Quote from: crabby3 on March 13, 2014, 04:37 PM

Quote from: Stoic Joker on March 13, 2014, 04:25 PM

...And the wind chill at 100mph is murder I tell Ya.

Need to get some leathers. 

I've had the same leathers for over 20 years. They work fine...but only so well. What I need is Tropical Breezes instead of this Arctic shit we been getting lately.

Quote from: Stoic Joker on March 13, 2014, 05:03 PM

Quote from: crabby3 on March 13, 2014, 04:37 PM

Quote from: Stoic Joker on March 13, 2014, 04:25 PM

...And the wind chill at 100mph is murder I tell Ya.

Need to get some leathers. 

I've had the same leathers for over 20 years. They work fine...but only so well. What I need is Tropical Breezes instead of this Arctic shit we been getting lately.

You wear colors as well?      My part of the Big Chill already came and went.  It's back up to a Tropical 75 with a light breeze. 

SAN FRANCISCO — Saturday is the Ides of March. But there's no need to be on guard.

Julius Caesar probably should have been. But then, he blew off the soothsayer who told him to "beware the Ides of March" in the first act of Shakespeare's play.

You might remember from English class that things didn't go so well for him.

Out in the Twitterverse, posters are using #idesofmarch as a way to remember actor Philip Seymour Hoffman, who died of a drug overdose last month. Hoffman was in George Clooney's convoluted 2011 political drama "The Ides of March."

Though Bridget Hughes had one of the best tweets so far: "Note to self: On Saturday March 15th, order a Caesar salad, lure it into a false sense of security, then stab it 23 times #IdesofMarch"

...
The English salesman in Cardiff.
An English computer salesman from London was attending a 4-day sales convention in Cardiff (Wales) towards the beginning of Winter.
He drove there by car, checked-in to his pre-booked hotel, and attended the conference each day, usually ending up each evening in a local pub, after dinner, where he would drink solidly at the bar until closing time, and then go to bed.

On the evening of the third day of the convention, he was in the pub, and was talking with the Welsh barman, complaining bitterly about the weather. It had rained incessantly for the 3 days whilst he had been there so far.

"I tell you," he said, "it had been fine when I left England, a crisp Winter's day, but it started to rain as soon as I got across the ruddy border into Wales, and it hasn't f###ing stopped. It rained all during the drive to Cardiff, and by the time I got to my hotel it was f###ing bucketing down. The first night the noise of the heavy rain f###ing drumming against the window of my hotel room ensured that I didn't get much bloody sleep. It was raining at breakfast time the next morning, it was bloody raining all during the convention that day, so we didn't get out to see some of the historical sights around Cardiff that had been planned. It was still pissing down whilst I was having dinner that evening, and when I came over to this pub after dinner it was f###ing bucketing down again.
Now I wouldn't mind, if it had been just the one day, but it's gone on for three f###ing days solid now without letup. Rain, f###ing rain, f###ing rain. Easing off to a fine drizzle for a few hours would have been nice - I could have enjoyed the brief respite - but no, it's just been f###ing bucketing down and bucketing down all the f###ing time and I tell you I'm f###ing fed up with it. I've had enough. I'd have f###ing gone home today if I could have, just to get out of this f###ing waterlogged hole, but I can't you see, because I've got to f###ing well stick around to the bitter end of this sales convention as I am the main sales rep for my company, and I have to make a speech tomorrow, so I can't f###ing leave until after that.
I'd never been to Cardiff before this week. If I'd known what a f###ing waterlogged s##thole it was I would never have f###ing come. This place has to be the f###ing arsehole - the bloody rectum - of the world, I f###ing kid you not."

At this point, he put his pint glass to his lips and took a long, slow drink of the amber liquid. The bar had gone silent, and the several local Welshmen drinking nearby who had been listening intently to his diatribe against the weather were looking curiously at him. One of them, who was sat just a couple of bar stools away from the salesman, turned towards him and enquired, "Oh yes, just passing through are you?"

What Jurassic Park would look like if the raptors were cats. 

I was most amused to get this error message this morning

Quote

Some database tables are no longer available in the universe. See your Business Objects administrator. (Error: WIS 00004)

I'm not sure who administers travel between the universes, or what approvals I'm going to need, but I'm guessing it's not easy