Blogger works better at night, and better with slower load times - this much I’ve noticed. What I think they need to do is have some sort of frontend that doesn’t depend on the slow backend to work quickly… like if it’s going to take a half a minute in order to “publish” a post, why not do that server-side instead of representing that time with a constantly reloading page? You could even estimate server load and when the post would be up. It wouldn’t be difficult at all.

Another thing they could do is limit the number of blogs being made somehow. There’s enough pointless rambling that goes on here about nothing except about the next l33t h4xx0r or cool toy or hot guy or why-my-life-sucks angsty whining. Of course that’s never going to happen until some l33t h4xx0r invents a good-intentions detector.

They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. I say the road to hell is paved with liberal humanistic theories. And I think we can be both right, because most liberal humanistic theories are made with the best intention. Seriously. I think the philosophers who come with each “new” idea have injested a bit too much PCP, if you know that I mean. It’s like trapping a mouse in a maze made of sugar and expecting it to get a realisting picture of the world from that vantagepoint.

So I’m dating Mary Knor. There, now you know. I hope it makes everyone in the world happy that I have a girlfriend, even if some of you have already let me know about your rather dim expectations for my future matrimonial prospects.

This Friday I wasn’t even supposed to see her, but on the way to Nick’s I stopped by just to say hello and goodbye, and what do you know, I end up on the piano. Then I end up doing a crossword puzzle with Mary. And we almost finish the thing - but not quite. Then off to the hockey game her sister and brothers were playing in.

Aside: girls playing hockey? Douglas Wilson would not approve.

And Mary didn’t touch a single fry from my McDonalds fries. Very impressive self-control, wonder woman. Then, listening to the amazing sounds of British Sea Power, I drove her home, we hugged, I left.

Also, Johan’s car is a bit… shall we say… womanish. That is all.

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