I’ve spent since Tuesday trying to get footage from mini-DV to DVD with no success. I even used ‘professional’ equipment at a TV studio for several hours, and thought I’d won, but alas, I left confidently holding two DVDs which turned out to be blank on their arrival at a friend’s DVD player.
At a workshop at ACTV this afternoon, I smiled deeply when some arsehole stood up and tried to sell us his seminar, in which the mysteries of DVD incompatibility would be revealed to us mere mortals. Screw that. I take time from my unaccomplished weekend to attend a workshop, and some jerk tries to sell me something. The audacity. Even if it is something that I need. epicdachsund summed it up in a telephone conversation,
“We plan to firebomb xxx and leave a horse’s head at yyy to let them know we can get to them any time we want.” I exclude the names for legal reasons.
In other news, I have attended none of the things I planned to attend this weekend save said ACTV workshop, seen just two of the people I wanted to see, and socialised very little. It happens.
It’s almost 21:30 and I have only just got my chicken madrasquarade (TM) into the oven, and I can now start work. Conquest will be mine, within five days will my victory be complete, and my word order to normal back get.
On entering a coffeeshop this afternoon, the barista asked me if my beard was for sale. Taken aback, I replied that indeed it was. He bade me wait a second and scurried off to the fridge and pulled thereoff the advertisement I had placed in the Austin Chronicle. When my current backlog of things undone has been chipped, I shall relaunch my marketing campaign. I’m happy to be gracing the refridgeration units of underpaid beverage pourers, really I am, but I want to target my campaign at the wealthy and foolish. “What to get for the well groomed man who has everything.” That kind of thing.