pet peeve of the day: “ping”
i hate when people say “i’m going to ping you”, or “i just pinged him/her/it over myspace/fb/im/etc.” it’s fucking not accurate terminology and it drives my bugfuck crazy. same with calling an email address a url (note: yourmom@mail.com is NOT A FUCKING URL!)
a little background:
Ping is a computer network tool used to test whether a particular host is reachable across an IP network. It works by sending ICMP “echo request†packets to the target host and listening for ICMP “echo response†replies. ping estimates the round-trip time, generally in milliseconds, and records any packet loss, and prints a statistical summary when finished.
The word ping is also frequently used as a verb or noun, where it can refer directly to the round-trip time, the act of running a ping program or measuring the round-trip time.
if you’re sending me a message from outlook, yahoo, gmail, hotmail, aol, eudora, pine — whatever! — then for the love of all things fucking holy say “i am emailing! you.” gawd…is that really so fucking hard?
if you skype/im/gchat someone, then fucking say: “i am [im-ing/messaging/chatting’] so&so.”
for fuck’s sake, it’s not that hard! you are not pinging them. you can’t send someone a ping. you.just.fucking.can’t. if it’s coming from your email address and it contains whatever trite bullshit message/picture/saying/video/porn that is swirling around in your brainmeats at the time it’s not a fucking ping. ok? it’s fucking not!
seethe seethe seethe!
ok…and this brings us to the second portion of today’s inane blathering. and seriously, it does factor in somewhat relatively. as you can see, shit be stressin’ me out these days. or you know, always. and in an effort to control some of the blinding, fiery rage (bloodlust?) coursing through my veins i’ve been channeling the energy i normally save for going on savagely brutal killing sprees (oh how i loves me some killin’) to more productive endeavors.
such as, perhaps, brushing up on my culinary skills. and really, this benefits more than just me. it keeps the boy from starving to death or having to live off of a diet of nothing but lucky charms and ramen as well.
last night’s endeavor was from a cookbook i bought especially for the boy, back when i was still entertaining the delusions that someday he would voluntarily procure a meal that did not come from a take out menu or instant packet. i was trying to be helpful, see? totally fucking selfless act.
MOVING ON…down the road the boy is officially my dish bitch and i have incorporated the aforementioned book into regular cooking practices. and really? i picked a fucking awesome cookbook for him. go me!
so last night, yes? was meatballs in tomato sauce with home made focaccia. super fucking easy, yet tasty. obviously i will be bookmarking the recipe for future use.
now, i’m planning various delicious and tasty treats for super bowl sunday. because it is an unspoken holiday…even if the fucking smack ass patriots are playing again this year.
you missed the point, i LIKE cooking. it’s fun and relieves stress! plus it’s tasty!