Domain of the plumbaits

My old associate Green coined the phrase plumbait, explaining to me that if you were a plum – an idiot so to speak – and were bait – liable to be caught for whatever indiscretions you were up to – you were a plumbait. For him, it was pretty much the worse insult he could confer on someone, because in his line of work being liable to be caught was at best extremely worrying and at worst likely to lead both the person in question and himself directly to jail, and well, being an idiot is pretty much a universal theme.

I feel like a bit of a plumbait this week, for a collection of reasons. One of the main ones is that I keep coming writing stuff for bolo on scraps of paper and files because I’ve lost my connection at home and then I leave it at home. It sits there going out of date, while this site gets increasingly jaded. My only solution seems to be to gradually release these back posts in the next week, but I don’t like doing things out of order. It bothers my obsessive compulsive side stepping out of chronology and it bothers my mission for bolo, which I think for me was to try to capture my thoughts as I had them and to reflect on today. But then again, I think even worryng about this kind of stuff probably makes me a plumbait as well.

Another reason is that I’m trying to get some hosting space working and it’s bloody hard. Actually scratch that, it’s nearly impossible. The guidance on pointing dns, moving domains, fiddling with IPs and glue domains (what the f?) is all written in Greek and besides even these terms are things I don’t understand. I never wanted to have anything to do with that geek shit and looking at these manuals and trying to squeeze my brain makes me feel like a plumbait. A plumbait for bothering and a plumbait for not being able to do it. The bait part is that if I fail, my hosting and hence my lovely websites (which I actually do care about) are liable to collapse like the chicken pie Crimp inadvertently threw on the floor the other day (Crimp – you too are a plumbait). I am likely to be caught for the geek fraud I am perpetrating and shown for what I am – a layman with delusions of technical grandeur.

And I suppose that’s about it given that I can’t now be bothered to outline the other five or so reasons that come to mine. Nothing really to worry about, but a collection of stuff that is itching my brain and making me stare off into space thinking when I should be dealing with the business of being a fully functioning human being. Such is life, I suppose, but at least after my holiday I seem to be sleeping again. Roll on being able to speak in full sentences and open my eyes beyond a milimetre before 11:00 am. Ya.

Actually scratch all the above, to give a little context, I’m on a Virgin tilt-train (god knows how they’ve managed to blag that a train that leans is a good thing – it’s like being on a very long and boring rollercoater – constant feeling of sickness or like taking a long and uncomfortable shit) and I’ve just looked to my right at the seats over the aisle to see this girl reading an article ‘I was born with no vagina’. Assuming that the article is from the point of view of a girl (after all I could write that article from my point of view too) This is clear proof that truth is stranger than fiction and that in comparison with the poor unfortunate retching their horror story in the pages of ‘Look again’ or ‘Quim monthly’ I am no plumbait. I am Graver superlean, blessed of arms legs and other useful appendages. Nothing can stand in my way.