Profile for danniekavanagh:
So you're sniffing around my profile eh?
Well, I'm a bit new to B3ta, well officially anyway as I've been more of a lurker for a couple of years now.
I was originally drawn to b3ta by the games - or 'fun shit' as it's apporopriately named, however, upon further investigation into the site, I've become a regular in the QOTW section where I spend many afternoons at home laughing like a lunatic, whilst my future Mrs Kavanagh, and our children look at me like I should be sectioned under the mental health act.
As for me, when I'm not at home watching my kids whilst Mrs Kavanagh is busy working in the hell-hole she calls 'work' - once the weekend appears, I'm usually found behind one of the many DJ stands that feature in a little-known hamlet in Yorkshire called 'Halifax'*
Here I attempt to continue my trade of 18 years entertaining the masses, and getting free beer, loads of cash and the occasional cigarette for my troubles.
Apart from that, I'm your average geek, who spends way too much time on the internet, usually reading the many stories here on b3ta.
*with exception to that bank place that's now owned by Lloyds..
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- a member for 3 years, 11 months and 27 days
- it's my b3ta birthday in 4 days
- has posted 6 messages on the main board
- has posted 3 messages on the talk board
- has posted 8 messages on the links board
- has posted 41 stories and 404 replies on question of the week
- They liked 10 pictures, 2 links, 1 talk posts, and 65 qotw answers.
- Ignore this user
- Add this user as a friend
- send me a message
So you're sniffing around my profile eh?
Well, I'm a bit new to B3ta, well officially anyway as I've been more of a lurker for a couple of years now.
I was originally drawn to b3ta by the games - or 'fun shit' as it's apporopriately named, however, upon further investigation into the site, I've become a regular in the QOTW section where I spend many afternoons at home laughing like a lunatic, whilst my future Mrs Kavanagh, and our children look at me like I should be sectioned under the mental health act.
As for me, when I'm not at home watching my kids whilst Mrs Kavanagh is busy working in the hell-hole she calls 'work' - once the weekend appears, I'm usually found behind one of the many DJ stands that feature in a little-known hamlet in Yorkshire called 'Halifax'*
Here I attempt to continue my trade of 18 years entertaining the masses, and getting free beer, loads of cash and the occasional cigarette for my troubles.
Apart from that, I'm your average geek, who spends way too much time on the internet, usually reading the many stories here on b3ta.
*with exception to that bank place that's now owned by Lloyds..
Recent front page messages:
none
Best answers to questions:
» Failed Projects
Grandad..
Mat J's post has just tickled a memory bone.. www.b3ta.com/questions/worldoffail/post584511#answers-post-584571
My grandad was one of those tinkering types, you know, the kind of bloke who has a 'spare room' filled from floor to ceiling with wonderous, and bizarre bits of wiring, gadgetry and obsolete technology from yesteryear. A man with more hobbies that anyone should ever have, he made model airplanes, trains, boats, steam engines, loved his electronics, photography, and watched open university religously every Sunday (during the 80s)
He spent pretty much all of his life confined to a wheelchair after losing his ability to walk after a serious bout of Polio when he was in his early twenties. As a result, he practically lived in this room, much to the annoyance of my nan, he was constantly making stuff, breaking stuff and starting the occasional fire. Some of his misadventures include:
CB aerials, made from soldering a fuckload of catering size cans of beans, acquired from the college canteen. An old christmas tree stand did'nt escape either, that ended up covered in foil, and was used to support a dipole out of the bedroom window.
A 'rocket ship' made from a load of fireworks, this was tested in his old garage, sadly we only got one trial run, as it shot straight through the wall of said garage, and finished it's maiden voyage in the neighbours greenhouse..
Wireless speakers. After watching me and my friend messing about with some cheap walkie-talkies, he send me to the shop to buy 4 set, and a pile of batteries, which he then proceeded to pull apart, used one of each of the pair to send the signal, and the other to receive, stuck em to some speakers (small miniature walkman speakers - anyone remember them?) and had me and my friend walk all over the house with them to test the range. Crackly, and shite quality - but to a pair of ten-year-olds, these were the dogs bollocks.
He wanted to make a submarine out of an old bathtub that the council left in the garden after they refurbished their house, but nan would'nt let either of us near the canal with it.. oh well, I guess we'll never know the outcome of that one..
He had the michievious and playful mind of a child my old grandad, and I spent many years of summer holidays at his house, in that bizarre room of his, than I did playing out in the sun with my mates.
The smoke alarms in their house had no batteries in them, my nan gave up after about a week because his soldering iron kept setting them off. The carpet was littered with tiny silver balls, springs, resitors and off-cuts from cables, breadboards and balsa wood.
God only knows what he'd have come up with, had he have lived long enough to discover the internet.
Shortly after he died, our family were helping to clear his house - and I insisted on clearing that room personally, purely so that as each bizarre contraption was taken out piece by piece, I could sit there by myself and re-live each crazy mis-adventure one last time, chuckling like an idiot with tears running down my face, it's one day that will stay with me forever.
The best moment, however, was when I found an old dusty folder buried in his vast collection of notepads, and in it was a small collection of BASIC programs we'd written together when I was still in junior school. He'd kept them all, and even added little notes on how to improve them.
I miss you so much old man, and I look forward to setting fire to my house with my grandkids, much to the annoyance of my wife when its my turn - and my spare room is beginning to fill up with old PC cases, and wires already..
*wipes cheeks after sobbing like a girl*
(Sun 6th Dec 2009, 11:58, More)
Grandad..
Mat J's post has just tickled a memory bone.. www.b3ta.com/questions/worldoffail/post584511#answers-post-584571
My grandad was one of those tinkering types, you know, the kind of bloke who has a 'spare room' filled from floor to ceiling with wonderous, and bizarre bits of wiring, gadgetry and obsolete technology from yesteryear. A man with more hobbies that anyone should ever have, he made model airplanes, trains, boats, steam engines, loved his electronics, photography, and watched open university religously every Sunday (during the 80s)
He spent pretty much all of his life confined to a wheelchair after losing his ability to walk after a serious bout of Polio when he was in his early twenties. As a result, he practically lived in this room, much to the annoyance of my nan, he was constantly making stuff, breaking stuff and starting the occasional fire. Some of his misadventures include:
CB aerials, made from soldering a fuckload of catering size cans of beans, acquired from the college canteen. An old christmas tree stand did'nt escape either, that ended up covered in foil, and was used to support a dipole out of the bedroom window.
A 'rocket ship' made from a load of fireworks, this was tested in his old garage, sadly we only got one trial run, as it shot straight through the wall of said garage, and finished it's maiden voyage in the neighbours greenhouse..
Wireless speakers. After watching me and my friend messing about with some cheap walkie-talkies, he send me to the shop to buy 4 set, and a pile of batteries, which he then proceeded to pull apart, used one of each of the pair to send the signal, and the other to receive, stuck em to some speakers (small miniature walkman speakers - anyone remember them?) and had me and my friend walk all over the house with them to test the range. Crackly, and shite quality - but to a pair of ten-year-olds, these were the dogs bollocks.
He wanted to make a submarine out of an old bathtub that the council left in the garden after they refurbished their house, but nan would'nt let either of us near the canal with it.. oh well, I guess we'll never know the outcome of that one..
He had the michievious and playful mind of a child my old grandad, and I spent many years of summer holidays at his house, in that bizarre room of his, than I did playing out in the sun with my mates.
The smoke alarms in their house had no batteries in them, my nan gave up after about a week because his soldering iron kept setting them off. The carpet was littered with tiny silver balls, springs, resitors and off-cuts from cables, breadboards and balsa wood.
God only knows what he'd have come up with, had he have lived long enough to discover the internet.
Shortly after he died, our family were helping to clear his house - and I insisted on clearing that room personally, purely so that as each bizarre contraption was taken out piece by piece, I could sit there by myself and re-live each crazy mis-adventure one last time, chuckling like an idiot with tears running down my face, it's one day that will stay with me forever.
The best moment, however, was when I found an old dusty folder buried in his vast collection of notepads, and in it was a small collection of BASIC programs we'd written together when I was still in junior school. He'd kept them all, and even added little notes on how to improve them.
I miss you so much old man, and I look forward to setting fire to my house with my grandkids, much to the annoyance of my wife when its my turn - and my spare room is beginning to fill up with old PC cases, and wires already..
*wipes cheeks after sobbing like a girl*
(Sun 6th Dec 2009, 11:58, More)
» Redundant technology
Graphite..
I like drawing. A lot.
Funny thing is, I never actually realised how much until April earlier this year.
The wife bought me a drawing board for my birthday, after seeing me straining for hours over an A3 pad on the dining room table, as I was trying to put together a picture to fill a large bare gap on the living room wall.
I used to be a trainee graphic designer many years ago, during my teens for my local ad agency, and, although learning the basics of my trade at art college, I had arrived at my new employers just as the whole desktop publishing age had literally burst into the studios.
Within weeks, the art of cutting, pasting, planning layouts with non-reproducable blue pencils and trying not to smudge your scribblings with the T-Square had gone right out of the window, only to be to be replaced by Mac II's, the early Quadras, Very basic versions of Photoshop, Freehand, Pagemaker (before Quark..) and Multi-Ad.
Anyway, to cut a long story short, fast-forward 18 years, and I am, as the saying goes 'back to the old drawing board' during my spare time.
The artistic process is a lot longer than it's digital counterpart, there's no undo button, I find it totally peaceful when I'm using it, and what's more, everytime I go back to it, and lift the protective sheet from my latest creation, there's a constant sense of pride because my work is 'hand-made' so to speak.
Even incomplete work looks kinda cool, cause the guidelines give the artwork that 'sketchy' look, something which no-longer exists in the clinical world of digital illustration.
I often use my laptop, just to view reference pictures for my work that I take with my camera, rather than resorting to Photoshop all the time:
What's even better, is that my 6-year old son loves watching me, and is now developing a keen interest in drawing too.
Length? - Ooh, roughly a couple of millimetres wider than an A2 sheet of paper..
(Sat 6th Nov 2010, 12:10, More)
Graphite..
I like drawing. A lot.
Funny thing is, I never actually realised how much until April earlier this year.
The wife bought me a drawing board for my birthday, after seeing me straining for hours over an A3 pad on the dining room table, as I was trying to put together a picture to fill a large bare gap on the living room wall.
I used to be a trainee graphic designer many years ago, during my teens for my local ad agency, and, although learning the basics of my trade at art college, I had arrived at my new employers just as the whole desktop publishing age had literally burst into the studios.
Within weeks, the art of cutting, pasting, planning layouts with non-reproducable blue pencils and trying not to smudge your scribblings with the T-Square had gone right out of the window, only to be to be replaced by Mac II's, the early Quadras, Very basic versions of Photoshop, Freehand, Pagemaker (before Quark..) and Multi-Ad.
Anyway, to cut a long story short, fast-forward 18 years, and I am, as the saying goes 'back to the old drawing board' during my spare time.
The artistic process is a lot longer than it's digital counterpart, there's no undo button, I find it totally peaceful when I'm using it, and what's more, everytime I go back to it, and lift the protective sheet from my latest creation, there's a constant sense of pride because my work is 'hand-made' so to speak.
Even incomplete work looks kinda cool, cause the guidelines give the artwork that 'sketchy' look, something which no-longer exists in the clinical world of digital illustration.
I often use my laptop, just to view reference pictures for my work that I take with my camera, rather than resorting to Photoshop all the time:
What's even better, is that my 6-year old son loves watching me, and is now developing a keen interest in drawing too.
Length? - Ooh, roughly a couple of millimetres wider than an A2 sheet of paper..
(Sat 6th Nov 2010, 12:10, More)
» Festivals
Hot Water...
First B3ta story, please be gentle..
I'd always fancied attending these huge events, the appeal of getting the chance to see massive bands, soak up the atmosphere with thousands of other like-minded people, and I'd even risk the opportunity of tasting the wares of the greasy burger sellers.
The thought of hitch-hiking through back roads, using nothing but the dulled sound of huge PA systems as our only means of navigation, and the Ray Mears-esque technique of finding water by following the herds of backpackers, hooded partygoers and hippies wearing tie-dyed tights got the better of me when I suggested to the missus that I really fancied getting tickets to see a Festival.
Fast-forward a couple of weeks, and with the attitude of an excited puppy, the missus comes bounding into the front room, clutching some pieces of paper, screaming 'Suprise' - I got these for you, hope you like them!!
So there they were, my golden tickets, I rejoiced as I was about to bear witness to the popping of my festival cherry, thoughts of a day trip to Millets flooded my mind, and a massive order of the ever popular toiletries, noodles and other substances not seen on GMTV were swiftly purchased.
A couple more weeks later, stuffed in the back of my mates Fiat Panda like sardines, sandwiched between rucksacks and them wierd metal tins with the folding handles, we're heading down the motorway, tape player on full blast (did'nt have the luxury of an IPod or CD player) we eventually turn up to what seemed to be a colossal village, surrounded by security, queues of traffic, coaches, articulated lorries and people wearing the most bizarre outfits that appeared to have been concoted by a seriously tripping Gok Wan.
So we're parked up, we've queued up and the all too familiar booming of the music, sound checks and people with whistles and horns is making our ears tingle with excitement, we've got through the security checks, sniffer dogs and avoided the local scamps trying to trade us dodgy wristbands, when we get to some massive security gorilla covered in ID tags, who demands to see our tickets, and as a nice bloke as I am, I eagerly hand them over..
"Come with me sir" he bellows, and ushers me to some small tent in a corner...
I'm thinking "What the fuck?, I'm not carrying anything dodgy, it's all stuffed in the missus's bra - they'll NEVER search there"
Oh no, it was'nt drugs he was after - upon opening the tent, it dawned on me what was happening, as there in front of me was a small table, with a red hat on it, covering what looked like a cordless kettle.
It turns out that in her eagerness, the missus had treated me to tickets to see a 'Fez-Tefal' and I'd fallen victim to another pun.
Length? - About a year of lurking...
(Tue 9th Jun 2009, 10:16, More)
Hot Water...
First B3ta story, please be gentle..
I'd always fancied attending these huge events, the appeal of getting the chance to see massive bands, soak up the atmosphere with thousands of other like-minded people, and I'd even risk the opportunity of tasting the wares of the greasy burger sellers.
The thought of hitch-hiking through back roads, using nothing but the dulled sound of huge PA systems as our only means of navigation, and the Ray Mears-esque technique of finding water by following the herds of backpackers, hooded partygoers and hippies wearing tie-dyed tights got the better of me when I suggested to the missus that I really fancied getting tickets to see a Festival.
Fast-forward a couple of weeks, and with the attitude of an excited puppy, the missus comes bounding into the front room, clutching some pieces of paper, screaming 'Suprise' - I got these for you, hope you like them!!
So there they were, my golden tickets, I rejoiced as I was about to bear witness to the popping of my festival cherry, thoughts of a day trip to Millets flooded my mind, and a massive order of the ever popular toiletries, noodles and other substances not seen on GMTV were swiftly purchased.
A couple more weeks later, stuffed in the back of my mates Fiat Panda like sardines, sandwiched between rucksacks and them wierd metal tins with the folding handles, we're heading down the motorway, tape player on full blast (did'nt have the luxury of an IPod or CD player) we eventually turn up to what seemed to be a colossal village, surrounded by security, queues of traffic, coaches, articulated lorries and people wearing the most bizarre outfits that appeared to have been concoted by a seriously tripping Gok Wan.
So we're parked up, we've queued up and the all too familiar booming of the music, sound checks and people with whistles and horns is making our ears tingle with excitement, we've got through the security checks, sniffer dogs and avoided the local scamps trying to trade us dodgy wristbands, when we get to some massive security gorilla covered in ID tags, who demands to see our tickets, and as a nice bloke as I am, I eagerly hand them over..
"Come with me sir" he bellows, and ushers me to some small tent in a corner...
I'm thinking "What the fuck?, I'm not carrying anything dodgy, it's all stuffed in the missus's bra - they'll NEVER search there"
Oh no, it was'nt drugs he was after - upon opening the tent, it dawned on me what was happening, as there in front of me was a small table, with a red hat on it, covering what looked like a cordless kettle.
It turns out that in her eagerness, the missus had treated me to tickets to see a 'Fez-Tefal' and I'd fallen victim to another pun.
Length? - About a year of lurking...
(Tue 9th Jun 2009, 10:16, More)
» Bad Management
I always fancied myself as a manager..
I used to work in an internet cafe, it was an easy day job, which filled in a gap until the weekend arrived, so I could return to my regular job as a DJ in the many nightclubs in my hometown of Halifax.
As it happens, my gaffer ran into a few financial problems and needed to sell the business. I came up with some cash, courtesy of a really good friend, so I bought the company, and although costing a small fortune, aquired a business, and in the process, kind of saved myself from losing my job.
Everything went great, I made a decent amount of money, and became quite a reputable businessman in the process. Unfortunately, I let it get to my head, started to grow an ego, binned staff that I should have kept, took on too many projects, and became too lazy - relying too much on my so-called mates to run the place while I was away (which was quite a lot..)
They stole from me, became lazy, and just generally took the piss and as a result the place fell apart. I lost my regulars, and eventually the business fell into debt, I had to close before I became so crippled with debt it would effect my financial future forever..
I'm sat at home now, wishing I had'nt fucked it all up and I can't even walk down the street where my shop used to be, as I am so ashamed of my downfall, I had the busiest internet cafe in town, some great customers and a very successful little business, and I fucked it all up. Not only is it my own fault, but I'm also responsible for the loss of 3 jobs, and it kills me every time someone comes into a club where I'm working and they ask me about my cafe.
That said though, I learned a lot about myself, about money, and who my real friends are.
However, if I ever had the chance, I'd do it all again tomorrow - and those jobs would be offered to the guys I got rid of in the beginning, accompanied by a grovelling apology for being a complete arse.
And as for my mate who gave me the money in the first place to set it all up - he'd be the first person I'd call, when I'd make the money back.
In general, I became a complete fucking idiot, I let my ego get the better of me, and not only did I let myself down, I became a complete and utter cunt, and I lost some of my real friends in the process.
I learned from the experience though, I'm a better person now, more realistic, and I select my friends more carefully, and value my new friends with an open mind and treat them with an equal amount of respect.
I'm also a lot more careful with my money, and I appreciate what people do for me a lot more.
Business Management - an experience I'll never forget, nightmares I'd hate to re-live, but given the chance, I'd still do it all again tomorrow...
Length: About 4 years of madness, late nights, and lots of stress, Sorry for the lack of funnehs, but it's something that's been bothering me for years.
(Fri 11th Jun 2010, 13:38, More)
I always fancied myself as a manager..
I used to work in an internet cafe, it was an easy day job, which filled in a gap until the weekend arrived, so I could return to my regular job as a DJ in the many nightclubs in my hometown of Halifax.
As it happens, my gaffer ran into a few financial problems and needed to sell the business. I came up with some cash, courtesy of a really good friend, so I bought the company, and although costing a small fortune, aquired a business, and in the process, kind of saved myself from losing my job.
Everything went great, I made a decent amount of money, and became quite a reputable businessman in the process. Unfortunately, I let it get to my head, started to grow an ego, binned staff that I should have kept, took on too many projects, and became too lazy - relying too much on my so-called mates to run the place while I was away (which was quite a lot..)
They stole from me, became lazy, and just generally took the piss and as a result the place fell apart. I lost my regulars, and eventually the business fell into debt, I had to close before I became so crippled with debt it would effect my financial future forever..
I'm sat at home now, wishing I had'nt fucked it all up and I can't even walk down the street where my shop used to be, as I am so ashamed of my downfall, I had the busiest internet cafe in town, some great customers and a very successful little business, and I fucked it all up. Not only is it my own fault, but I'm also responsible for the loss of 3 jobs, and it kills me every time someone comes into a club where I'm working and they ask me about my cafe.
That said though, I learned a lot about myself, about money, and who my real friends are.
However, if I ever had the chance, I'd do it all again tomorrow - and those jobs would be offered to the guys I got rid of in the beginning, accompanied by a grovelling apology for being a complete arse.
And as for my mate who gave me the money in the first place to set it all up - he'd be the first person I'd call, when I'd make the money back.
In general, I became a complete fucking idiot, I let my ego get the better of me, and not only did I let myself down, I became a complete and utter cunt, and I lost some of my real friends in the process.
I learned from the experience though, I'm a better person now, more realistic, and I select my friends more carefully, and value my new friends with an open mind and treat them with an equal amount of respect.
I'm also a lot more careful with my money, and I appreciate what people do for me a lot more.
Business Management - an experience I'll never forget, nightmares I'd hate to re-live, but given the chance, I'd still do it all again tomorrow...
Length: About 4 years of madness, late nights, and lots of stress, Sorry for the lack of funnehs, but it's something that's been bothering me for years.
(Fri 11th Jun 2010, 13:38, More)
» Letters they'll never read
Dear B3tans.
Thank you for keeping me entertained with your short stories, crazy tales and petty arguments. Thank you for your various approaches to lifes problems regardless of how simple or complex they may be.
Thank you for sharing your tales of woe, hardship and snippets of personal tribulations, touching stories of family and friends left behind, or moved to worlds beyond ours.
Your childish photoshops and animated GIFS never cease to amuse me, Your puns never fail in giving me the occasional chuckle, or a stifled groan.
Thank you for trolling other users, and entertaining me for hours by amusing me with your literal crossfire, sarcastic one-liners and argumentative snipes. The resulting cascade of flame keeps me rosy and warm in my Yorkshire shed of a house during the bleak and miserable winters that last until June.
Since I have been a regular member of this site, which has'nt been long - I have been educated, entertained, outraged, and saddened by such a vast and complex amount of information, it has made me see things differently in myself and others.
Oh, and for introducing me to terms such as clunge, fucksocks, cunt you in the fuck, and *click*
My Saturday mornings nursing last nights hangover have never been the same - Brilliant.
(Sat 6th Mar 2010, 12:41, More)
Dear B3tans.
Thank you for keeping me entertained with your short stories, crazy tales and petty arguments. Thank you for your various approaches to lifes problems regardless of how simple or complex they may be.
Thank you for sharing your tales of woe, hardship and snippets of personal tribulations, touching stories of family and friends left behind, or moved to worlds beyond ours.
Your childish photoshops and animated GIFS never cease to amuse me, Your puns never fail in giving me the occasional chuckle, or a stifled groan.
Thank you for trolling other users, and entertaining me for hours by amusing me with your literal crossfire, sarcastic one-liners and argumentative snipes. The resulting cascade of flame keeps me rosy and warm in my Yorkshire shed of a house during the bleak and miserable winters that last until June.
Since I have been a regular member of this site, which has'nt been long - I have been educated, entertained, outraged, and saddened by such a vast and complex amount of information, it has made me see things differently in myself and others.
Oh, and for introducing me to terms such as clunge, fucksocks, cunt you in the fuck, and *click*
My Saturday mornings nursing last nights hangover have never been the same - Brilliant.
(Sat 6th Mar 2010, 12:41, More)