Monday, August 30, 2004

Hey,

I am the sun, I am the air, I am human and I... stop it, stop it. Stupid Charmed ones with their addictive theme song and their notable breasts. It's like low quality porn meets magic, which is sure to send every pasty-skinned D&D playing geek and nerd from here to Nebraska off to his room to battle with his warlock. Porn is probably more believable though.

(Porn Director: Right, well Tina here will be having sex with Josh, who is the spirit of a person who died in saving someone else. In the background, Jodie will be getting done in the...kitchen... by Roger, who is the source of all evil, and a lawyer.

Assistant Director: Really?

Director: Nah. Go get the bushy fake moustaches and the dubious repair equipment)

I, of course, only watch it for the storylines. Charmed, that is. Porn I watch for the prospect of a double penetration shot.

We're watching From Hell tonight. This is a surprise because it's gory and scary and Cath asked to watch it. She wouldn't go watch the Village for approximately the same reasons. Je ne understande pas.

Speak soon,

Craig

Thursday, August 26, 2004

Quick challenge. Complete the following:

"I would do anything for love, but I won't do..."

Metaphorical cookie as prize.

Tuesday, August 24, 2004

Let us pray,

We pray for those who are going to Reading and Leeds this weekend, and hope they are delivered from the trials that await. Blessed are those who avoid the Libertines, because they sound like a hamster in a gearbox. We ask, Lord, that Goldie Looking Chain continue to spread their word, for surely it has never been more true, that guns do not kill people, but wappers do.

Most of all, we give thanks and praise for those that truly rock, because we do salute you. Your presence on the bill acts as a guiding light across the veil of dark and horseshit and 50 Cent. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, but more specifically, Ash to dust, would do nicely.

We pray for my parents, flying to St. Lucia this weekend, and hope for a safe journey. We pray for their son, 20 years old and still not dead, left alone at home with the perils of a house around him. We hope that because he has spent two years at university, the prospect of a washing machine no longer terrifies, and that the fifteen minute explanation of its function, purpose, operation and current role in this unstable socio-political environment of ours were unneccesary. Help him, O lord, should he forget the exact amount of time towels spend in the tumbledryer, that they may come out not so soggy, in your image.

Let him not fall into temptation, or a hole, or the dustbin, for those that Collect do not come until Tuesday (because it's a Bank Holiday), and those that are stuck with the Rubbish, will not be saved.

Hear our prayer, Lord, Jesus, your Pope, his cardinals, the bishops (C4 to F6 x Qq), the angels (to a certain degree), British Sky Broadcasting, false gods, false idols, false teeth, Real Madrid, Jeremy Clarkson (RIP), the entire cast of Taxi, Mario and Luigi.

Amen. Amen? A man, three men.

Friday, August 20, 2004

Hey,

This entry took a while because of distractions.

Somedays its so muggy that you really can't wait for the rain the clear the air. This happened about half ten today. The rain came, and it was good. Unfortunately, we were at Alton Towers, in a queue, and from then until half three, it didn't stop. Not so good. The cold and the wet are a poor combinations, like . This causes two problems. The first is the constant awareness of nipples. It is good to know they are still there, but I do not need to be walking around with my brain going "NIPPLES! YOU HAVE NIPPLES! THEY ARE DEADLY AT CLOSE RANGE!".

The second problem is when you go to the toilet, and it takes a second or two to find it.

So all in all, if the tickets hadn't been free, I may ha... that last sentence reads badly. I of course meant to find the actual toilet. Because of the rain obscuring vision. And not, you know, any trouble finding the equipment neccesary for the task. Which, naturally, was easy enough and is well signposted.

Went to see King Arthur. Thought it was OK. Some things I thought were good, mainly the sub plots, such as the Saxon guy cum Scandinavian death metal lead singer who was second in command but was really, really scared of dying. I like the battles because instead of just being about the fighting, there was part of the story going on, like Lancelot protecting Guinivere because he loves her, and dying heroically because of it. The close up one on ones were cool. I can't decide if I liked the battles more than LOTR. Maybe I do. Anyway, the film is pretty much rich pickings for a parody... so here's one right here. Best bit:

ARTHUR: Oh my God, I thought the Spanish Inquisition wasn’t gonna be for another thousand years.
FREAKY MONK: Nobody ever expects the Spanish Inquisition
LANCELOT: *kills Freaky Monk* NO PYTHON QUOTES!

(Totally copyrighted by Cleolinda, who rules the frickin' earth.)

Bourne Supremacy tonight and the Village on Tuesday. Awesome.

Speak soon,

Craig

Wednesday, August 18, 2004

Hey,

I'm weird. I'm trying to deal with it. For instance, we had a weekend in west Wales. On the Saturday night, we went out for a pub meal. The pub in question is having a hog roast pretty soon. On the way out, Cath's mum asked if the hog in question was still trotting around happily in the farm. The bartender and a local said that yes, he was.

Me: "Have you broken the bad news to it yet?"

Confused Welsh Local: "Um...no, no."

Me: "Probably was well really. He wouldn't have understood you, what with him being a pig and all."

Baffled Welsh Local: "Y...es..."

Me: "Well, bye"

Apathetic Welsh Local: "..."

I think people definetely need warning when some pillock asks them something like that. There should probably be a few set exercises to prepare for that sort of absurdity.

If you're also weird, like me, there is help you can get. The operation involves the isolation and freezing off of the...no wait, that's that other thing. Tricky blighters. Weirdness? No, you're screwed there, my friend. It just you and the broken bathtub of your mind from now on.

Speak soon,

Craig

Monday, August 16, 2004

Hey,

It is worth noting I bear the aforementioned bastard no actual blame in my desperate and ultimately fruitless attempt to reach the train. I was just lashing out. Thankfully, I found my blogg before I found a moped and some schoolchildren crossing the road.

I read this interview with Matt Zane from a band called Society 1. He talks about his interest in suspension. This is where people stick big hooks into their back and are suspended from the roof. The thing I never realised is that these hooks go through muscle, rather than skin like with a piercing. When the person is lifted up, the muscle is pulled away from the body, completely seperating it from the backbones. By allowing the body no release (sexual or otherwise) for a period of time before this the extreme pain acts as release, blurring the minds distinction between pleasure and pain. According to Zane, sex afterwards "it's like losing your virginity all over again". Even given this fact, it is hard to understand a mind that would be attracted to this, but I think words such as "sick" and "wrong" are too easy, and from an outsider, completely worthless. Because, lets face it, what exactly do you know?

The one thought that did strike me was: who first thought this might work? Quite aside from it actually being practiced, how was it invented? Was it Self Mutilation Experiment #37? Did #11 (penis in the blender) not quite, ahem, cut it? Was #24 (Sandpaper Looroll) too unhygenic? And what of #31 (Twister on fire)? "Left foot, yellow. I mean red. Well, now its just black and crispy."

I find the more alternative parts of society fascinating and terrifying at the same time.

Craig
Hey,

Quick allocation of obscenities.

Bitch: The woman in front of me getting off the first train who thought the bags in luggage needed a good rearranging, possibly because she felt such a responsible attitude would earn her the respect of all those waiting behind her. In this particular case, respect can be taken to mean "kicks to the knees".

Bastard: The individual who's stupidity meant I had a extra bag of remote controlled cars to hamper my already hopeless chase to reach the train.

Fuck: A situation where I am on the platform, but the train isn't.

There's more. There's also chicken kievs. Tricky.

Craig

Thursday, August 12, 2004

Hey,

I like to use this space for you all to get to know more about both me and those I consider to be my friends. I, for instance, got up around nine, fed Cath’s cats, made myself some breakfast, lounged around for a while watching TV, then went to lunch with Cath’s grandparents. John, for instance, has just asked permission to get changed before he posts my blog for me. It is 2:43 pm. It is TWO FORTY THREE PEE EM.

Cath, for instance, has just bought another two add-ons for the Sims. When asked if she now had them all, she knew that she had five of a possible seven. Apparently she doesn’t have The Sims: House Party and The Sims: Livin’ It Up. She of course has forgotten she does not have The Sims: Unfortunate Piercing Accidents, The Sims: Flammable Hair Products, Malfunctioning Hairdryer and The Sims: Homeless, Drunk And About Two Months Behind With The Alimony. Quick thought: If EA developed The Sims: Just Add Water, would that be an expansion pack. Ahahaha. Ha. Ha.

Paul, for instance, is sleeping with Sarah while no one else is at Uni. Sarah, to counter this, is sleeping with Dave. Dave is sleeping with Tom on the side, occasionally, but mostly on the front. Tom, realising his renewed attractiveness and beautiful crotch, is sleeping with himself. Charles, (t’other) Craig and Manisha are watching, but only Craig is keeping a reliable scorecard. At this point, they are doing it all separately, to avoid any awkward moments.

Thanks to everyone who came this weekend. I hope you have not caught Death. Cath has narrowly escaped Death, though we did have to play him for it. We were going to play Risk, but he invited his mate, War, around, so in the end we decided on Twister. I don’t want to go into the details, but we spun left foot yellow, and as he stretched, I kicked him in the knee, snapping it in two, proving once and for all that you can cheat Death, although it does require a fair amount of explaining to the cleaning lady.

So I watched Neighbours over the past week or so, and it seems like they can’t make up there mind exactly which particular moral messages they want to go with. Currently, Libby is ashamed of her father Carl (for getting together with a girl half his age) and Lyn is ashamed of her son Jack (for going out partying every night). Come on. One deserves a medal, especially for enduring Izzy’s nostrils, and the other is doing exactly what makes him happy. Meanwhile, no one is ashamed of Susan (seduction of a priest) or Lyn (forgetting her husband exists). Furthermore, they continue to let Serena act, when clearly letting her walk into a bus would be much more humane.

Speak soon,

Craig

Thursday, August 05, 2004

Hey,

News people continue to annoy me with their stupid, narrow take on the world. Every story has to pamper to the ignorance of the majority, because god forbid they should ever enlighten anyone. Take the increase in interest rates announced today. I am aware hardly any of you are economists, but I'm going to blunder on regardless. I will go slow. Two things are happening right now. One, the economy is expanding fairly quickly. Jobs are being created and businesses are producing more. There is a limit to this however, called the number-of-working-people-and-machines. Reaching full capacity is kind of like reaching light speed: it can't really happen. The reason is that prices are analogous to mass in the light speed example. As we get closer and closer to full capacity, prices increases, and not at a steady rate, but at an exponential rate.

With me so far?

OK, now by raising interest rates, the Bank alleviates this pressures slightly. People spend more paying back mortgages and getting loans, so they spend less elsewhere. This slows down the growth of the economy and it's output and, hopefully, means prices don't take off. Because once prices take off, it takes a lot to slow them down. The basic result is that a lot more people are made unemployed than we would like, a level of which could be sustained now by simply acting early.

Add in to this the second thing: their an election coming. Mr Brown will be out with a big bag of cash pretty soon, as Labour try to buy themselves another term in office. You think that might possibly act contrary to that little full capacity problem I mentioned earlier? You know, George, I think it might.

Mix in a few other features like the promised spending programs in education and health and the dangerously unstable housing market, and, well gosh darn it, if raising interest rates might be a sensible suggestion after all. But what about, Steve, 24, a fish trader from Oadby having to pay £15 more a month for the privilege of not living in Argentina? Won't anyone think of the fish traders?

I'm aware no-one cares about this shit.

Speak soon,

Craig

Tuesday, August 03, 2004

Hey,

Saw Stepford Wives. It's quite obviously a nod towards Invasion of the Bodysnatchers, but without it being a full on sci-fi or horror movie, it really just seems a bit silly. Perhaps a black comedy was the idea, but I can't quite tell. Some bits made me laugh though, possibly they just appealed to my weird sense of humour. Final verdict: who knows? Go see it? If you feel like it?

No morons turned up at work today. Joy.

Well done to Dave for correctly answering first, in the correct forum. The answer is 'television'. I knew at least one person would interpret self gratification innocently enough, although I would never have guessed it would be Dave. Still, its not like I'm here to give permission or anything.

Speak soon,

Craig

Monday, August 02, 2004

Hey all,

Lots of things keep popping into my head, so hopefully some of them will make the short journey to this page.

First up, the weekend just gone. Cath's Gramps was 85 and we had a BBQ. A Harding BBQ implies two things. Thing the first: lots of meat. Oh, I love the meat. *chuckles*. Thing the second: beer. I was fairly drunk, but others were much worse. I met one of their family friends called Graham who, as well as seeming remarkably cheerful despite currently undergoing chemotherapy, kept reminding me that being an economist is not a positive career, and that accountancy is. This led to me asking for the general consensus on accountants from Cath's dad ("worse than awful"), which made no difference. I then explained how, because of his considerate advice, I would take being a plumber as a backup. This is a positive career, thankfully.

Catherine tells me that a general consensus can not come from just one man.

Lots of other silly things happened, such as dancing in the study and speeches and me finding Cath's sisters toast to the sun, the sea and the sand so funny I couldn't speak. Graham also told me to get more girlfriends - a perk of the accountancy lifestyle - which did not please Cath. She was not a pleased Cath. Pleased and Cath did not go hand in hand. To compensate, Graham advised Cath got more boyfriends. Cath did not return to her usual, pleased self.

Sunday we went to the Big Weekend, which is a huge fun fair with rides from all over the place. Some were insane and some were suicidal. Some were even death defying. Thankfully, we defied Death on this day.

Right, so I'm back at work today, and there is a bunch of people standing around with a film crew, who are dressed up in various costumes that all looked a bit silly. I am promptly informed they are regional managers here to film a health and safety video. It is entitled I'm a Regional Get Me Out Of Here. I can't make this shit up. I'm also informed that we should work quietly because of the filming. There's one guy with a fake six pack stomach that is Petre Andre (North Division), a rather desperate Jordan (London and Home Counties), Johnny Rotten (Midlands), and some guy doing a Geordie Ant and/or Dec that sounded distinctly Cornwallian. Quite how this, the most mastabatory of all executive decision making will help anyone get to grips with the oh-so-complicated Health and Safety regulations - don't fall from heights, don't get stuck in a fire, don't iron clothes on your person - is beyond me. Either people will be amused by the tape, and completely miss the meaning, or, more probably, we will be so insulted by the sheer stupidity of the venture that ignoring it completely will be the only real option. The bit that made my laugh was hearing one Regional saying to another Regional of the national manager"he doesn't think its funny one reason, and I'll tell you why. He doesn't watch the show". I'll leave you with that.

I mean, what's wrong with a sheet of paper that lists the basics of health and safety - always sign in, don't stick pins in uncomfortable places, don't return to the underwear once they have been lit - that is read, noted, forgotten, and replaced with the basic common sense that each one of us is born with. This is not America, people, because we're just not that curious and so staggeringly stupid as to be interested in the (predominatly financial) consequences of leaving a big oily puddle right next to where the elderly lady carries in the delivery.

I am amused greatly by Coupling this evening. I may possibly have enjoyed Oliver for the first time. Patrick still gets the best lines: "I can explain everything...I was going to tell you the truth, but instead I decided to lie". The toilet paper joke was brilliantly set up and paid off and shows why Coupling is still the best-written comedy we have.

And on one final note of comedy, I was watching University Challenge, and this question came up: " 'It's a medium because it neither rare nor well done'. Of what was comedian Ernie Kovacs referring?" Bzzzzzzz! "Paelentology Association?" "Steak?"

Not a classic one-liner, is it really?

Oh, quick competetion for the first one to reply (in a comment page) with the right answer. The prize is self gratification.

Speak soon,

Craig