Yet again I find myself wanting Stephen Fry to rule the world.
I’d vote for him if he was running for a bus.
I agree, totally, with what he is saying here but I’m sure Rupert Everett has said something similar.
The Catholic Church have hit me with another one of their, WTF, moments.
Now, that is nasty!
Couldn’t they have said a Mass or put on a concert or something.
Digging the fucker up seems a little extreme.
I’d also argue that being pumped full of Formaldehyde IS ‘a measure taken to preserve’.
That’s what the stuff does!
I dread to think what ‘removing relics’ could mean, given the number of Holy fingers, toes, blood, ribs, skulls and foreskins that are scattered around European churches.
I’d like to imagine that a bunch of Cardinals get stoned together and have a life size game of Operation.
“Ahh! Shit Dude! The Holy Wishbone! That’s a fecker to get out!”
The new series of Shameless is fantastic.
Absolutely cracking!
Schnee, DO NOT miss it.
The line, “I am a bulimic who can’t stand vomit”, will never leave me.
I hurt my throat laughing.
Adverts are keeping me shouting at the TV.
The Mini Cooper Etch a Sketch ad in particular.
To use a saying from my youth,
“As fucking If!”
I had one of those bastards and there’s no way it did that!
That’s why I took it apart not long after I got it.
It's full of grey talc stuff and tiny ball bearing things.
My Nan was fit to be tied.
Not to be recommended, it gets EVERYWHERE.
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
Monday, January 07, 2008
Nuns, Germs And Curry
I feel like I’ve had a productive day considering that to, ‘the untrained eye’, it looks like I do fuck all!
The book I ordered from Amazon arrived at 11am and I’d finished it by 2.30pm.
Not bad going.
From it I learnt a new word, ‘Exclaustration’.
This is the permission given to a Nun, still under vows, to live outside of her community temporarily. She would be under the jurisdiction of the local bishop rather than her Order’s Superior.
I knew someone like that and she was SO cool she was subzero!
The book was called ‘Lesbian Nuns - Breaking The Silence’.
Stop yourselves!
It’s not as prurient as it sounds, it was really interesting and in a lot of the cases, extremely sad.
For some of them the vow of chastity was no problem, it was what they had signed on for; the real problem seemed to be the lack of ANY physical contact AT ALL.
Not a hug, a handshake or a matey slap on the back ever again.
Catholics usually come from huge, touchy feely, families.
To suddenly have absolutely nothing must be horrific. A basic form of torture. Couple that with another basic torture, lack of sleep, is it any wonder some of these women had breakdowns.
It has made me reconsider my attitude to some of the bitches who beat the crap out of me!
The Tame Pharmacist has interesting news from the forward trenches of the NHS.
There has been a 300% rise in the number of people using their own pen to sign the back of their prescriptions.
They don’t want to touch a shared pen.
It seems the horror stories about the spread of MRSA and the Norovirus are hitting home.
I cooked up a storm.
Minced lamb curry, with tomatoes, peppers, apricots and sultanas.
For something I made up as I went along it was pretty damn tasty!
The chilli turned out to be hotter than first anticipated and I am now expecting a swarm of Arse Wasps in the morning.
Not my favourite experience.
The book I ordered from Amazon arrived at 11am and I’d finished it by 2.30pm.
Not bad going.
From it I learnt a new word, ‘Exclaustration’.
This is the permission given to a Nun, still under vows, to live outside of her community temporarily. She would be under the jurisdiction of the local bishop rather than her Order’s Superior.
I knew someone like that and she was SO cool she was subzero!
The book was called ‘Lesbian Nuns - Breaking The Silence’.
Stop yourselves!
It’s not as prurient as it sounds, it was really interesting and in a lot of the cases, extremely sad.
For some of them the vow of chastity was no problem, it was what they had signed on for; the real problem seemed to be the lack of ANY physical contact AT ALL.
Not a hug, a handshake or a matey slap on the back ever again.
Catholics usually come from huge, touchy feely, families.
To suddenly have absolutely nothing must be horrific. A basic form of torture. Couple that with another basic torture, lack of sleep, is it any wonder some of these women had breakdowns.
It has made me reconsider my attitude to some of the bitches who beat the crap out of me!
The Tame Pharmacist has interesting news from the forward trenches of the NHS.
There has been a 300% rise in the number of people using their own pen to sign the back of their prescriptions.
They don’t want to touch a shared pen.
It seems the horror stories about the spread of MRSA and the Norovirus are hitting home.
I cooked up a storm.
Minced lamb curry, with tomatoes, peppers, apricots and sultanas.
For something I made up as I went along it was pretty damn tasty!
The chilli turned out to be hotter than first anticipated and I am now expecting a swarm of Arse Wasps in the morning.
Not my favourite experience.
Sunday, January 06, 2008
Food And Time Wasting
I enjoy cooking.
I find it relaxing and my inner Yid loves people enjoying my food.
This ‘hobby’ leads to me watching various cooking shows.
I have now found one I can shout at.
‘Come Dine With Me’.
People who have absolutely no fucking idea what they are doing in the kitchen, cooking with the top of the range pots, pans and utensils.
Equipment, I believe should be mine.
I find myself screaming,
“Look what that complete twat is doing to that pan! LOOK! Bastard! He has MY stuff! Christ, that’s a £100 pan!”
Don’t even get me started on the knives.
This is now one of my biggest time wasters!
It’s brilliant.
I’ve typed in lots of family names; none of them were tried at ‘The Bailey’, which is mildly disappointing.
Just surfing through some of the cases is interesting though.
I’ve found a women who was put to death for ‘sodomy with a dog’.
A dog!
Which begs the question, who told?
It turned out she had a nosey neighbour and holes in her walls.
Today, I have done precisely, fuck all.
It’s been great!
One of the Housemates cooked a blinding dinner and it’s been wine and ‘Gladiator’ all evening.
Spot on.
I find it relaxing and my inner Yid loves people enjoying my food.
This ‘hobby’ leads to me watching various cooking shows.
I have now found one I can shout at.
‘Come Dine With Me’.
People who have absolutely no fucking idea what they are doing in the kitchen, cooking with the top of the range pots, pans and utensils.
Equipment, I believe should be mine.
I find myself screaming,
“Look what that complete twat is doing to that pan! LOOK! Bastard! He has MY stuff! Christ, that’s a £100 pan!”
Don’t even get me started on the knives.
This is now one of my biggest time wasters!
It’s brilliant.
I’ve typed in lots of family names; none of them were tried at ‘The Bailey’, which is mildly disappointing.
Just surfing through some of the cases is interesting though.
I’ve found a women who was put to death for ‘sodomy with a dog’.
A dog!
Which begs the question, who told?
It turned out she had a nosey neighbour and holes in her walls.
Today, I have done precisely, fuck all.
It’s been great!
One of the Housemates cooked a blinding dinner and it’s been wine and ‘Gladiator’ all evening.
Spot on.
Saturday, January 05, 2008
No One Expects The Face
I had known all day that one of the Housemates was going out tonight.
I mentally prepared and steeled myself for the usual battery of questions.
“Does this go with this? Which shoes? Does my bum look big? Are my ankles fat? In or Out? These earrings with this necklace? Are my boobs level? Did you pack the bag yourself?” Etc.
Not a fecking one.
Instead I got one there was absolutely no preparation for,
“Is my face ok?”
All sorts of stuff whizzed through my mind, so I pulled the childhood ‘get out of washing up trick’ and disappeared to the toilet.
Here, I used my ‘Text Sassy’ option and worked out it was a question about make-up.
I got the reply right and she left in a waft of perfume. The kind you taste rather than smell.
Nice work Sassy.
Am I alone in being freaked out by a woman wearing one flat shoe and one high heel?
Hobbling like one of those people with one leg seriously shorter than the other; then gaining and losing height at second intervals shouting,
“Which? Which? For Christ’s sake WHICH? The taxi! The taxi!”
What I love about this story is that he only took one shoe of each pair.
Inspired!
How fecking infuriating would it be to have just one Manolo or Jimmy Choo?
Or in my case, one Doc Martin and one Nike.
Brilliant!
I mentally prepared and steeled myself for the usual battery of questions.
“Does this go with this? Which shoes? Does my bum look big? Are my ankles fat? In or Out? These earrings with this necklace? Are my boobs level? Did you pack the bag yourself?” Etc.
Not a fecking one.
Instead I got one there was absolutely no preparation for,
“Is my face ok?”
All sorts of stuff whizzed through my mind, so I pulled the childhood ‘get out of washing up trick’ and disappeared to the toilet.
Here, I used my ‘Text Sassy’ option and worked out it was a question about make-up.
I got the reply right and she left in a waft of perfume. The kind you taste rather than smell.
Nice work Sassy.
Am I alone in being freaked out by a woman wearing one flat shoe and one high heel?
Hobbling like one of those people with one leg seriously shorter than the other; then gaining and losing height at second intervals shouting,
“Which? Which? For Christ’s sake WHICH? The taxi! The taxi!”
What I love about this story is that he only took one shoe of each pair.
Inspired!
How fecking infuriating would it be to have just one Manolo or Jimmy Choo?
Or in my case, one Doc Martin and one Nike.
Brilliant!
Friday, January 04, 2008
Smiles And Yummers
This has cracked me up today and I’m seriously hoping that Prince William has to learn this as part of his RAF training.
In fact, I think it ought to be a compulsory part of it!
Makes you proud!
Sassy and I shared an extremely civil and ‘English’ afternoon tea.
But instead of the traditional biscuits we had the food of our tribal ancestors; salt beef, rye bread and dill pickles.
Most satisfactory.
I will definitely be getting another one on the go before this one is finished.
At last someone seems to have taken a bit of control and ‘sectioned’ Britney Spears.
Or whatever it is in America that means she has to stay in hospital.
That one has been a long time coming.
Although, I must admit to a smile when I saw her ankle, ‘cuffed’, to the stretcher.
It’ll be Miss Winehouse next, if they manage to get to her before the Grim Reaper.
The Norovirus is still doing its thing so I have bleached the kitchen to within an inch of its life.
In fact, I think it ought to be a compulsory part of it!
Makes you proud!
Sassy and I shared an extremely civil and ‘English’ afternoon tea.
But instead of the traditional biscuits we had the food of our tribal ancestors; salt beef, rye bread and dill pickles.
Most satisfactory.
I will definitely be getting another one on the go before this one is finished.
At last someone seems to have taken a bit of control and ‘sectioned’ Britney Spears.
Or whatever it is in America that means she has to stay in hospital.
That one has been a long time coming.
Although, I must admit to a smile when I saw her ankle, ‘cuffed’, to the stretcher.
It’ll be Miss Winehouse next, if they manage to get to her before the Grim Reaper.
The Norovirus is still doing its thing so I have bleached the kitchen to within an inch of its life.
Thursday, January 03, 2008
Hair, Snow, Bacteria And Soul Food
Strange things are afoot with my hair.
Yesterday I awoke looking like Tin Tin and today I’ve had more of a Beatles thing going on.
Something seriously needs to be done.
I’m at what ATM would call ‘that funny stage’ age wise.
I’m not sure what to do with it any more; all it wants to do is stick up at peculiar angles.
Yesterday I was promised snow.
It’s bitterly cold but I have no snow and I’m pissed off.
It no longer bothers me that my politicians lie to me; I kind of expect it now.
But I won’t stand for it from my fecking weatherman.
Bastard!
As I have whinged about before, we NEVER get snow!
The Tame Pharmacist was bundled into the bathroom with anti-bacterial stuff as she walked through the door tonight.
A good plan as it turned out, she’d had ‘the unclean’ in the shop.
This hellish nastiness is going around.
Contagious in the extreme.
Housemate Claire and I had seen the news and weren’t enamoured of the prospect.
It has shut wards at both local hospitals.
Advice from TP if you get it, DO NOT leave house, you will be infectious until 48hrs after your symptoms stop and keep hydrated.
(She suggests ‘light coloured’ fluids as the vomiting IS projectile! Being bothered by such affairs, she worries about ‘staining’.)
It all sounds fine if you want to lose a bit of weight, but a tad hectic if we all got it at once.
My salt beef has finished it’s ‘cure’ stage and is now in the big pot for the next 3 hours.
I can’t wait to taste it but am trying not to ‘Harass’ it!
Yesterday I awoke looking like Tin Tin and today I’ve had more of a Beatles thing going on.
Something seriously needs to be done.
I’m at what ATM would call ‘that funny stage’ age wise.
I’m not sure what to do with it any more; all it wants to do is stick up at peculiar angles.
Yesterday I was promised snow.
It’s bitterly cold but I have no snow and I’m pissed off.
It no longer bothers me that my politicians lie to me; I kind of expect it now.
But I won’t stand for it from my fecking weatherman.
Bastard!
As I have whinged about before, we NEVER get snow!
The Tame Pharmacist was bundled into the bathroom with anti-bacterial stuff as she walked through the door tonight.
A good plan as it turned out, she’d had ‘the unclean’ in the shop.
This hellish nastiness is going around.
Contagious in the extreme.
Housemate Claire and I had seen the news and weren’t enamoured of the prospect.
It has shut wards at both local hospitals.
Advice from TP if you get it, DO NOT leave house, you will be infectious until 48hrs after your symptoms stop and keep hydrated.
(She suggests ‘light coloured’ fluids as the vomiting IS projectile! Being bothered by such affairs, she worries about ‘staining’.)
It all sounds fine if you want to lose a bit of weight, but a tad hectic if we all got it at once.
My salt beef has finished it’s ‘cure’ stage and is now in the big pot for the next 3 hours.
I can’t wait to taste it but am trying not to ‘Harass’ it!
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
A New Year
The New Year celebrations have been a pissed up affair.
I have bruises in places I imagined couldn’t be bruised!
Backs of my hands, wrists, inside of my right knee, right buttock, right elbow and a goose egg on the back of my head.
I slipped and fell coming out of next door.
By the bruise pattern I’d argue it was a right sided fall!
Why I imagined that the front of their house would be any less treacherous than mine, I blame on Famous Grouse.
There was a dog at next door’s New Year celebration.
A Yorkie.
The kind of dog that grows from the armpit of an old lady.
Usually, with a fecking bow in it’s ‘hair’.
These kinds of dogs don’t have ‘Fur’.
This thing was no different.
Its owner took it to the dinner table with her.
I swear, she sat down with a plate full of food and the fucking dog in her lap.
It was, also, one of those dogs that snap at you. Trying to bite you all the time.
A Yapper type dog.
Being the only smoker I went to the garden and was asked to take the dog for a slash.
Not a problem.
Again, the thing tried to bite me.
People, being unaccompanied, I gave it a ‘backhander’.
In fact, that’s a lie.
I twatted it down the garden so hard it looked like a hairy bowling ball.
Unsurprisingly, it didn’t come near me for the rest of the night.
When it got near, and brave enough, to bite me, I was too quick and it bit its owner!
It was a beautiful moment.
I always ask what the ‘purpose’ of a breed is.
Greyhounds hunt, Collies round up your sheep, Jack Russell’s get rats and rabbits etc.
From what I can work out, this thing has no fecking purpose at all.
Other than sitting on a lap.
Happy New Year!
I have bruises in places I imagined couldn’t be bruised!
Backs of my hands, wrists, inside of my right knee, right buttock, right elbow and a goose egg on the back of my head.
I slipped and fell coming out of next door.
By the bruise pattern I’d argue it was a right sided fall!
Why I imagined that the front of their house would be any less treacherous than mine, I blame on Famous Grouse.
There was a dog at next door’s New Year celebration.
A Yorkie.
The kind of dog that grows from the armpit of an old lady.
Usually, with a fecking bow in it’s ‘hair’.
These kinds of dogs don’t have ‘Fur’.
This thing was no different.
Its owner took it to the dinner table with her.
I swear, she sat down with a plate full of food and the fucking dog in her lap.
It was, also, one of those dogs that snap at you. Trying to bite you all the time.
A Yapper type dog.
Being the only smoker I went to the garden and was asked to take the dog for a slash.
Not a problem.
Again, the thing tried to bite me.
People, being unaccompanied, I gave it a ‘backhander’.
In fact, that’s a lie.
I twatted it down the garden so hard it looked like a hairy bowling ball.
Unsurprisingly, it didn’t come near me for the rest of the night.
When it got near, and brave enough, to bite me, I was too quick and it bit its owner!
It was a beautiful moment.
I always ask what the ‘purpose’ of a breed is.
Greyhounds hunt, Collies round up your sheep, Jack Russell’s get rats and rabbits etc.
From what I can work out, this thing has no fecking purpose at all.
Other than sitting on a lap.
Happy New Year!
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Germs, Death And Friends
This morning I went to the 8.30 or The Coughing and Spluttering Mass.
It being the geriatric liturgy they were very polite and put their hands over their mouths.
Hands which later, would be held out to me for the sign of peace.
It struck me as being a bit unsanitary so I started my own coughing fit to keep them away.
The lady along the pew from me sounded like bouncy castle deflating as she breathed.
I was already pressed up hard against the end of the seat and couldn’t get any further away.
I clocked this a couple of days ago but it’s taken a while to get bounced around my stoned head.
What an amazing job title THAT is?
Exorcist in Chief!
I have a bible, a candle and I could rustle up a bell from somewhere.
It is now up there, with Black Rod, as my ideal job.
I think I may be getting a lot of work in Spain…….. Among the fucking Clergy, if the end of this article is anything to go by.
I was sad to hear that Joe Dolan had died.
Until recently I couldn’t work out why I loved this song so much or HOW I knew the words.
I was telling my uncle about it and he started laughing his head off.
Apparently it was the first record he ever bought.
He and ATM played it to death.
She was pregnant with me at the time. The uncle is now a solid believer that a baby can be influenced from outside the womb.
The Vancouver bunch paid us a final visit today.
Thank you so much for spending a few of your last, hectic, hours with us.
Much appreciated.
I made the fucking hideous mistake of watching Snow Dogs.
(Waiting for football)
I cried like a baby!
Families reuniting gets me every time but add hounds to the mix and I’m a snivelling, snotting wreck.
This one was the worst yet!
It being the geriatric liturgy they were very polite and put their hands over their mouths.
Hands which later, would be held out to me for the sign of peace.
It struck me as being a bit unsanitary so I started my own coughing fit to keep them away.
The lady along the pew from me sounded like bouncy castle deflating as she breathed.
I was already pressed up hard against the end of the seat and couldn’t get any further away.
I clocked this a couple of days ago but it’s taken a while to get bounced around my stoned head.
What an amazing job title THAT is?
Exorcist in Chief!
I have a bible, a candle and I could rustle up a bell from somewhere.
It is now up there, with Black Rod, as my ideal job.
I think I may be getting a lot of work in Spain…….. Among the fucking Clergy, if the end of this article is anything to go by.
I was sad to hear that Joe Dolan had died.
Until recently I couldn’t work out why I loved this song so much or HOW I knew the words.
I was telling my uncle about it and he started laughing his head off.
Apparently it was the first record he ever bought.
He and ATM played it to death.
She was pregnant with me at the time. The uncle is now a solid believer that a baby can be influenced from outside the womb.
The Vancouver bunch paid us a final visit today.
Thank you so much for spending a few of your last, hectic, hours with us.
Much appreciated.
I made the fucking hideous mistake of watching Snow Dogs.
(Waiting for football)
I cried like a baby!
Families reuniting gets me every time but add hounds to the mix and I’m a snivelling, snotting wreck.
This one was the worst yet!
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Searches, Sales And Johnnies
As ever, I’m amazed at what people type in to Google only to end up at my blog post about Sassy’s cats.
The latest being ‘Frist Fucker’ from someone in Valdosta, Georgia, USA.
How nice of you to be totally unembarrassed by your strange proclivities and piss poor spelling.
One can only assume you were trying for ‘Fist’.
It is common knowledge that Google keeps a record of every search made through it.
Now we are being subjected to the post Christmas advertising.
Bastard ‘Sales’.
Why the feck would I want to buy a leather sofa at this time of year?
Or a ‘half price’ kitchen, bedroom or bathroom?
Ho Hum, it’ll soon be New Year and the advertising will be for holidays in fucking Turkey and Greece.
Something I noticed at ATM’s yesterday but has taken a night to leach in is, I’ve been airbrushed from history.
There is not a single photo of me in the house!
A whole corner of the Dining Room dedicated to family snaps, not a single one of me.
It’s not like there were a huge number of me anyway, but it appears ATM only has 2 children these days.
I’ve decided not to let it bother me, besides, if I hadn’t been in the house in the first place, I would never have known.
It made me want my Nan though.
So, I cooked ‘Comfort Food’.
I made her Red Cabbage and Apples! My house smells bloody gorgeous…….. And a little bit like my Nan’s.
That’ll do for me.
My Beloved Spurs did their very best to cheer me up and won 6-4!
Dimitar Berbatov is a fecking Legend!
I also got a late Christmas present through the post today.
One of those Oxfam ‘buy a goat’ affairs.
An absolutely inspired gift.
Condoms!
Johnnies for Africa!
I love it.
The latest being ‘Frist Fucker’ from someone in Valdosta, Georgia, USA.
How nice of you to be totally unembarrassed by your strange proclivities and piss poor spelling.
One can only assume you were trying for ‘Fist’.
It is common knowledge that Google keeps a record of every search made through it.
Now we are being subjected to the post Christmas advertising.
Bastard ‘Sales’.
Why the feck would I want to buy a leather sofa at this time of year?
Or a ‘half price’ kitchen, bedroom or bathroom?
Ho Hum, it’ll soon be New Year and the advertising will be for holidays in fucking Turkey and Greece.
Something I noticed at ATM’s yesterday but has taken a night to leach in is, I’ve been airbrushed from history.
There is not a single photo of me in the house!
A whole corner of the Dining Room dedicated to family snaps, not a single one of me.
It’s not like there were a huge number of me anyway, but it appears ATM only has 2 children these days.
I’ve decided not to let it bother me, besides, if I hadn’t been in the house in the first place, I would never have known.
It made me want my Nan though.
So, I cooked ‘Comfort Food’.
I made her Red Cabbage and Apples! My house smells bloody gorgeous…….. And a little bit like my Nan’s.
That’ll do for me.
My Beloved Spurs did their very best to cheer me up and won 6-4!
Dimitar Berbatov is a fecking Legend!
I also got a late Christmas present through the post today.
One of those Oxfam ‘buy a goat’ affairs.
An absolutely inspired gift.
Condoms!
Johnnies for Africa!
I love it.
Friday, December 28, 2007
The Fear And The Acronym
The Big little Brother decided that today, 24 hours before
ATM arrives back from Florida, that we should prepare the DMT.
In her house.
I have to admit to being panicky that he’d got the wrong day and she would walk through the door.
The thought of her walking into the kitchen and seeing me, the brother and Crisp-e chopping up tree bark in her sooper dooper blender and transferring it to her slow cooker, filled me with utter panic.
The air was thick with pink dust; thank G-d she has an extractor fan!
Once we had started it suddenly dawned on the brother that the ’blender’ was, in fact, ATM’s sooper dooper Smoothie maker.
We continued using it anyway.
All giggling at the idea ATM could drink a Smoothie and end up on a ‘Vision Quest’!
My brother’s complete inability to plan a piss up in a brewery means that the grinding stage was as far as we got.
Huge thanks to Crisp-e for his supervision and ability to read the instructions properly.
The last bit alone, almost certainly saving one or both of us a trip to Odstock Burns Unit!
I’ve also been in the grip of a seriously Bad Hair Day.
For most of the day I have looked like Ernie Wise.
My hair has had something very similar to this going on.
Not a good look for Ernie, let alone me!
For most of the day I have looked like Ernie Wise.
My hair has had something very similar to this going on.
Not a good look for Ernie, let alone me!
I watched The History Boys this evening.
Cracking film.
Although, it makes me slightly uncomfortable the way the gay teachers are portrayed.
Why is any teacher, gay or lesbian, assumed to be ‘interested’ in kids?
Tut Tut Tut.
Choked me up at the end though.
‘Pass it on boys, pass it on’.
I’ve missed Frances de le Tour, how fabulous is she?!
For some reason the last time I saw her (that I remember) was in Rising Damp.
Cracking film.
Although, it makes me slightly uncomfortable the way the gay teachers are portrayed.
Why is any teacher, gay or lesbian, assumed to be ‘interested’ in kids?
Tut Tut Tut.
Choked me up at the end though.
‘Pass it on boys, pass it on’.
I’ve missed Frances de le Tour, how fabulous is she?!
For some reason the last time I saw her (that I remember) was in Rising Damp.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Aftermath
Thank Christ that’s all over.
Christmas was great.
Starting with Christmas Eve and seeing Crisp-e’s family.
They drove down from London for their first Pompey visit.
I was on my best behaviour and didn’t drop a single “Fuck” in front of his Mum.
Phew!
Sassy came for dinner Christmas Day. The absolute highlight being, ‘herself’ leaving with her knickers in her pocket!
She can explain that one all by herself.
I’m far too discreet!
Rob turned up at about 10pm and we drank Vodka and coffee until 3am.
A splendid day!
Housemates, I know it is the season of Goodwill and all that but this won’t wait.
There must be a way of putting opened packets of spaghetti and linguine back in the cupboard.
One that means I don’t feel like a lone Spartan as pasta arrows rain down on me when I open the fecking door.
I was physically damaged by linguine today!
Not a sentence I intend to use again, I can tell you.
Sadly, Benazir Bhutto has been killed by a suicide bomber.
What I find confusing is how a bunch of people who embrace Martyrdom, think that their guy is going to be the only ‘Martyr’ to come out of this act.
This gave me the best laugh of the year on Christmas day.
Tommy you're a fecking LEGEND!
Christmas was great.
Starting with Christmas Eve and seeing Crisp-e’s family.
They drove down from London for their first Pompey visit.
I was on my best behaviour and didn’t drop a single “Fuck” in front of his Mum.
Phew!
Sassy came for dinner Christmas Day. The absolute highlight being, ‘herself’ leaving with her knickers in her pocket!
She can explain that one all by herself.
I’m far too discreet!
Rob turned up at about 10pm and we drank Vodka and coffee until 3am.
A splendid day!
Housemates, I know it is the season of Goodwill and all that but this won’t wait.
There must be a way of putting opened packets of spaghetti and linguine back in the cupboard.
One that means I don’t feel like a lone Spartan as pasta arrows rain down on me when I open the fecking door.
I was physically damaged by linguine today!
Not a sentence I intend to use again, I can tell you.
Sadly, Benazir Bhutto has been killed by a suicide bomber.
What I find confusing is how a bunch of people who embrace Martyrdom, think that their guy is going to be the only ‘Martyr’ to come out of this act.
This gave me the best laugh of the year on Christmas day.
Tommy you're a fecking LEGEND!
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Expressed
Perhaps after being awake all night smoking dope and drinking espresso, the 8.30am Mass was not the best one to attend.
I had a total Tourettes moment and shouted out ‘Bollocks’ during the Priest’s sermon.
I knew as soon as it was out of my mouth that it was unacceptable, so I did what any normal person would do and looked behind me for the culprit.
He was stood outside as I left. I looked at him, shook my head and said,
“We’ve got to talk”.
He half chased me up the road and shouted after me,
“I’d like that”, but I was off to get some cigs and I really didn’t want anyone seeing me pursued by a man in a dress.
I have a certain reputation to uphold!
Talking of which, the Polish lady with the damn fine arse was there again!
Last night the ‘Girls’ from Mayhem and Mad Matt came round for a Christmas drink.
It was, as usual, a debauched affair.
Much wine and much laughing.
Mrs D left in a very delicate state. Mad Matt didn’t leave at all but found a bed and crashed out.
I was zooming and having amazing palpitations so stayed up and enjoyed the ride.
Should be quite an interesting come down.
I had a total Tourettes moment and shouted out ‘Bollocks’ during the Priest’s sermon.
I knew as soon as it was out of my mouth that it was unacceptable, so I did what any normal person would do and looked behind me for the culprit.
He was stood outside as I left. I looked at him, shook my head and said,
“We’ve got to talk”.
He half chased me up the road and shouted after me,
“I’d like that”, but I was off to get some cigs and I really didn’t want anyone seeing me pursued by a man in a dress.
I have a certain reputation to uphold!
Talking of which, the Polish lady with the damn fine arse was there again!
Last night the ‘Girls’ from Mayhem and Mad Matt came round for a Christmas drink.
It was, as usual, a debauched affair.
Much wine and much laughing.
Mrs D left in a very delicate state. Mad Matt didn’t leave at all but found a bed and crashed out.
I was zooming and having amazing palpitations so stayed up and enjoyed the ride.
Should be quite an interesting come down.
Friday, December 21, 2007
It's Later Than You Think
I’m loving this website!
I have seen and written little missives like that myself!
A house favourite was the one left on the bathroom window encouraging housemates to close the window after opening.
The threat being I would hide the fucking keys and glue the bastards shut if they didn’t.
Fortunately, I started this blog, so manage to vent quite a bit of Lodger Rage here!
You may have noticed.
My peeve for this week is the total inability of one of them to wring out the dishcloth.
Why dump it on the side without even the most cursory of squeezes?
Why would someone do that?!
Rinse it, wring it out, drape it over the tap for the next person.
For some reason this doesn’t seem unreasonable to me.
Although, since Pat has moved in, finding chopsticks in the cutlery drawer really makes me smile!
Today I started preparing this.
I’ve seen it done but have never attempted it myself.
It won’t be anywhere near ready for two weeks.
The main problem is going to be finding space in the fridge for it but
where there’s a will, there’s Housemate crap being slung out!
It wasn’t easy looking for Thyme in the pitch black, in the garden; so lack of fridge space won’t be stopping me.
I watched the film ‘This is England’ this evening.
I’ve been wanting to watch it for ages but got spanked on the Housemate vote each time film choices came up.
This is the time I grew up in. My Dad lived in an area that looked exactly like that.
I was 13 when the film was set and I saw shit like this going on.
It really brought it home how an ideology was imposed on a cultural ‘movement’.
The ‘Original’ skinheads were about the look and the music.
Black and white mixed together.
Only later did it become associated with British Nationalism.
I was in a little gang like Woody’s; it was about Ben Sherman, Ska Music and getting stoned.
We were all different colours and backgrounds.
With that in mind, this song is the Sleepy Family anthem.
At the end of any family ‘do’, it is requested by my Dad and my siblings and I scream it out!
He loves it and wants it at his funeral.
I have seen and written little missives like that myself!
A house favourite was the one left on the bathroom window encouraging housemates to close the window after opening.
The threat being I would hide the fucking keys and glue the bastards shut if they didn’t.
Fortunately, I started this blog, so manage to vent quite a bit of Lodger Rage here!
You may have noticed.
My peeve for this week is the total inability of one of them to wring out the dishcloth.
Why dump it on the side without even the most cursory of squeezes?
Why would someone do that?!
Rinse it, wring it out, drape it over the tap for the next person.
For some reason this doesn’t seem unreasonable to me.
Although, since Pat has moved in, finding chopsticks in the cutlery drawer really makes me smile!
Today I started preparing this.
I’ve seen it done but have never attempted it myself.
It won’t be anywhere near ready for two weeks.
The main problem is going to be finding space in the fridge for it but
where there’s a will, there’s Housemate crap being slung out!
It wasn’t easy looking for Thyme in the pitch black, in the garden; so lack of fridge space won’t be stopping me.
I watched the film ‘This is England’ this evening.
I’ve been wanting to watch it for ages but got spanked on the Housemate vote each time film choices came up.
This is the time I grew up in. My Dad lived in an area that looked exactly like that.
I was 13 when the film was set and I saw shit like this going on.
It really brought it home how an ideology was imposed on a cultural ‘movement’.
The ‘Original’ skinheads were about the look and the music.
Black and white mixed together.
Only later did it become associated with British Nationalism.
I was in a little gang like Woody’s; it was about Ben Sherman, Ska Music and getting stoned.
We were all different colours and backgrounds.
With that in mind, this song is the Sleepy Family anthem.
At the end of any family ‘do’, it is requested by my Dad and my siblings and I scream it out!
He loves it and wants it at his funeral.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Hypocrite, Diva, Dyke And Queen
I decided it might be a good idea to take my back out for a walk, see if it helped with the stiffness at all.
It didn’t.
To add insult to injury, I was overtaken by octogenarians and kids who have only been walking two minutes.
I dropped in on the Ex brother in law and picked up the cards that the Irish bunch always send there.
It doesn’t matter how many change of address cards and letters that are sent. They refuse to believe it and after five years I’ve given up trying.
His kids are in Florida with my sister and ATM, so he is very grumpy about Christmas too.
So, the Pope-zi has been meeting with the President of France.
That’s nice.
I wonder what the twice married, self confessed lapsed Catholic had to say to the old boy.
Considering a week ago the Pope was telling us that ‘people who divorce threaten the peace of the world’.
Make your fucking mind up!
Last month he was threatening to excommunicate politicians who vote for a woman’s right to choose.
I’d love to know how that would work.
Is a picture of you sent to every Catholic Church in the world?
Pinned up behind the altar like those police photos of ‘habitual drunkards’ behind the counter in the Off Licence?
A little CV of your ‘crimes’ and the command not to ‘serve wafer’.
I’m finding it difficult to find any evidence that Priests convicted of paedophilia are excommunicated.
Shagging kids is fine but voting with your conscience is not.
Strange.
This has made me chuckle all day!
Cher, having the same problems as mothers of Lesbians everywhere!
I know what was been said in that restaurant, I can hear her now.
“Couldn’t you have your hair just a little bit longer? A colour would cover the grey… You have such lovely long lashes a little bit of mascara… Are all your tops so baggy?… They look like Army boots… Oh darling, a tattoo? Did it have to be so big?… They make pretty bras you know… You need to moisturise…”
I could go on but having been free of it for the last 5 years I’d rather keep it that way!
At 5pm today the Queen became the oldest Monarch this country has had.
I think that is pretty cool.
G-d Save The Queen!
It didn’t.
To add insult to injury, I was overtaken by octogenarians and kids who have only been walking two minutes.
I dropped in on the Ex brother in law and picked up the cards that the Irish bunch always send there.
It doesn’t matter how many change of address cards and letters that are sent. They refuse to believe it and after five years I’ve given up trying.
His kids are in Florida with my sister and ATM, so he is very grumpy about Christmas too.
So, the Pope-zi has been meeting with the President of France.
That’s nice.
I wonder what the twice married, self confessed lapsed Catholic had to say to the old boy.
Considering a week ago the Pope was telling us that ‘people who divorce threaten the peace of the world’.
Make your fucking mind up!
Last month he was threatening to excommunicate politicians who vote for a woman’s right to choose.
I’d love to know how that would work.
Is a picture of you sent to every Catholic Church in the world?
Pinned up behind the altar like those police photos of ‘habitual drunkards’ behind the counter in the Off Licence?
A little CV of your ‘crimes’ and the command not to ‘serve wafer’.
I’m finding it difficult to find any evidence that Priests convicted of paedophilia are excommunicated.
Shagging kids is fine but voting with your conscience is not.
Strange.
This has made me chuckle all day!
Cher, having the same problems as mothers of Lesbians everywhere!
I know what was been said in that restaurant, I can hear her now.
“Couldn’t you have your hair just a little bit longer? A colour would cover the grey… You have such lovely long lashes a little bit of mascara… Are all your tops so baggy?… They look like Army boots… Oh darling, a tattoo? Did it have to be so big?… They make pretty bras you know… You need to moisturise…”
I could go on but having been free of it for the last 5 years I’d rather keep it that way!
At 5pm today the Queen became the oldest Monarch this country has had.
I think that is pretty cool.
G-d Save The Queen!
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Pain
I read in the local rag that my recent internet problems were down to routine maintenance that they managed to make a complete bollocks of.
Nice of them to let us know.
I don’t suppose they will be offering any compensation; it would be nice to think that they’d let us have a movie for free.
I am in a world of spasming pain.
My back went on me as I was picking up the laundry basket.
There was a ‘click’ and everything seized up.
It makes ordinary tasks a complete trial.
Coughing and sneezing are dreadful.
Sitting on the toilet is a ten minute activity. Walking there takes just as long.
Getting in and out of the shower is a 2 person job, which would be fun if it wasn’t such agony.
Throwing empty cigarette packets at the fire is an absolute no-no, unless you want to shout loud enough to freak the cat right out.
The gathering last night was a great laugh.
Sassy and Schnee got to meet each other at last and enough wine was imbibed to count as ALL of our 5 a day fruits for some time to come.
I fell up the stairs but was lucky enough to wake up hangover free.
Unlike some other poor unfortunates.
Nice of them to let us know.
I don’t suppose they will be offering any compensation; it would be nice to think that they’d let us have a movie for free.
I am in a world of spasming pain.
My back went on me as I was picking up the laundry basket.
There was a ‘click’ and everything seized up.
It makes ordinary tasks a complete trial.
Coughing and sneezing are dreadful.
Sitting on the toilet is a ten minute activity. Walking there takes just as long.
Getting in and out of the shower is a 2 person job, which would be fun if it wasn’t such agony.
Throwing empty cigarette packets at the fire is an absolute no-no, unless you want to shout loud enough to freak the cat right out.
The gathering last night was a great laugh.
Sassy and Schnee got to meet each other at last and enough wine was imbibed to count as ALL of our 5 a day fruits for some time to come.
I fell up the stairs but was lucky enough to wake up hangover free.
Unlike some other poor unfortunates.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Connections And Cleaning
I’ve been having serious Connectile Dysfunction with the Broadband.
Frigging Virgin Media have joined my shit list.
You name it, I gave it a go. I restarted, turned off, turned on and unplugged every imaginable electrical item vaguely connected to the Internet.
No joy.
I got connectivity back this morning.
Yesterday I gave the house a deep clean.
It smelt of Flash, Windolene, Cannabis and burnt hair.
It was colder than a Witch’s Tit so the fire was lit.
The logs were too wet to burn, they sat there hissing and spitting flaming bark shrapnel onto the cat.
The cat is too stupid to move and laid there with smoldering fur.
It’s his own fault for being such a heat whore.
If you want to know where your hot water pipes are, borrow Kenneth.
I want a version of one of these.
It will be called a ‘Stupidity Card’.
I would be able to present it to shop staff as soon as they began to piss me off.
So, from the moment I walk in really.
It would enable me to hand them a list of what I want, they will bugger off and get it.
The whole transaction will take place in silence.
I’ve started reading a new book; it’s early days but seems okay.
The writer is extremely descriptive though and I’m finding myself skipping her paragraphs about hair colour, how it is tied up and the location of wispy bits.
Sometimes less is more.
“She had brown hair” will do for me.
I’m not one of those people who pictures the characters in my head as I‘m reading, that’s what TV is for!
I don’t believe anyone sits there and actually tries to work out how to pronounce Polish names.
You take an imprint of it in your mind so that you recognise it and the character.
If you are still reading out loud or your lips move, books with names like ‘Janet and John’ are going to be more your level.
Schnee and the gang are round for food and booze this evening.
Updates later.
Frigging Virgin Media have joined my shit list.
You name it, I gave it a go. I restarted, turned off, turned on and unplugged every imaginable electrical item vaguely connected to the Internet.
No joy.
I got connectivity back this morning.
Yesterday I gave the house a deep clean.
It smelt of Flash, Windolene, Cannabis and burnt hair.
It was colder than a Witch’s Tit so the fire was lit.
The logs were too wet to burn, they sat there hissing and spitting flaming bark shrapnel onto the cat.
The cat is too stupid to move and laid there with smoldering fur.
It’s his own fault for being such a heat whore.
If you want to know where your hot water pipes are, borrow Kenneth.
I want a version of one of these.
It will be called a ‘Stupidity Card’.
I would be able to present it to shop staff as soon as they began to piss me off.
So, from the moment I walk in really.
It would enable me to hand them a list of what I want, they will bugger off and get it.
The whole transaction will take place in silence.
I’ve started reading a new book; it’s early days but seems okay.
The writer is extremely descriptive though and I’m finding myself skipping her paragraphs about hair colour, how it is tied up and the location of wispy bits.
Sometimes less is more.
“She had brown hair” will do for me.
I’m not one of those people who pictures the characters in my head as I‘m reading, that’s what TV is for!
I don’t believe anyone sits there and actually tries to work out how to pronounce Polish names.
You take an imprint of it in your mind so that you recognise it and the character.
If you are still reading out loud or your lips move, books with names like ‘Janet and John’ are going to be more your level.
Schnee and the gang are round for food and booze this evening.
Updates later.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Party, Bruising And DNA
Just a reminder to friends.
Don’t bother with knocking the door this week, it won’t be answered unless you text first.
We are about to enter ‘Hell Week’.
When every fecker, who already gets paid to do their job, will knock on the door and expect some sort of Christmas ‘bonus’ from me.
Carol singers can piss off too.
Tuneless bastards.
The singers, not the friends.
I found this today, which was a surprise because I was convinced he was dead.
I’ve always had the feeling that there is something just slightly ‘wrong’ about him though. I’m sure I saw a programme about his house and life in Sri Lanka; he was surrounded by young male servants.
Just a feeling.
Somehow I have managed to bruise the palm of my hand.
I did have an absolute skinful yesterday but don’t think I fell over and the knees of my jeans are clean.
The ultimate test.
Friends had a pre Christmas party.
I use the term ‘party’ loosely!
You know your mates are a bit older than you, when their ‘Chill Out’ room has the Ch4 Racing on.
Nobody smokes, they assume you have retired when you say you aren’t working and Jamie Cullum is a controversial choice for the stereo.
Had a fantastic time being inadvertently offensive with (Not to!) the guy with early onset Parkinson’s Disease.
(We met the party before and we had a great time telling each other our favourite Jew/Gay and Disabled jokes)
The bruising may have occurred when I had a total spaz out while trying to change a light bulb.
The hallway now has light but no lightshade.
Fucking up lighters, what is the point of them?!
Why the hell would I want to light up the poxy ceiling?
We no longer have one.
Watched the last ever Parkinson tonight.
Is it just me, or does Jamie Cullum look like he is a chromosome shy of a ‘condition’?
You know what I mean?
Like people who look like they have Downs Syndrome but they don’t.
He looks like he avoided Dwarfism by one letter in a sequence.
An A, G, C, or T in the wrong place can be the difference between boarding the Disorient Express to the ‘special school’, or a walk to the local Comp!
I include myself in that; although, I NEVER caught the Short Bus and the only people in my peer group with head protection, rode motorbikes!
This is my tune of the day. A blast from the past but still a cracker!
Don’t bother with knocking the door this week, it won’t be answered unless you text first.
We are about to enter ‘Hell Week’.
When every fecker, who already gets paid to do their job, will knock on the door and expect some sort of Christmas ‘bonus’ from me.
Carol singers can piss off too.
Tuneless bastards.
The singers, not the friends.
I found this today, which was a surprise because I was convinced he was dead.
I’ve always had the feeling that there is something just slightly ‘wrong’ about him though. I’m sure I saw a programme about his house and life in Sri Lanka; he was surrounded by young male servants.
Just a feeling.
Somehow I have managed to bruise the palm of my hand.
I did have an absolute skinful yesterday but don’t think I fell over and the knees of my jeans are clean.
The ultimate test.
Friends had a pre Christmas party.
I use the term ‘party’ loosely!
You know your mates are a bit older than you, when their ‘Chill Out’ room has the Ch4 Racing on.
Nobody smokes, they assume you have retired when you say you aren’t working and Jamie Cullum is a controversial choice for the stereo.
Had a fantastic time being inadvertently offensive with (Not to!) the guy with early onset Parkinson’s Disease.
(We met the party before and we had a great time telling each other our favourite Jew/Gay and Disabled jokes)
The bruising may have occurred when I had a total spaz out while trying to change a light bulb.
The hallway now has light but no lightshade.
Fucking up lighters, what is the point of them?!
Why the hell would I want to light up the poxy ceiling?
We no longer have one.
Watched the last ever Parkinson tonight.
Is it just me, or does Jamie Cullum look like he is a chromosome shy of a ‘condition’?
You know what I mean?
Like people who look like they have Downs Syndrome but they don’t.
He looks like he avoided Dwarfism by one letter in a sequence.
An A, G, C, or T in the wrong place can be the difference between boarding the Disorient Express to the ‘special school’, or a walk to the local Comp!
I include myself in that; although, I NEVER caught the Short Bus and the only people in my peer group with head protection, rode motorbikes!
This is my tune of the day. A blast from the past but still a cracker!
Saturday, December 15, 2007
More Questions Than Answers
I know that it’s wrong but you have got to laugh at this!
My doctor concedes that I have ‘an extraordinary capacity’ for drugs but I’m sure I’d notice some fecker sawing off my leg, no matter how mashed up I was.
Isn’t the word Soothsayer just brilliant?
I have been using ‘Visionary and Dreamer’ when filling in the occupation box on forms but I will be adding Soothsayer.
I may save it for the next census.
The idea that some great, great, great niece or nephew could look through the family history and find that amuses me.
“Bloody Hell! Great Aunt Sleepy was only a fecking Soothsayer!”
Then checking an earlier census to find my religion listed as ‘Jedi Knight’.
They would discover that at the time of the Poll Tax Riots I was occupied as a ‘Sexual Adventurer’.
Fantastic.
I believe it is your duty to lie on questionnaires.
When constructing the surveys they must allow for lying. If nobody lies the results will be skewed.
I’m providing an important service.
Doing it face to face is best, you see an instant reaction.
Next time you are stopped in the street by some fool with a clipboard have some fun.
I have an ‘obvious’ chest so I tell them I’m Male.
When they start to say anything, “Biologically” is added with a whisper!
Lie about kids, pets, ethnic group, income, the lot.
Guarantee you will fly through the questions, if you get started at all; because you don’t have to think about anything and you don’t have to remember your bullshit!
Congratulations to the Hindman tribe and their newest addition, Eleanor.
Mazel Tov!
My doctor concedes that I have ‘an extraordinary capacity’ for drugs but I’m sure I’d notice some fecker sawing off my leg, no matter how mashed up I was.
Isn’t the word Soothsayer just brilliant?
I have been using ‘Visionary and Dreamer’ when filling in the occupation box on forms but I will be adding Soothsayer.
I may save it for the next census.
The idea that some great, great, great niece or nephew could look through the family history and find that amuses me.
“Bloody Hell! Great Aunt Sleepy was only a fecking Soothsayer!”
Then checking an earlier census to find my religion listed as ‘Jedi Knight’.
They would discover that at the time of the Poll Tax Riots I was occupied as a ‘Sexual Adventurer’.
Fantastic.
I believe it is your duty to lie on questionnaires.
When constructing the surveys they must allow for lying. If nobody lies the results will be skewed.
I’m providing an important service.
Doing it face to face is best, you see an instant reaction.
Next time you are stopped in the street by some fool with a clipboard have some fun.
I have an ‘obvious’ chest so I tell them I’m Male.
When they start to say anything, “Biologically” is added with a whisper!
Lie about kids, pets, ethnic group, income, the lot.
Guarantee you will fly through the questions, if you get started at all; because you don’t have to think about anything and you don’t have to remember your bullshit!
Congratulations to the Hindman tribe and their newest addition, Eleanor.
Mazel Tov!
Thursday, December 06, 2007
A Brace Of Birthdays
I will begin with my composting horror.
For some reason I am the only one in the house who is able to open the back door and empty the indoor compost bin.
I wasn’t happy when the lid wouldn’t come off and was cursing Housemates under my breath.
Then, the instant Karma.
The seal was broken, there was a sucking sound, and the lid flew off in my hand and spattered my face with fucking Tiger Worms.
To say I was livid, is a little bit of an understatement.
I went mental.
Stuff was kicked.
You have no idea how difficult worm slime is to get off glasses.
I noticed two things while out shopping today.
There is no easy way to carry a 9 pack of toilet roll if there isn’t a handle and everyone stares at you, in an embarrassed way when you do.
I could understand it if it was a massive box of Tampax or Condoms.
I wanted to shout,
“What? WHAT? Your arse self cleaning then?”
Bloody people!
As if I wasn’t self conscious enough already!
Today the BIG little Brother is 20!
To be honest, I’m surprised he made it past 3.
When I think of the stuff my sister and I used to get him to do.
For entertainment purposes.
That’s one of the downsides of having older, borderline sadistic Sisters.
One of the upsides is when your birthday is on a Thursday, and you spunked all your money on an Infected Mushroom gig and drugs; one of them will buy booze and make sure you get mashed up.
He’s coming round later.
It is also the birthday of someone I have a lot of respect for and think a lot of.
Someone who has never cruised through anything.
Never had that luxury.
Someone who has to work twice as hard to achieve what the rest of us take for granted.
But he does it and through his relentless hard work, he achieves it.
For that he will always have my admiration.
Laurence, being 21 doesn’t make you a man.
You have been one for a while now.
Being 21 is when you start becoming a better man and from what I’ve seen, you are well on your way.
Happy Birthday Dred.
I also know he will be squirming and embarrassed if his Mum reads this to him.
Stop It!
This has caught my eye and raised a smile today.
Surly? The French? No? Really?
For some reason I am the only one in the house who is able to open the back door and empty the indoor compost bin.
I wasn’t happy when the lid wouldn’t come off and was cursing Housemates under my breath.
Then, the instant Karma.
The seal was broken, there was a sucking sound, and the lid flew off in my hand and spattered my face with fucking Tiger Worms.
To say I was livid, is a little bit of an understatement.
I went mental.
Stuff was kicked.
You have no idea how difficult worm slime is to get off glasses.
I noticed two things while out shopping today.
There is no easy way to carry a 9 pack of toilet roll if there isn’t a handle and everyone stares at you, in an embarrassed way when you do.
I could understand it if it was a massive box of Tampax or Condoms.
I wanted to shout,
“What? WHAT? Your arse self cleaning then?”
Bloody people!
As if I wasn’t self conscious enough already!
Today the BIG little Brother is 20!
To be honest, I’m surprised he made it past 3.
When I think of the stuff my sister and I used to get him to do.
For entertainment purposes.
That’s one of the downsides of having older, borderline sadistic Sisters.
One of the upsides is when your birthday is on a Thursday, and you spunked all your money on an Infected Mushroom gig and drugs; one of them will buy booze and make sure you get mashed up.
He’s coming round later.
It is also the birthday of someone I have a lot of respect for and think a lot of.
Someone who has never cruised through anything.
Never had that luxury.
Someone who has to work twice as hard to achieve what the rest of us take for granted.
But he does it and through his relentless hard work, he achieves it.
For that he will always have my admiration.
Laurence, being 21 doesn’t make you a man.
You have been one for a while now.
Being 21 is when you start becoming a better man and from what I’ve seen, you are well on your way.
Happy Birthday Dred.
I also know he will be squirming and embarrassed if his Mum reads this to him.
Stop It!
This has caught my eye and raised a smile today.
Surly? The French? No? Really?
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Adverts And Heroes
Bastard adverts.
Why do you only get adverts for classical music and cold remedies in December?
‘Voices of the Valley’ is really getting on my tits.
A Welsh Male Voice Choir belting out ‘favourites’ in their unique close harmony way.
The only time I want to hear “Men of Harlech” is when I’m watching bloody Zulu!
Grrrr.
But in the Ad and shown on the cover of the album, there are six fat Taffs.
Six.
Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’d argue that was a sextet rather than a frigging choir.
The little snippets you hear certainly sound like more than Six!
The Scots Dragoon Guards have released a bagpipe Greatest Hits CD.
Bagpipes?
Because of course, no Christmas is complete with the sound of strangled cats.
Every classical singer and X Factor winning tosspot has released something ‘festive’.
The adverts follow one after the other.
They don’t even break them up with the cold remedy and Argos ads.
I might be a tad more interested if Eminem released some Gregorian Chant.
Or if the Dragoons did a medley of Marilyn Manson, Rammstein and Nine Inch Nails on the bagpipes.
Andrea Bottcelli’s Tupac covers would be interesting listen, as would Katherine Jenkins and Charlotte Church covering t.A.t.U.
The Choir of Westminster Abbey with their version of ‘Jerry Springer - The Musical’.
It is also the law that at this time of year all adverts should contain snow, Robins, log fucking fires and smiling, happy families.
What bollocks.
I can’t help myself but keep looking at this.
The tagline was, ‘is this the worst facelift in Hollywood?’
Umm.. I think the response would be a resounding,
Hell Yes!
I’ve seen corpses with better colouring than her.
Well, it was the last episode of Heroes tonight.
I have been loving this series but I have to admit to being just a little bit disappointed with the ending.
Am I alone?
I couldn’t tell you how I expected it to end but I was left…………….. Unsatisfied.
Not for the first time today!
Why do you only get adverts for classical music and cold remedies in December?
‘Voices of the Valley’ is really getting on my tits.
A Welsh Male Voice Choir belting out ‘favourites’ in their unique close harmony way.
The only time I want to hear “Men of Harlech” is when I’m watching bloody Zulu!
Grrrr.
But in the Ad and shown on the cover of the album, there are six fat Taffs.
Six.
Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’d argue that was a sextet rather than a frigging choir.
The little snippets you hear certainly sound like more than Six!
The Scots Dragoon Guards have released a bagpipe Greatest Hits CD.
Bagpipes?
Because of course, no Christmas is complete with the sound of strangled cats.
Every classical singer and X Factor winning tosspot has released something ‘festive’.
The adverts follow one after the other.
They don’t even break them up with the cold remedy and Argos ads.
I might be a tad more interested if Eminem released some Gregorian Chant.
Or if the Dragoons did a medley of Marilyn Manson, Rammstein and Nine Inch Nails on the bagpipes.
Andrea Bottcelli’s Tupac covers would be interesting listen, as would Katherine Jenkins and Charlotte Church covering t.A.t.U.
The Choir of Westminster Abbey with their version of ‘Jerry Springer - The Musical’.
It is also the law that at this time of year all adverts should contain snow, Robins, log fucking fires and smiling, happy families.
What bollocks.
I can’t help myself but keep looking at this.
The tagline was, ‘is this the worst facelift in Hollywood?’
Umm.. I think the response would be a resounding,
Hell Yes!
I’ve seen corpses with better colouring than her.
Well, it was the last episode of Heroes tonight.
I have been loving this series but I have to admit to being just a little bit disappointed with the ending.
Am I alone?
I couldn’t tell you how I expected it to end but I was left…………….. Unsatisfied.
Not for the first time today!