Life Device.

Why is there no little device to sort out your life? There are devices to sort out all the component parts of a modern 21st century life. If you need organising - buy a Palm Pilot, (though I've always thought this sounded like a gentleman's masturbatory aid more than an electronic diary), If you suffer from being incommunicado at the most inopportune moments then the new Nokia 8730i Communicator will see you right. Do you have too much junk? Read 'The Life Laundry: How To De-Junk Your Life' only £6:39 from amazon.co.uk. Don't like the hassle of shopping? Shop online. People even date online now. Why bother trawling the less, (or more - depending on your preference), seedy bars & clubs for a prospective shag when you can do it in your lunch hour. I refer of course to the actual trawling not the shagging - though, again, I guess that's a preference thing. Easier, cheaper and there's less chance that the looks will fade with the club lights and you'll wake up next to the missing link. Why? Because EVERYONE knows that an internet dating service picture is invariably fake, screened for acceptability and/or out of date!

Mp3. Rip your cd collection onto your ipod and carry your entire album collection with you. Microwave your food in a tenth the time. Can't be fagged to microwave? Get foodtogo.com to make all the food for you for your hot date from hotdate.co.uk or easylay.com Too much like hard work? Order take-out online or on your WAP enabled, multimedia mobile phone that is now part of your Palm Pilot. Can't find your PDA? It's hooked to your HotSync Craddle (tm) you silly banana, busy downloading real-time updates of pizza delivery firms and contact numbers of inexpensive call girls from your self contained iMac digital hub via ADSL.

Even medicine, that last bastion of the educated and altruistic, can now be at your command. Self-remedies, herbal treatments, alternative therapies and the latest 'Don't Eat Anything That Contains Less Than 99% Pure Mountain Air' style self-preservation & health book, have placed medical prevention firmly in our jurisdiction.

So why has no one combined them into some kind of all encompassing doo-hickey? Imagine that! A device that simultaneously sorted out every aspect of your life! Imagine the wonder! Something new come up? Is there a death in the family or maybe an awkward rival at work? No problemo, just download expansion packs 13 & 107 - 'Bereavement - It's Just Birth In Reverse' & 'Get Outta My Face, You Complacent, Misogynistic Bum-Splat!' respectively.
I'd buy one. In fact, I'd buy two, one for this life and another for the next.

Q

Who knows where my rosemary grows?

Boot fair.

My lovely misses & I did a boot fair here in Brighton yesterday. At first I wasn't that fussed about doing it, (especially as we had to BE there at 5 in the morning), as I've always had a bit of a 'thing' about boot fairs, jumble sales or anything else of that nature. I've always found it odd that you put all your old shit out in front of you and then expect people to buy it. "I don't want it, it's rubbish. You have it, go on. You have it and pay me a tenner for it."
Anyhow, after the initial shock of a 4:30 start Beth & I chugged off to the fair in our poor over-laden car and set up stall. The first few hours flew by as all manner of folk bought all manner of stuff from our stall. Cds, vids, dvds, an old hoover, some of Beth's trainers etc, all were bought. I couldn't believe some of the stuff people were buying and equally what they weren't buying. I can see why long-term professional traders get the 'ump when people pick up a perfectly good set of crystal goblets and when you tell them the price, (tenner), they go "Mmmmmmmmmm. Hmmmmmmmmmmm. Hermmmmmmmmm..." and then put it down. Do they want it for free or something? Anyhow, there were lots of odd people in lots of odd clothes and we loved it. It dragged a bit in the middle but all in all it was jolly good fun. Made a bit of cash too.

Here's some piccies.



Beth, all proud of her stall display.

Ha!

I'm in the pub and I'm posting on my blog! How good is that! It's a charming pub in Brighton called the Robin Hood that gives all it's profits to local charities.

Right

I'm off down the pub.

Rain

It's been raining like it's the end of the world here in Brighton. I swear I've never seen such torrential rain last for so long. The poor postie was stuck sheltering in a porch on the opposite side of the road for at least half an hour. He looked pretty fed-up so I popped out and offered him our spare brolly. He didn't take it though, guess he wanted to just stand and watch for a mo.
I love it when it rains. I love the fact that the air becomes colder and crisper and the crackling noise of the water on my big ol' concrete slab of a balcony. It's like the stuck-between-stations noise from a badly tuned radio but a lot louder. Makes me fizz all over when I stand at the window looking out at the rain and just listen. I can't stand people who just hate 'bad' weather, as Billy Connolly once said, "There's no such thing as bad weather, only the wrong type of hat."
These people are out there, lurking, waiting. Waiting for it to snow and cover everything in that gorgeous covering of white. Waiting for the air to make the inside of your nostrils cold and your lungs tingle when you take a deep breath. Waiting when kids, amazed at such a truly beautiful spectacle, gambol around and revel in the cold. They're waiting, waiting to grumble at rain, snow and, more often than not, the heat too. It's too hot.

Boredom

Yesterday I was so bored I could hardly see straight. Today is better. I'm not bored. If you are why not try this.

Office work dull?
Amuse yourself.

One point each:

1. Run one lap around the office at top speed.

2. Groan out loud in the bathroom (at least one non-player must hear this).

3. Ignore the first 5 people who say good morning to you.

4. To signal the end of a conversation, put your hands over your ears and grimace.

5. When someone hands you a piece of paper, touch it, and whisper huskily, "MMMMMMMMMM that feels soooooooooooooo good".

6. Leave your fly open for one hour. If anyone points it out, say, "Sorry I really prefer it this way".

7. Walk sideways to the photocopier!

8. While riding in the lift, gasp evertime the doors open.

Five points each:

1. Say to your boss, "I like your style." and shoot him with 2 imaginary guns.

2. Page yourself over the intercom (DO NOT DISGUISE YOUR VOICE).

3. Kneel in front of the water fountain and drink directly from the nozzle (a non-player must be there).

Ten points each:
1. At the end of an meeting, suggest concluding it with the national anthem (extra points if you actually launch yourself into it)!

2. Walk into a very busy person's office and while they watch you with irritation, turn the light switch off and on 10 times.

3. Announce to everyone in a meeting that you really have to do a number 2.

4. After every sentence, say 'mon' in a really bad Jamacan accent. As in 'the reports on your desk, mon".

5. While an office mate is out, move their chair into the lift!

6. In a workmates diary, write "10am - See how I look in tights".

7. Come to work in army clothes, and when asked why, say "I can't talk about it".

8. Find the vacuum and start vacumming around your desk.

9. Hang a long roll of toilet paper from the back of your pants, and act genuinely surprised when someone points it out.

A-Levels

A-Level results are out today, though this hasn't affected me for quite some time, it must be a day of mixed emotions for a lot of youngsters out there. Isn't it great that around this time every year the whole nation gathers around to watch our young, in whom we invest our future, open the results of two years of hard mental activity and hours of arduous revision and intense study, not to mention the three years of exam riddled hard work that builds-up to this moment. And at that moment when they've survived the tension of the past few days, at that exact moment the nation looks at them and says, "They're rubbish A-Levels. They're much easier than they used to be." What a country.

Nearly six.

I've now hit the pre-six lull. This happens every Wednesday when I realise that the hour between five and six has lasted for about twelve months. Any moment now it'll become six and time will rush to seven as I suddenly remember all the things I had to do today and try to cram them into an hour.

Bored

Dear God I'm bored. It's only ten past three.

Andrea & Rob's big day.

So this weekend, somewhere between Ben smashing up his flat in a vain effort to find cuff-links, James's camera teaching him a valuable lesson, Nick gazing lustfully at Juliette, Dan becoming a father to three dozen baby prawns, an awful lot of wildly stoopid dancing and Tim having his arse spanked in Mayfair, In between all of this Rob got married.
He did and it was bloody good fun too. Rob clearly enjoyed himself judging by the smirk on his face (though that did wobble somewhat during the speeches) and Andrea, his brand spanking beautiful new bride, looked like she was having a ball. So, a good time was had by all. We drank, we laughed, we moved in and out of the courtyard as the weather fluctuated like those weather clock in and out people things, we eat and we danced like twats. What more can one possibly need in a night out. Especially a night out where two lovely friends get hitched and promise to love one another through all of the above.
Lots of love you two.

Here's some piccies.



The happy couple



I'm the funniest guy in da world



Tim & Nick



Aaaah. Dan & Jess.




Me & Beth.



Some boys.



Some girls.



The bride, Andrea, looking lovely.



Will, Moi & Ben



The First Dance. (What was it? I don't remember.)



Dan is moved to tears.



Oh dear.



Ben & Helen.



Hee-hee. :o)

Dillon

I used to work with a marvellous creature called Anna. It didn’t do very much but it did entertain us all hugely. It was a bit of a potty-mouth but it was always funny, never more-so than when throwing it’s bizarre phrases into the mix. I found a list I began a while back and it made me laugh like a drain.
Here’s a smattering.

1: (Singing the Beach-Boys classic) “Gonna have fun, fun, fun ‘cos my daddy took my tuba away.”

2: “I’m happy go lightly!”

3: “I’ve paid through the arm and leg for this service…” (Relating a tale about Comet charging for early delivery slot and then not turning up.)

4: “They say that in London you’re only ever 5 minutes away from a rat.”

5: “He said I shouldn’t touch it with a goldmine.”

6: (By far the best) “There were six people in yellow and six in blue, like six aside football… only basketball.”

7: “She’s got a nice body but a boat (race) like a dropped pie.”

8: “The heat hit me like a tropical blanket.”

9: “It’s not worth the weight in gold it’s written on.”

10: “I love snorkelling so much I could do it ‘till my face fell off.”

11: “He started it, he opened up the gauntlet.”

12: “It just feels like I’ve been treading water and I haven’t reached the bottom.”

PING! You're done.

They're testing a 'revolutionary' new bikini on Brighton beach today. Apparently there's a beeper in the fabric that beeps every 15 minutes to alert the wearer to turn over. The miracle of modern science huh?

24hr boozing

Is it just me or does this strike anyone else as a daft idea? Here in England it's a royal pain in the hole that you have to drink up at 11 but surely it'd be better to just stay open a couple of hours later than all night. On the one hand Tony & his pals are telling us that we're all ruthless alcoholics and therefore an embarrasing drain on the NHS, we've got ASBO's flying about left, right and centre, cities are groaning under the weight of pissed up lads & ladettes fighting, vomiting and rolling through the streets and now, as if they've suddenly developed a Zaphod Beeblebrox style head, they wanna open all day!

13 and a half safety features.

Chatting to a friend of mine today at lunch I remembered something that confused me mightily at the time. In the new style black cabs in London they sometimes have ads on the bottom of the fold down seats behind the driver. The one that baffled me was an ad for the company that makes the cabs themselves, StageCoach I think it's called, and it proclaimed, in large friendly type, that the cab had 'Over 13 safety features'.
Surely that's 14 isn't it? If it is 14 or more whay not say 'With 17 safety features', what's the point of 'over 13'? it implies that there is in fact more than 13 and less than 14. 13 and a half say. What the hell is half a safety feature? Do you want to ride in a vehicle that has half a safety feature.

Done.

Ah. That's better. Sweet-life-giving tea.

Anyone want one?

Hi all out there, if there indeed is anyone out there. This is my first attempt a blog entry. Not much kop is it? Hopefully I'll improve with time. I have all these grandiose ideas about how this blog will grow and grow to become a bastion of inteligent conversation and blistering insights into the life of a young, attractive, well-to-do young man and his ability to shine the light of truth and the er... X-ray machine of ermm... clear thought-full-ness onto society and stuff like... Ah bollocks. I'm off for a cuppa. Who wants one?