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 15 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 7 months and 1 day
- has posted 2 messages on the main board
- has posted 0 messages on the talk board
- has posted 1 messages on the links board
- has posted 22 stories and 183 replies on question of the week
- They liked 2 pictures, 1 links, 0 talk posts, and 30 qotw answers.
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- 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 15 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)
» 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)
» I don't understand the attraction
Women..
who go to great lengths to look fantastic, just to take offence when a guy sees her, walks over and tries to chat her up.
I would'nt mind, but I even waited until she'd flushed before I opened the cubicle door...
*sigh*
(Thu 15th Oct 2009, 16:05, More)
Women..
who go to great lengths to look fantastic, just to take offence when a guy sees her, walks over and tries to chat her up.
I would'nt mind, but I even waited until she'd flushed before I opened the cubicle door...
*sigh*
(Thu 15th Oct 2009, 16:05, More)
» Presents
Practical Secret Santa..
When I was a spotty teenager, fresh out of college, I was working as an office assistant at an engineering firm, I had to do the secret santa thing at work, and I got one of our engineers out of the hat (well, paper bag..)
Needless to say, the budget was a fiver, which I went slightly over on, and he got from me:
1 Roll of Gaffer Tape (Silver - Wide)
1 Roll of Gaffer Tape (Silver - Narrow)
1 Roll of Gaffer Tape (Black - Wide)
1 Roll of Gaffer Tape (Black - Narrow)
1 Roll of Insulation Tape (Black)
1 Packet of SuperGlue
1 Black Permanent Marker
1 Pencil - One of those elliptical joiners pencils
1 Box of Chalk (White)
With these, I attached a note saying 'You can never have too much of this stuff'
He absolutely loved it - and it even put a stop to all the 'penpusher/desk jockey' jibes from his engineering crew which were aimed at anyone in a shirt & tie who happened to pass their workshop, and he even bought me a pint one night when we crossed our paths in the local boozer, I'd worked there for 3 years and we'd never said a word to each other. Ever.
Since then, I get on great with most of the lads, they've even helped me out with a few mechanical problems with my motor (I know absolutely fuck-all about cars) and even though I left the place in 1996, I still drink with the remaining few of them on a weekend.
Sometimes I guess the thought really does count, and the simplest things can go a long way.
I on the other hand, was given some flashing antlers from some twat in Telesales...
(Mon 30th Nov 2009, 17:27, More)
Practical Secret Santa..
When I was a spotty teenager, fresh out of college, I was working as an office assistant at an engineering firm, I had to do the secret santa thing at work, and I got one of our engineers out of the hat (well, paper bag..)
Needless to say, the budget was a fiver, which I went slightly over on, and he got from me:
1 Roll of Gaffer Tape (Silver - Wide)
1 Roll of Gaffer Tape (Silver - Narrow)
1 Roll of Gaffer Tape (Black - Wide)
1 Roll of Gaffer Tape (Black - Narrow)
1 Roll of Insulation Tape (Black)
1 Packet of SuperGlue
1 Black Permanent Marker
1 Pencil - One of those elliptical joiners pencils
1 Box of Chalk (White)
With these, I attached a note saying 'You can never have too much of this stuff'
He absolutely loved it - and it even put a stop to all the 'penpusher/desk jockey' jibes from his engineering crew which were aimed at anyone in a shirt & tie who happened to pass their workshop, and he even bought me a pint one night when we crossed our paths in the local boozer, I'd worked there for 3 years and we'd never said a word to each other. Ever.
Since then, I get on great with most of the lads, they've even helped me out with a few mechanical problems with my motor (I know absolutely fuck-all about cars) and even though I left the place in 1996, I still drink with the remaining few of them on a weekend.
Sometimes I guess the thought really does count, and the simplest things can go a long way.
I on the other hand, was given some flashing antlers from some twat in Telesales...
(Mon 30th Nov 2009, 17:27, More)
» Banks
Stuck Up Celebrity Bankers
We had a z-list celeb argument at work once - that ugly bloke from steps (or something) rang up complaining cause his card had been eaten by the machine. So we asked him to come down and bring some ID with him in order to try and help him get his card back.
Anyway, the silly fool sends his secretary down with his passport and driving license, she comes to the counter and starts screaming at the staff after being informed that we could'nt accept the ID on the basis that, even though it's her employers account, he had to be there.
While all the commotion is happening, I'm sat at the back sorting out a load of paying in slips, and my manager comes up to me and asked who the arrogant twat in the suit was.
"Ah ignore her" i said, "she works for H, Boss.."
*hides*
(Tue 21st Jul 2009, 11:22, More)
Stuck Up Celebrity Bankers
We had a z-list celeb argument at work once - that ugly bloke from steps (or something) rang up complaining cause his card had been eaten by the machine. So we asked him to come down and bring some ID with him in order to try and help him get his card back.
Anyway, the silly fool sends his secretary down with his passport and driving license, she comes to the counter and starts screaming at the staff after being informed that we could'nt accept the ID on the basis that, even though it's her employers account, he had to be there.
While all the commotion is happening, I'm sat at the back sorting out a load of paying in slips, and my manager comes up to me and asked who the arrogant twat in the suit was.
"Ah ignore her" i said, "she works for H, Boss.."
*hides*
(Tue 21st Jul 2009, 11:22, More)