There are men outside destroying the road.
I wouldn't mind so much if either:
a) the men were something special to look ator
b) I could get my car out of the drivebut, sadly, I am both housebound today and without any eye-candy.
Woe is me.
Sunday, 17 June 2007
Gah!
Friday, 15 June 2007
Shhh!
I did something top secret today. I'd tell you what it was, but – obviously – I can't because it's top secret, and it would be a pretty crappy secret if I went around telling everybody what it was in some sort of willy-nilly fashion.
I also got to meet my friends' non-Antichrist baby today.
I am, apparently, comfortable to sleep on. Either that, or I am incredibly boring.
Tosh
I've got very little to say for myself today other than that I've recently been spending the arse-end of my evenings on YouTube and am currently particularly amused by the Dead Ringers take on Torchwood.
I'm glad I'm not the only one who thought those things about the Doctor Who spin-off.
Wednesday, 13 June 2007
And About Time Too
*performs celebratory I Have Joined Another Gym dance*
Mind you, it's going to have to be a bloody good gym to make up for the horror and indignity of the passport photo I had to provide for my membership card. I look like something out of Prisoner: Cell Block H.
And, no, my photo will not be posted on this blog and is not available upon request – so, don't even try it.
Tuesday, 12 June 2007
It's A Nice Day For Some White Washing
It is utterley imperative that I remember to put some white washing in tomorrow.
Do not let me forget!
Costume Design By A.N. Idiot
Yes, whenever I'm starring in a horror movie, and I'm planning to prowl around at night and hunt potential murderers – who may, in fact, be after me next – I like nothing better than to wear tight, bright red leather trousers and massive dangly jewellery.
It's a great way, I find, to both remain inconspicuous in the dark, and maintain maximum agility and flexibility.
Sunday, 10 June 2007
Refuse Collection
As I was leaving work the other day, I saw something that I thought was interesting.
Somebody had placed a box of stuff on their desk and labelled it with a large sign that read:
RUBBISH
PLEASE TAKE AWAY
PLEASE TAKE AWAY
What a brilliant idea!
If it works, I can think of one or two colleagues I'd like to stick that sign on.
Monsters And/Or Lunatics
I've just heard a mysterious and creepy bang from somewhere inside my room.
I hope it's not a sign of monsters and/or lunatics. Other than the ferrets, that is. Who are both.
Well, if I'm still alive in the morning, then I guess it was nothing to worry about.
Friday, 8 June 2007
Novelty Dog Shows vs Trading Standards
I saw a sign today as I was driving:
Novelty Dog Show
So, what's a novelty dog? Is it one that's had its fur painted up like the Mystery Machine from Scooby Doo? Or one that has six legs?
Because, frankly, I'd fail to see the novelty in anything much less.
Or is it the show itself that's supposed the novelty? Do the dogs all come in via parachute? Or, perhaps, they are each graded on their ability to play the flute and/or create a Baked Alaska and not on their good posture and voluminous coat? Or are there actually no dogs at all? That would also be quite novel.
Thursday, 7 June 2007
Introducing The Nobbly Wobbly
Today I bought the boys one of the best things ever.
I consider it a triumph of aesthetics.
The best rubbery thing ever?
And, as if that is not enough in itself, it's called a Nobbly Wobbly.
In fact, it's so good, it even – in some small way – helps compensate for the thoroughly miserable lady who served me in the shop.
I'm giving serious consideration to buying another to look pretty on my desk.
Omen Misnomer
The friends' baby has still not arrived.
I understand that it will not, therefore, be the Antichrist, after all.
I'm glad that I didn't place a bet – how silly would I have looked now?
Tuesday, 5 June 2007
The Power Of Christ Dispels You
- Astigmatic:
- Someone who experiences a visual defect in which the unequal curvature of one or more refractive surfaces of the eye – usually the cornea – prevents light rays from focusing clearly at one point on the retina, resulting in blurred vision.
- A stigmatic:
- Someone who experiences bodily marks, sores, or sensations of pain in locations corresponding to the crucifixion wounds of Jesus.
I really must stop getting those two confused.
It's a good job I don't work as an optician; I could end up really giving somebody a bit of a fright with my diagnosis of their condition.
Monday, 4 June 2007
The Mothman Properties
Something rather odd happened last night.
I don't have curtains in my bedroom; I have blinds. Badly fitted blinds, at that.
Well, these badly-fitted blinds were slightly open last night, whilst I was sat in bed working on the computer, and I saw a strange dark shape appear in the corner of the window.
I have no idea what it was, but – if I didn't know any better – I'd say that, whatever it was, it was looking in. Creepy.
Male housemate denies knowledge.
Take It To The Bridge. Please.
I think that the ferrets may be trying to form some sort of rudimentary musical combo.
I say this because they're currently making a loud banging noise by lying on their sides and repeatedly lifting the litter trays up with their back legs.
Their sense of rhythm unfortunately leaves quite a lot to be desired, however. Personally, I'm hoping that it improves soon – if it was only a little bit more regular and rhythmic, I'd be able to GET SOME BLOODY SLEEP whilst they are practicing.
Kill Frenzy's looking quite good again right about now.
Saturday, 2 June 2007
For Shame ! ! !
For shame, indeed!
I've made a horrific discovery today.
I discovered that somebody I know very well – somebody I was so certain knew better – has been guilty of a heinous crime.
Yes, they've been using more than one exclamation mark at a time.
Now, many people who know me are already aware that I have an intense dislike of this particular method of punctuation, even when it's being used properly; but to discover this sort of abuse going on right under my nose has been an especially distressing time for me.If ever there was a punctuational equivalent of adding "Am I right, folks? Am I right? Huh? Huh?" to the end of a bad joke or unwitty remark, it is the compound use of more than one exclamation mark.
Oh, the humanity!
Friday, 1 June 2007
When The Jews Return To Zion
Friends of mine are expecting a baby. It's due today, but is still a no-show so far.
Personally, I'm suspecting a few more days of delay.
In a completely unrelated incident, I have just watched The Omen.
Terminal Ferocity
I had an interesting conversation this afternoon with a colleague who disputed the existence of the concept of terminal velocity.
He'd never heard of it before, and was adamant that I was, therefore, simply trying to wind him up and make him look silly.
I've come to the conclusion that he doesn't need my assistance in order to look silly. But, still, it makes me wonder about exactly how seriously he takes me: am I really that much of a wind-up merchant?
Answers on a postcard, please; and two random entrants will be selected to win a brand new tank and a trip to Venus on a flying pony.
Wednesday, 30 May 2007
Sawing Wood
One of those ferrets is snoring again. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear that they are just not happy unless they're disturbing my rest.
I wonder what he's dreaming about.
I wonder if it involves being woken abruptly by an ice-cold shower.
Because that's what just may happen to him at any moment.
Monday, 28 May 2007
How To Recognise Different Types Of Tree From Quite A Long Way Away
Well, the outstanding furniture has finally arrived.
Of course, when I say outstanding, I am referring merely to the furniture that I had not yet received, and not anything of any remarkable quality or design – we are talking cheap flat-packed tat again, after all.
Even so, I had ordered everything in "beech", hoping that it would all match; but I noticed that it wasn't all quite the same colour.
My friend's comment on the subject?
(Very profound, it was.)
"Yes, well, one man's beech is another man's… not beech."
Beautifully articulated, I'm sure you'll agree. Fortunately, he's a lot more gifted with power tools.
Sunday, 27 May 2007
Feline Entry, My Dear Watson!
Whilst channeling hopping this evening – and having just caught the last ten minutes of Muppet Treasure Island – I found an old Sherlock Holmes movie starring Christopher Lee and Patrick Macnee.
Now, I must confess that I do find it a little difficult to believe in Christopher Lee as Sherlock Holmes – he'll always be villainous characters like Dracula, Saruman and Count Dooku for me – but there was one line of his in this particular film that will stay with me.
Watson [Macnee] was asleep (and snoring) whilst Holmes (still awake for some reason) discovered that a wild big cat had been intentionally let into their quarters (presumably to eat them both whilst they slept). Oh so very casually, he tricked it into running through a door, which he was then promptly closed behind it – thus adeptly disarming the furry fiend.
Only a little bit cheesy at this point, I agree. But it gets much, much worse.
Right on cue, Watson then woke up and asked Holmes what he was doing. To which he calmly replied:
"Just letting the cat out."
It's a worry. It really is.
SingStartling
So, another Saturday evening rolled around, and I had no plans. Male Housemate decided, therefore, to challenge me to a game of SingStar.
And, yes, cider may have been involved.
Now, apparently, he's amazingly good at this game; and was threatening to trounce me with his dazzling musical performances. I confess, however, that I was quietly confident.
The outcome?
Well, perhaps he's not quite as good as this game as I had been led to believe. Either that, or I am considerably better than I had previously thought.
Either way, I am now the proud owner of a memory card save featuring Male Housemate singing along to Sophie Ellis Bextor's Murder On The Dancefloor, whilst sounding alarmingly similar, in both voice and pitch, to Miss Piggy. And, as if that wasn't pure comedy gold on its own, it's also followed by an exasperated and beautifully enunciated "F–cking hell!" over the fading music at the end.
I'm still deciding what I should do with this. Your thoughts?
Friday, 25 May 2007
Can't Sleep, Clowns Will Eat Me
Apparently I've done a bad thing.
I have just changed the bed covers and now – by total coincidence – have been Googling superstitions in light of an amusing conversation I had with friends earlier today.
Unfortunately, I've just found this:
A bed changed on Friday will bring bad dreams.
Might be a good time to road test my coffee maker.
Thursday, 24 May 2007
Roasting
As I understood it, my bedroom is next door to the hot water tank.
That is fair enough.
In reality, however, I think that what I'm next door to is actually an industrial furnace.
I shall await the summer with much trepidation.
Wednesday, 23 May 2007
Woohoo!
I have finally been given a date by Argos for the delivery of the remainder of my furniture!
*does celebratory song-and-dance number*
It's coming next week. And to think I only ordered it well over a month ago.
Let's just hope that it all fits together properly this time, shall we?
Tuesday, 22 May 2007
Home & Away
Not that I'd ordinarily watch this nonsense, but Female Housemate was watching Home and Away earlier.
Now, I admit that I used to watch this soap opera religiously when I was a child but – really – what a load of old drivel!
Maybe I just caught the script writers on a particularly bad day, but I don't believe that conversations with members of law enforcement agencies do generally go like this:
Police-type: Sorry, but there's nothing we can do.
Regular cast member: But—
Police-type: Oh, alright, then. But just this once.
OK, yes, so I will admit that wasn't quite how the script went – it is a very, very approximate rendition, based on a complete lack of interest at the time and a failing memory – but I'm sure that really was about the size of it.
If I used to avidly watch nonsense like that as a child then, frankly, it's a wonder I turned out normal.
Peagate
It must be a conspiracy.
In fact, I rather suspect it's a pea-related conspiracy.
Not content with trying to catch me out with random mine-like legumes in surprising places – and clearly unhappy at my subsequent Internet outburst on the subject – they're now trying to poison me: they've started to flavour their pastry.
With what can, frankly, only be some kind of solvent.
Yes, I have been eating the pasties still. But only because they had generally been quite nice up until now, and I know now to be ever-vigilant for peas. It's a habit I think I'm going to break now, however; my lunch today smelled like marker pens.
And, yes, you may well think that I'm imagining it or simply being dramatic, but I even offered the pasty to somebody else to make sure I wasn't just being mad. They completely agreed with me without provocation; I didn't have to threaten them, or resort to violence of any form.
This can all mean only one thing: I am at war with the pea-lovers.
I've just been to investigate noises from the ferret cage. It seems my boys were having a bit of a ruck.
Ordinarily, this wouldn't be interesting or unusual in any way, but today I'm rather amused by the large bit of fluff that had stuck to Hiccups' ear. It was almost as big as the ear itself, and gave me a wonderful insight into what Lieutenant/Commander Uhura would look have looked like had she been a ferret.
Unfortunately, before I could get the camera, another full-on assault from his brother resulted in the fluff being dropped again.
Never mind. I'm sure I've got some Superglue somewhere.
Sunday, 20 May 2007
Saturday, 19 May 2007
Lost: Marbles
Another important lesson was learned today about ferret ownership:
If you are keeping ferrets near to where you sleep, always remember to remove any rattly toys at night.
I discovered this last night.
*rocks back and forth in chair*
Friday, 18 May 2007
Do Ferrets Dream Of Eccentric Sheep?
Upon hearing a squeak of distress from one of my little guys tonight, I immediately raced to their aid, prepared to defend them at all costs from all manner of unspeakable evil.
I found them both sleeping soundly.
Now, I'm curious as to what Squeaky Ferret was dreaming about.
I'm also hoping that it didn't involve my nose, feet or any other extremity in any way.
Thursday, 17 May 2007
Cheap Shot
I noticed today a sign on a water filter:
The gaz used in the filter does the harm the ozone layer
Bloody nice of this Gaz to restrain himself like that.
In fact, the next time my father is out in the back garden, spraying aerosols into the air and screaming, "It's not hot enough yet!", I'll know that – somewhere out there – there is a Gaz who would condemn his errant behaviour.
Wednesday, 16 May 2007
Crunchy Biscuits
And so it would seem that an unfortunate side-effect of keeping any dry-food-eating pet in your bedroom is the horrible crunching noise that you have to endure whilst you are trying to sleep.
And, yes, they probably are trying to keep me awake on purpose.
In fact, they are both a bit disgruntled at the moment, as they have hardly left their cage in some time. I was hoping to have been able to let them out before now, but the room is still is such a state that I really can't risk it yet. So, in a moment of rebellion earlier, Biscuits decided to knock one of the litter trays over, into their bedding.
Yes, that really showed me.
I hoovered up most of the litter, but left them lots of crumbs to enjoy while they were trying to sleep.
Heh. I'll fix their wagon.
Ignorant. Apparently.
Apparently, my local supermarket loans out "fish kettles".
I feel like I should know what one of those is, since people supposedly feel the need to rent them.
Any offers?
Monday, 14 May 2007
Death On The Roads
I passed a road sign today that warned:
Concealed site entrance
What's the point of that?
Why go concealing site entrances all over the bloody place? How's that going to help anybody?
Sunday, 13 May 2007
Furniture: A Warning
I note with interest (and increasing annoyance) that some of my desperately-needed furniture still has not arrived.
And, considering the fiasco with the bookcase, I'm now quite worried about what will eventually turn up anyway.
So, in summary, I would like to say that – unless the question is "what is an incredibly annoying, frustrating and unnecessarily complicated way of furnishing a room" – the answer is most definitely not "mail-order flat-pack".
Friday, 11 May 2007
(Decent) Batteries Not Included
Apparently, there are things more embarrassing than breaking down at three o'clock in the morning with a flat car battery.
Apparently, there is breaking down at three o'clock in the morning with a flat car battery right outside your friend's mum's house, and having to wake her up and let her come outside in her dressing gown and slippers to help you jump start your car.
I long for the day when stupid things like that don't happen around me, but I fear that I'm the common denominator, and that they therefore won't.
Wednesday, 9 May 2007
Sod's Law
So, after moaning about the posh (and expensive) supermarket at Christmas, I now find myself living across the road from it.
Now it's far, far too easy to go there. Why take the car to a cheaper supermarket, when this one's only twenty paces away?
A friend has told me that this is karma. Personally, I just call it irony.
Monday, 7 May 2007
Hell On Earth
It just doesn't seem to matter where put things or how I rearrange them, there is just NOT ENOUGH SPACE TO MOVE! ARGH!
I am covered in bruises. I can barely move for boxes. The boys cannot come out of their cage to play.
Frustration is not the word for it – in fact, kill frenzy seems to be slowly working its way to the top of my list of things that seem like a really good idea right now.
Sunday, 6 May 2007
Back To The Future
Woohoo! I've finally got the consoles hooked up.
Admittedly, I could probably have found something a bit more impressive-looking to play on my sexy new television than Oddworld: Abe's Exodus, but I have no regrets.
Saturday, 5 May 2007
Arresting Developments
It would seem that one of my housemates loves to sing. And he seems to know the words to everything.
I have no idea what was going on, or what he was watching on the TV, but I definitely heard him singing along to Bette Midler's Wind Beneath My Wings while he was in the kitchen earlier.
I keep trying to think of a good excuse for that, but I just can't and it frightens me.
Friday, 4 May 2007
Drinking Games
I went out with a friend for cocktails this afternoon. There's a bar we sometimes go to where they sell them with a "three for two" offer.
The usual outcome of this is that I choose a cocktail, my friend chooses a cocktail and then we decide on a third, which we share.
Today my friend picked one to try, which had Pernod in it. Unfortunately, it would appear that she doesn't like aniseed and didn't realise what quite what she was getting.
Credit where it's due, however, the offending cocktail was not wasted. She polished it off very quickly, and then immediately followed it with a further cocktail to take the taste away.
Are there any plans to included Competitive Cocktail Drinking in the 2012 Olympics, do we know? If there are, I reckon I've found a dead cert for a gold medal.
Thursday, 3 May 2007
Toe Escape
There have been further ferret disasters. Tonight, I was alerted by heart-wrenching squeals of distress. I rushed to the cage, to discover Hiccups with a claw caught in one of his blankets.
The thing is, it is actually fairly easy to untangle him. Well, it would be, if he didn't seem to think that a really good idea when he's got his claw caught is to roll over and over, making it tighter and tighter, and then try to fling himself off a great height, hoping – presumably – that his entire foot will come with him unscathed and the blanket will remain behind.
The scary thing is that I'm sure this can't only happen when I'm around. They must do this to themselves where there's nobody there to help them.
Frankly, it's beginning to look like a miracle that they've both still got all their toes.
I do keep trying to explain the physics to them, but – well – you know ferrets: they just won't listen.
Wednesday, 2 May 2007
Cold Temper
I had to have a cold shower this morning. I was most disgruntled.
It would appear that somebody kindly turned the hot water off yesterday and it was not turned back on again.
And – as part of a cruel and unfortunate coincidence – I decided to take the stir crazy ferrets out into the back yard for a bit of fresh air this evening. Unfortunately, for all involved, I realised after a few minutes that the place was caked in ant powder.
As were the ferrets, by this time.
Naturally, I rushed them inside to clean them, but the hot water still hadn't been turned on (and I don't know yet where the switch is), so they also had to have a cold shower.
And I thought that I had been cross when that happened to me – I now have barely any skin left on my forearms.
Tuesday, 1 May 2007
Excuse Me, But Can I Borrow A Cup Of Bandwidth?
I have no Internet.
I have no Internet.
I have no Internet
I have no Internet.
I have no Internet.
I HAVE NO INTERNET!
How am I supposed to live like this? I'm actually having to borrow from friends and family until I can get the installers out to my new place.
It's like a kind of torture that doesn't leave visible scars.
Monday, 30 April 2007
Sunday, 29 April 2007
Assaut Course And Battery
It's quite impressive, I know, but I managed to trap myself in the corner of my bedroom today.
As some of you know, I've been moving house this weekend, and most of my stuff is packed up in cardboard boxes – and I have no hope of being able to unpack many of them until certain items of furniture have been delivered.
So, the boxes were transported and piled into my new room, and I could barely move for them. And I needed to swap the bed and the chest of drawers over (that is, the chest of drawers that was – quite typically – in the very far corner).
I do realise, of course, that I should have done this before the boxes arrived. I am not a complete fool.
Using very little skill and only the brute strength that comes about after a long bout of intense frustration, I got beside the chest of drawers and managed to shuffle the bed towards me just enough for me to flip the heavy mattress off the other side. The plan was that I would move the (now considerably lighter) bed as far as I could while the chest of drawers was still in the way, and then slowly shuffle the boxes round into the newly created space, one by one, – kind of like a giant version of those sliding puzzles you can get – and with the chest of drawers following last of all, leaving the space required for the bed to move the rest of the way across the room.
Unfortunately, what I didn't realise is that the slats on the bed are too close together for me to step between, and not stable enough for me to stand on; so, once the mattress had been removed, I couldn't get back over the bed.
I only said that I am not a complete fool.
I thought it was going to turn into one of those stories you see in magazines, where people tell of how they didn't realise somebody was missing for a whole two weeks. They just figured that they'd been really, really busy. Or they'd gone away. Or something.
Until one day they noticed "a strange smell".
That didn't happen, though – just in case you're wondering. I'm still very much alive and well. Albeit covered in bruises.
I made the choice instead to clamber over the boxes and hope that I didn't break anything. It was tough call, as I'm sure you can understand, but I stand by my decision.
Round 4: Architecture In The 1920s
I attended a quiz night tonight.
We did quite badly. But I find no shame in that.
I swear you'd have to be some kind of over-sixty anal retentive who's never left the house to be able to answer most of those questions correctly.
And why can't quiz masters feature music that I've actually heard at some point in my life, and not just raid their mum's old 45s? Is it too much to ask for a couple of nice, modern CDs to feature?
Mind you, if they were that technologically advanced, more of them would be able to figure out how their mics works before causing feedback so loud that nobody in the room will ever be able to hear that particular pitch again, then hardly being heard at all because the bloody thing isn't plugged in properly, and then giving up and just shouting.
Friday, 27 April 2007
Unwelcome Guest
Forget the hedgehog, there's a massive hornet in the shed.
Well, to be fair, I don't know that it is a massive hornet – I have no idea what passes for large in the hornet world – but it's definitely far too big to be a wasp, and it can't stay in there if it's likely to monster the boysies.
According to Wikipedia:
"It is not advised to kill a hornet anywhere near a nest, as the distress signal can trigger the entire nest to attack."
Now, I don't know how true that is, but I'm rather hoping that we can come to a peaceful conclusion.
Either that, or that there isn't a nest anywhere near the shed.
Hogfather
There's a hedgehog in the back garden.
I've taken a photo of it on my mobile phone, but it hasn't come out very well since it's dark outside and the light on my phone isn't very powerful.
I've also got a short video on my phone of a hedgehog in the back garden. Oddly, the date on it is one year ago today. Spooky.
Perhaps this hedgehog is going to visit me every year on 26th April? Perhaps it's some kind of sign.
A sign of what, though, I have no idea; but for now I'll take it as a sign to be on the lookout for fleas.
Monday, 23 April 2007
Rice With Death
How could I have not seen this before?
For about seven years now – SEVEN YEARS – we've been regularly visiting the same takeaway restaurant, and only now do I discover the shocking truth buried deep in a medium-sized font, in a reasonably prominent position near the bottom on the back page:
Dishes on this menu may contain allergies
I don't like those odds.
So, now I'm wondering: is it just the case that some of the dishes that may contain allergies, or am I some sort of miracle of nature to have made it through this many years without even contracting so much as hay fever?
EDIT: And exactly how difficult would it be to include a warning that dishes on this menu may contain peas?
Sunday, 22 April 2007
I Know What You Hid Last Summer
I want this:
Ferret sou'westers: practical yet stylish
I want two, in fact.
But – before you go thinking me some sort of monster for wanting to dress my ferrets in snazzy raincoats – please know that at least I would never do this to them (even when they have been stealing and hiding my stuff):
Ferret tassel hat: impractical yet tasteless
Apparently, there are people out there who would, however.
This frightens me enormously. But that's nothing to how frightened the ferrets should be.
Original Recording By Flanagan & Allen
The zombie rabbit debate continued this evening.
I'm sure that some pretty powerful words were exchanged in the argument, but I forget what they were now.
Still, I really think that this one could run, run, run.
Friday, 20 April 2007
The Lion, The Witch And The Jacket Pocket
Another blow dealt for my accounting skills.
Yes, I'm missing money again. 10 pence this time. Not terribly interesting or important, I'll grant you, but bloody annoying for me nonetheless.
How is this even possible? I just don't get it.
I've come to the conclusion that there's a rift in the space-time continuum somewhere inside my jacket. Either that or a lesser-known portal to Narnia.
I'm just really hoping that it's in one of the pockets that I don't tend to put my hands in.
And that random children don't suddenly erupt from it one day and startle me.
Thursday, 19 April 2007
Ultimate Street-Duck Fighter
The front garden was a venue for duck fighting last night.
I've no idea exactly what the quarrel was, but there were feathers everywhere. There still are today, in fact.
Naturally, upon hearing the racket last night, I immediately rushed outside to offer my intervention. In the form of stale bread (to be fair, it would have been fresh bread, had I had access to any).
Unfortunately for me, however, I was considerate enough to not throw dry stale bread for the ducks, so I ended up with something akin to wallpaper paste all over my fingers.
I'm reminded of some kind of World Eating Contest that I once had the misfortune to witness, in which a tiny slip of a Japanese bloke ate a frightening number of hot dogs (among many other, infinitely more disgusting, things). His technique with the bread part involved dunking them in his glass of water before shoving the soggy mass down his gullet.
Knowing what I know now, I'm amazed that he did that and lived.
And I'm also hoping that I haven't inadvertently made three ducks horribly ill.
Wednesday, 18 April 2007
Cough, Please
So, after being repeatedly nagged, I finally saw a doctor about my cough.
Well, I say "doctor". Actually, I saw a nurse, but I'm sure that's just as good.
And did she find anything wrong with me?
Of course not.
So, there. I shall just carry on hacking away, disturbing everyone around me, happy in the knowledge that I am actually perfectly healthy.
It's all good.
Tuesday, 17 April 2007
Fastest Finger First
Why would an articulated lorry have a sign on its back warning of a finger trap?
Surely, if such a thing was designed to actually trap fingers, then displaying a sign drawing people's attention to its presence would defeat the object. Unless, I suppose, the point is to trap the fingers of all the silly types of people that would see a notice like that, think "finger trap, eh? We'll see about that…" *snap* "Argh!"
I guess that would be one way of getting idiots off the streets. Possibly quite a good way, actually. I might have to look into getting a gadget like that for the back of my car.
It seems more likely to me, however, that this is not, in fact, a plot to capture unwary bodily parts, but a genuine warning. However, this then raises the question of exactly why has a self-confessed finger trap been put there at all?
There's another option, I suppose. Perhaps these signs are designed to put off would-be criminals by suggesting that it's really not worth their time or trouble to attempt to break into the lorry's trailer? I mean, you see signs warning of "guard dogs" being on duty, or trespassers being shot. Perhaps these advertisements for impending digit snaring are also of this ilk.But, even so, the prospect of possibly getting your fingers a bit tangled up doesn't seem quite as dangerous or sexy as facing down angry, slavering and pointy-toothed death, or being shot in the arse with an air rifle.
I'm afraid I just don't get it. Comments or suggestions welcome.
Monday, 16 April 2007
No Pea Plea
I would like to politely request that peas be outlawed.
And, no, I do not believe that this is unreasonable of me.
This plea has come about as the result of a nightmarish experience that I had this afternoon. I was ambushed. By my food, of all things.
I bought a pasty from the nice trolley lady (the lady with the food cart, not a grotesque dwarf lady who lives under a bridge) and I made a horrific discovery.
Yes. It was peas. Well done, you, for guessing. You can have a gold star.
Now, it is my opinion that this type of food booby-trapping should not be allowed! I should be able to enjoy what is, in my experience, normally a wholesome, enjoyable and, most importantly, completely-devoid-of-peas food item in a safe and non-threatening legume-free environment.
It is simply not acceptable that my lunchtimes be terrorised by extraneous vegetables. Especially not ones that I dislike intensely.
We live in a world in which companies have to point out to people that coffee may, in fact, be hot; that peanuts may, incredibly, contain nuts; that you should not use a hairdryer to dry your hair whilst you are still in the shower; and that carelessness causes fire. So, even if an outright ban on peas is not feasible, would it not – at the very, very least – be reasonable for caterers who feel the need to tamper with long-established recipes, such as those for pasties, to supply a warning on their resulting unholy and sacrilegious creations to that very effect?
A catastrophe could have been averted today, if only somebody had shown a bit of initiative. After the cooking process, that is. They showed quite enough in the early stages, thank you very much.
And, no – before any of you pea-defenders out there start on me – peas are not "inoffensive". Why is it that the best word that anybody can think of to use in their defence is that one? Nobody has ever tried to convince me that peas are "nice" or "tasty", or in any way likely to contribute to an enjoyable culinary experience… No, the best I ever hear is that peas should not cause me offence.
Well, they do. They upset me greatly.
And, anyway, inoffensive is such a broad term. I find postboxes inoffensive. I see no offence in hamsters, gerbils, guinea pigs, or other such rodents. I take no umbrage at pine furniture.
I have never felt affronted by Bruce Forsythe.
But I wouldn't appreciate seeing any of those things wrapped up in pastry and masquerading as my lunch. No matter how hungry I was. And sometimes I get very hungry indeed.
I once discovered a rogue pea in a curry. For the record, it was a very hot curry – either a vindaloo or a phall – and there was a random pea lying, maliciously, in wait for me. A malevolent, sneaky ninja pea which I inadvertently ate. And, despite all the strong spices and flavourings of the curry, I could still taste it. And it tasted bad. Very bad. In fact, if I had not been able to taste its peaish nastiness, how else could I have possibly known that it had been there, eh?
Now, I'm not well up on my fairy tales, but I'm fairly certain that this was one of those tests that demonstrates whether or not a person is actually a princess. And I shall be looking into this.
And – rest assured – should I find out that I am a princess, I shall be rallying royal support for my anti-pea campaign.
And using the words peas and inoffensive in a sentence together will become tantamount to treason, so be warned.
Sunday, 15 April 2007
I've Found My 18 Pence!
Well, actually I've found 2 pence. But I've also realised today that I'd transposed two figures, and wasn't 18p adrift at all.
So, in fact, I'm now 2p up. Result!
So, only partially incompetent, then. And to think that I used to work in Payroll.
Do Zombies Wear Helmets?
Whilst playing Rayman Raving Rabbids on my friend's Wii:
Me: Are you sure they're not zombie rabbits? They're coming out of graves.
Friend: Yes, but they're wearing helmets.
So, then: being undead and wearing protective headgear… Mutually exclusive?
Discuss.
Friday, 13 April 2007
There's Something Nasty In The Woodshed
There is a spider in the shed that is almost as big as my head. I am not impressed by this.
It's so big that I've got these horrible images of me going in there to feed the ferrets and it leaping off the window and attaching itself to my face, before implanting an alien in my chest that will burst out unannounced the next time I'm eating with friends; hide behind some shelves for a bit, whilst growing to a height of approximately eight feet; then slowly pick my friends off, one at a time – some it will kill and others it will take back to its queen to face a fate of bondage and more giant spiders – with its huge claws and lightning fast inner jaw. And, if anyone tries to attack it, it'll bleed everywhere and burn holes in the carpet.
I'd hate that.
Wednesday, 11 April 2007
The Squirrel Conundrum
I've lost 18 pence. It's quite worrying.
For the last few days, I've been keeping a meticulous log of all my outgoings – from the money in my bank, right down to the cash in my wallet.I reconciled my cash at the weekend, and it was spot-on. Now, suddenly, I'm 18 pence adrift.
Of course, I don't in any way consider this to be a large or important sum of money. I'm just scared by the fact that I seem to be either unable to count, completely incompetent, or a combination of both.
I got rather upset whilst driving my car this afternoon. And I don't mean in the shouting-at-bad-drivers kind of way.
An animal of some kind – I think it was a squirrel, but I couldn't be certain in all the excitement – ran out of the road in front of me.
I braked as hard as I could, but I still heard a sad little thud.
Luckily, however, when I looked in my rear-view mirror I saw the same animal finish darting across the road and disappear off into the woods. So it was neither dead, crippled nor stunned at that point.
Now, there's something loose inside my boot (not a euphemism, before you start) that donks against the car when I go round tight bends. I'm desperately hoping that the sound I heard was of that hitting the back of the boot when I hit the breaks, and that no squirrels were harmed in the making of this journey home.
Tuesday, 10 April 2007
Egg Balancing
I conferred today with other people who also had a Cadbury's Creme Egg Minis Easter Egg this year.
The consensus seems to be that the standard number of actual Creme Egg Minis that you should expect to find inside one of these Easter Eggs is a less-than-impressive two. Not great, I'm sure you'll agree; but since two is more than one, the manufacturer is not technically inaccurate here in their use of the word minis. Personally, however, I do consider it rather cheeky.
Anyway, the nature of balance in all things leads me to subsequently conclude from this revelation that if some of us have only received one of these miniature chocolate eggs when the standard is set at two, then somewhere out there are people who got three.
Which can ultimately mean only one thing:
Somebody has got my Creme Egg.
So, if this is you, please feel free to either pop the superfluous egg in the post – to the usual address, or just leave it on top of my car.
Thank you.
Sunday, 8 April 2007
The Curious Case Of The Elusive Easter Eggs - SOLVED
We have Easter Eggs! Yay!
After traipsing across the countryside in search of an even bigger supermarket than the ones we'd tried already (in the hope that bigger does necessarily equal better), but finding it closed, we eventually found overly-expensive salvation sitting on the shelf in our local corner shop.
We don't have much, but we have something. I am happy now.
Alright, so perhaps this particular case hasn't actually been solved in the strictest (or, in fact, any) sense of the word; but my part in the investigation will be ending here, since I've got what I came for. And, after all, that's all that's really important, isn't it?
Interestingly, though, today's excursion has demonstrated to me that potential Police Trap Cars are a heck of a lot easier to spot when the supermarket is closed all day.
Saturday, 7 April 2007
The Curious Case Of The Elusive Easter Eggs
Where the hell are all the Easter Eggs?
I was promised last-minute Easter Eggs today, but nobody seems to be selling them anymore. The sole exception is our local Somerfield, who have row upon row of Creme Egg Minis ones. But I'm not falling into that trap again.
I guess it doesn't help that supermarkets start selling Easter food in January (in fact, if I didn't know better, I'd guess that the eggs actually lie in ambush on the shelves behind the Christmas chocolate) – you could hardly expect all of the shops to remain fully stocked right up to Easter weekend when they start so bloomin' early – but, even so, I'm still a little surprised by this.
Whatever is going on?
Has there been a grand heist about which elaborate and exaggerated stories of intrigue and skulduggery will be passed down to future generations for centuries to come?
"Come sit on yer old Grandad's knee and let me tell you all about the time that they tried to steal Easter…"
Are we living in times of a national Easter Egg shortage? And, if so, does that mean that there'll be a ban in the summer?
Is it a conspiracy? Everyone loves a conspiracy. Is there an embargo because I've been moaning about my meagre Creme Egg Minis ration? Perhaps they're all out to get me. Maybe the stores have all got plenty of Easter Eggs left in stock, but they've set up special revolving shelves just for whenever I walk in. Everybody else gets to go in and browse a veritable cornucopia of seasonal chocolatey goodies, and all I get to choose from is some toothpaste, a few biscuits and some fleece blankets?
Any other ideas or, indeed, answers? I'd be interested to hear them.
Friday, 6 April 2007
Kinder Surprise Watch
Not dreadfully exciting, but they're currently on offer in my local supermarket, so I felt the need to splurge.
Today's yield consists of a pink Cadillac, a mustard yellow sports car, a glorified colouring crayon in a hat (disappointingly, my second of these) and a boss-eyed, yet satisfyingly furry, lilac-coloured monkey chap.
Part of me is certain that toys made more sense back in my day, but I'm probably wrong.
Alarmingly, on second inspection the monkey looks a bit like Robbie Williams in a purple chimp suit.
Thursday, 5 April 2007
How Many Creme Egg Minis Does It Take To Fill An Easter Egg?
I confess I've just opened an Easter egg a little early.
I did have my reasons, but they are too dull to go into in any great detail. I will simply say that they involved the craving for something sweet, and something that I once heard on the BBC about an ingredient in chocolate being good for coughs.
And I have one hell of a cough right now.
Yes, yes… I'll see a doctor next week. Honest.
Still, I was a little bemused to discover that the promised "bag of Cadbury Creme Egg Minis" supposedly enclosed within the hollow chocolate egg was actually more a "bag of Cadbury Creme Egg Mini".
In fact, they could really have not bothered with bagging it at all. What were the makers worried would happen? It might scatter all over the floor when I separated the halves?
The (somewhat blurry and badly photographed) lie
The shocking reality
It's a sad (and deeply disappointing) day when confectionery manufacturers don't know the difference between singular and plural.
That'll Bloody Learn Me! You'd hope.
And there was me defending Grumpy Ferret's honour by claiming that he'd been really good and not-really-very-bitey recently.
I believed it. I honestly did.
But first, a bit of background:
There is a certain blue, knobbly squeaky toy that the boys play with sometimes. It's actually quite stiff, so they never cause it to squeak themselves, but if I pick it up and squeak it for them they go wild.
Admittedly, I've never been terribly certain if this is because they really love the sound of it squeaking, or they really hate the sound. I'm actually still not too sure, but Biscuits definitely got a little over-excited this last time.
As did I, in fact, after he had leapt up and given the bottom of my thumb the Grip of Death.
I'm not proud of it, but I think I nearly strangled him in my attempts to dissuade him. All he decided to do, however, was take this as an opportunity to adjust his grip and clamp down again.
I have counted a total of 10 toothmarks on my hand, half of them bleeding slightly. I also have an attractive lump of flesh that is now only attached in one place by a thin piece of skin. This can be flipped in and out of the surrounding hand on demand.
And I actually swore very loudly when I cleaned this particularly nasty wound up, which isn't like me.
Well, swearing loudly is very much like me; but being such a girl about a little bit of antiseptic really isn't.
The final outcome?
Well, he's right back in the naughty books. Although, I did later let him lick my nose as a show of good faith.
I guess I never will bloody learn.
Tuesday, 3 April 2007
Things I've Learned From… Ghost Stories [Part 2]
- 6. Timing:
- All the bad things effecting you will ultimately build up to a simultaneous crescendo.
Analysis:
- Look on the bright side: yes, your home may be haunted and the spirits of troubled and crazed dead people trying to kill you; but once it's all reached its peak, the air will be cleared. And all your personal problems will somehow be magically resolved as well.
- 7. Family Pets:
- Animals will not be happy staying somewhere that's haunted, and will try to escape at every opportunity.
Analysis:
- Just because you're far too insensitive, stubborn and/or sceptical to believe there's such a thing as a ghost, and even though it's tantamount to animal cruelty, force your pets to tolerate being scared witless every time you take them home. After all, they're probably just being melodramatic because it's a new and unfamiliar place. And you can understand that; the place makes you rather uneasy too. But it certainly isn't haunted: you don't believe in things like that.
- 8. Family Pets That Have Succeeded In Running Away:
- As soon as the aforementioned simultaneous crescendo has been reached, lost pets will come bounding back home.
Analysis:
- Once something leaves your field of vision, it technically no longer exists: it goes into a kind of stasis. You therefore never have to worry about lost pets, since life will be unable to throw anything nasty at them whilst they are out of your care. As soon as the aforementioned simultaneous crescendo has occurred, they will come happily trotting home uninjured, and as if nothing had happened. Then you'll have to start feeding and looking after them again.
- 8. Coincidence:
- Strike this word from your vocabulary.
- There can be no such thing as a coincidence, because that would look far too fabricated.
Analysis:
- Everything in life is part of some bigger, totally convoluted – and sometimes utterly unbelievable – plan. No, really, it is.
Well, I've finally finished reading it. It took long enough.
Not the author's best by quite some way, I'm afraid.
Or, rather, I'm not afraid, which is what actually seems to be the problem.
Monday, 2 April 2007
"The Night Seems To Fade…"
I keep getting Kingston Town in my head on loop.
It's been happening for a couple of days now. I wish I knew what was triggering it.
I know that the short bit of music that Windows plays when it starts up sometimes leads me to have Livin' On A Prayer by Bon Jovi in my head, as it reminds me of part of the instrumental in the middle. I can sort of understand that, but this recent invasion of UB40 seems totally random.
I also now keep being haunted by Ravel's Bolero and a random Queen number crossed with one of the songs from the movie Labyrinth.
If anybody has any suggestions or insights into this – or if you just think that I'm going off my rocker – please feel free to let me know.
Sunday, 1 April 2007
One Month On…
And I still have this bloody cough.
If only that statement was an April Fool's Day gag.
I keep getting nagged at to consult a doctor, but I'm stalling: I don't get on with doctors. They just don't seem to like me.
I've been browsing WebMD. I can see why that's a dangerous thing to do if you scare easily. Just by looking up my coughing symptoms alone, I've already been pointed in the direction of whooping cough, bronchitis, tuberculosis and the Black Death.
Oddly, though, it's the idea of seeing a doctor that bothers me the most.
More on this exclusive and fascinating story as it breaks.
Aren't I good to you?
Saturday, 31 March 2007
Altered State
I'm in a strange mood today. I have random, uninvited attitude.
It seems that every time I open my mouth at the moment, something feisty jumps out without first consulting my brain.
Is Blind Date still on the telly these days? Perhaps I should apply.
I'd probably win, and get to spend a day go-karting with a complete dickhead who has plaited hair and short trousers and who fancies the Cadbury's Caramel bunny.
Result.
Friday, 30 March 2007
Cheese + Cake = Apparently Impossible To Get Rid Off
I seem to have inherited three slices of cheesecake.
How is it that the people around me seem always to covet cheesecake, yet refuse it when it's actually offered to them?
Thursday, 29 March 2007
Adventures In Smell And Taste
I'm feeling a little disheartened today.
With coffee, of all things.
How can it be that something that smells so good can sometimes simply fail to deliver in the taste department?
I'm not saying that coffee never tastes good: I happen to love coffee. I'm just saying that sometimes coffee smells outrageously gorgeous but then doesn't live up to its promise.
Perhaps the coffee in question – the coffee that broke my heart – just wasn't strong enough on the day.
Who knows?
That said, I bought a box of those 'instant cappuccino' sachets the other day (admittedly from Poundland – it seemed like a money-wise and, therefore, clever idea at the time). Once water was added, they smelled a bit like brown rice. And they tasted like the water brown rice had been boiled in.
So, I guess, coffee doesn't always smell good either.
It usually does, though.
Although, now that I think about it, it's probably just as well that everything I like the smell of doesn't taste good, or I'd probably have developed quite a nasty Creosote, matt emulsion and petrol habit by now.
Not mixed together, of course. What a silly thing for you to even suggest.
Tuesday, 27 March 2007
Bug-Busting
I can't seem to find it on the Internet anymore, but there used to be a place that sold life-size (8') replica aliens – from the movie of the same name.
Admittedly, they were a little too expensive – and pointless, if I'm entirely honest – for me, but I came up with this idea.
I'm not a big fan of spiders, as you may or may not know, and it has been known for me to approach friends and family members for help in removing them from my home.
I remember thinking that it would be funny to set up a life-size alien in my bath, then call my dad and ask him to come over and dispose of a "nasty-looking beastie".
It would probably be funny right up until the moment he walked into the bathroom and had a coronary, anyway.
Saturday, 24 March 2007
You'll Like This; Not A Lot, But You'll Like It
I met an interesting man today.
I was driving to Bath to visit some friends, and I stopped off at some motorway services, fancying a coffee.
It turns out that – randomly – WHSmith's now have a cappuccino/latte/espresso machine. It's self-service, so you get an empty cup and operate the machine yourself. Then you take the finished drink to the till.
Well, I pressed the buttons, watched the froth ooze out, added some sugar, and finally popped a plastic lid on the resulting concoction. Then I went to pay for it, and the guy behind the till rang up latte without even asking me.
I asked him how he knew what drink I had, and he informed me that he was "magical in ways I will never understand".
Just how do you possibly respond to that?
Friday, 23 March 2007
Advertisers' Nightmare
I'm possibly missing the point here, but why would I want to spend money and time out of my day on buying and applying make-up that's designed to make me look like I'm not wearing make-up?
"It's you, only better." And slightly poorer. And with a bit less time on your hands.
Monday, 19 March 2007
The Texas Brolly Massacre
I've stumbled across a curious superstition. Apparently, if you drop an umbrella on the floor there will be a murder in the house.
Unfortunately, I don't know where my umbrella is, so I can't put this to the test.
Once I've found it again, however, I shall carelessly lob it around for a bit and see what transpires.
Sunday, 18 March 2007
Good (Word) Show!
I'll shall now be adding cadaver to my list of top words.
I think I like it because it reminds me of the word cad, which in turn makes me think of moustached Terry-Thomasesque characters.
In fact, it gives me fantastic images of well-dressed plummy zombies sporting military moustaches and ambling around in dressing gowns, smoking jackets and/or leather flying helmets, giving their victims broad gap-toothed smiles right before eating their brains.
Now, I think that would be a jolly good show.
Saturday, 17 March 2007
The Bedwich Cuckoo
I'm beginning to suspect that there's some kind of strange magnetic field around the Bedford area that causes people's indicator lights to fail.
Through some miracle, however, it seems to leave brake lights intact.
Although, at night it also strikes the occasional set of headlights.
Friday, 16 March 2007
Dead Pet Bingo
I've been told that the sole surviving family cat is getting old and poorly.
This is not good news.
I'm now in danger of reaching a terrible score of 100% dead cats. This is unacceptable!
Still, I'll believe it when I see it; my sources do have a tendency to be a little overly-dramatic about these things – she's only 16, and she's probably just got a bit of trapped wind, or something.
The cat, that is; not my source.
Thursday, 15 March 2007
Gesundheit!
It would appear that I have some competition in the top quality poetry writing stakes:
If you sneeze on a Monday, you sneeze for danger;
Sneeze on a Tuesday, kiss a stranger;
Sneeze on a Wednesday, sneeze for a letter;
Sneeze on a Thursday, something better;
Sneeze on a Friday, sneeze for sorrow;
Sneeze on a Saturday, see your sweetheart tomorrow.
Sneeze on a Sunday, and the devil will have domination over you all week.
I find the final line especially powerful. It really rolls off the tongue.
Source: www.corsinet.com
Wednesday, 14 March 2007
Whereabouts On Roundabouts?
Exactly how bloomin' difficult is it to get in the correct lane when using roundabouts?
You see, I thought that it was quite straight-forward, but – having experienced yet another near-miss this morning with some numpty or another – you'd think it was bloody rocket science!
It isn't even as if there aren't massive signs making it more than abundantly plain exactly whereabouts you should be sticking your car.
Lane discipline, people, please!
End of rant.
Tuesday, 13 March 2007
Car Park Catch-Out Revisited aka Car Park Catch-On
I'm thinking of having a car sticker made up with the Police Trap Car logo on it.
I reckon that putting one of those in my back window would guarantee that nobody will ever break into or try to steal my car.
Maybe we should all do that.
Maybe all it would take to totally eradicate car crime is a few thousand square yards of thin plastic and a supermarket car park.
It's incredible that nobody thought of it sooner.
And, if you live anywhere near me, it might also be worth having a sticker made up that says Police Anti Narrow-Keelless-Boat-Propelled-By-Paddling Silliness Trap Car as well.
Monday, 12 March 2007
Car Park Catch-Out
I'm seeing a theme emerge each time I visit a supermarket.
It involves a clever new idea that the police seem to have come up with involving trying to stitch people up in car parks.
Yes, it's the Police Trap Car.
For those of you who haven't seen this yet, this is basically a scheme that involves the local police combining a spare car with some surveillance equipment, and then planting it in a public car park. The plan is that – with a bit of luck – somebody will come over all light-fingered and then get caught in the act. And, presumably, arrested.
Admittedly, I'm not entirely certain if these fabled trap cars actually exist, or if (so cynical am I) money has just been spent purely on erecting signs that may function as a deterrent, but – either way – I am now studying all the parked cars with interest and suspicion.
I recently noticed – for example – about ten feet away from the nearest sign, a tatty old red van with open rear doors and tools lying messily in the back. Unfortunately, this is the exact sort of daftly optimistic set-up that I expect from people.
I'm also particularly suspicious of cars that are parked right next to the aforementioned signs. Because that's the exact sort of daftly optimistic double-bluff that I expect from people.
I would like to believe, however, that – in the case of the red van – I was actually witnessing a brazen triple-bluff being carried out by a plucky member of the public.
Although, I suspect that this time it's me who's being daftly optimistic.
Sunday, 11 March 2007
Foresight And Hindsight Insight
Whilst out with friends today, I noticed an interesting sign outside Asda:
Free eye test with every pair of glasses
Or words to that effect.
So, does that mean that you've got to buy the glasses before you get the eye test? What if you buy the wrong ones?
What if, for example, you buy glasses that correct short-sightedness and then have an eye test that concludes that you're actually long-sighted?
Will the staff just point and laugh at you, before calling you a sucker and charging you for the correct pair of glasses?
And, if that happened, would you then have to face the ultimate insult of earning another free eye test, which by now would be of no use to you?
I wonder if the free eye test is transferable. Perhaps, if one person was prepared to be the fall guy, they could get as far as buying two pairs of glasses, then pass the second free eye test on to somebody else; who could then buy the correct glasses the first time around, earn their free eye test and pass it on to somebody else. And so on and so forth.
I think it would work, but we'll come unstuck the second anybody with good vision gets caught up in the loop…
That said, I'm sure a quick poke with a fork could soon fix that.
Otherwise, I've got this nightmare vision of somebody walking into Asda, buying a nice pair of glasses and then having an free eye test that concludes that they had perfect vision all along.
And cue all the gags about hindsight being 20/20.
Saturday, 10 March 2007
Presenting The Amazing Flying Guiseppe
No ferrets were harmed in the making of this blog.
Not even ones that seem to believe that they are impervious to gravity.
Give it time.
Friday, 9 March 2007
Playing Golf In The Real World
I have in front of me the box for Real World Golf on the PS2.
For those of you who are not familiar with this particular game, this is a console golf game that you can play with a mini golf club, instead of with a traditional controller.
It's especially impressive since – as stated on the game box – it's
"the revolutionary golf game where you swing a club to hit the ball."
What an incredible idea. Revolutionary indeed!
It's amazing, really, that conventional golf is apparently not played that way.
Thursday, 8 March 2007
Solutions To Problems
I've recently found myself behind a van advertising Door Solutions.
What a brilliant idea!
The next time I find myself frustratingly bouncing off solid walls whilst attempting to move from room to room, I'll know who to call.
Wednesday, 7 March 2007
And Not A Bad Child Actor In Sight
I don't know if it's just a strange effect of the lurgy, but I keep getting cravings for Kinder Surprises – well, not actually Kinder Surprises themselves, but that particular creamy sort of Kinder chocolate.
Frankly, I could do without the Surprise part, as I now have a mounting collection of crappy little plastic toys.
Although I do have one good one, which I'm quite smug about.
It's a little bulgy-eyed guy in a turban meditating on a magic carpet which, through the skillful use of magnets, levitates.
Admittedly, he does boff his head against the top of his little plastic case every time he levitates – which can't do much for his meditation.
But I don't care about that because he can levitate.
And that makes me chuckle, which is all that matters.
Monday, 5 March 2007
Things I've Learned From… Ghost Stories [Part 1]
- 1. Dental Hygiene:
- Nice old people often have teeth missing.
- Evil people have foul breath.
Analysis:
- Good people always have good dental hygiene. Missing teeth are endearing. They come about purely as a result of fair-wear-and-tear and do not stem from a lack of hygiene.
- Bad people revel in eating smelly foods and mistreating their teeth. If they have any missing, it is for these reasons.
- 2. Baldness:
- Old men who are friends of the novel's hero(s) are usually bald.
- Villainous men always have lank, greasy and dandruff-ridden hair.
Analysis:
- Only those who are pure of heart must suffer the torment that is Male Pattern Baldness.
- Bad people will use their ample – yet infuriatingly unkempt – hair as just another thing with which to torment you.
- 3. Ghost Detecting - Weather:
- If a house is haunted, a swing will always move, even when there is no wind.
Analysis:
- Why spend money on an expensive ghost detecting kit? Simply construct an outdoor play area and wait for a nice day.
- 4. Witnessing Paranormal Activity:
- For anything supernatural to happen in a place, at least one person who does not believe in ghosts must be present.
Analysis:
- Go into that murder house, expect a barrage of bad stuff and later leave disappointingly unharmed.
- 5. Children:
- Children are not afraid of ghosts that talk to them.
Analysis:
- It doesn't matter how scary you are, or how long you've been dead – striking up conversations with small children is a fantastic way to rekindle your social life.
A prize goes to anyone who can actually name the book I'm currently reading.
Sunday, 4 March 2007
Lurgyfied
Naturally, I finally succumbed to the lurgy.
I'm not actually half as ill as He was when he had it last week, as it's decided to only attack my chest; my sinuses are fine, but I've got the nastiest cough I think I've ever had. It's making it really hard to sleep.
Not that I expect you to care. The sound of me coughing, spluttering and then swearing extensively under my breath isn't keeping you awake at night.
Unless you're stalking me, and lurking outside my bedroom window in the dark. In which case, you'd be better off staying awake lest you wake up in somebody else's garden or with a canoe on your head.
Saturday, 3 March 2007
Noodles Away!
It's back!
Yes, today saw the triumphant return of Super Noodles Saturday. And there was me nearly posting an R.I.P. blog for it last week.
I really should have more faith in snack foods.
Friday, 2 March 2007
Why… Won't… You… Dye!
I'm somewhat disturbed that Andie MacDowell's new hair dye even covers those "short wiry" hairs.
I thought that most hair dyes came with instructions that warn against using them for that.
Thursday, 1 March 2007
Stupid Girl
I have just spend a straight five minutes in the kitchen, trying to open a bin bag.
I tried all the usual tricks: blowing on it, rubbing my hands together either side of it, trying to prise my fingernails into the tiny gap – to name but a few.
I almost had it. Almost.
In my desperate and mounting frustration, I eventually asked for help – not something I'd usually do in this sort of situation, but I was so wound up I was about to go into complete and utter meltdown.
Without a word of a lie, the bin bag was then duly inspected, turned upside-down, and opened easily.
I now ask that the rules to be changed so that everyone can do one bloody stupid thing a day without having to be technically labelled an idiot.
Wednesday, 28 February 2007
Poetry Time [No. 3]
More of the same, only worseMy Life As A Virgin Media Customer
So,
The Simpsons.
Bye bye, Sky channels.
Sometimes,
We used to watch you.
Admittedly,
Mostly for
Although,
We always seemed to be watching repeats.
Specifically,
That bloody Jazz Man episode.
And
The one with the crazy golf competition.
And
The one where Bart runs away.
And
That one with Sideshow Bob.
And
That other one with Sideshow Bob.
And
Another one with Sideshow Bob. But,
Strangely,
Never the one with his brother
Which,
Ironically, I'd actually like to see again.
Tuesday, 27 February 2007
Trouble Comes In Twenty-Sevens
The alarm didn't go off this morning.
I don't know why.
Then my card was declined at the petrol station.
It turns out that a cheque I wrote out three weeks ago has only just hit me and has now taken me into the red.
Now, Biscuits has bitten my nose. For the umpteenth time.
They say that trouble comes in threes. I hope that they're right, whoever they are.
Actually, now that I think about it, there was a mahoosive spider in the bedroom earlier… Does that mean I've just had the first of another three troubles? Or does it mean I've got to have three lots of three misfortunes today?
And if, instead, I just decide to blindly hope that trouble actually comes in fours – and that I've therefore now had my lot for the day – would I just be setting us all up for an additional, impromptu problem the next time any of us is scheduled to have (what should be) three?
It pays to be prepared for these things, you know.
Monday, 26 February 2007
Rough Night + Long Day = Out Of It
I was followed by a gonk today.
I was driving home and a Fiesta came up behind me; and all that I could see of the driver was the top of a head, a pair of eyes, a nose, and some fingers poking over the steering wheel.
I'd never really imagined gonks driving cars, but now I've seen it with my own eyes.
I don't mean to stereotype – I do understand that gonks are widely diverse creatures – but I'd like to think that instead of using the horn, she could just honk her nose.
In fact, I wouldn't mind being able to do that myself. It might come in handy the next time I'm out shopping and the person in front of me just stops for no reason.
Yes, sorry: I've gone a bit crazy today. I didn't get much sleep last night and some of my marbles took the opportunity to go on a little vacation.
I am aware of it, but sadly admitting that I've got a problem does not actually empower me at all. It just doesn't seem to work like that.
I guess we've all just got to wait it out. Sorry.
A loud hair-dryer-sounding motorcycle drove past the house a little earlier, and I found myself commenting aloud that it sounded like a felt-tip pen.
I also apparently think it would be useful if I could honk my nose really loudly.
I'm sure that I speak for everybody when I say that I hope that I get some sleep tonight.
Sunday, 25 February 2007
Retraction: Most Haunted
So, we actually found ourselves watching Most Haunted Live last night, and I feel the need to make a retraction: Yvette Fielding was utterly fearless the entire time.
And, what's more, nothing touched her hair.
The historian's a bit dodgy, though.
Personally, I would have thought that the idea of researching a name that the investigators have given you was quite a simple one, but apparently it's quite a complicated process.
Apparently what you really have to do is change the initial letter, add a couple of syllables – in fact, come up with a name that is completely different in every single way, but that features in the research that you've already done on the place – and then offer that back to them preceded with the line "well, that sounds a bit like…" or "what I think you meant was…" and then follow it up with: "and, since that's the *family name / nickname / job title / second cousin* of the *owner / designer / gardener / dog-walker* of the *house / castle / cattle shed / military bunker*, then it's hardly a surprise that it's come up – ha ha ha! – aren't I an incredibly smug historian?".
I'd give you a precise example, but I absolutely cannot be bothered.
Feel free to just take my word for it.
Saturday, 24 February 2007
Friday, 23 February 2007
Careless Crisper
I've been reminded of an important point by the label on one of our tea towels. I have been reminded – and not in any vague or abstract manner – that carelessness causes fire.
Well, that's put me right back in my place. No more throwing wet cutlery around for me. I'd hate to accidentally stab somebody in the eye with a flying fork or knife and have a fire break out.
Thursday, 22 February 2007
Wiiings, My Arse
Not that I ever really hold out much hope for Red Bull adverts, but what sort of crappy superhero would actually put empty cans back into the fridge anyway?
You'd never catch Bananaman pulling an idiotic stunt like that.
EDIT: Mind you, with all that potassium in his system, he's probably got no need for energy drinks.
Wednesday, 21 February 2007
I Think My Days Are Numbered
He's brought the lurgy into the house.
I reckon that this gives me no more than about four days before I'm in the throes of it too.
I can't wait.
Oh, no—
Sorry—
I can wait.
Tuesday, 20 February 2007
You For Coffee
We were in the local supermarket tonight, buying some coffee, and a boy of about nine came up beside us, studied the ground coffee, and exclaimed "Yes! Yes! Yes!" very excitedly.
Typically, there turned out to be a really boring and uninteresting reason for this; but it was amusing for a while.
Quiet day, today. Sorry.
I can't make stupid stuff happen.
Well, obviously, that's not entirely true – I make stupid stuff happen all the time. This is part of my charm.
But that doesn't mean that the stupid stuff I make happen is stuff I'd necessarily want to share; so, for the purposes of this blog, today was a quiet day where nothing stupid happened at all.
Monday, 19 February 2007
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