I'm going to try to reconstitute it. A bit like the 6 million dollar man, only for a contact lens worth a fiver.
Friday, 10 June 2005
Beyond help
Water constitutes about 90% of a contact lens's composition. This is what happens to them when they ping from your finger and land on top of a fluffy radiator, only to be discovered two weeks later when you stand on them in bare feet:
Don't Nokia it!
I've got a camera on my phone. The phone is great, but the camera is shit. I was in Carphone Warehouse recently and the sales assistant actually came out with "You can really tell how good a phone is by the quality of its camera". Surely you can tell how good a camera is by the quality of its camera, but it's important that a phone has good memory, battery life etc.
Cameras on phones eh?
But still, there are times when you want to capture a moment and a crappy camera on your phone is better than the one you haven't got.
Here are some things that I'd never have had the opportunity to capture without my phone camera thing.
This one's very close to my heart. A particular stretch of the M6 motorway on my commute to and from one of my bases was shut for two and a half years up until December last year. It caused misery and chaos for many. This was my last Friday commute home in the roadworks before they reopened the carriageway.
I went with some friends to see a house they were viewing in Norfolk. There was a pond at the house. There were tadpoles in the pond.
These fish live in mine and Trillion's favourite Indian takeaway: we go there so often they even wave at us.
This is the entrance to my drive at home. There's a community centre alongside the drive. The twat who abandoned this Rover had at least two metres more space to drive forward into, but decided to overhang the drive. Rover drivers are cunts.
This button operates the door to a bank in the Shopping City in Runcorn; it's handy for wheelchair users and folk in those scooter things who can't push. I saw a perfectly able-bodied woman use this instead of pushing the door. How lazy is that? Twat!
Yes, I was in Tesco and I noticed this in the "Outdoor Summer" section. I felt compelled to buy a very solid, very heavy rounders bat after I saw it. Not long now, folks - just 2 weeks till Wimbledon!
Gettin' off, gettin' off, while they're all downstairs... I love that line.
Exclusive! Cakesniffer branded as racist homophobe!
Temp-in bawling tirade: reveals how bigotted gossiping colleagues made her life hell!
Yes, I'm afraid to say that Katherine's legacy is still very much with us. I had a nice chat with my line manager this morning (the librarian) and she told me that me and my colleagues need to be careful about what we talk about. "I don't care about people talking about my sexuality, I'm used to it, but others who hear things from your office might not realise that you're just engaging in banter".
Apparently, Katherine went back to her temping agency for a meeting to discuss what went wrong with us. She told the chap there (who's gay and this is obvious even over the phone) that we'd been commenting about people's sexuality and making nasty remarks about him and our line manager.
The lying, manipulating fucking bitch!
The temp agency man is a real sweetheart and I've had a few conversations with him over the phone. After one, I said, "Now he's a lovely feller, really sweet". Now Katherine was always trying to gossip about my suitors and it got a bit tiring to be linked with every man I ever spoke to, so she of course butted in "Well, he's single and you have his number, why don't you go for it?" to which I responded, "I don't think he's my type, I think he likes his mum a bit too much to be interested in me". You see, she's such a fucking homophobe that you have to use gentle euphemisms so as not to offend her sensitivities by coming out and saying straight up that somebody is gay (especially if you're gay too). But that's all that was said about him and nobody has said a word about our poor line manager's sexuality.
Lying, mental cow.
It was also pointed out to me today that I'm the only white person working in my office, there are four of us in total. It hadn't even dawned on me. I really don't notice these things. Of course I can tell if somebody is black or Asian, but it'd never occurred to me that I was the only white person out of the four of us.
What I do do is take the piss out of one of my colleagues whose parents originally came from Pakistan, call her an al qaeda operative and that sort of thing. Well, you never know!
So yeah, I'm homophobic and I could be mistaken for being a racist bigot too.
Thanks Katherine, you fucking cunt!
(PS Get it? Temp-in bawling, ten pin bowling? There's no connection, I just thought it was a nice play on words).
Yes, I'm afraid to say that Katherine's legacy is still very much with us. I had a nice chat with my line manager this morning (the librarian) and she told me that me and my colleagues need to be careful about what we talk about. "I don't care about people talking about my sexuality, I'm used to it, but others who hear things from your office might not realise that you're just engaging in banter".
Apparently, Katherine went back to her temping agency for a meeting to discuss what went wrong with us. She told the chap there (who's gay and this is obvious even over the phone) that we'd been commenting about people's sexuality and making nasty remarks about him and our line manager.
The lying, manipulating fucking bitch!
The temp agency man is a real sweetheart and I've had a few conversations with him over the phone. After one, I said, "Now he's a lovely feller, really sweet". Now Katherine was always trying to gossip about my suitors and it got a bit tiring to be linked with every man I ever spoke to, so she of course butted in "Well, he's single and you have his number, why don't you go for it?" to which I responded, "I don't think he's my type, I think he likes his mum a bit too much to be interested in me". You see, she's such a fucking homophobe that you have to use gentle euphemisms so as not to offend her sensitivities by coming out and saying straight up that somebody is gay (especially if you're gay too). But that's all that was said about him and nobody has said a word about our poor line manager's sexuality.
Lying, mental cow.
It was also pointed out to me today that I'm the only white person working in my office, there are four of us in total. It hadn't even dawned on me. I really don't notice these things. Of course I can tell if somebody is black or Asian, but it'd never occurred to me that I was the only white person out of the four of us.
What I do do is take the piss out of one of my colleagues whose parents originally came from Pakistan, call her an al qaeda operative and that sort of thing. Well, you never know!
So yeah, I'm homophobic and I could be mistaken for being a racist bigot too.
Thanks Katherine, you fucking cunt!
(PS Get it? Temp-in bawling, ten pin bowling? There's no connection, I just thought it was a nice play on words).
Thursday, 9 June 2005
Quit clowning around
Is Sam Black back?
Is she back under another guise?
Zerry, interesstink!
Anyway, my cat, Max, is a clown. Any opportunity to act the goat and he takes it.
Oh fucking hell! Just did a massive post and clicked "publish" and it fucked it up! SHITBUMTITWANKFARTSCUNTINGARSEHOLES!
Is she back under another guise?
Zerry, interesstink!
Anyway, my cat, Max, is a clown. Any opportunity to act the goat and he takes it.
Oh fucking hell! Just did a massive post and clicked "publish" and it fucked it up! SHITBUMTITWANKFARTSCUNTINGARSEHOLES!
Wednesday, 8 June 2005
Summer madness
Well, the sun's been shining here for two consecutive days, so I guess that means that summer's finally here with just two weeks left before the days start to get shorter again.
Fab.
Of course, summer brings out the worst in people over here. British folk can't deal with the sun shining. The following things tend to happen as soon as it gets above 20°C:
Fab.
Of course, summer brings out the worst in people over here. British folk can't deal with the sun shining. The following things tend to happen as soon as it gets above 20°C:
- Fat women's arms are forced on us from everywhere. These aren't just large arms, they're large arms with dry, scaly skin, with horrible armpits, with huge flabby bingo wings flapping about underneath the upper arms. Why do fat women wear sleeveless tops? There should be a law against wearing these garments unless you've got an licence. Sleeveless tops also reveal unattended armpits and I can't cope with any armpits so I'll leave that thought right where it is.
- Hobbit feet. The same type of people who unashamedly expose their upper arms and armpits also expose their disgusting feet: horrible horny, yellow toenails; hairy toes; hard, yellow heel skin. Jesus, where do these freaks come from?
- Legs. No, no, NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!
- Topless men congregating outside the boozer from 11am. No sun cream, plenty of beer and no food leads to the sort of behaviour I encountered on Sunday night. They finally decide that they should perhaps get something to eat when they're burnt to a crisp, pissed as farts and suffering from sun stroke. The gathering of these fucking numpties and their bits of skirt (blonde with orange skin) in the local takeaway always leads to trouble when there's a fight over the last kebab in the shop.
- Cooked-out food: raw on the inside, burnt on the outside and with a slight tinge of lighter fluid - we love our BBQs over here!
- Offensively loud music. Either in cars or through open windows, people can't help making a racket - usually while burning food on the BBQ and getting pissed on cheap French lager. Of course, the music tends to be so loud that everybody has to shout over it, then the music gets turned up more....
- Shelves stripped of salad veg and bread rolls. Again, the supermaket suppliers simply cannot cope with the demand for lettuce, tomatoes and cucumbers on the two days a year when the sun comes out. However, if you ever attend a barbecue, you'll notice that all the salad ends up in the bin at the end of the night.
- Lawnmower Man. All the neighbours have ALL the garden power equipment and they have to use it. But you don't get everybody doing their gardens at the same time to get it over and done with. No, one will be done Saturday morning, another Saturday afternoon, another Sunday morning, another Sunday afternoon. Eventually, there's a constant whining of electrical or petrol-powered mowers, strimmers and vacuums and above this, there's the loud music and pissed up people screeching.
- Screaming kids. They hang around in gangs all the time anyway, looking useless and mouthing off to anybody who's older than them, but in summer, there are more of them and they're there ALL THE FUCKING TIME! Schools out and so are they and they never go home. They just wander up and down the streets from July to September. Bastards.
- Sunglasses. Wear your sunglasses in the sun - fine! Nip into the shop and keep them on for a minute or two - fine! Do not, not, NOT wear them propped on your head while you're indoors all fucking day! This particularly grates on me in women over a certain age who also wear normal specs for their work. Fucktards.
- Moth attack. Moths are evil. Those big bastards that lie in wait for when you open the door in the evening are the sporn of Satan, I swear it. They're HUGE and they buzz and flutter in their drunken way; sort of aiming for a light source, but always managing to knock into you with their weirdness. The worst scenario is when you get trapped in the bathroom with one if you're having night-time shower or bath, particularly if you have a shower curtain and they get right in there with you.
- Henmaniacs. They're on their way folks! They're already revving up at Queens and they'll be out in full force within a couple of weeks.
- Cliff Richard at Wimbledon. Fuck.
Of course you get jealous of those people with nice convertible cars. My, I bet that's nice on a warm day. You see though, even with the right climate, I doubt I'd have one for fear of having done to me what I think about doing to drivers of convertibles. Such things include: using my windscreen washers while driving passed (or is it past?) them; aiming litter at them; trying to jump in the back for a bet.
So no, I don't think I'd have one. I'll stick to air con. Besides, I'd burn to a crisp within an hour and my hair would never cope.
Tuesday, 7 June 2005
Mental as anything
I do believe I've encountered true insanity.
Our temporary secretary at work was finally given the boot yesterday after 3 months of progressively worsening and progressively more insane and irrational behaviour. I've mentioned her before, so check out Workplace stress if you want a bit of the background.
Things have become even worse over the last month or so after the arrival of a new colleague, who happens to be a librarian (fancy me having a librarian as a manager - she has short hair, piercings and comfortable shoes to prove it). Well, Katherine the temp, is American, Catholic and completely fucking insane, which is a terrible combination and not a good sign if you're looking for tolerance. There was a bit of a hoo-har one day last week; apparently Katherine came storming back into the office after an altercation with librarian colleague, mumbling on, and she came out with, "I know she can't help it if she's a LEZZZBIAN, but must she really flaunt it about so unashamedly?". Brilliant. Made me howl. On their own, people like Katherine are just a bit sad and amusing, although in her position, she does have the opportunity to spread quite a lot of poison.
Anyway, our real secretary finally returned yesterday and Katherine wasn't happy: she see the job as hers and hers alone; she sees the main boss as hers and hers alone, so for Ingrid to come back (despite Katherine's best efforts to put her off and undermine her) was a great affront to her.
Well, bloody hell, what a nightmare. Katherine was acting very much like somebody who’d had their nose put out of joint by Ingrid’s return and she was impossible from the moment Ingrid walked back through the door.
There was no speaking to her, she wouldn’t do anything, refused point-blank to go and join Ingrid in a handover discussion with our manager. She was behaving like a child. Another colleague pointed out that she’d said something about working in the boss's office to allow Ingrid to get back to her desk and she rounded her - went mental! I added something to effect that she was acting impossibly and she stormed off, slagging us off to anybody she came along.
Our manager (the librarian) was tearing her hair out and was quite upset and flabbergasted by it all so she decided to tell her to leave (the beauty of temps!). She handled it very well and told Katherine to gather her things and fuck off. And she just got her stuff and left. She accused one colleague of attacking her three times. And she’s going to take legal action against our manager (probably going to try and get her put away for having too many piercings, short hair and being gay). I wonder what she said about me? I really don’t give a flying fuck to tell you the truth.
Fucking deluded, paranoid, mental cow. And she's going to go off and tell the next people she works with just how awful we all are.
We spent most of the afternoon swapping stories of “Katherine’s Words of Wisdom” that she’d been giving to each of us individually – essentially trying to undermine us and play each of us off against each other. The common theme seemed to be that people shouldn’t try to be like me! I couldn’t agree with her more on that one.
And who said office work was boring?
Menthol as anything
My cat, Otto, likes eating menthol preparations like Vicks and Carmex.
Our temporary secretary at work was finally given the boot yesterday after 3 months of progressively worsening and progressively more insane and irrational behaviour. I've mentioned her before, so check out Workplace stress if you want a bit of the background.
Things have become even worse over the last month or so after the arrival of a new colleague, who happens to be a librarian (fancy me having a librarian as a manager - she has short hair, piercings and comfortable shoes to prove it). Well, Katherine the temp, is American, Catholic and completely fucking insane, which is a terrible combination and not a good sign if you're looking for tolerance. There was a bit of a hoo-har one day last week; apparently Katherine came storming back into the office after an altercation with librarian colleague, mumbling on, and she came out with, "I know she can't help it if she's a LEZZZBIAN, but must she really flaunt it about so unashamedly?". Brilliant. Made me howl. On their own, people like Katherine are just a bit sad and amusing, although in her position, she does have the opportunity to spread quite a lot of poison.
Anyway, our real secretary finally returned yesterday and Katherine wasn't happy: she see the job as hers and hers alone; she sees the main boss as hers and hers alone, so for Ingrid to come back (despite Katherine's best efforts to put her off and undermine her) was a great affront to her.
Well, bloody hell, what a nightmare. Katherine was acting very much like somebody who’d had their nose put out of joint by Ingrid’s return and she was impossible from the moment Ingrid walked back through the door.
There was no speaking to her, she wouldn’t do anything, refused point-blank to go and join Ingrid in a handover discussion with our manager. She was behaving like a child. Another colleague pointed out that she’d said something about working in the boss's office to allow Ingrid to get back to her desk and she rounded her - went mental! I added something to effect that she was acting impossibly and she stormed off, slagging us off to anybody she came along.
Our manager (the librarian) was tearing her hair out and was quite upset and flabbergasted by it all so she decided to tell her to leave (the beauty of temps!). She handled it very well and told Katherine to gather her things and fuck off. And she just got her stuff and left. She accused one colleague of attacking her three times. And she’s going to take legal action against our manager (probably going to try and get her put away for having too many piercings, short hair and being gay). I wonder what she said about me? I really don’t give a flying fuck to tell you the truth.
Fucking deluded, paranoid, mental cow. And she's going to go off and tell the next people she works with just how awful we all are.
We spent most of the afternoon swapping stories of “Katherine’s Words of Wisdom” that she’d been giving to each of us individually – essentially trying to undermine us and play each of us off against each other. The common theme seemed to be that people shouldn’t try to be like me! I couldn’t agree with her more on that one.
And who said office work was boring?
Menthol as anything
My cat, Otto, likes eating menthol preparations like Vicks and Carmex.
Sniffy personals
You may have noticed that I've added a link so people can e-mail me if they want. It's supposed to be sort of anonymous so you can't identify me, but I e-mailed Connie from that account before I thought to change the display name from my real one to my alias. What a dick! Still, I trust Connie because a) she's lovely, b) she's thousands of miles away and c) she wouldn't DREAM of giving out my real name to anybody.
Would you Connie? Nor would Andy, who is very close to where I live. Would you Andy?
But if anybody's got an idea for something that they'd like me to spout off about, then e-mail me. Or just e-mail if you fancy getting in touch. I'd be thrilled to hear from folk.
How arrogant does that make me seem? VERY! I just like the idea of being given a challlenge to think about from somebody else's perspective. I do live quite a sheltered life and my own experiences aren't particularly interesting to post about, but if I'm prompted by somebody else, you never know what might happen.
Would you Connie? Nor would Andy, who is very close to where I live. Would you Andy?
But if anybody's got an idea for something that they'd like me to spout off about, then e-mail me. Or just e-mail if you fancy getting in touch. I'd be thrilled to hear from folk.
How arrogant does that make me seem? VERY! I just like the idea of being given a challlenge to think about from somebody else's perspective. I do live quite a sheltered life and my own experiences aren't particularly interesting to post about, but if I'm prompted by somebody else, you never know what might happen.
Monday, 6 June 2005
Tori's Piano Bar
Yep, I experienced the amazing Tori Amos at her concert in Manchester last night.
I don't get out much, and rarely go to concerts, so this was quite an event for me. There was lots of tie-dye, corduroy, eye makeup, and long hair. The audience also looked like a librarians' day out in sections too. Fantastic.
All l I have to say about Tori Amos's performance is... AWESOME!
It was her, four keyboards (3 organs and a grand) and a mixing desk. She played a two hour set without a break and covered songs from her latest album, The Beekeeper, as well as some others from her previous work.
Here are some photos (sorry, was near the back and wasn't allowed to use my flash):
Don't look back in anger
One part of the show was a break-off into her "Piano Bar" in which she sang a couple of songs by other artists. These were both unbelievable: Oasis's Don't look back in anger and good old Favourite things from The Sound of Music (I think that was for all the librarians in the audience - there were plenty). She took this part of the set to have a chat with the audience and this gave her the opportunity to launch into a diatribe against Morrissey. I videod this on my little digicam, so I may transcribe it at some point.
Andy, I'm going to really piss you off by telling you that the two seats in front of where I was sat were empty for the entire show. Their loss. I'm also trying to figure out a way of getting the avi files to you - too big to e-mail.
I don't get out much, and rarely go to concerts, so this was quite an event for me. There was lots of tie-dye, corduroy, eye makeup, and long hair. The audience also looked like a librarians' day out in sections too. Fantastic.
All l I have to say about Tori Amos's performance is... AWESOME!
It was her, four keyboards (3 organs and a grand) and a mixing desk. She played a two hour set without a break and covered songs from her latest album, The Beekeeper, as well as some others from her previous work.
Here are some photos (sorry, was near the back and wasn't allowed to use my flash):
Yep, she's playing two instruments at the same time there
Don't look back in anger
One part of the show was a break-off into her "Piano Bar" in which she sang a couple of songs by other artists. These were both unbelievable: Oasis's Don't look back in anger and good old Favourite things from The Sound of Music (I think that was for all the librarians in the audience - there were plenty). She took this part of the set to have a chat with the audience and this gave her the opportunity to launch into a diatribe against Morrissey. I videod this on my little digicam, so I may transcribe it at some point.
Andy, I'm going to really piss you off by telling you that the two seats in front of where I was sat were empty for the entire show. Their loss. I'm also trying to figure out a way of getting the avi files to you - too big to e-mail.
Sunday, 5 June 2005
Wankers who ruined my night
It's gone midnight, I should be asleep, I'm up at 5.30. Why am I not in bed? Well, I've been to a very enjoyable concert so I was late home from that. But apart from that, I'm FUCKING FURIOUS!
While driving home from the Tori Amos concert in Manchester, not far from home, I noticed something fly into the road from the pavement, closely followed by three pissed up blokes who were beating the shit out another pissed up bloke. There were three pissed up women having a scrap on the pavement too. The blokes ran into the path of my car and I stopped in time (unfortunately), only for them to slam into the side of me. The fell in front of the car and I waited for them to get out of the way then they fell into the other wing of my car. I was waiting for them to fuck off out of the way and one of them started giving me abuse because my car was in the way of his scrap.
I can't tell if my car is damaged, but there are plenty of fingerprints all over the bonnet, wings and wing mirror if, by some grace of God, one of them happens to die and the coppers need some sort of evidence.
FUCKING WANKERS!
Now I don't know if I'm supposed to call the police, or if I'll get done for not reporting an accident or what.
I hate it round here. The people are utter scum. Next time it happens, I ain't fucking stopping.
Don't know what to do, somebody give me some advice.
Tori Amos was awesome.
While driving home from the Tori Amos concert in Manchester, not far from home, I noticed something fly into the road from the pavement, closely followed by three pissed up blokes who were beating the shit out another pissed up bloke. There were three pissed up women having a scrap on the pavement too. The blokes ran into the path of my car and I stopped in time (unfortunately), only for them to slam into the side of me. The fell in front of the car and I waited for them to get out of the way then they fell into the other wing of my car. I was waiting for them to fuck off out of the way and one of them started giving me abuse because my car was in the way of his scrap.
I can't tell if my car is damaged, but there are plenty of fingerprints all over the bonnet, wings and wing mirror if, by some grace of God, one of them happens to die and the coppers need some sort of evidence.
FUCKING WANKERS!
Now I don't know if I'm supposed to call the police, or if I'll get done for not reporting an accident or what.
I hate it round here. The people are utter scum. Next time it happens, I ain't fucking stopping.
Don't know what to do, somebody give me some advice.
Tori Amos was awesome.
Freaky shit
RARRRRR I'M A BLOG: Scariest photo I've seen in quite some time
I'm not going to post the photo that Jim is referring to, check out his post and I'll leave it up to you to check it out yourselves. But be warned, it really is the freakiest thing you'll ever see.
I actually like Jim's blog, it's pretty insane. Go have a look at some of his stuff if you ever want a laugh.
I see there's a Swede checking me out again....
I'm not going to post the photo that Jim is referring to, check out his post and I'll leave it up to you to check it out yourselves. But be warned, it really is the freakiest thing you'll ever see.
I actually like Jim's blog, it's pretty insane. Go have a look at some of his stuff if you ever want a laugh.
I see there's a Swede checking me out again....
Saturday, 4 June 2005
Quality shopping
Supermarkets are ace. Nnot only do they stock just about everything you could possibly need for modern-day living, they are also a rich source of blog fodder.
After leaving Sainsbury's (oo-la-la), I realised that I'd forgotten bread and milk so I dropped into the local Spar here. As I was at the till, I could hear the woman behind me repeatedly asking her toddler, "Do you want some crisp?"
Crisp.
Now, "crisps" is what American folk call "potato chips". I'm not being drawn in that argument right now, but let's just say that the British are definitely right on this one. "Chips" are thicker lumps (as in chip off the old block) of deep fried potato. Crisps are crispy thin shavings of deep fried potato.
Whatever. Whether it's crisps or potato chips, it's definitely not "some crisp" or a "packet of crisp".
I used to hear that a lot when I was a kid - schoolmates used to say it because they were fucking retarded pigshit thick tits. You don't expect it from a grown-up with a toddler.
And what was she doing feeding that shit to a little kid anyway? She's lucky I didn't phone social services.
Mossad moisturising and plastic noodelicious
I got accosted by a German woman in the shopping centre the other day. She was selling beauty products and spa treatments and she grabbed me by the hand (oi oi!) and the next thing I knew I was having the top layer of skin taken off the back of it by her rubbing oily salt onto it really hard.
All the time, she was going on about the Dead Sea in Israel and how nothing lives there and she kept on rubbing and rubbing and I was thinking, This is starting to hurt. She washed off the salt and oil (I was on the verge of tears at this point), but I must admit that the skin on the back of my had (what was left of it) was delightfully soft. So, after a bit of hard sell, I bought a tub of this stuff - it's a Dead Sea salt and coconut/lavender oil body scrub.
Israel eh? I swear it's something Mossad must use to torture state enemies. A crueler treatment you could never imagine.
The thing is, if nothing grows in the Dead Sea, how can any product coming from there be good for your skin? I bet you could get a bucket of builders' sand and mix it with oil to get the same effect.
I wonder what Ellen MacArthur's skin is like from all that lashing from the salty seas? Perhaps lashing of salty waves from an oil slick might be analogous?...
Anyway, I've just checked out the Dead Sea Cosmetics website and it seems you can even buy a massive bucket of Dead Sea salt for just £21. I'm sure you can get a massive sack of road grit for much less - you can even nick it from the side of the road.
Pot Noodelicious
I love dehydrated/rehydrated foodstuffs (see Dehydrated delights) and I had a Pot Noodle for my lunch today - I certainly know how to live life to the full! Pot Noodles are ace because they're supposed to be nasty and horrible and cheap. They even have a delicious undertone of plastic from the pot in which they're prepared.
All the time, she was going on about the Dead Sea in Israel and how nothing lives there and she kept on rubbing and rubbing and I was thinking, This is starting to hurt. She washed off the salt and oil (I was on the verge of tears at this point), but I must admit that the skin on the back of my had (what was left of it) was delightfully soft. So, after a bit of hard sell, I bought a tub of this stuff - it's a Dead Sea salt and coconut/lavender oil body scrub.
Israel eh? I swear it's something Mossad must use to torture state enemies. A crueler treatment you could never imagine.
The thing is, if nothing grows in the Dead Sea, how can any product coming from there be good for your skin? I bet you could get a bucket of builders' sand and mix it with oil to get the same effect.
I wonder what Ellen MacArthur's skin is like from all that lashing from the salty seas? Perhaps lashing of salty waves from an oil slick might be analogous?...
Anyway, I've just checked out the Dead Sea Cosmetics website and it seems you can even buy a massive bucket of Dead Sea salt for just £21. I'm sure you can get a massive sack of road grit for much less - you can even nick it from the side of the road.
Pot Noodelicious
I love dehydrated/rehydrated foodstuffs (see Dehydrated delights) and I had a Pot Noodle for my lunch today - I certainly know how to live life to the full! Pot Noodles are ace because they're supposed to be nasty and horrible and cheap. They even have a delicious undertone of plastic from the pot in which they're prepared.
Friday, 3 June 2005
How Swede it is...
I am obsessive compulsive and I like to check out where the people who visit Cakesniffers come from.
If you're reading this and you're in Sweden with a Tiscali ISP, drop us a comment and say hello. I'm intrigued to find out who you are and if you find anything interesting here.
If you're reading this and you're in Sweden with a Tiscali ISP, drop us a comment and say hello. I'm intrigued to find out who you are and if you find anything interesting here.
There's nothing like a Dame
In the UK, if a woman does something notable, she gets knighted. You get pathetic cows who get a damehood just for getting their arses back to work after time off with "stress" due to coming over all unnecessary in the tropical fruit aisle at Sainsbury's.
I fucking hate "Dame" Ellen "Round the world" MacArthur. What is the point of this pathetic bitch? Just piss off, for fuck's sake. While she was doing that round the world yacht thing challenge, she was on the news every bastard night, whinging about how lonely she was and how hard it was.
Just look at her! "I'm really hard, me." Taking on the world. Fuck right off! She wants to try and do a proper job. Does she realise how hard it is to drag yourself out of bed at 5.30 every morning to go to a shit job that doesn't even pay enough to cover your debts? No!
Dame. "I knight thee for being a fucking whinging pain in the arse. Now fuck off, you boring cunt."
Stupid fucking twat. She is right up there with fucking Tim Henman and Cliff fucking Richard on my hate list of people who would die if I was ever put in charge.
Fuck me, these people get on my tits. DAME Kelly Holmes, DAME Tanny Gray-Thompson (and she's Welsh!). Arseholes.
I fucking hate "Dame" Ellen "Round the world" MacArthur. What is the point of this pathetic bitch? Just piss off, for fuck's sake. While she was doing that round the world yacht thing challenge, she was on the news every bastard night, whinging about how lonely she was and how hard it was.
Just look at her! "I'm really hard, me." Taking on the world. Fuck right off! She wants to try and do a proper job. Does she realise how hard it is to drag yourself out of bed at 5.30 every morning to go to a shit job that doesn't even pay enough to cover your debts? No!
Dame. "I knight thee for being a fucking whinging pain in the arse. Now fuck off, you boring cunt."
Stupid fucking twat. She is right up there with fucking Tim Henman and Cliff fucking Richard on my hate list of people who would die if I was ever put in charge.
Fuck me, these people get on my tits. DAME Kelly Holmes, DAME Tanny Gray-Thompson (and she's Welsh!). Arseholes.
Round 'em up!
I bought a rounders bat and ball yesterday - £7 from Tesco.
What's rounders?
I'll leave you to answer that question... If you can be bothered, let me know what your thoughts/memories of rounders are. Favourite field position (if you have one).
For me, it's a game that was the cause of many an interesting injury in childhood. I suffered:
What's rounders?
I'll leave you to answer that question... If you can be bothered, let me know what your thoughts/memories of rounders are. Favourite field position (if you have one).
For me, it's a game that was the cause of many an interesting injury in childhood. I suffered:
- 2 black eyes
- sprained ankle
- massive cut and lump to my forehead
- an interesting knee injury when I was run over by a horse
These all occurred when I was playing backstop. I was switched to 2nd or 3rd deep after the horse incident. I once saw a spectacular broken nose too.
And who said the English don't know how to live dangerously?
If anybody can be fucked to think about that and post a comment, I'll be amazed. In the meantime, I need to think about stilton legs and armpits.
Thursday, 2 June 2005
Christ almighty
BBC NEWS England West Midlands Cliff fans in car park 'holiday'
Sorry for offending anybody with the title of this post, but it's just the first thing that came into my head when I read the story.
Just check out the photo on Pat's tent. I think Cakesniffing fans may have seen this before.
Sorry for offending anybody with the title of this post, but it's just the first thing that came into my head when I read the story.
Just check out the photo on Pat's tent. I think Cakesniffing fans may have seen this before.
Big Allah
Now, Cakesniffers is not, not, NOT going to do anything Big Brother. However, Thursday is Popbitch digest day and I found this amusing/distressing:
Big Allah: Middle East bans Big Brother
Any of us already-tired of being drawn into pointless conversations about the new set of Big Brother wannabes should think ourselves lucky that we have the right to watch the show at all. MBC, the Middle East Broadcasting Company, spent a fortune this year making Al-Akh Al-Akhbar (Big Brother Arabia) in Bahrain but it only lasted one broadcast. Protests from Islamic clerics, - "Stop Sin Brother! No to indecency!" - took it off air.
MBC is hoping to salvage some money with a new production idea... putting a group of women with mental health issues into the Big Brother House. Which, apparently, is all right.
It's sad. In the 80s and 90s Bahrain was a cosmopolitan place but since Dubai came and eclipsed its tourist industry (and took away the economic need to stay liberal) so Islamic conservatism has made a comeback. Then again, watching Celebrity Love Island, maybe the Mullahs are on to something after all...
Big Allah: Middle East bans Big Brother
Any of us already-tired of being drawn into pointless conversations about the new set of Big Brother wannabes should think ourselves lucky that we have the right to watch the show at all. MBC, the Middle East Broadcasting Company, spent a fortune this year making Al-Akh Al-Akhbar (Big Brother Arabia) in Bahrain but it only lasted one broadcast. Protests from Islamic clerics, - "Stop Sin Brother! No to indecency!" - took it off air.
MBC is hoping to salvage some money with a new production idea... putting a group of women with mental health issues into the Big Brother House. Which, apparently, is all right.
It's sad. In the 80s and 90s Bahrain was a cosmopolitan place but since Dubai came and eclipsed its tourist industry (and took away the economic need to stay liberal) so Islamic conservatism has made a comeback. Then again, watching Celebrity Love Island, maybe the Mullahs are on to something after all...
Everybody loves a good sing-song!
After an interesting discussion about that bizarre medium, the film musical, I thought it'd be good to gauge the opinions of my trusty cakesniffing fraternity/sorority. I feel this is necessary after the afore-mentioned discussion in which my gay friend told me that she couldn't stand musicals.
My main question is, can you be a fully-qualified librarian if you don't like the Sound of Music?
Irrrespective of a person's preference for cock, the Sound of Music has got everything a film lover could want. Who'd have thought that there'd ever be such a winning combination of nuns, Nazis, singing and mountains? But here we have it, the Sound of Music has got them all. What is there not to like? It's even got Saint Julie Andrews, for fuck's sake!
Nazis and nuns: a winning combination
Of course, another great film is The Wizard of Oz. I can't quite understand why this has a reputation for being a favourite amongst gay folk - LOOK! Warner Brothers say it's "family entertainment", not "Gay entertainment". I just think it's a truly amazing film.
The way it starts off all sepia and old looking and truns to magical colour in Oz, it's fantastic. I remember seeing it for the first time as a child one Christmas and I was gobsmacked. If you consider the techonology that was available at the time it was made, it really is brilliant. I don't even think of it as a musical. That fucking witch and those horrible flying monkeys still scare the shit out of me today.
Whip crack-away!
My favourite musical of all time has to be Calamity Jane, I watched this film at every available opportunity when I was a kid. I love Doris Day and was brought up listening to her music (perhaps bitter and cynical cakesniffing bitches from hell shouldn't admit to this).
My main question is, can you be a fully-qualified librarian if you don't like the Sound of Music?
Irrrespective of a person's preference for cock, the Sound of Music has got everything a film lover could want. Who'd have thought that there'd ever be such a winning combination of nuns, Nazis, singing and mountains? But here we have it, the Sound of Music has got them all. What is there not to like? It's even got Saint Julie Andrews, for fuck's sake!
Nazis and nuns: a winning combination
Of course, another great film is The Wizard of Oz. I can't quite understand why this has a reputation for being a favourite amongst gay folk - LOOK! Warner Brothers say it's "family entertainment", not "Gay entertainment". I just think it's a truly amazing film.
The way it starts off all sepia and old looking and truns to magical colour in Oz, it's fantastic. I remember seeing it for the first time as a child one Christmas and I was gobsmacked. If you consider the techonology that was available at the time it was made, it really is brilliant. I don't even think of it as a musical. That fucking witch and those horrible flying monkeys still scare the shit out of me today.
Whip crack-away!
My favourite musical of all time has to be Calamity Jane, I watched this film at every available opportunity when I was a kid. I love Doris Day and was brought up listening to her music (perhaps bitter and cynical cakesniffing bitches from hell shouldn't admit to this).
Calamity Jane is clearly a very gay film
I always wanted one of those Calamity Jane suits.
Keep reaching for that rainbow!
Hypnotic fun to pass the hours
If you need a little light relief from your busy office job, try this out. It took me a while to notice the fan and the wind speed.
Existing situation
Active, outgoing, and restless. Feels frustrated by the slowness with which events develop along the desired lines. This leads to irritability, changeability, and lack of persistence when pursuing a given objective. Irritable? ME??? Fuck right off!
Stress sources
Feels that life has far more to offer and that there are still important things to be achieved--that life must be experienced to the fullest. As a result, she pursues her objectives with a fierce intensity that will not let go of things. Becomes deeply involved and runs the risk of being unable to view things with sufficient objectivity, or calmly enough; is therefore in danger of becoming agitated and of exhausting her nervous energy. Cannot leave things alone and feels she can only be at peace when she has finally reached her goal. Agitated and exhausted with nervous energy? Bollocks.
Restrained characteristics
Feels that she cannot do much about her existing problems and difficulties and that she must make the best of things as they are. Able to achieve satisfaction through sexual activity. ???? I suppose I've got the arthritc finger joints to prove it.
Unhappy at the resistance she feels whenever she tries to assert herself. However, she believes that there is little she can do and that she must make the best of the situation.
Conditions are such that she will not let herself become intimately involved without making mental reservations. You're dead fucking right, love!
http://www.widro.com/throwpaper.html
Colour quiz
I've also just found the Colour Quiz at Rowan's blog. I didn't really know what I was doing with this either (I'm not having a very good day) so I clicked lots of thing without really thinking about it. These are my results!
Existing situation
Active, outgoing, and restless. Feels frustrated by the slowness with which events develop along the desired lines. This leads to irritability, changeability, and lack of persistence when pursuing a given objective. Irritable? ME??? Fuck right off!
Stress sources
Feels that life has far more to offer and that there are still important things to be achieved--that life must be experienced to the fullest. As a result, she pursues her objectives with a fierce intensity that will not let go of things. Becomes deeply involved and runs the risk of being unable to view things with sufficient objectivity, or calmly enough; is therefore in danger of becoming agitated and of exhausting her nervous energy. Cannot leave things alone and feels she can only be at peace when she has finally reached her goal. Agitated and exhausted with nervous energy? Bollocks.
Restrained characteristics
Feels that she cannot do much about her existing problems and difficulties and that she must make the best of things as they are. Able to achieve satisfaction through sexual activity. ???? I suppose I've got the arthritc finger joints to prove it.
Unhappy at the resistance she feels whenever she tries to assert herself. However, she believes that there is little she can do and that she must make the best of the situation.
Conditions are such that she will not let herself become intimately involved without making mental reservations. You're dead fucking right, love!
Egocentric and therefore quick to take offence. Able to obtain physical satisfaction from sexual activity but tends to hold aloof emotionally. What is it about my sexual activity?? For goodness sake! Aloof, my arse.
Desired objective
Desires a tranquil, peaceful state of harmony offering quiet contentment and a sense of belonging. Yes, that will do nicely thankyouverymuch.
Desires a tranquil, peaceful state of harmony offering quiet contentment and a sense of belonging. Yes, that will do nicely thankyouverymuch.
Actual problem
Needs to achieve a stable and peaceful condition, enabling her to free herself of the worry that she may be prevented from achieving all the things she wants.
Looking ahead
Doesn't Wimbledon start soon? Is Tigrrrrrrr Tim Henman competing this year? Competing until the quarters I suppose, when he'll dramatically forget how to punch the air in that determined way of his. Of course, it's the punching of the air that wins matches, not hitting the ball over the net or anything. Wanker.
For an objective view of Tim's chances in this year's All England Lawn Tennis and Croquet Association Open Championship (Wimbledon to you and me), check out my Tiger Tim Henman post from a short while ago.
Diet and professional etiquette
People should take care of what they eat if they're at work the next day. There's nothing worse than coming to work and sharing a space with colleagues who've eaten something that comes back to haunt everyone else the following morning.
Recycled garlic and raw onion is a killer and it's really not fair - it creates a sponge of odour on the tongue, oozes from every pore and it even finds its way out through the lungs.
Even worse is when you go into the toilet after they've "been" because the smell is sort of a fermented garlic/onion/sulphur combo that grabs you by the throat and throws you to the ground before kicking you in the head and stomach.
Disgusting.
We're expected to dress and behave professionally. It's not too much to ask to smell professionally as well
On another point, I must say the Lamb tikka saag balti I had last night was lovely. So much so that I can still taste it!
Recycled garlic and raw onion is a killer and it's really not fair - it creates a sponge of odour on the tongue, oozes from every pore and it even finds its way out through the lungs.
Even worse is when you go into the toilet after they've "been" because the smell is sort of a fermented garlic/onion/sulphur combo that grabs you by the throat and throws you to the ground before kicking you in the head and stomach.
Disgusting.
We're expected to dress and behave professionally. It's not too much to ask to smell professionally as well
On another point, I must say the Lamb tikka saag balti I had last night was lovely. So much so that I can still taste it!
Wednesday, 1 June 2005
Bored with a bangin' headache
That just about sums up my day.
Terrible weather, rubbish traffic on the way here this morning (rubbish traffic for no reason other than rain), bangin' headache, knackered and bored.
And I need a poo.
Got some work to do, but can't be frigged.
Even my trip to Tesco was rubbish.
I might have a look through the Guardian job ads to see if anybody's recruiting a full-time blogger at >£25k a year.
Let's have a look at this week's sample of "Arts & Heritage" jobs in the Guardian. This should be fun! OK, here are the first 10 (I really couldn't go on, you'll see why):
Art Consultant
EMINEO FINE ART Greater London £To be negotiated Art Consultant required to sell 20th Century Masters in Japan and Singapore.
Education Managers
English Heritage Avon, Yorkshire & Humberside c. £27,000 per annum Reporting to the Head of Education, you will deliver education programmes for your regions that support organisational objectives. You will be responsible for developing partnerships within the sector to expand our educational provision.
Bookings and Information Team Leader
Victoria & Albert Museum £23,236 - £27,337 per annum The Bookings and Information Team is responsible for public bookings and information for the full range of the V&A's events and activities. You will be responsible for efficient management of the service and the team.
Head of Diversity
Arts Council England North London £35,695 plus benefits We require someone with a strong knowledge of diversity in its widest sense, incorporating cultural diversity, disability, social inclusion and audience development. An ability to see the 'big picture' as well as strong communication skills.
Officer, Performing Arts
Arts Council England Cambridgeshire £24,825 per annum plus benefits You will be responsible for actively contributing to regional development and strategy in line with Arts Council England objectives for the East region. A key focus is the development of regional touring hubs and combined arts.
Officer, Development (Children and Young People)
Arts Council England Cambridgeshire £24,825 pa plus benefits You'll drive forward part of our new Development agenda, particularly focused on providing access to professional arts experiences for children and young people. You'll develop and implement plans for education and learning.
Regional Landscape Architect
English Heritage Central London c. £30,000 per annum Working with our public realm, urban design and conservation experts, you will provide landscape design and conservation advice to local authorities, site owners, the Heritage Lottery Fund, national and local amenity bodies.
Senior Producer, Contemporary Music Network
Arts Council England Central London £35,695 - 38,630 pa plus benefits You'll provide artistic and managerial leadership to the Arts Council's Contemporary Music Network (CMN). This will involve setting the artistic strategy for CMN, developing relationships with international promoters and media partners.
Producer, Contemporary Music Network
Arts Council England Central London £28,175 pa plus benefits You'll manage the day-to-day delivery of the Contemporary Music Network and play a key role in curating the artistic season, overseeing the marketing of tours and working with promoters to deliver a season of high quality national tours.
Audio Visual Technician
The National Gallery £21,965 p.a. You will provide technical support for all the Gallery's audio-visual services, which include the running of a fully equipped 328-seat, multi-purpose theatre, cinemas and conference rooms.
You couldn't make these up! Contemporary music network?
Performing arts just springs to mind those awful things they made us sit through at school. "Community theatre" - challenging the contemporary issues that affect today's youth. Jesus help us.
"Head of Diversity" You get paid £35k a year to play spot the difference? Or you have to strategise and implement, establishing key teams that can operationalise according to the needs of all stakeholders.
Hrrm, sounds like any job description for the NHS or Department of Health...
Pile of wank.
Terrible weather, rubbish traffic on the way here this morning (rubbish traffic for no reason other than rain), bangin' headache, knackered and bored.
And I need a poo.
Got some work to do, but can't be frigged.
Even my trip to Tesco was rubbish.
I might have a look through the Guardian job ads to see if anybody's recruiting a full-time blogger at >£25k a year.
Let's have a look at this week's sample of "Arts & Heritage" jobs in the Guardian. This should be fun! OK, here are the first 10 (I really couldn't go on, you'll see why):
Art Consultant
EMINEO FINE ART Greater London £To be negotiated Art Consultant required to sell 20th Century Masters in Japan and Singapore.
Education Managers
English Heritage Avon, Yorkshire & Humberside c. £27,000 per annum Reporting to the Head of Education, you will deliver education programmes for your regions that support organisational objectives. You will be responsible for developing partnerships within the sector to expand our educational provision.
Bookings and Information Team Leader
Victoria & Albert Museum £23,236 - £27,337 per annum The Bookings and Information Team is responsible for public bookings and information for the full range of the V&A's events and activities. You will be responsible for efficient management of the service and the team.
Head of Diversity
Arts Council England North London £35,695 plus benefits We require someone with a strong knowledge of diversity in its widest sense, incorporating cultural diversity, disability, social inclusion and audience development. An ability to see the 'big picture' as well as strong communication skills.
Officer, Performing Arts
Arts Council England Cambridgeshire £24,825 per annum plus benefits You will be responsible for actively contributing to regional development and strategy in line with Arts Council England objectives for the East region. A key focus is the development of regional touring hubs and combined arts.
Officer, Development (Children and Young People)
Arts Council England Cambridgeshire £24,825 pa plus benefits You'll drive forward part of our new Development agenda, particularly focused on providing access to professional arts experiences for children and young people. You'll develop and implement plans for education and learning.
Regional Landscape Architect
English Heritage Central London c. £30,000 per annum Working with our public realm, urban design and conservation experts, you will provide landscape design and conservation advice to local authorities, site owners, the Heritage Lottery Fund, national and local amenity bodies.
Senior Producer, Contemporary Music Network
Arts Council England Central London £35,695 - 38,630 pa plus benefits You'll provide artistic and managerial leadership to the Arts Council's Contemporary Music Network (CMN). This will involve setting the artistic strategy for CMN, developing relationships with international promoters and media partners.
Producer, Contemporary Music Network
Arts Council England Central London £28,175 pa plus benefits You'll manage the day-to-day delivery of the Contemporary Music Network and play a key role in curating the artistic season, overseeing the marketing of tours and working with promoters to deliver a season of high quality national tours.
Audio Visual Technician
The National Gallery £21,965 p.a. You will provide technical support for all the Gallery's audio-visual services, which include the running of a fully equipped 328-seat, multi-purpose theatre, cinemas and conference rooms.
You couldn't make these up! Contemporary music network?
Performing arts just springs to mind those awful things they made us sit through at school. "Community theatre" - challenging the contemporary issues that affect today's youth. Jesus help us.
"Head of Diversity" You get paid £35k a year to play spot the difference? Or you have to strategise and implement, establishing key teams that can operationalise according to the needs of all stakeholders.
Hrrm, sounds like any job description for the NHS or Department of Health...
Pile of wank.
Tuesday, 31 May 2005
Teknofobe
That's the name of my new trance dance outfit.
In da house!
Ahem, actually, a rather serious point must be made. As well as the things I can't cope with, such as tying my shoelaces, climbing ladders, folding paper in half, etc it surprises me that there are certain technologies that have me baffled, or even worse, terrified.
I am terrified of house alarms, or burglar alarms in general. Not because I go house breaking and these things alert people to my unwanted presence. No, I hate the noise they make when you set them and then again when you enter the house while the alarm's activated. It's that sort of count-down to world destruction, panicky, rapid extremely loud beeping.
First off, you get the "alam activated" code. This is particularly bad if you set the alarm for while you're in bed at night:
"Right, you've activated me, beep, beep, beep. Better get upstairs quick, beep, beep, beep. What, you've forgotten something and need to go back into the kitchen? BEEP, BEEP, BEEP! What about that living room light? BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEEEEEEEEEP!"
You finally make it upstairs with your heart in your mouth and drenched in a cold sweat; you run into your bedroom and fall onto the bed. Deep breaths, it's OK, you did it, the beep's stopped now. You're safe from harm....
Did you enter the right code? Does the alarm know that you're in the house, in this bedroom? What happens when I go out onto the landing? Will the sensor know I'm supposed to be here and just wink at me, or will it set off an electrical chain reaction in a fraction of a second; setting sirens and bells, strobe lights. Complete sensory overload.
Safer to stay in bed and pray for a power cut before you shit yourself or die of starvation. At least a power cut will set off all your neighbours' house alarms too, then you won't feel such a spaz when you trip yours by going to the bathroom in the night.
Perhaps you did programme it correctly?....
Of course the other way the alarm gets you is when you return home and open the door:
"ENTER THE CODE, ENTER THE CODE NOW!!!!!! DO IT, DON'T FUCK UP, DON'T FUCK UP!!!!!"
They send me into such a panic.
My other hate is microwave ovens. I don't see much point in these things anyway, but when it comes to using one, I'm completely clueless. I could just about cope with the old ones with the analogue dials for power and time, but these modern ones with all these buttons and settings? Forget it.
I was going to spend a bit of time and effort and add some photos to this post, but my eye is fucking killing me and I need to try and see what's going on. It feels like there's something under the eyelid. Bastard!
In da house!
Ahem, actually, a rather serious point must be made. As well as the things I can't cope with, such as tying my shoelaces, climbing ladders, folding paper in half, etc it surprises me that there are certain technologies that have me baffled, or even worse, terrified.
I am terrified of house alarms, or burglar alarms in general. Not because I go house breaking and these things alert people to my unwanted presence. No, I hate the noise they make when you set them and then again when you enter the house while the alarm's activated. It's that sort of count-down to world destruction, panicky, rapid extremely loud beeping.
First off, you get the "alam activated" code. This is particularly bad if you set the alarm for while you're in bed at night:
"Right, you've activated me, beep, beep, beep. Better get upstairs quick, beep, beep, beep. What, you've forgotten something and need to go back into the kitchen? BEEP, BEEP, BEEP! What about that living room light? BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEEEEEEEEEP!"
You finally make it upstairs with your heart in your mouth and drenched in a cold sweat; you run into your bedroom and fall onto the bed. Deep breaths, it's OK, you did it, the beep's stopped now. You're safe from harm....
Did you enter the right code? Does the alarm know that you're in the house, in this bedroom? What happens when I go out onto the landing? Will the sensor know I'm supposed to be here and just wink at me, or will it set off an electrical chain reaction in a fraction of a second; setting sirens and bells, strobe lights. Complete sensory overload.
Safer to stay in bed and pray for a power cut before you shit yourself or die of starvation. At least a power cut will set off all your neighbours' house alarms too, then you won't feel such a spaz when you trip yours by going to the bathroom in the night.
Perhaps you did programme it correctly?....
Of course the other way the alarm gets you is when you return home and open the door:
"ENTER THE CODE, ENTER THE CODE NOW!!!!!! DO IT, DON'T FUCK UP, DON'T FUCK UP!!!!!"
They send me into such a panic.
My other hate is microwave ovens. I don't see much point in these things anyway, but when it comes to using one, I'm completely clueless. I could just about cope with the old ones with the analogue dials for power and time, but these modern ones with all these buttons and settings? Forget it.
I was going to spend a bit of time and effort and add some photos to this post, but my eye is fucking killing me and I need to try and see what's going on. It feels like there's something under the eyelid. Bastard!
A sorta fairytale
For all you Tori Amos fans (me included, this appears to be about 2 of you). I shall use this short post to tell you how excited I am about seeing her in concert this coming Sunday.... VERY!
I've loved her music since she brought out Little Earthquakes and I think I've got just about all her stuff.
Connie, you're right about Scarlett's Walk, it's a truly fantastic piece of work and I adore A sorta fairytale and I can't see New York - amongst others of course. When my sister first heard the former, she actually shut up for a minute and said "What's this? This is lovely!" - it takes something special to achieve that. I still think my favourite track of hers is Cornflake girl - if only for the piano in it.
So yes, I'm feeling a little like Goldielocks in my own fairytale this week: housesitting for friends up in deepest Lancashire. It's nice to get some peace and quiet, although I have a suspicion that the in-laws may drop round and they don't know that my friends are away for half term. I shall have to get my best lying gear together.
As you can gather, I've managed to get access to the internet, so I'll be trying to get those juices flowing (in a friend's bed??) and tell you all about Lancashire Life.
This is a rather lame incursion into Tuesday's Cakesniffer, but I've just got to jet wash my car and it should give me the opportunity to think about how I'm going to put microwaves and house alarms to rights!
I've loved her music since she brought out Little Earthquakes and I think I've got just about all her stuff.
Connie, you're right about Scarlett's Walk, it's a truly fantastic piece of work and I adore A sorta fairytale and I can't see New York - amongst others of course. When my sister first heard the former, she actually shut up for a minute and said "What's this? This is lovely!" - it takes something special to achieve that. I still think my favourite track of hers is Cornflake girl - if only for the piano in it.
So yes, I'm feeling a little like Goldielocks in my own fairytale this week: housesitting for friends up in deepest Lancashire. It's nice to get some peace and quiet, although I have a suspicion that the in-laws may drop round and they don't know that my friends are away for half term. I shall have to get my best lying gear together.
As you can gather, I've managed to get access to the internet, so I'll be trying to get those juices flowing (in a friend's bed??) and tell you all about Lancashire Life.
This is a rather lame incursion into Tuesday's Cakesniffer, but I've just got to jet wash my car and it should give me the opportunity to think about how I'm going to put microwaves and house alarms to rights!
Monday, 30 May 2005
Ask me a question
Go on then, I've shamelessly stolen this from Herge and from Karen, but I guess there's no reason why others can't use the same idea for their own blogs.
On a day when I'm answering all sorts of questions about my job for this Agenda for fucking Change shite, I might as well answer some more interesting questions while I'm at it.
If anybody's interested enough, feel free to ask me a question. Anything you like. Go ahead, I'll either be honest or suitably evasive, but I'll aim for the former.
Q1. How much of a twat will I look if nobody comments on this?
A No more of one than usual, most probably.
On a day when I'm answering all sorts of questions about my job for this Agenda for fucking Change shite, I might as well answer some more interesting questions while I'm at it.
If anybody's interested enough, feel free to ask me a question. Anything you like. Go ahead, I'll either be honest or suitably evasive, but I'll aim for the former.
Q1. How much of a twat will I look if nobody comments on this?
A No more of one than usual, most probably.
Top tip
Visually impaired people with astigmatisms who can't wear normal daily disposables and who have to wear monthly toric lenses at £10 a pair: keep your contact lenses in tip-top condition by not falling asleep in the fucking things!
I had a 3 hour snooze on Saturday afternoon during which my friend actually thought I'd died. When I woke, I couldn't see a thing and so I took my lenses out. They looked like a baby's tongue, i.e. covered in milky goo. I thought that a good soak would sort them out, but alas, they're well and truly mangled.
That's ANOTHER new pair of lenses I've had to bin - third in a row. Stupid tit.
I'm going to get my eyes lasered.
Agenda for change
There's currently an exercise in the NHS whereby just about everybody is having their job reviewed so we can all go onto the same, nationally-agreed, 8-band payscale. Some people have their jobs matched nationally, others don't have equivalents and so have to go through a process called "job evaluation". This involves filling out a 35-page questionnaire that covers all aspects of your role. Guess which category I fit in to? Yep, I'm being evaluated and assimilated (yes, assimilated). I've got to fill out the fucking questionnaire by tomorrow - yep, in my own time.
Will any of us actually get what we deserve? No.
Is this just an exercise in reducing costs? Absolutely.
Bastards.
I had a 3 hour snooze on Saturday afternoon during which my friend actually thought I'd died. When I woke, I couldn't see a thing and so I took my lenses out. They looked like a baby's tongue, i.e. covered in milky goo. I thought that a good soak would sort them out, but alas, they're well and truly mangled.
That's ANOTHER new pair of lenses I've had to bin - third in a row. Stupid tit.
I'm going to get my eyes lasered.
Agenda for change
There's currently an exercise in the NHS whereby just about everybody is having their job reviewed so we can all go onto the same, nationally-agreed, 8-band payscale. Some people have their jobs matched nationally, others don't have equivalents and so have to go through a process called "job evaluation". This involves filling out a 35-page questionnaire that covers all aspects of your role. Guess which category I fit in to? Yep, I'm being evaluated and assimilated (yes, assimilated). I've got to fill out the fucking questionnaire by tomorrow - yep, in my own time.
Will any of us actually get what we deserve? No.
Is this just an exercise in reducing costs? Absolutely.
Bastards.
Sunday, 29 May 2005
Of course!
I was on a course at work Thursday and Friday of last week: "Train the trainer", it was actually very useful.
Of course (of course!), what I love about in-house training is the fact that you get to meet some right oddballs that work in the same organisation, but who you would never have dreamt existed. Amongst other people, I had great pleasure in meeting a "family therapist".
Now, those who have come to know a little bit about me from my contribution to this blog will know that somebody with the job title "family therapist" should be very careful about mixing with this particular cakesniffer.
Family therapist indeed.
I tried to get an understanding of exactly what family therapy is, it was like pulling teeth. "We treat the family as a whole, not as individuals."
"But what's wrong with them?"
"There's nothing wrong with them, they just don't function properly."
"How do you define that? If it was up to people like you, 90% of families would be undergoing "treatment". What do you mean by "not functioning properly"?"
"They have problems..."
Oh fuck...
"Why don't they just take the kids into care and sterilise the parents?"
I still haven't got a clue what family therapy is, but I've figured out that family therapists are probably a waste of time, doing a job that has no evidence base. They're very sensitive souls and I think the particular family therapist that I met might well be off work on the sick with stress after meeting me. "Some people are just pigs, they don't understand what we're trying to do." You're dead right we don't understand what the fuck it is you're trying to do because we can't get a fucking straight answer out of you, you daft twat!
Not like our Connie who works tirelessly in a respirator mask and boiler suit to keep aeroplanes in the air. Or Herge who does, errrm, publishes imaginative stories, gives truthful accounts of current affairs and massages dogs' hindquarters. Or even myself, who is an expert sniffer of bakery products.
Family therapist. Honestly, whatever will they think of next? Oh, I've found a website, this ought to be fun! http://www.aft.org.uk/
Of course (of course!), what I love about in-house training is the fact that you get to meet some right oddballs that work in the same organisation, but who you would never have dreamt existed. Amongst other people, I had great pleasure in meeting a "family therapist".
Now, those who have come to know a little bit about me from my contribution to this blog will know that somebody with the job title "family therapist" should be very careful about mixing with this particular cakesniffer.
Family therapist indeed.
I tried to get an understanding of exactly what family therapy is, it was like pulling teeth. "We treat the family as a whole, not as individuals."
"But what's wrong with them?"
"There's nothing wrong with them, they just don't function properly."
"How do you define that? If it was up to people like you, 90% of families would be undergoing "treatment". What do you mean by "not functioning properly"?"
"They have problems..."
Oh fuck...
"Why don't they just take the kids into care and sterilise the parents?"
I still haven't got a clue what family therapy is, but I've figured out that family therapists are probably a waste of time, doing a job that has no evidence base. They're very sensitive souls and I think the particular family therapist that I met might well be off work on the sick with stress after meeting me. "Some people are just pigs, they don't understand what we're trying to do." You're dead right we don't understand what the fuck it is you're trying to do because we can't get a fucking straight answer out of you, you daft twat!
Not like our Connie who works tirelessly in a respirator mask and boiler suit to keep aeroplanes in the air. Or Herge who does, errrm, publishes imaginative stories, gives truthful accounts of current affairs and massages dogs' hindquarters. Or even myself, who is an expert sniffer of bakery products.
Family therapist. Honestly, whatever will they think of next? Oh, I've found a website, this ought to be fun! http://www.aft.org.uk/
Dirty weekend
A dirty weekend with Trillion? I wish! But a dirty weekend nonetheless.
I've been doing things with a 14 day old baby - the type of things that you can only do with a 14 day old baby: changing nappies, cleaning bottoms, having my nose suckled (I got a bit to close when she was hungry and she went for me).
Babies are pretty crap at that age; they only notice you if you're lactating, otherwise they just sleep, poo and scream.
Poo
Baby poo is weird stuff. It smells like it comes from the fiery pits of hell, but looks like something that's been reconstituted with boiling water with a name that is prefixed with "Pot". Oh, and it's bright yellow.
Like the baby's nappies, I'd had my fill of that shit by the time I came home.
If anybody's interested, there's a site dedicated to baby poo. As much as babies are squishy and nice, I can't imagine kissing one of their arses knowing what comes out of them. All too often this weekend I had to dodge flying piccalilly poo when I'd removed the baby's nappy and was trying clean her little bum. You think you're safe and then BANG! a little bit of projectile poo comes flying out at you.
So no, I won't be getting my lips anywhere near one of those things.
Maternal instincts
No
Smells
I've been meaning to write something about smells for some time now. It should really go into a post in its own right, but I'm not sure how it'll go so it'll do here for now.
Smells are the most likely things to evoke a memory. There are certain smells that will send shivers down my spine because they trigger some dim and distant memory that I'd thought long banished into the depths of my mind (and washed away with several hundred litres of booze over the years too). The memories can be good or bad, or a bit confused because I can't place them, but the response is always the same: a kind of tingliness in the back of my neck and butterflies in my stomach. I think the strongest memories are quite personal ones. Here are a few of them:
I've been doing things with a 14 day old baby - the type of things that you can only do with a 14 day old baby: changing nappies, cleaning bottoms, having my nose suckled (I got a bit to close when she was hungry and she went for me).
Babies are pretty crap at that age; they only notice you if you're lactating, otherwise they just sleep, poo and scream.
Poo
Baby poo is weird stuff. It smells like it comes from the fiery pits of hell, but looks like something that's been reconstituted with boiling water with a name that is prefixed with "Pot". Oh, and it's bright yellow.
Like the baby's nappies, I'd had my fill of that shit by the time I came home.
If anybody's interested, there's a site dedicated to baby poo. As much as babies are squishy and nice, I can't imagine kissing one of their arses knowing what comes out of them. All too often this weekend I had to dodge flying piccalilly poo when I'd removed the baby's nappy and was trying clean her little bum. You think you're safe and then BANG! a little bit of projectile poo comes flying out at you.
So no, I won't be getting my lips anywhere near one of those things.
Maternal instincts
No
Smells
I've been meaning to write something about smells for some time now. It should really go into a post in its own right, but I'm not sure how it'll go so it'll do here for now.
Smells are the most likely things to evoke a memory. There are certain smells that will send shivers down my spine because they trigger some dim and distant memory that I'd thought long banished into the depths of my mind (and washed away with several hundred litres of booze over the years too). The memories can be good or bad, or a bit confused because I can't place them, but the response is always the same: a kind of tingliness in the back of my neck and butterflies in my stomach. I think the strongest memories are quite personal ones. Here are a few of them:
- Libraries - no sniggers please - Libraries always have a weird smell.
- My auntie's kitchen, and the roadside pine trees in Italy.
- Exam papers: no matter whether they were at school or university, they always had the same smell and there was always a background tinge of Polo mints from my supply on the desk.
- Perfumes: this is a big one, but one particular one is Estee Lauder's Youth Dew, which my late auntie always used to wear.
- Certain houses: when some friends moved into a place a few years ago, it had the same smell as somewhere I'd lived as a student. It freaked me out and brought back memories of the sniffer owl that I thought was after some gange that was in my room.
- Christmas morning: waking up to the smell of the roasting turkey - fantastic, there's nothing like it.
You get the message. What about you lot, have you got any particular smells that knock you a bit whatsit?
Wednesday, 25 May 2005
Unbelievable
Yes Andy, as I was preparing this post, your comment came through.
Now, after my one and only other football post, I did promise never to mention footie again unless Liverpool actually won the European Cup. Well...
The result was even more amazing because Liverpool were 3-0 down at half time. Sorry, this won't mean anything if you don't know about football, but I don't really give a crap.
This was Liverpool's 5th European Cup win, but their previous one was 21 years ago.
I'm so happy; I feel like running naked through the streets of Manchester, draped in my Liverpool scarf. I can't believe I've got to get up at 5.30. How am I supposed to sleep?
As they say, You'll Never Walk Alone.
Now, after my one and only other football post, I did promise never to mention footie again unless Liverpool actually won the European Cup. Well...
The result was even more amazing because Liverpool were 3-0 down at half time. Sorry, this won't mean anything if you don't know about football, but I don't really give a crap.
Liverpool captain, Steven Gerrard gets a second-half goal to make it 1-3
The usually oh-so-crap Vladimir Smicer drives in a scorcher to make it
2-3 a couple of minutes later
Finally, Xabi Alonso follows up his saved penalty kick to equalise
This was Liverpool's 5th European Cup win, but their previous one was 21 years ago.
I'm so happy; I feel like running naked through the streets of Manchester, draped in my Liverpool scarf. I can't believe I've got to get up at 5.30. How am I supposed to sleep?
As they say, You'll Never Walk Alone.
Bruised
There's a problem in my house, sorry, the house where I live with my parents and the cats. The problem is that there is TOO MUCH SHIT in here!
Every available space is filled with something, nothing is ever allowed to be thrown away, things that are brought here as a joke are kept and crammed on a shelf or in a case with everything else - as are things my dad finds on his wanders around the streets. Having filled every available cubic millimetre of space in cupboards, drawers and on shelves, things are hung from the backs of doors, the outside of wardrobes.
It's a bit like living in Stig of the Dump's house.
This presents a problem: none of the doors open fully because there's always something behind them that blocks their swing. Unfortunately, the things hanging from the back of the doors tend to be springy, so you often find a door that you've opened bounce straight back at you and clatter you on the elbow.
I'm covered in bruises. If was a child, I'd have been taken into care by now. Unfortunatley, have I'd probably ended up with my shithead neighbours. You'd have thought that I'd perhaps have learnt to be a bit more careful by now.
Every available space is filled with something, nothing is ever allowed to be thrown away, things that are brought here as a joke are kept and crammed on a shelf or in a case with everything else - as are things my dad finds on his wanders around the streets. Having filled every available cubic millimetre of space in cupboards, drawers and on shelves, things are hung from the backs of doors, the outside of wardrobes.
It's a bit like living in Stig of the Dump's house.
This presents a problem: none of the doors open fully because there's always something behind them that blocks their swing. Unfortunately, the things hanging from the back of the doors tend to be springy, so you often find a door that you've opened bounce straight back at you and clatter you on the elbow.
I'm covered in bruises. If was a child, I'd have been taken into care by now. Unfortunatley, have I'd probably ended up with my shithead neighbours. You'd have thought that I'd perhaps have learnt to be a bit more careful by now.
Tuesday, 24 May 2005
Summer bees, make me feel...
FINE! So this is how it's going to be until November, is it? Now that the weather has finally got above freezing, and even gets above 10°C most days, I have my bedroom window open for a bit of fresh air - besides, the thermostat's bust and we can't turn the central heating off, so it's baking hot.
Anyway, not having enough space to buzz around in in the Earth's vast biosphere, the bloody bees and wasps always insist on finding the smallest opening in my window and getting themselves trapped in my bedroom. This stupid fucker was there when I got home from work this afternoon:
Anyway, after watching him for half an hour and taking lots of photos, I decided to open the big window to let him out since finding the now widened opening of the smaller window was proving too much for it. Stupid fucker. So, I opened the big window that he'd been continually bashing his brains out against for about 40 minutes and he STILL couldn't figure out how to escape.
I had to shoo him away with a Mma Ramotswe (Kalahari typing school for men), and off he buzzed, lolling about on the breeze.
He was really big though, a good 2cm in length!
No doubt more of the stupid things will be back by the end of summer. I just don't get it; all that free air and they have to find an open window.
Stupid, just stupid.
If you want to read more about wasps, I suggest you check out Angry Chimp's take on them.
Anyway, not having enough space to buzz around in in the Earth's vast biosphere, the bloody bees and wasps always insist on finding the smallest opening in my window and getting themselves trapped in my bedroom. This stupid fucker was there when I got home from work this afternoon:
"Bzzzzzzzzz, bzzzzz, bzzzzzzz... It certainly looks right, I recognise the green things..."
"Bzzzzzzzzz, bzzzzzz.... Bit bored now, and my head don't half hurt - I think somebody keeps bashing me..."
"Bzzzzzzzzz, bzzzzzz..... Perhaps if I stay on this little road I'll come across a shop where I can stop and ask for directions."
Anyway, after watching him for half an hour and taking lots of photos, I decided to open the big window to let him out since finding the now widened opening of the smaller window was proving too much for it. Stupid fucker. So, I opened the big window that he'd been continually bashing his brains out against for about 40 minutes and he STILL couldn't figure out how to escape.
I had to shoo him away with a Mma Ramotswe (Kalahari typing school for men), and off he buzzed, lolling about on the breeze.
He was really big though, a good 2cm in length!
No doubt more of the stupid things will be back by the end of summer. I just don't get it; all that free air and they have to find an open window.
Stupid, just stupid.
If you want to read more about wasps, I suggest you check out Angry Chimp's take on them.
Monday, 23 May 2005
My day out 2: Apocalypse NOW
Well, the old folk of sleepy Lancashire seaside town, Lytham St Anne's, must've thought their world had come to an end yesterday. "Why?", I hear the public cry. Well, there's a nice little boating lake that's home to a host of waterfowl at Lytham and me and my friends took with us a loaf of bread each to feed the geese and duck and swan. We were merrily feeding away, being attacked and nipped by the hungry birds, and I wondered why a nearby pair of old ladies was looking at me with such disgust when I was being so friendly to the animals:
Well, readers of Andy's blog, Walls come tumbling, will have seen that an uproar has been caused by a shopping centre wanting to ban gangs of youths who trudge around, wearing baseball caps with hooded tops and generally looking/acting thuggish and threatening. So these poor old dears must've been watching me feeding these birds, but, because of my "gangsta" attire, they were too scared to point out the sign that requested people not to feed the birds.
For goodness sake, the way they were looking at me, you'd have thought I was going through the flock and systematically breaking each of their stupid necks and then using them for sexual fulfilment! I was only trying to be friendly, the poor little bastards must've been starving if nobody was feeding them.
More "My day out 2" photos are available on My Webshots gallery.
"Watch who you're scowling at, lady! I've got a whole loaf of plastic bread and I'm not afraid to use it!"
Well, readers of Andy's blog, Walls come tumbling, will have seen that an uproar has been caused by a shopping centre wanting to ban gangs of youths who trudge around, wearing baseball caps with hooded tops and generally looking/acting thuggish and threatening. So these poor old dears must've been watching me feeding these birds, but, because of my "gangsta" attire, they were too scared to point out the sign that requested people not to feed the birds.
For goodness sake, the way they were looking at me, you'd have thought I was going through the flock and systematically breaking each of their stupid necks and then using them for sexual fulfilment! I was only trying to be friendly, the poor little bastards must've been starving if nobody was feeding them.
More "My day out 2" photos are available on My Webshots gallery.
A buzzing from my bedroom
Members of my family and my next door neighbours (as if I give a shit) might have been alarmed to hear buzzing from behind my bedroom door last night. Now, I'll hold my hands up and will, in the words of those Bananarama girls, plead "Guilty to love in the first degree*" if accused of gaining pleasure from the use of battery-powered bedroom companions - if only on a very rare occasion. However, last night I was innocent of all charges, Your Honour!
I'd gone up to bed to find that I had this little feller on my pillow for company...
I'd gone up to bed to find that I had this little feller on my pillow for company...
This was where he finally noticed the close-up flash photography and decided to go for me.
He spent the night in my room and was still buzzing around this morning. He? Well, it took so many attempts for him to find the open window that it just had to be a "he". I had to chuck him out eventually.
Of course, the problem with Flickr is that people can sometimes see what's coming before you get the chance to finish composing your post.
*I'd originally put "Love in the third degree", but I realised that I was getting murder mixed up with full thickness burns. I'm a simple soul.
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