo que queria pensarselo 10 minutos y que yo era muy simpatico o sea que la dejo en el sofa meditando y me voy para arriba a mi habitacion y me pongo a plegar ropa (algo tenia que hacer!).<br /><br />Al cabo de diez minutos vuelvo a bajar a ver que tal, ademas me habia parecido oirla como sollozar o algo. Pero no (o no del todo) en realidad se habia conseguido <br />terminar la botella de vino ella sola y le habia entrado hipo!<br />A veces me siento taaaaaan cansaaaaaado!<br />-Que, ya te has pensado que hacer?<br />-Hip.<br />-Quieres ir a la policia?<br />-Hip.<br />-Quieres volver a casa?<br />-Hip. Que voy a hacer sin dinero? Hip. Dame la mano.<br />-Mmmmmm ...<br />-Eres muy simpatico.<br />-Gracias, todas me lo dicen.<br />-Me encuentro mal.<br />-Claro, no me extraña: te has pulido una botella entera de vino en diez minutos y te ha entrado un hipo de caballo.<br />-Hip, no, es mi corazon.<br />-Como ya he dicho: te has pulido una botella entera de vino en diez minutos. Y lo de meterte puñetazos en el pecho no va a ayudar!<br />-Hip.<br />Tened en cuenta que durante esta conversacion estaba la tia como estirada en el sofa hablando no muy alto y yo como en cuclillas para poder oirla mejor con la mala suerte de que tenia sus zapatos "perfumados" justo debajo! Mientras hablabamos le vinieron un par de hipos de esos que claramente suben con contenido del estomago y la tia con un par de huevos los hizo bajar todos otra vez! No, si los polacos tienen un nivelazo.<br /><br />-Creo que necesitas ir al lavabo y sacar todo lo que has estado bebiendo, te va a ir bien.<br />-No. Hip. Dame la mano.<br />-Mmmmmm, otra vez, ...<br />-Me duele el corazon, mira ...<br />-Y una mierda acerco yo la mano ahi! -pienso- Pero que cabrona, vaya fuerza tiene la tia polaca esta en los brazos, suerte que tengo yo un historial haciendo pulsos que si no! Que repelus!<br />-Hip. Hip, me duele la matriz ...<br />-Oh oh! Socorro! -pienso.<br />La tia empieza tambien a meterse puñetazos al estomago y a rascarse con un estilo mas propio de un albañil que no de una pole dancer.<br />-Dios, yo si que voy a tener que ir al lavabo a sacarlo todo! -pienso.<br />-Hip. Dame la mano.<br />-Noooooooooooooooo!<br />-Eres muy simpatico. Mishu prishu.<br />-Comorl?!?! Que eso de "mishu prishu" o como quira que se escriba?<br />-Significa "gatito".<br />Y me empieza como a acariciar la cara.<br />-Quita bicho!<br />Me despisto un momento y consigue como agarrarme la cabeza y me tira hacia ella como para morrearseme con tal fuerza que me izo perder el equilibrio. Por suerte el solo pensamiento de las vomitadas que se habia contenido no hacia ni diez segundos me dieron una fuerza sobrehumana suficiente como para escaparme de su acurado movimiento marcial del agarre del oso. Claro que del esfuerzo tuve que aspirar mas aire zapatil del que me hubiera gustado.<br />-Hip. Mishu prishu ...<br />-A ver, pero a ti no te acababa de pegar tu pareja o no se que y te habian robado todo el dinero?!?!? No es momento de tonterias!<br /><br />Despues de un poco de indagacion y despues de escaparme un par de veces mas de sus terribles presas marciales le consegui sonsacar que de hecho el dinero (la paga del mes) se la habia robado alguien de su calle. Aun no se exactamente quien la pego, si su pareja o el hombre/mujer que le robo. Lo que si esta claro es que el robatorio ocurrio en cisrcumstancias muy extrañas ya que se conoce que ella habia quedado con su pareja en un parque y en vez de el se presento esta otra persona de sexo indeterminado (cada dos por tres canviaba de "he" a "she") y no se como le robo la paga del mes.<br />Total, que le intente explicar que lo mejor que podia hacer era ir a la policia, que si hacia falta (que la hacia) le pidieran un traductor y que ellos le aconsejaran que hacer porque la verdad cuando mas le preguntaba menos sabia yo que le habia pasado a la mujer esta (y en segun que momentos tampoco parecia muy preocupada). Como la mujer no parecia muy convencida de ir a dormir a su casa le dije que se quedara en el sofa y que por la mañana cuando se le hubiera bajado todo el alcohol decidiera que hacer.<br />-Tu duermes aqui en el sofa y mañana te acompaño a la policia o a donde quieras. Vale?<br />-Si. Hip. Tu duermes aqui conmigo?<br />-Noooooooooo! Yo duermo en mi cama como las personas.<br />-Hip. Puedo dormir en la cama contigo?<br />-Noooooooooo! Si no estas comoda en el sofa te dejo dormir en la cama pero conmigo dentro tambien claramente no.<br /><br />Total, que a las 6 de la mañana y despues de un rato de conversaciones que no iban a ninguna parte sobre donde y como dormir termino durmiendo ella en la cama y yo en el sofa. Y con dos cojones lo primero que ella me dice por la mañnana cuando se levanta es?<br />-Y porque no has dormido conmigo en la cama?<br />A veces me siento taaaaaan cansaaaaaado!<br /><br />Un poco mas de conversacion por la mañana con ella ya mas sobria revelo que de hecho ella no esta viviendo con su pareja, o sea que no me explico porque no queria ir a dormir a su casa?!?!? Lo del robo si ocurrio entonces ocurrio en circumstancias mas que raras. Y por la mañana cuando llamo a su pareja ya hablaba en polaco?!?!?<br />O sea que le dije que se fuera a casa, se duchara un poco (y se lavara los pies bien lavados) y que luego se fuera a la policia a contarles sus cosas para que le hacieran como minimo un poco de papel para poderlo enseñar cuando fuera a decir que ese mes no podia pagar el alquiler. Que si su pareja la pegaba que lo dejara y que habia sitios donde ir a pedir ayuda, que preguntara a la policia en el mismo ir. Y que a ver si se espabilaba un poco y que bebiendo no iba a solucionar nada. La acompañe a su casa y ya por fin a las doce de la mañana me pude poner a dormir un poco!<br /><br />Porque de todas las casas de Southampton me tenia que ir a llamar a la mia?!?!?!? Si hubiera sido una "vecina" dices: bueno, las probabilidades eran altas ... pero teniendo en cuenta lo lejos que vive … A veces me siento taaaaaan cansaaaaaado!Ivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07363726002199490850noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2579299622741635968.post-51215715105909543732010-01-29T17:10:00.004+00:002010-02-28T15:01:20.435+00:00Zombies!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlKZE4eg_J50gx6OBhYTpz10KNM41fcgefap809qXe5GLFZ14H9m-mqw3ae77T0qFSx1C9b11SIXmh3HyszSCZzR3Yv0Dgvmaz47cCGSue20gmDPYrA2rKLC6GpUOn38a-xN1nlEgpHSY/s1600-h/zombietar_20100129_101239.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlKZE4eg_J50gx6OBhYTpz10KNM41fcgefap809qXe5GLFZ14H9m-mqw3ae77T0qFSx1C9b11SIXmh3HyszSCZzR3Yv0Dgvmaz47cCGSue20gmDPYrA2rKLC6GpUOn38a-xN1nlEgpHSY/s320/zombietar_20100129_101239.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432211227256751506" /></a>Take a look at my latest creation, a web page where you can make your own <b>Zombie Avatars</b> for free: <a href="http://zombietar.framiq.com"> http://zombietar.framiq.com</a><br /><br />I am sure you are going to ask me: why? What on earth were you thinking when you decided to create that ... "service"? Basically I was a bit worried about the feedback I received for the game I released a couple of weeks ago about it not being Ivanine enough. So I decided to take a deep breath, pause for a second and think properly what is the motivation behind all this work I am doing. And the answer I found was, of course: I want to conquer the world! :-D<br /><br />So, following this line of thinking, I decided that the best way to accomplish world domination would be by creating an army of zombies. I have seen them in a few movies and they seem quite a formidable fighting force. So, I thought: Mmmmmm ... zombies ... that sounds like a good plan!<br /><br />Hence I decided to start infecting people with a zombie virus straight away. As this happens and people are turned into zombies they are going to need new profile pictures for social networks and messenger programs. So, always thinking one step ahead, I decided to create this web page, <a href="http://zombietar.framiq.com"> http://zombietar.framiq.com</a>, were zombies can create avatars to match their new appearance.<br /><br />But, don't worry if you are not a zombie (yet), you can still use it and create yourself a zombie avatar! We zombies don't discriminate. Besides, this way people starts getting used to your new look because you can be sure of one thing: the zombie apocalypse is coming soon!<br /><br />Muahahahahaha!Ivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07363726002199490850noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2579299622741635968.post-58833880891103738182010-01-18T05:52:00.003+00:002013-08-17T04:32:38.859+01:00"Ivanine"Hi people, I am back writing for a few days ... or maybe even for a few weeks ... :-P<br />
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I was a "little bit" busy the past three months doing my latest web game thingy. But it is finished now and before I start working on my next project I am giving myself a few holiday hours ... yes, I know, my boss is a bit of a slave driver :-( So I decided to spend them updating this blog.<br />
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Just for you to imagine how busy I was I can tell you that the game has 5500 effective lines of code (8000 with comments and blank lines, yes: I comment my code!) ... does that tell you anything? No? Nothing?<br />
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If you put that magic number on a software estimation cost model like the <a href="http://www.cms4site.ru/utility.php?ecur=1.12&eafcur=1&utility=cocomoii&sloc=5%2C500&pph=40">COCOMO II</a>, developed by the NASA (the people that went to the Moon, you know?), then you get that it should take 16.5 person-months to develop the game ... meaning that you need 1 person to work for 16.5 months to complete the project. 2 people a bit more than 8 months and so on. I did it in 3 months ... coffee breaks: who needs them! ... working all night long: bring it on! ... if Buddhist monks can spend days meditating without eating and moving (or going to the toilet) so can I spend them in front of a computer! That was the spirit! :-D<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0L0W1OmW26Oeb891uGjTdFKSeMCX6ab6nsOe4KDhFf5YDjpy44oHHh1nkSZIRwwBkYuRY4GHZd7Isyc3HjmSgW-8eK0eUHs177Hrm5EKdNhxZDQvm9nhwb8WN_sz4YbH0QBxvkVcmrP4/s1600-h/help_en_1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427955487856286898" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0L0W1OmW26Oeb891uGjTdFKSeMCX6ab6nsOe4KDhFf5YDjpy44oHHh1nkSZIRwwBkYuRY4GHZd7Isyc3HjmSgW-8eK0eUHs177Hrm5EKdNhxZDQvm9nhwb8WN_sz4YbH0QBxvkVcmrP4/s320/help_en_1.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 320px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 249px;" /></a>So I finished this poker based dice game, O General, put it online and showed it to a few people for final tests and to check their impressions. Apart from one or two comments about the game flow itself (... and one person complaining about a score before even taking a quick look at the instructions manual where it is all clearly explained! >:-( ...) I was told that the game, even though nice and fun, was not "<b>Ivanine</b>" enough. And that comment came from a person that knows me quite well, so it must be true.<br />
<br />
But ... not being Ivanine enough?!?!? WTF that means? I couldn't sleep thinking about what makes a thing Ivanine enough! (I swear it is true!)<br />
I was also told that the first game I did, Ditch'em All, was a lot more Ivanine. So, what does Ditch'em All have that makes it more <i>"of the nature of Ivan"</i> than O General?<br />
<br />
After a lot of thinking I managed to find out: O General is more on the safe side. Even though nice and fun O General lacks this Monty Python surrealism, it lacks this Weird Al Yankovic craziness and it lacks Steven Seagal's acting skills that are the essential ingredients for any good Ivanine thingy (like a certain <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tRnjY5tCQwU">Ivanine video</a> that wanders around the Internet).<br />
<br />
So, even though I am going to do normal (non Ivanine) games from time to time, I changed my original plans and my next game is going to be all about WORLD DOMINATION ... and it clearly needs to feature the four greatest forces of the universe: NINJAS, PIRATES, ZOMBIES and ROBOTS ... and also STEVEN SEAGAL, of course ... all presented in a coherent way ... scrap that last comment: all presented in an IVANINE way ... muhahahaha haha ha!Ivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07363726002199490850noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2579299622741635968.post-6018934401159484482009-09-24T05:44:00.000+01:002009-09-24T05:45:56.148+01:00AssombraçõesIn order to practice a bit my Portuguese I have been watching this program about haunted houses they show late night (obvious time slot, isn't it?) on Discovery Channel and to tell the truth I have a few doubts about the spirits that I am going to share with you:<br /><ul><br /><li>How come all the paranormal activity always happens at night? What are the spirits doing during the day? Playing football, watching TV?!?!?</li><br /><li>Why are the spirits always trying to scare you off your house? How come you never find spirits that actually want you in there and that bake you cookies for when you arrive from work?</li><br /><li>And how come the spirits tend to mess the place up badly? Aren't they any spirits of cleaning ladies around?</li><br /><li>If you are a spirit powerful enough to throw things at people how come your aim is so bad? For God's sake, you have been around a few hundred years, you could have been practising a bit your aim already!</li><br /><li>Also, in a kitchen there are things far more deadly than dishes ... what about knives? If you can go through the trouble of opening a cabinet and throwing dishes why not slide a drawer and throw the knives and pointy forks?!? HELLLLO!</li><br /><li>Why didn't the native Americans leave a record of their burial places so people don't build house on top of them?</li><br /><li>If rather than a spirit you are a devil and they open one of this "doors" for you to come to the land of the living, how come then you stick around that place just to scare teenagers? Why not wander around taking back as many souls as possible? Why did you come on the first place? Didn't you have a plan? Were you bored or what?</li><br /><li>If you are an entity with no physical body that can cross walls and appear in any room of a house at will, how come you are only bothering one family in a row of terraced houses? Are you afraid that if you go to the neighbours' the police is going to arrest you for trespassing?!?</li><br /></ul><br /><br />But, my biggest doubt of all is:<br /><ul><br /><li>If you are a male spirit, you can cross walls, change location at will and sneak around undetected, then how come that there are no reports of appearances in any ladies changing rooms?!?!?</li><br /></ul><br />Let's face it: you all know that they would be the most haunted places ever ...Ivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07363726002199490850noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2579299622741635968.post-63460981690312592382009-08-25T20:55:00.002+01:002009-08-25T21:02:01.667+01:00What have I been doing this past monthsThe answer is short and simple: paperwork! :-(<br /><br />Changing my Brazilian visa and having everything sorted out hasn't been easy at all ... and it hasn't been a 100% success unfortunately. When going through a paperwork process that involves different countries and different organization bodies you can find some (or all, if you are as lucky as me!) of the following problems:<br /><ul><br /><li>First of all lack of clarity on how things work. You talk to someone on the phone (if you are lucky enough to get hold of someone) and tells you one thing, the very next day you go in person and you get a completely different answer ... ok, fair enough: the process changes at random depending on the person and the day ... why not? It makes perfect sense.<br /><br />Another variation on the lack of clarity is when you call and they don't tell you everything you need to know unless you ask specifically. For example: "To get this paper you need to go in person to the ministry of whatever." Full stop. You start planning the trip and seeing it is really expensive and almost impossible to sort out you call again and ask: "But, cannot I do this by post, even if it takes longer? Is there any other method?" "Of course, you can post it or go to any of the regional delegations" ... Why on hearth didn't you say so on the first place then?!?<br /><br />Or even better when you go in person, ask what sort of paper you need to proof whatever needs proving. You get an answer. You get the paper. You go back again, speak to the very same person and he tells you that unfortunately that paper is not valid. WTF?!?!?</li><br /><li>Second problem you can get is plain incompetence. Imagine that there is one single person in charge of doing one of the steps. If that is your only job you should know everything from the inside out of how things work. Specially if there is a well known loophole everybody is taking advantage off. And even more when they have changed the legislation on the previous two months to close it! ... well you must be guessing already that the person didn't have a clue the loophole was closed giving advice that was completely wrong ... and a bit illegal at that time ...</li><br /><li>Third problem, and worst of all, is having one of the civil servants blatantly lying. Specially when that person works for the Policia Federal "helping" the foreigners sorting out their visa paperwork. I am not a psychologist but I guess that this white bearded person must have had some sort of trauma on his long gone youth and now enjoys abusing of his powers on helpless foreigners. The most despicable thing is that he does not act on the open, that would take way too much courage, but hidden behind a riddle of lies, making some of the important papers go missing mysteriously and secretly stamping your passport without telling you.<br /><br />And what did he gain with all that?!? Nothing! Did me and the others loose anything? No, just some time and we had to activate the "plan B".<br /><br />So, as a person he is an asshole ... and as a master criminal he sucks! :-D</li><br /></ul><br />And these are only some of the joys of living abroad ... keep tuned!Ivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07363726002199490850noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2579299622741635968.post-38078178736397985872009-07-20T14:30:00.002+01:002009-07-20T14:36:31.579+01:00First game!People! Yes, I know I have kept quiet for a while ... a couple of weeks I believe. As my last post was about the "party lag" most of you may think I haven't been updating the blog because I was going out day and night with friends ... you are wrong (... mostly ...): I was finishing the test of my first game!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjstRM27luuGjWUNnW8prkR1uOGShAe9CdeSjr6Yu7qgoCeJrTfH0dzfj0eib4XHGuiLERGh-4DKTR2cIT19VvyY2lE8vQqwnrMwvYVZ_eiOElYwZu0UHCEKlmVqfG1sqBcXPyfufroHHU/s1600-h/help00.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjstRM27luuGjWUNnW8prkR1uOGShAe9CdeSjr6Yu7qgoCeJrTfH0dzfj0eib4XHGuiLERGh-4DKTR2cIT19VvyY2lE8vQqwnrMwvYVZ_eiOElYwZu0UHCEKlmVqfG1sqBcXPyfufroHHU/s320/help00.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360534737407362802" /></a><br /><br />This is a event based card game with the goal of staying single until you are thirty. The game starts when you are twenty being single. Every turn represents half a year of your life and you have to play and event card. Depending on the outcome of the card you get points on four different "attributes" and when one of them reaches 100% you "level up" to the next stage in your relationship. You go from being "single" to "best friends", then to "dating", then "engaged" and finally you get "married" ... the closer you are to the marriage the less points you get added to your total score! :-P<br /><br />It is available on Facebook: <a href="http://apps.facebook.com/ditchemall/">Ditch'em all on Facebook</a><br />And also standalone outside: <a href="http://ditch.framiq.com">Ditch'em all standalone</a><br /><br />Feel free to try it and tell me what do you think ... specially if its is good ... if it is bad I'll simply ignore your opinion! :-P<br /><br />I have to thank Jenny, a chocolate fondue and a bottle (or maybe two) of champagne as source of inspiration for the game!<br /><br />Of course, all the events are based on real life experiences ... say no more! :-DIvanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07363726002199490850noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2579299622741635968.post-31827302530992948972009-06-27T17:15:00.003+01:002009-06-27T17:20:59.798+01:00Party lagThey say that when you travel by plane you can be affected by a sleeping disorder called "jet lag". Basically it takes some time for your body to adapt to the new time zone. The average is about 1 day if you travel eastwards and about 1.5 days if you do so westwards.<br /><br />I think I have a bit of a problem ... I did travel eastwards 10 days ago and I still haven't managed to fall asleep before 5am a single day!<br />Should I see a doctor? Maybe ... maybe not ...<br />When he asks if I spend hours no end in bed waiting to fall asleep ... I'll have to say: Noooooooooo! I spend hours no end in bars and restaurants with different friends each night! BASTARDS! This is the real problem of living abroad and coming back home: there is always a friend that hasn't seen you with energy to go out ... or one that has seen you already ... So, if you are nice like me :-P, you can easily spend 10 days in a row "having to" go out ... Then when you can finally escape and go back to wherever you live looking like a zombie people will ask you: "Is it the jet lag?" ... "Jet lag, jet lag, ... Noooooooooo: PARTY LAG!" :-DIvanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07363726002199490850noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2579299622741635968.post-42843915671501831112009-06-24T10:00:00.000+01:002009-06-24T10:00:11.183+01:00QuoteBeer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.<br /><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Benjamin_Franklin"> Benjamin Franklin</a>Ivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07363726002199490850noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2579299622741635968.post-83160754682732810032009-06-23T14:53:00.002+01:002009-06-23T14:56:25.269+01:00Paella with onion ringsAs I had some good feedback about my previous post about how to do some fried eggs I am going to write about cooking again ... this time though not about what to do but about "cultural differences" and some aberrations I have suffered myself with the paellas.<br /><br />In case you didn't know/imagine each country has its own cooking traditions and taste. So, when opening a "foreign" restaurant you usually need to adapt a bit the recipes. This can either be because some of the ingredients are impossible to find, because in the new country they don't like a particular condiment, because some of the ingredients taste quite different, …<br />So you find yourself a few odd things like Indian curry in the UK being a lot milder than the original … rabbits in the UK are better known as pets but in Spain they are a food source ... Italian lasagna being hot as hell in India … Mexican people having to add the entire contents of a chilly oil bottle to their enchiladas … the list is endless!<br /><br />So, I should know better and when I see a Spanish restaurant run away as if it was cursed. But is not that easy!<br />First error: You have this kind of nostalgia … or you are with friends that hate you … or friends that think you are going to be extremely happy by eating something that completely falls short of your expectations … anyway, one way or another you always end up going in!<br />Second error: Ordering your favorite dish!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbsbFkmHklg12t1iMXjzQVlAcUzsKtweSkmgQin20KVpjtzrGkP1sxU2yFRMo8ZqaijdAU3_2XIMyM8nSsVoezIogFpLSTLxndVOe2VvI09un8NUUl6YcQX-khmBJSjelQbMS0QEWbPhQ/s1600-h/paella.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbsbFkmHklg12t1iMXjzQVlAcUzsKtweSkmgQin20KVpjtzrGkP1sxU2yFRMo8ZqaijdAU3_2XIMyM8nSsVoezIogFpLSTLxndVOe2VvI09un8NUUl6YcQX-khmBJSjelQbMS0QEWbPhQ/s320/paella.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350521206722689938" /></a>In my case one of my favorite dishes is the "paella". In theory it is quite simple because it is no more than rice with things. It can be either meat or fish or a mix of the two. So there are a lot of different recipes and ways of cooking but the end result should fall within some pretty standard taste range. Now, I think it is in the human nature not to read the instructions before doing something … and I admit I have done that quite a few times … but if you are a professional cook you should at least take a quick look at the recipes and not just at the picture that goes with it! Because, judging by the range of strange things that is what they tend to do.<br />In case any cook follows this blog I'll add a quick list of what not to put on a paella:<br /><ul><br /><li>Yes, I know that on the picture you had some lemon wedges … they were just an ornament! Don't cook them with the rice!</li><br /><li>And yes, I know that is called "paella Valencia" and that oranges are typical from there … and that if you cook the rice with lemon wedges, why not oranges? Well, don't!</li><br /><li>Olives?!? Cooked?!? Where did you see that?</li><br /><li>Chorizo … with a fish paella … Mt Cook: you should go to the doctor to check those taste buds.</li><br /><li>Onion rings?!? Are you sure that they weren't fried squid rings?!? And still, that is definitely not part of any traditional (or any modern) recipe.</li><br /><li>But most important of all: the yellow color of the paella rice comes from saffron, not from freaking curry species! Mr Canteen's Cook: you don't know how close to death you were that day!</li><br /></ul>Ivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07363726002199490850noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2579299622741635968.post-69528646005187898032009-06-18T17:59:00.000+01:002009-06-18T18:00:28.560+01:00QuoteWe travel because, no matter how comfortable we are at home, there's a part of us that wants - that needs - to see new vistas, take new tours, obtain new traveller's checks, buy new souvenirs, order new entrées, introduce new bacteria into our intestinal tracts, learn new words for "transfusion," and have all the other travel adventures that make us want to French-kiss our doormats when we finally get home.<br /><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dave_Barry">Dave Barry</a>Ivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07363726002199490850noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2579299622741635968.post-54562771311574703942009-06-13T10:00:00.000+01:002009-06-13T10:00:01.059+01:00QuoteSuccess is the ability to go from one failure to another with no loss of enthusiasm.<br />Probably <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Winston_Churchill">Winston Churchill</a>Ivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07363726002199490850noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2579299622741635968.post-51644742503152551942009-06-12T10:30:00.000+01:002009-06-12T10:30:00.204+01:00Cooking recipe: fried eggs!The other day I had a friend around and I was cooking us dinner. All of a sudden she looked puzzled and asked: "why are you doing it like this?" I realized that, as with most things, I cook in a completely different way compared to the rest of the world! So let me share it with you and see what you think.<br /><br />My cooking style is based in patience! Yes: patience. Basically it takes me about ten minutes to fry an egg!<br /><br />The normal approach is to have the oil pretty hot, dump the egg in the pan ... and unleash hell with boiling oil splashing all around ... the egg white burnt on the outside but raw on the middle ... and you with third degree burns, stressed out and an anxiety crisis.<br /><br />Me, on the other hand, I have the hob at the lowest possible mark. The oil is not that hot, you dump the egg ... nothing happens at first. You have all the time in the world to fetch the salt and add any extra seasoning or toppings. And just leave it in there ... patience ... no need to stir, no need to splash the top of the egg with boiling oil, no need to do anything. Just wait! You will see that the egg white starts cooking slowly from underneath until it is all perfectly and homogeneously cooked. The yolk is still going to be raw: the perfect fried egg (if you leave if for too long the worst that can happen is that the yolk is going to cook as well) And no hot oil splashing anywhere.<br />Voilà: done!<br /><br />Note that I said you have time to add "extra toppings" apart from salt. From time to time I do what people call "pizza fried eggs". Basically you do like in a pizza and add bacon, cheese, oregano, peperoni, ... whatever you want to the egg white, just after putting the egg into the pan. The ingredients are going to cook slowly and get fused with the egg white. Yummy, yummy! :-)<br /><br />So, when you have friends around: do you prefer to spend a couple of minutes worrying, burning yourself, making a mess of the kitchen? Or do you prefer spending ten minutes drinking beer and chatting with them? ... I always go for the beer option! :-DIvanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07363726002199490850noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2579299622741635968.post-42473256071889594982009-06-10T10:00:00.001+01:002009-06-10T10:00:00.140+01:00QuoteWhat happens if a big asteroid hits Earth? Judging from realistic simulations involving a sledge hammer and a common laboratory frog, we can assume it will be pretty bad.<br />Probably <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dave_Barry">Dave Barry</a>Ivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07363726002199490850noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2579299622741635968.post-55576779142109969922009-06-09T09:20:00.000+01:002009-06-09T09:20:00.768+01:00Brazilian phone etiquetteIt is a fact that each country has its own particular way of answering the phone and you are meant to take it just like yet another cultural difference ... but the Brazilian way is ... well, it can be a bit annoying!<br /><br />Now imagine the following real situation:<br />You are happily slept doing your siesta, one of the most sacred moments of the day for a Spanish person, and all of a sudden there is an annoying ringing noise that wakes you up! :-(<br /><dl><br /><dt>[me thinking]</dt><br /><dd>Ok, what the hell is that freakin' noise?!? Ah, the freakin' phone! ... Who is it going to be? ... Oh! ... having in mind that in Europe is evening probably one of my friends! :-)</dd><br />Half slept I struggle to quickly get the phone without killing myself in the process.<br /><br /><dt>[me]</dt><br /><dd>- Alô (note the perfect Brazilian accent!)</dd><br /><dt>[unknown brazilian person]</dt><br /><dd>- Who am I talking to?</dd><br /><dt>[me thinking]</dt><br /><dd>What the f**k?!? ... You are the one calling: tell me if I am wrong but the person making the phone call should know who they are calling to? ... no?</dd><br /><dt>[unknown brazilian person]</dt><br /><dd>- Who am I talking to?</dd><br /><dt>[me thinking]</dt><br /><dd>Why do you want to know my name? Were you feeling bored and you said: I feel like talking to someone called John today. Let's call all numbers at random asking for the person's name until I find one!</dd><br /><dt>[unknown brazilian person]</dt><br /><dd>- Who am I talking to?</dd><br /><dt>[me thinking]</dt><br /><dd>For God's sake, at least tell me who you are and who you are looking for!!!!</dd><br /><dt>[unknown brazilian person]</dt><br /><dd>- Who am I talking to?</dd><br /><dt>[me thinking]</dt><br /><dd>I cannot take it any more!</dd><br /><dt>[me]</dt><br /><dd>- I am Ivan, Ivan Reyné.</dd><br /><dt>[unknown brazilian person]</dt><br /><dd>- Oh, what a shame, sorry. CLINGS</dd><br /><dt>[me thinking]</dt><br /><dd>Have you hang up on me already?!? ...</dd><br /><dt>[phone]</dt><br /><dd>tuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu</dd><br /><dt>[me thinking]</dt><br /><dd>... Yes, you have! ... BASTARD! And without telling who you were looking for or even your name!<br />Wasn't my name good enough for a bit of a chat? Wasn't my voice nice enough for a bit of a conversation?<br />... I need to know your freakin' name for the traditional Spanish curse ritual for waking me up of the siesta for nothing!! Aaaaaaaaargh!!</dd><br /></dl>Ivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07363726002199490850noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2579299622741635968.post-48707444896068697562009-06-06T12:00:00.000+01:002009-06-06T12:00:01.415+01:00QuoteIf you are going through hell, keep going!<br />Probably <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Winston_Churchill">Winston Churchill</a>Ivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07363726002199490850noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2579299622741635968.post-34035208605507976722009-06-05T10:00:00.002+01:002009-06-05T10:00:00.280+01:00Toilets!Most of the time the main problems of living abroad are not the big things like paperwork, visas, renting a flat, liking the food, … but the small little details of your day to day life.<br />Little things like for example walking on the wrong side of the pavement (people tend to walk the same way they drive). It seems that <a href="http://mylifeinhavaianas.blogspot.com/2009/05/ivan.html">Jenny has problems opening doors</a> (I admit I do too!). Or getting terribly confused when you meet new people: is it handshake? one kiss? two kisses? … three kisses? … two kisses, a hug and we exchange presents? … HELP!! These are the little things that make you look like an idiot and completely out of place.<br /><br />My worst nightmare though are the toilets! And I am not talking that they might be dirty or have weird hoses attached for who knows what purposes! I am talking going to a bar or restaurant and being presented with two doors and being like … "oooooook … which is the right one?"<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiZKWBvtbw_dilWbMSePBKlpZ8C9oKXERXEiNfzduLT18AiGCOE300o8SJaJ_K3znt9aT2BeMwf52liqjle8FI3pJflZHfAt3U4Z_MJMvnjMYLFJgwTl5ZDpKjPL4lZrJkkBqBErJevgY/s1600-h/toilet_sign.gif"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiZKWBvtbw_dilWbMSePBKlpZ8C9oKXERXEiNfzduLT18AiGCOE300o8SJaJ_K3znt9aT2BeMwf52liqjle8FI3pJflZHfAt3U4Z_MJMvnjMYLFJgwTl5ZDpKjPL4lZrJkkBqBErJevgY/s320/toilet_sign.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343563469453887394" border="0" /></a>Thanks God for standardisation nowadays in most places you have some variation of the man-woman outlined figure. Good and simple even if you are in a hurry after a few beers you can easily guess properly in no time.<br />Sometimes there is a bit of a variation, specially if the bar/restaurant has some weird decoration and they decide to alter the standard sign for a man-woman that go with it. In this sense I have seen more detailed drawing with vintage clothes, astronauts, completely naked and quite explicit, … a picture of a chimpanzee and a chimpanzee with a pink dress, … It can take you a bit of extra time but in a second you are able to choose the right door.<br /><br />Then you have the places where there is no way to guess. For example, in a bar I used to go they had the image of a little angel and another of a virgin … so, everybody was peeing outside! :-D Jokes aside a lot of people had to ask the waiters which was which and if you are in a hurry that is not good!<br /><br />But the real problems, for me, are the ones where you just have a single freaking letter! Specially if they went for some designer font: "is this an M or a W?" In that case my advice is to wait until you see someone that looks like a local going to the toilet and following him/her! If you cannot wait here I'll list some of the combinations I have seen in my life in case it can be of any help:<br /><ul><br /><li>M (men) / W (women)</li><br /><li>M (male) / F (female)</li><br /><li>B (boys) / G (girls)</li><br /><li>B (blokes) / L (ladies)</li><br /><br /><li>H (hombres) / M (mujeres)</li><br /><li>C (caballeros) / S (señoras)</li><br /><br /><li>H (homes) / D (dones)</li><br /><br /><li>C (cavalheiros) / D (damas)</li><br /><li>H (homens) / M (mulheres)</li><br /></ul><br />So, men: if you are in a Spanish or Portuguese speaking county don't go for the "M" door or you'll be in trouble!! :-DIvanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07363726002199490850noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2579299622741635968.post-64830431774167164922009-06-03T09:00:00.000+01:002009-06-03T09:00:01.028+01:00Manowar's KingI like a lot of different types of music, from chill out to symphonic metal passing trough salsa and all sorts of weird stuff. And, even though I don't like that much "heavy metal", my favourite band of all time is Manowar: the KINGS OF METAL!<br /><br />I am not entirely sure which is my favourite song, because I love quite a few ... and with every new album they get better and better :-) But there is one that I always like to hear because it inspires me, gives me energy and, in my opinion, has the best "one-liner" ever:<br />"For Those Who Never Try They Are Sure To Fail" ... think about it ... think about it :-)<br /><br />Unfortunately the official video is a kind of live recording in a dodgy studio with some ever dodgier girls around ... and the fake smoke, what is that for?!?<br />So I like the album version better as voice and instruments have better quality ... and there are no dodgy girls, but, who am I to judge the taste in girls from the KINGS OF METAL:<br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a-Roe0KvIFk">video clip on youtube</a><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">King</span><br /><br />Now Is The Time To Reach For The Sky<br />Gather The Wind Hear The Voice To Fly<br />To Know Why They Sing About Heroes And Kings<br />Who Were Brave And Not Afraid To Die<br />Look And You'll See That A New Day Will Bring<br />The Will To Go On And Fight Trough Endless Suffering<br />For All Who Believe Wait A Crown A Ring<br /><br />The Power Of The Man Who Would Be King<br />The Power Of The Man Who Would Be King<br /><br />Into The Fight Of Hopes And Dreams<br />The Master Of The Wind Knows Nothing's What It Seems<br />The Melting Of The Soul The Wish Of Those Who Scheme<br />The Taking Of The Will By Destroyers Of The Dream<br />They Live To Spread The Fear Of The Wrong Of Right Of Self<br />They Want Us All To Live Like Books Upon A Shelf<br />But We Know We Have The Power To Fight And Make A Stand<br />Strike When We Are Challenged All Across The Land To Be King<br /><br />Fight For The Crown, Fight For The Ring<br />We're Fighting The World, We Fight For The King<br /><br />Time To Face The World Let Brothers Never Fight<br />Forever Forge Ahead And Keep The Dream In Sight<br />For Those Who Never Try They Are Sure To Fail<br />The Heart's A Righteous Wind That Comes To Fill The Sail<br />For The Glory Of The King We Fight To Stay Alive<br />By The Power Of The Will, The Spirit To Survive To Be King<br /><br />Fight For The Crown, Fight For The Ring<br />We're Fighting The World, We Fight For The King<br /><br />All Of The Dreams Held Deep Inside Have A Meaning To The Soul<br />Freedom To Bring A Thought To The Wing Is Waiting To Unfold<br />For The Crown And The Ring<br />The Power Of The Men Who Would Be King<br /><br />Fight For The Crown, Fight For The Ring<br />We're Fighting The World, We Fight For The King<br /><br />For The Glory Of The King We Fight To Stay Alive - FIGHT -<br />By The Power Of The Will The Spirit To Survive - FIGHT -<br />Across The Gates Of Heaven Beyond The Gates Of Hell - FIGHT -<br />We Fought To Stay Together<br />We Have Won And Have Lived To Tell Who Would Be King<br /><br />Fight For The Crown, Fight For The Ring<br />We're Fighting The World, We Fight For The KingIvanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07363726002199490850noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2579299622741635968.post-79700109143228661052009-06-01T10:00:00.000+01:002009-06-01T10:00:00.793+01:00UK vs Brazil: DogsOne of the things I have noticed after living in the UK for some years and Brazil for a few months is that there is a clear difference in the breed of dogs people tend to own. In the UK there is an abundance of "lean, mean, killing machine" type of dogs whilst in contrast here in Brazil they tend to go for the "small, fun, cute" type.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyxQMZ3dJPupKyuJ4NMWj3wMZDOv_a5YXpriV3bw_yiKyIveQGXM-b06n9mBxF1QrPl_NGupYW6ilFuv3T525GeXUMm9WYQHxCrbnA7WCdNqjgmATNMPzcJ5VJWcRHrzJK-Fnywmtq7jo/s1600-h/UKvsBrazilDogs.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyxQMZ3dJPupKyuJ4NMWj3wMZDOv_a5YXpriV3bw_yiKyIveQGXM-b06n9mBxF1QrPl_NGupYW6ilFuv3T525GeXUMm9WYQHxCrbnA7WCdNqjgmATNMPzcJ5VJWcRHrzJK-Fnywmtq7jo/s320/UKvsBrazilDogs.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341745187763587682" /></a><br />They say that dogs tell a lot about their owners ... and I believe it is true!Ivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07363726002199490850noreply@blogger.com0