Posted by chefinal on
Monday, 17 September 2007, 18:26
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Another problem with today’s laser mice is that they function using image correlation. Meaning that the sensor snaps pictures of the surface, then compares these pictures to determine the movement of the mouse. If the user performs an “advanced movement”, which can include sudden deceleration, mouse movements at a certain angle or something else weird, that couldn’t be programmed into the robotic testing machines, the mouse will either stall or try to “guess” the intended movement. This is not what we consider “gaming grade”. A gamer requires precision and accuracy from his gaming gear – not software that tries to predict and emulate his intended movements. If these “gaming laser mice” had been tested by professional gamers before their release, the test results would have clearly indicated that they weren’t suitable for high level gaming….”
“When a company mentions DPI in the same sentence as precision, or anything else regarding better tracking, it is simply bullshit. First of all the term DPI (Dots Per Inch) has nothing to do with mice. It’s an expression from the printing world and shouldn’t even be used to describe mouse movement. DPI is meant to describe the fact that for one inch of distance you move your mouse on any surface, the equivalent number of counts are sent to the PC - resulting in movement on your screen. The correct term for this is CPI (counts per inch). You can achieve higher CPI in many ways: By having a larger image, higher sampling rate, better light source quality, adding DSP (Digital Signal Processor) power and having the right algorithm (prediction)….
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Posted by chilli on
Monday, 17 September 2007, 13:02
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Well after a hectic summer with no net for 8 weeks and a new house I am back online...
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Posted by Junks on
Sunday, 16 September 2007, 01:35
I reckon if I posted a poll saying "Jessica Alba, would you or wouldn't you?", I'm pretty sure almost every single reader of this blog would answer "yes", aside from maybe the handful of girls that play CSS and read SJ (to be utterly precise, I guess I should exclude the tiny amount of girls that play CS, read SJ, and are gay, from that statement). I was no different of course.
However, after a recent in-the-flesh encounter with this particular blond superstar, I have been forced to drastically change my opinion from "phwoar" to "minging-skinny-emaciated-bitch-who-wouldnt-float-my-boat-even-after-six-viagra", and I' wasn't happy about it. Not at all.
I guess I should backtrack a little and explain. Jessica Alba recently starred in the crap film "Fantastic Four - Rise Of The Silver Surfer" (I say recent, I actually wrote most of this ages ago just never got round to finishing it, but anyway) and, being a JA fan, I was keen to check out this little filly in the flesh, so to speak. Memories of her in Sin City still make my bits tingle, if I'm honest.
So, with the Premiere of said film looming, I thought it important to make sure I was equipped with the necessary tools to accomplish this goal, i.e. some tickets to both film and after-party. Now, this was a little tricky, as I don't actually do any work with Twentieth Century Fox, so its not as if I can actually waltz into their offices in Soho Square and just blag a couple was it? However, never to let such a minor detail get in the way, I phoned a mate who works for a rival film company and asked him if he had any.
Now this is the wierd thing. In these days of huge competetive rivalry bewteen blue chip companies and stuff, the film industry remains wonderfully incestuous. Basically, everyone knows everyone, and everyone goes to everyone elses premieres and other parties. Wierd, but true. Result.
Frank (my mate), is a top geezer. Well connected in the film industry, loves a beer, loves strippers, loves cocaine, and loves partying. He is, in every sense of the word, a dream mate. Luckily, I'm pretty close with Frank, so I get straight to the point.
"Frank, its me. You got any tickets to the FF4-ROSS premiere tonight?" (apologies for gay abbreviating, but im not fucking writing that in full every 5 minutes)
"Yeah, but its a shit film, you want some?"
"Well I wanna see what Jessica's like, few beers as well, could be a giggle."
"Yeah maybe, who you going with?"
"No-one yet, lets us two go."
Frank isnt convinced, so I have to work him for a bit here. Eventually:
"OK, See you in the hotel about 6?"
"Yeah cool."
So, fast forward to 6pm, and Frank strolls into the hotel. "The Hotel" is the Radisson Hampshire in Leicester Square, its basically where pretty much everyone meets from the industry before a premiere. Its got a decent bar, and its a few yards from the cinemas. Anyway, after the first round of Mohitos are ordered, and we've caught up for five minutes, Frank asks me if I fancy a line. Do I fancy a line? Fuck me, is Soley gay? I'm about to see a rubbish film but I'm in the mood for a bit of a night, of course I fancy one. So, I, as discreetly as possible, take the wrap from franks palm and disappear to the mens.
There's one bad thing about the Hampshire, which is important to bear in mind when taking illegal substances to its toilets. They dont fucking have any kind of surface whatsoever to sort yourself out a line on. So, with no other option, you have to resort to closing the lid of the kazi and kneeling in front of it and lining one up like that. Luckily, its a posh hotel and the toilets are spic and span, so its not like your kneeling in a load of piss or anything.
I do a big fat one (I'm in the mood, like I said), and return to the bar like all cocaine dabblers do, trying not to sniff and trying not to rub your nose but failing miserably at both tasks. Frank then takes his own trip to the loo. He returns and we jabber bollocks at each other, at a hundred miles and hour, for the next twenty minutes.
Anyway. Eventually we leave the bar and head over to the entrance. On premiere nights this is about a hundred yards or so from the cinema entrance so theres room for the fan-lined red carbet bit. We're late (all premieres try and get the mugs in early so the stars can do their bit after when everyone else isnt in the way) so we walk up the red carpet right as Jessica Alba is standing there being interviewed.
Straight away I see it. The girls all skin and bone. I can actually see her ribs and shit. Ew. Anyway, I might be cocaine and beer fueled at this point, but I'm not a gibbering spastic just yet, and have the presence of mind not to stand gawping at the main star of the movie on the red carpet, so I hurry into the cinema. The film introductions kick off, and they wheel out Jessica on stage. This time I get a proper look, and its just not good. I dunno about all this trendy heroin-chic look, but to me its just horrible. She's so bloody skinny, she's got no boobs left, no arse, its just a thin stick covered with a posh dress. In just a few seconds she's gone, in my estimation, from a definite leave-your-missus bird, to a 10-pinter. Fuck me, that sucks.
I wont bother talking about the film, it really is shit, and youve probably seen it by now anyway. The only thing worth mentioning is that Frank and I both visited the toilets several times during the screening o/
After the film, I am still not happy about Jessica Alba being minging, after all my expectations, and am in desperate need of something to re-establish my faith in the female form. Its almost a medicial need. We have party tickets of course, but now I feel almost robbed and a little indignant, and really dont feel like having to put up with Miss Alba's skeleton in my field of view again. So, without any fucking about whatsoever, Frank and I decsend on the strip club.
Immediately on entering, I feel better. Lovely women (lovely in the sense of their figures anyway) surround us, and this has a soothing effect on the hurt we were both forced to endure earlier. We manage to get a corner booth, which has a kind of semi-circular padded couch set around a small table, one of the best seats in the house. By this time frank and I are flying, so we know its going to get messy.
Trouble is, Frank likes fat birds. Fuck knows why, but ke likes big (natural only) tits, and REALLY big arses. After a quick beer and about five minutes, Franks got some big heffer gyrating over him. I hate that about him to be honest. The best thing about this particualt strip club as that its very up-close-and-personal, and if Franks having a lapdance, I might as well be too, because we're so close together. But, if the birds fat and minging (to be fair she isnt minging but I had the hump with women in general at that point), I almost feel cheated, even though I havent paid anything.
I get myself a tidy little blond, whos really fit but kinda dissapointing as she wont let me touch her at all, which is made worse by the fact that Frank the cunt has the typical fat-girls-try-harder type, and she's letting him do whatever the hell he wants, within reason anyway. So, I disappear to the toilet for a livener.
Upon my return, Franks still got the same woman. She isnt dancing anymore just sitting next to him naked, basically waiting for Frank to pay her again for more dances. At that point this small but perfectly formed young lady (I use the word lady in the broadest sense of its meaning) approaches me. I recognise her (I do attend these establishments more than I should, I freely admit) and she recognises me.
I have a dance from her, which is up to its usual standards. I think the cocaine is making me get a bit carried away as she raises an eyebrow once or twice during our little "get-together" at where my hands (or more specifically, my fingers) are placed. Fuck it, I reason with myself, why not? I am not normally so "forward", but by this point I'm pretty wasted.
Anyway, by this point, Frank is telling this fat bitch that he loves her, and that he wants to fuck her but he doesnt want to pay her because he LIKES her TOO MUCH. LOL. This bird is laughing her head off because she hears this about ten times a night, and Frank is getting all offended because in his state he actually thinks he means it.
I take my hungarian off to find another stripper so we can have a little menage-a-trois (in lapdance terms only of course), but once we get down to it she doesnt want to (I wanted some lady to kiss and fondle her a bit while she's sitting on my lap but she says she'll get kicked out for that). So, it kind of dies down, and I end up talking to the girl (her names Monica) about her life.
Twenty minutes later, I've taken her to the toilet for a line during this time, so we're both on it now, I'm sitting in this dark corner of a strip club with a beautiful, naked Hungarian woman, talking about how she's almost paid her mortgage off on her house back in Hungary,and how long she'll have to keep stripping for before its paid off and she can go back to Hungary to settle down with her nice, paid-off house. She even wants to find a husband when she gets back.
I can just imagine the queue, a beautiful woman, with excellent lapdancing abilities, and a house thats fully paid for, is looking for a husband. Whoever he ends up being, he's one lucky bastard :)
Anyway, eventually the coke runs out and Frank tires of the fat stripper, and we stumble out and find a cab home. All in all, a fairly decent night, aside from the Jessica Alba disappointment ;p
Junks
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Posted by Gumpster on
Monday, 10 September 2007, 21:49
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Community Leagues and Ladders Europe - CSS has officially announced the divisions for the upcoming Season, we are entering a new season, Season 8, the forth under Gumpster, and the forth season in part of the rebuild & regenerate plan, to get the league where it belongs. Season 8 is to have a 2 week Pre Season that has begun today, and will run until 23rd September, in which on 24th September the Season will officially begin with clans being able to compete, while being shoutcasted by Tigit Radio. So without a further ado here are the divisions.
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djmuzc
