It's funny how the human mind works, really. But the female mind is simply fascinating! Some people are results driven. They don't like mistaking motion for action. They like finality, and are willing to go to extreme lengths just to see that happen. They make for great executives. It's funny that woman executives are more efficient than men in the same position. It's funny because women really like mistaking motion for action. For them, it's not about the end result. There might never even be a finality to their game. Apparently, women really appreciate being wanted. And just that. When they catch on to a guy that fancies them, they will live in that bubble for as long as they can. It's amazing to witness. The best part is their genetic coding, which makes them yearn for stability -- a nice, constantly safe environment to bring up the kids. It's usually the good guys that project this sort of image. So, it's quite understandable why they like feeling wanted by a nice, good guy. Or two, or three. Nothing needs to happen, though. It's all motion, not action. Women like getting bonuses. So they really dig it when one o' them bad guys acts like he's interested. Bad guys are just sexy, and dangerous, and wrong. But women love it. The perspective passion adds so much value that they overlook the instability that would come with such a relationship. Not to say that there will be a relationship. Whether that happens or not is irrelevant, so long as the woman feels desired. But here's the fun part: women love it when a bad guy, seems like he does not want them. Moreover, he seems to be making a point about how they do not want them. The girl's reaction is sometimes the same one as when the bad dude does want them. This time, there's no prospect of a stable relationship that would be good for their offspring. There's no real promise of passion, either. There are no compliments to fuel the girl's ego. But said girl is excited nonetheless. What happens is: the woman's brain tricks her into believing the bad guy does, in fact, want her. Just that he might be playing bastard, which is the male version of playing hard to get. She will go ahead and do things that all women do: distorting reality to match her own ideas, see things that are not there as well as ignore whatever bit of information does not bode well with her fantasy. Some women like to feel wanted, even if in their own imagination.

I'm talking about the buttons that read 'save to delicious' or 'digg this' or 'stumble this' People who don't frequently tweet or save to delicious won't start because of a huge button on your website. The ones that do, already have their own tools and MO for doing so. The services that don't provide cool bookmarklets or API's or tools are the ones that benefit from those buttons. People appreciate the time saved, but are those services really worth the real estate their buttons take up? I mean, have you ever used Fark? Why not make your site cleaner? Those buttons are almost always hideous, save for some very few, but very cool, designs. Plus, they steal attention from your own call to action buttons. Like 'comment' or 'buy' People who don't use twitter or facebook or digg or delicious or what have you are simply nauseated by the constant 'Tweet This' call out they see on sites. Wouldn't you be?

Well, that's all gone to shit. After reading Atwood's tweet: "even Hungarians are not using hungarian notation any more."[sic] -- I got to thinking. People have stopped writing properly. I know what Hungarian Notation is, sillies. And I know it's has nothing to do with grammar or spelling things right. But then, few things today have to do with proper spelling. And I'm not talking about English, either. I'm talking about mother tongues. The beautiful ones, with funny letters and groovy sounds. Languages will tildes,breves, carons, cedillas, circles and other diacritics. Those are the ones I'm talking about. They're not dying. Their writing is. The process itself is called Romanization. It basically means that you can only use the letters found on standard qwerty keyboards plus a few French-ish letters. The Romanians have long adopted this trend. Now, most of our online writing would sound funny if read out loud and with no interpretation. The Hungarians too have fallen to this group. It's understandable, since their letters are damn funny and tough to type. The Dutch, too. Their cosmopolitanism is what caused that stroked out o to vanish from the online. And the French? Well, they've been eager to leave all those damn accents behind since the day they were forced to start using them. The Ruskies, zhe Germans, the Norse and the Asians have yet to be Romanized. And that's good! It makes inter-cultural communication a bitch, but it's well worth it. People will have to study, translators will be hired, eyes will be pleased. That's what the Japanese say when they're asked why they don't switch to the Latin charset: 'Ours is so damn prettier!' Granted, adding the special letters is cumbersome, at best. And sometimes, the wrong letters are added. Sometimes we're just too lazy to switch between keyboard layouts. Sometimes, money gets printed with the wrong diacritics because of bad character support on Macs. Some bastards will write in English because they just feel like it. Whatever our excuse is, it stands. But we're still on a very slippery slope. And yeah, Jeff Atwood's twitter account is @codinghorror. A must-follow for any developer.

This question has been on many people's lips recently. What would happen if the Internet would suddenly cease to exist? The first and obvious answer would be: you would not be reading this. For the rest of this post, let's pretend we're penpals and you got this in the mail. Since this is about my take on this modern day apocalypse, I'll go on by saying I'll also be out of a job. Also, the browser wars.. would be over!! With the extra amount of time, I'd get back in shape, guitar-wise. Less or no time spent in front of the computer means having all the time in the world to me. I'd also get to having those wet dreams I was talking about earlier this year. I might even get laid! Oh, and I'd start calling snail mail, mail and mail, email again. I would probably earn my living working as a farmer, which would become the equivalent of today's coder. Can you picture me with overalls and a checkered shirt on? Straw hat and all? Sexy, I know. I could even look into the possibility of becoming a professional smoker, but I still think the world is not ready for that one yet. I'd start reading in public again, since everyone would be doing it, I suppose. I'd also remember what it's like being alone again -- and I mean that in a good way -- seeing how I can't keep in touch with people without using the Internet. I'd also start noticing small offline details again. Like people talking to me or girls smiling at me. Or that I have fourteen cats living in my house. I'd definitely play with my dogs more often. I'd spent way more time in the garden, eating fruit right out the tree. Best part yet? I'd get to finally fix my unhealthy sleeping habits. Now, this is a tag. Anda was curious to see what a geek would do if the Internet went 404. The fun part about this tag was that I actually got to thinking how much time I actually do spend either online or on my lappy. My findings call for immediate action. So maybe this tag will do Ovi, John Resig and Jon Hicks some good as well.

Not me, sillies. I'm not married. As I was walking to work today, I met a guy that used to be my agent. I had met him on the street on Friday as well, so we're getting back in touch. Anyway, this morning, he had a mother of a black eye and a huge bruise on his right arm. After a quick chat, I asked him about the obvious elephant in the living room: "How did you get that black eye?" His response was not so prompt, but he eventually confessed: My wife beat me up. He then went on to tell me it was the second time that had happened. He also told me she used an apple, among other items, to hit him with. I'm now thinking of a specific ex-sweetheart, who had developed the habit of busting my lip, and of another that really enjoyed hitting and pinching my balls, or of another that used to give me hickies, or of another that... well, you get the idea. Since we humans are creatures of habit, and I tend to find 'aggressive'  chicks, should I be worried about my future?

Cute, eh? Seeing how some of the people from Timisoara that went to Sziget came back with swine flu, my mates from the office got over-panicked with my cold and decided I should get looked at. So, this fine Saturday morning, I did just that. Initially, the doc giggled and sent me straight home. Then, I get a call from some lady health inspector and she sends me back to the hospital to get some proper examination. That involved a not-so-sexy nurse telling me to lay my head back, stick out my tongue and say 'Aaaa'. Then, she shoves this over-sized cue-tip in my mouth, all the way in, right in my throat. I tell you, it was like being kissed by that Italian girl all over again. I'll find out whether I have it or not on Monday, since we Romanians don't do Sundays. Nonetheless, if you came in contact with me this past week, you'd better watch your symptoms: running nose and coughs... and all the stuff I don't have, like: fever, headache, aching joints, fatigue and nausea. Later Edit ( 24 Aug ): I got the results and no, I don't have swine flu.

FUCK YOU!

But what can I change? Romania is a beautiful country, sometimes. There are many things wrong with it, but then all the nations of this world have their own issues. Some look to great leaders to solve them, others go on strike every fortnight, others cannot even admit they have a problem. We, the Romanian people, keep complaining about our problems. We know we have them, some of us even claim to know exactly what they are. What's more, some even give out solutions to the problems. The problem with that is, there's no one solution to rule them all. No one solution that will fix the other issues indirectly. But that's always the way they're presented. Since the people that propose these issues have no real authority, just too much time to think, these ideas -- which are not always bad -- never get implemented. Again, because they're not seen as the biggest problem, or greatest solution. I don't have any solutions, me. I do have an idea though. Rather than trying to find the one big problem and its solution that will magically make things better, we could try to solve as many of the other, seemingly unimportant, problems as we can. Also, solving the big one first will be hard, as it's probably tied to all the lesser ones. Solving the little ones first will be easier and, since they are all tied together, solving issues will, or might, get increasingly easy after we knock down a few. And no, I don't know where to start, and I don't care. And no, I'm no expert on this issue, obviously. But I'm willing to aid you if you have a good idea.

Here's my theory, feel free to smash it to bits. Everyone strives, at some level, to be unique. So the more you try to set yourself apart from the rest of the bunch, the more you become one with said pack. The thing is, we are already unique. We all have beautiful minds, each worth exploring. And we all have our own thoughts, each one of them being ours. Naturally, we all have a lot in common, and we are all alike to some extent, but that's not the part we're talking about. The thing is, you will not become unique, or any more unique — if you'll let me get away with that phrasing — if you dye your hair pink, or wear high heels in winter, or pierce your tits or the tip of your cock. Rather than trying to change stuff that does not matter anyway, try focusing on others, and how you make their lives better. So, the less you do trying to become unique, the better your chances are at staying that way. Of course, you'll still be part of the group of unique people and nothing can set you aside from that one. Bummer, eh?

This song is never about me. The song is never about you! And the second you think it is, well, I don't have enough proper words to describe how bad it is. Whenever I get that impression, I always remember all the details I forgot to factor in while letting my inner dog's tail wag. If those won't do, I'm pretty good at making up reasons for convincing myself of whatever it is I need to be convinced of. Still, that felt rather good. It did put a warm smile on my battered face. And, oh boy, did my tail wag. So thank you.