- click start
- run
- type in telnet and click ok
- a command prompt box should come up
- next type in the letter o and hit enter it should go down a line
- you should now type in towel.blinkenlights.nl and click enter
Saturday, July 19, 2008
New XP Trick...Hidden movie on XP
here is an interesting little trick to access what appears to be a hidden movie within XP, i will be showing you the steps to get to it, and it does no harm to your computer
Friday, July 4, 2008
Adding Text Next To Your Clock On Your Taskbar(XP)
Hey all time for a new thing to add your own flavor to Windows XP Task Bar. Today we will be putting text next to the clock. It's really simple to do and doesn't take all that long.
From Category View:
From Classic View:
That's it your done, I thought this was worth sharing but people probably know about how to do this already.
From Category View:
- first open control panel
- select date, time, language, and regional settings
- then select change the format of numbers, dates and times
- then on the Regional Options tab next to the language click Customize
- then click on the time tab
- then in the time format box click before the h (i.e. h:mm:ss tt)
- then type in your personal message like this 'insert what you want here'
- hit apply, close out that box
- click apply again, your message should show up, click ok
From Classic View:
- open control panel
- select the Regional and Languages icon
- then on the Regional Options tab next to the language click Customize
- then click on the time tab
- then in the time format box click before the h (i.e. h:mm:ss tt)
- then type in your personal message like this 'insert what you want here'
- hit apply, close out that box
- click apply again, your message should show up, click ok
That's it your done, I thought this was worth sharing but people probably know about how to do this already.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Guitar Hero :Aerosmith
so there is a guitar hero aerosmith game now i don't know what to think about this. I mean i played the Revolution game from the 90's and it wasn't that great, so are they betting on actually playing the songs instead of shooting bad guys while an aerosmith soundtrack plays? Yeah i'm sure it'll be a fun to play it but what really with the replay value be? will you play it like 5 times then stop playing? Will you play it over and over and over again? Myself i don't know cause i'm not buying any new games right now and probably won't until atleast around Christmas time or sometime around there.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
had to move the blog
Had to move my blog from one site to another so it's still being worked on, i want to move one blog over here but then i'll lose the comments and i don't want to. so i don't know what i'll do with that i'll decide later. So enjoy the new home of The Godfather's Blog
is on brain overload
been a hell of the past few weeks at school and work, don't know what day is what really anymore. So i took the day off today cause i really needed it bad, will probably get in trouble at work tomorrow but oh well when aren't i in trouble at that damn place. Can't wait to have my first two microsoft certification's so i can quit that place and maybe be able to enjoy the weekends again and actually see family and friends, might even help with the depression i've been having lately, for those of you that actually talked to me yeah i hide it well don't i? but yeah haven't seen family or friends really in 2 years and i miss them both a lot and with the new job who knows i might even be able to start and keep a relationship going. ah well i am really tired and will be ending this here, maybe i'll post another one tomorrow to let ya know if i got in trouble or not at work HAHAHA! FUCK THEM.
recent movies i've seen and my take on them
So today I saw believe it or not for the first time Transformers and Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer and I have to say that Transformers by far is the better movie out of the two i don't know how i came to this conclusion maybe it's because i'm a Camaro fan, maybe it's because it has a better movie soundtrack i have no clue but i do prefer it over FF:RotSS. well i'll post another movie type review when i see another movie, i will add this though, can't wait for May 22nd for the new Indiana Jones movie coming out that day, i think i'm going to take that day off of work just to go see it and see if Harrison Ford still has what it takes to play the role of Indi("don't call me Jr.") Jones.
Let's all have some fun
ever want to mess with your co-workers heads or a member of your family? well here's what to do if they are on XP Pro.........
click start
as soon as i figure out how to do it on XP home and Vista, i'll let you know, i have another fun tip but i have to remember how to do it then i'll post it here
click start
- run
- type in gpedit.msc
- administrative templates
- it's the second admin. templates, there's two list's that pop up with it go to the second
- control panel
- display
- click on the screensaver thing, enable it, go through the steps, then you can change how long it takes until the screensaver comes on, any where from 900-1 second
as soon as i figure out how to do it on XP home and Vista, i'll let you know, i have another fun tip but i have to remember how to do it then i'll post it here
saw this somewhere thought it was funny so i share with you
True Story: Battle Asses.
Sorry, I don't have anything to post about layoffs or politics, but I DO have another story from the Public Bathroom. Enjoy.
You are my arch nemisis. I see you wandering around as I go about my IT Computer Nerd business: Tall. Middle Eastern. Pot Belly. We catch each others eye every now and then and give each other a slight nod. I know you, I know what you do and I am on to your games.
I saw you this morning, we made eye contact. You nodded and took another bite of whatever Death-Ass producing garbage you fuel up on that makes the bathroom, smell like the inside of a dead monkey's colon, and nodded at me. I got you this time, fucker.
I give you my icey grin and nod back, then hurry back to my office. It's almost noon, and that's the time you like to run to the toilet and preform your daily ASS JIHAD on all the people just trying to wash their hands. Maybe in your country there is no commen sense that would tell you that lunch time = hand wash time. People want to get clean and eat, not be fumigated with the high octane liquid shit attack you subjigate them too.
But I got you this time. Yeah fucker I GOT SOMETHING COOKING UP FOR YOU! Two egg sandwiches with cheese. Greasy sausage patties. A couple glasses of Tang. Some leftover Chinese food. A Twix. Root Beer Soda. Some steamed brocoli I had in the fridge. A Hot Pocket with peperonni and cheese. A Chocolate Poptart. And like a cherry on top ... a McDonald's Quaterpounder with cheese.
I never eat this shit, it's all greasy and fucking nasty, but today is the day I fight back. I go out for a quick mile jog and almsot die. My stomach feels like there are two midgets fighting to the death inside there. I walk back to work, ass clenched tighter than a virgin's thighs at Church.
Great. The hot chick from next door wants to chat. She assumes the sweat on my face and arms is from running. She doesn't realize that it's a cold sweat induced by my severe sphicter trauma. She finally shuts up and I stagger to the Death Ass Arena.
You are there already in your favorite stall: The one right next to the fucking sinks. You stupid, socially retarded fuck. Fine. You have yet to begin your daily purge of Middle Eastern Ass Stew. I enter the stall next to you and drop my pants in preperation of the upcomming battle.
Your opening slavo is fired: A sloppy wet fart with a solid-shot closer. I laugh and show you the power of Advanced American Foodstuffs.
The tuba fart I unleash echos off the walls and shrinks my waistline about an inch. The guy at the urinal laughs as I slap the wall between you and I and say "Back to YOU, Kajid!". You are silent, I assume you know who I am and that the time has come for us to battle. I know you are summoning your intestinal fortitude for full out war.
You do not dissapoint me.
With a hissing "SSSShhhhhzzzzzzzzz!" you squirt out a deadly spray of ass juice that pollutes the air and makes my head swim. The pisser at the urinal is no longer laughing, he quickly zips up and runs for the door. He did not stop to wash his hands, instead opting to head for the hills. I cover my mouth and nose with my shirt and the black spots dissapear from my vision. My head clears. I am ready.
"AAaaaaaaaRRRRRGGGHHH!" I yell, as I drop Big Tim. That's short for "Big Timber" ... AKA "Mississippi Butt Log".
Quick-fire farts stutter out of my ass, as I push the monster log from the Shit Dimension into our reality. The beefy, yeasty stench easily overpowers the Indian Ass Gutter oder of your previous attack. Mega Turd hits the water in the bowl with a mighty splash, the reek is that of a dead whale slowly ripening in the hot, tropical sun. I catch my breath and wipe my brow, and start to pat myself on the back. I should have known the battle was not over.
The only thing I can think of is that you must has completly unzipped your ass to your elbow. That's the only way I could begin to explain the lumpy, creamy splashs falling out of your ass into the toilet. It sounds like you are pouring a gallon of strawberry shake with whole strawberries in it into the shitter. I see the hairs on my arms start to curl from the horrid stench wafting up from under your stall. I shudder and sway on my throne, unsure if I will survive.
I have no choice. I must employ the Deal Breaker. I hunker down and clench my hands together. My fingers twitch and entwine like a nest of snakes, almost like I am running through a series of ancient Ninja Hand Symbols. My feet lift up onto the toes and my legs start to shake.
"You want to play??" I growls. A low moaning comes from my stomach, like a dinosaur calling into a swampy, foggy night. "YOU GOT IT! AAAAAAHHHHHH!"
Like Cloud summoning The Knights of the Round in Final Fantasy 7, I summon the Excalibur of Turd Demons to destroy my enemy. Hot magma-like shit rockets out of my ass, releasing a noxious, sticky cloud of deadly recal perfume. I hear you gag and see your feet shuffle around, but you can't get away, can you? No. You can't.
Veins throb on my neck and temples as the turd monster tears itself from my bowels. My lips skin back from my now clenched teeth and I try not to scream. Your roll of toilet paper rolls into my stall. You must have torn it from the wall with numb fingers in an attempt to "Wipe and Scoot". Too late. MUCH too late!
Oders pound you with merciless fists: Rotten Fruitcake stuffed with boiled chicken assholes. Hammered shit-logs served on a bed of week old white rice. Rosie O'Donnel's racid crotch farts. The smell of your mom's dank, hairy Middle Eastern armpits.
Your stall door bangs open and you stagger out. You take three unsteady steps to the door and can barely open it wide enough to slip out. I laugh at you before you leave. "Yeah! RUN, Fucker!" I yell, and laugh again. You say nothing.
It's all over except for the clean up. Fuck with me again, you shit filled Anal Terrorist. Me and my ass will be waiting.
Sorry, I don't have anything to post about layoffs or politics, but I DO have another story from the Public Bathroom. Enjoy.
You are my arch nemisis. I see you wandering around as I go about my IT Computer Nerd business: Tall. Middle Eastern. Pot Belly. We catch each others eye every now and then and give each other a slight nod. I know you, I know what you do and I am on to your games.
I saw you this morning, we made eye contact. You nodded and took another bite of whatever Death-Ass producing garbage you fuel up on that makes the bathroom, smell like the inside of a dead monkey's colon, and nodded at me. I got you this time, fucker.
I give you my icey grin and nod back, then hurry back to my office. It's almost noon, and that's the time you like to run to the toilet and preform your daily ASS JIHAD on all the people just trying to wash their hands. Maybe in your country there is no commen sense that would tell you that lunch time = hand wash time. People want to get clean and eat, not be fumigated with the high octane liquid shit attack you subjigate them too.
But I got you this time. Yeah fucker I GOT SOMETHING COOKING UP FOR YOU! Two egg sandwiches with cheese. Greasy sausage patties. A couple glasses of Tang. Some leftover Chinese food. A Twix. Root Beer Soda. Some steamed brocoli I had in the fridge. A Hot Pocket with peperonni and cheese. A Chocolate Poptart. And like a cherry on top ... a McDonald's Quaterpounder with cheese.
I never eat this shit, it's all greasy and fucking nasty, but today is the day I fight back. I go out for a quick mile jog and almsot die. My stomach feels like there are two midgets fighting to the death inside there. I walk back to work, ass clenched tighter than a virgin's thighs at Church.
Great. The hot chick from next door wants to chat. She assumes the sweat on my face and arms is from running. She doesn't realize that it's a cold sweat induced by my severe sphicter trauma. She finally shuts up and I stagger to the Death Ass Arena.
You are there already in your favorite stall: The one right next to the fucking sinks. You stupid, socially retarded fuck. Fine. You have yet to begin your daily purge of Middle Eastern Ass Stew. I enter the stall next to you and drop my pants in preperation of the upcomming battle.
Your opening slavo is fired: A sloppy wet fart with a solid-shot closer. I laugh and show you the power of Advanced American Foodstuffs.
The tuba fart I unleash echos off the walls and shrinks my waistline about an inch. The guy at the urinal laughs as I slap the wall between you and I and say "Back to YOU, Kajid!". You are silent, I assume you know who I am and that the time has come for us to battle. I know you are summoning your intestinal fortitude for full out war.
You do not dissapoint me.
With a hissing "SSSShhhhhzzzzzzzzz!" you squirt out a deadly spray of ass juice that pollutes the air and makes my head swim. The pisser at the urinal is no longer laughing, he quickly zips up and runs for the door. He did not stop to wash his hands, instead opting to head for the hills. I cover my mouth and nose with my shirt and the black spots dissapear from my vision. My head clears. I am ready.
"AAaaaaaaaRRRRRGGGHHH!" I yell, as I drop Big Tim. That's short for "Big Timber" ... AKA "Mississippi Butt Log".
Quick-fire farts stutter out of my ass, as I push the monster log from the Shit Dimension into our reality. The beefy, yeasty stench easily overpowers the Indian Ass Gutter oder of your previous attack. Mega Turd hits the water in the bowl with a mighty splash, the reek is that of a dead whale slowly ripening in the hot, tropical sun. I catch my breath and wipe my brow, and start to pat myself on the back. I should have known the battle was not over.
The only thing I can think of is that you must has completly unzipped your ass to your elbow. That's the only way I could begin to explain the lumpy, creamy splashs falling out of your ass into the toilet. It sounds like you are pouring a gallon of strawberry shake with whole strawberries in it into the shitter. I see the hairs on my arms start to curl from the horrid stench wafting up from under your stall. I shudder and sway on my throne, unsure if I will survive.
I have no choice. I must employ the Deal Breaker. I hunker down and clench my hands together. My fingers twitch and entwine like a nest of snakes, almost like I am running through a series of ancient Ninja Hand Symbols. My feet lift up onto the toes and my legs start to shake.
"You want to play??" I growls. A low moaning comes from my stomach, like a dinosaur calling into a swampy, foggy night. "YOU GOT IT! AAAAAAHHHHHH!"
Like Cloud summoning The Knights of the Round in Final Fantasy 7, I summon the Excalibur of Turd Demons to destroy my enemy. Hot magma-like shit rockets out of my ass, releasing a noxious, sticky cloud of deadly recal perfume. I hear you gag and see your feet shuffle around, but you can't get away, can you? No. You can't.
Veins throb on my neck and temples as the turd monster tears itself from my bowels. My lips skin back from my now clenched teeth and I try not to scream. Your roll of toilet paper rolls into my stall. You must have torn it from the wall with numb fingers in an attempt to "Wipe and Scoot". Too late. MUCH too late!
Oders pound you with merciless fists: Rotten Fruitcake stuffed with boiled chicken assholes. Hammered shit-logs served on a bed of week old white rice. Rosie O'Donnel's racid crotch farts. The smell of your mom's dank, hairy Middle Eastern armpits.
Your stall door bangs open and you stagger out. You take three unsteady steps to the door and can barely open it wide enough to slip out. I laugh at you before you leave. "Yeah! RUN, Fucker!" I yell, and laugh again. You say nothing.
It's all over except for the clean up. Fuck with me again, you shit filled Anal Terrorist. Me and my ass will be waiting.
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