First my web site was banned from government school computers. Then it was blacklisted from the Sydney Bus Network systems. Now I’ve received confirmation that it is now Net-Nanny-ed on the TAFE computers. Can anyone offer any more?

The up shot of this is that I can write whatever I like about Greg and since his new home net connection is being “looked into” by Telstra, and he can’t access my site at his workplace. What this means is that I can tell stories such as how on Thursday night Greg took to the streets and had the shutters of almost every computer shop slam in his face searching for an elusive IDE cable. When he finally tracked one down, he opened his drawers to find three IDE cables sitting right on top.

It’s a good thing he can’t read this.

The festering, perverse scum of Australian Television known as Today Tonight really hates MySpace. Every second night they run a story about how someone’s life has been destroyed by MySpace throwing in expositional lines for the grannies such as “So, using a website on the internet (thats on the computer) called MYSPACE, you are able to be taken advantage of and have photos taken of your naked body?”, cut to a footage of a 12-year old girl actually responding to the question “Would you like free tickets to see Pink?” Even though everyone knows the show is more fictional and distorted than Home and Away, their fervent fixation on representing MySpace as the work of no less than Satan’s No. 2 used to baffle me. Until tonight.

Over the past few days I had tried a few times to log into my account but whenever I entered my password it spat me out onto a nasty Microsoft database error page. Obviously someone forgot to put a slash here or a semicolon there and rendered at the very least my account out of order. At first I sniggered and mumbled something like “that’s what you get hosting your website on 47,000 unwanted Zune players”, but then it kept happening day after day.

Tonight I decided to try again. Low and behold it let me in. I scrolled down just enough to see if I had any new comments or messages. Yes! it said. One New Message! One New Friend Request! One New Birthday! One New Event Invite! Wow! It seemed that while my account was out of action the MySpace world was scuttling around like mice in a tank just prior to being injected with cancer. It seems my account was alive and receiving plenty of attention that I couldn’t supply.

Quickly, I Apple-clicked (to open in a new tab, write it down) on each of the links to bring me my new parcels of digital social joy. I was flittery like a braced-up schoolgirl who just heard whispers that Corey wanted to kiss her. Opening each tab, my joy was systematically crushed. The kids in the playground were playing a prank on me. I had no new messages. No new friend requests. No new birthdays. No new event invites. It seems my account really had been dormant. MySpace was just taunting me with false hopes of popularity.

Now I’m at a loss. I don’t know who to trust. I don’t know if I can ever find happiness again. I don’t know how to spell luv, let alone give or receive it. How can I ever make friends again when I know that their friendship might be as short as my friend request list. Quick, someone, give me the number for Today Tonight.

I’ve managed to hurt myself in a really stupid way.

Yesterday I decided that to celebrate my first day off in who knows how long, I would respine a part of my CD collection. Thrilling, I know. The only problem was that after clawing open the back tray of 50 or so of the super-cheap and nasty CD cases I had bought on eBay, at some point a tiny sliver of plastic broke off and became lodged in my finger. Or something. To be honest, I don’t know if that actually happened. It sure feels like it, but I can’t actually see anything in my finger.

The upshot of this OCD injury is that certain activities that require the use of my left index finger can cause pain. Activities such as typing and playing the piano. I’m hoping it will sort itself out before long. Until then, I’ve put the CD unification project on hold, but the shelf looks great.