Who’s Myspace?: Dear, Future. By the time you are reading this, this will be your present (but it will read ‘facebook’) and you will know that this was now your future. in the past…

Today I found myself up to my eyeballs in long forgotten backups – bad, I know… I should really do some spring cleaning – but odds are that won’t be happening… Sites and projects from nearly a decade ago in some cases – nothing more than 404s or the sort today for the most part…

In an exercise to prove my wife’s accusations that I “never throw anything away” and to help out an old friend, I sought out a long forgotten backup to help my friend get some of her old content back (hard drive failures play hell on our media retention – long gone are the days of misplacement or house fire to be the cause of losing our stuff (note to self: buy long life external  HD (better make it 2) and backup pictures regularly (better make it 3!!!))).

After tossing up the site on my server, I was surprised to see how many links took me to here:

Dear, 201?.
Welcome to 201?(?) – just insert ‘Facebok’ where it says ‘Myspace’.

-The Past

It sounds like someone has a case of the Mondays…

Things that went wrong today:
– Spilled cup of coffee in mouse, keyboard and lap
– Router died
– Poked self in eye taking a drink of water
– Poured (a significant amount of) water in my lap
– No towel in the bathroom (discovered post-shower, naturally)
– Got yelled at by a school bus driver in front of my neighbors
– Dog pooped next to my chair while I was out ‘being introduced to the neighborhood’ by the friendly neighborhood bus driver

So… Dearest of Mondays.. If you could just go ahead and just die the horribly painful death that you truly deserve, that would be swell…

Here’s the skinny on the angry bus driver if you’re curious and really bored:

(School Bus idling on the road that I am about to take a right onto)
Me (thinking): “… What’s that bar on the front of the bus? Oh, cool – it kind of looks like a bus rack like the ones on the metro busses… That’s awesome!”
(take the right hand turn – driving past the school bus, which is to my left)
[The school bus driver has his window slid open – he has a look that can only be described as equal parts hatred, anger and disgust]
Bus Driver (yelling): “HEY! YOU!!!! … [indistinguishable angry yelling becoming distant]!!!!!”
Me: “What the hell is that dude’s problem?! Yell at me in my own neighborhood – asshat! Why the hell was he yelling at me anywa…. Ohhh… That’s wasn’t a really cool bike-rack wielding school bus… That’s was a school bus with a missing stop sign on their front swinging arm that is unloading children on the opposite side of the bus from me…”

At this moment, I feel it to suddenly be ‘more Monday’ than it was just a mere 5 minutes earlier… Briefly, I contemplated flagging the driver down and letting him know that his bus was in need of repair – that from a perpendicular approach, one couldn’t distinguish him ‘unloading’ from him making a simple left turn and that this was dangerous. That this was ultimately why I failed to stop while he was unloading – that I really did care about the safety of the kids.. I promise, Mr. School Bus Driver, I am a good guy once you get to know me…

But as I started playing through this scenario in my head, I the good fortune to remember something very important:
“It’s Monday – and that means that there is only one way that this can possibly turn out … You lying face down in the street, bleeding from multiple fresh puncture wounds and soaked in your own urine after having been tazed by the local P.D. when your good intentions of notifying them of their need of repair have been misinterpreted as you ‘running down a bus full of children to settle a verbal dispute with the concerned bus driver’”.

With all of this in mind, I plan to not leave my house again today and hope that the structural integrity of my house holds out until Monday passes once again and Tuesday graces us with its “at least it’s not Monday” good vibes…

Time for a beer – you guys pray that I don’t accidentally cut off a finger with the bottle opener.