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Sir Terry Pratchett is going to die. Or rather, the friendly staff of Switzerland’s Dignitas clinic is going to politely assist him to death. This is a deeply personal decision on the part of Sir Pratchett and I really have no business commenting on it. But I’m going to, anyway. Probably because I’m a tactless American. Part of me (the smaller part) wants to applaud him for taking the reins on his life to determine...
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Whew, I’m tired. I’m settling into my new job quite nicely, but adapting to the change in my schedule is proving more difficult than previously suspected. While I don’t have to come wandering into the newsroom until mid-morning, I do stay at work a bit later than I’m used to. This alone isn’t a bad thing, but when trying to cram in as much quality time as possible with my three-year-old while still maintaining...
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I was giving thanks last week, all last week and to no one in particular. It was just a general blanket sort of thank you to the universe at large, I guess. Mostly, it involved me not doing any work whatsoever, hence the lack of new essays right here at Coquetting Tarradiddles. I did eat a lot, however, which turned out to be sort of like work after the fourth trip to the leftover pantry. Fortunately, gratuitous mastication seems to somehow...
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It’s picture pages day here at Coquetting Tarradiddles, and I’ve got a dozen or so wedding photos to share with the quivering horde of my readership. I’ll (try and fail to) go light on the prose and heavy on the visual aids today, so let’s get started. For the less net-savvy amongst you, remember that you can click on any picture for a larger version. The first photo up for viewing was taken after the ceremony,...
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The wedding is almost here, and we’re only two days away from “that dweam within a dweam”, despite what the neurotic countdown clock in my sidebar is telling you. This essay will be my last as a single man. The next time you hear from me, I will be shackled to the keyboard as a husband, the obligatory ball and chain fastened to my ankle and chaffing my delicate skin. Fortunately, I’ve never found staying faithful to...
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Kristian Bland
Writer
Occasional Geek
I'm a former Webmaster turned Journalist turned Systems Administrator. I once thought I could recreate Spider-Man's web fluid, but only ended up staining the driveway of my friend's parents when some of it spilled out and went runny. Eventually, I became a caustic tech geek, which I'm pretty sure inspired the character of Dr. Gregory House, although the bastards never credited me. Later in life, I'd go on to have a horrific experience in publishing that I don't talk about, except to talk about how I don't talk about it. Later still, I became a web editor and columnist for a Hearst newspaper, where I excelled at being Me until my entire department was unceremoniously laid off. After that, I spent about six months being pretty busy not being busy. It sucked. Then, after missing the light of my radiant glory casting its warmth upon the newsroom for long enough, the paper called me up and asked me back. So I went back. And then I left again. And here we are.
