Mobilised Phone

Modern technology STINKS. Whats the point of having a convienient way of IGNORING people when they try to contact you, or being able to read missives in the form of texts and then NOT reply to them when you can't find your BASTARD PHONE.

Having spent the evening searching the entire house from head to bottom for the cowardly gtrey square plastic SLAG I have come to the conclusion that it should now be left for DEAD, especially when my search has become so desperate as to take in the top of the fridge, the INSIDE of the fridge, the tin I keep the teabags in and the second draw down in the livingroom where the dusters live.

Its gone people. Its not coming back. It carried through on the escape plan clearly masterminded byt the power adaptor which dissapeared sometime last month, and I suspect they are both now miles away, possibly in Cranthorpe.

The second possibility is that someone has the keys to my house and is coming in while I am out and taking one thing every few months or so. Just to drive me INSANE. I am seriously entertaining the idea of tripwires and some sort of human glue, made of waste rubbers.

So, the main idea I want to convey is, when you think of The Dan, don't think of the toilet, as I know some of you do, think of his home phone. The jolly wee red thing on wheels which has been promoting insurance in my households since 1999, and furthermore has become the most reliable way of me contacting you, or visa versa. Ringing like a fucker at 6pm, sending me leaping up the stairs to answer some pus-filled sack of festulant discharge wanting to SELL me something. However, I don't hate it as much as the MOBILE PHONE which has HEARTLESSLY DESERTED ME.

How am I supposed to become a well adjusted human being when even APPLIANCES leave me?

Bastards.

A Fool and his Capers are soon salted.

I love you guys all very much. I don't think I can begin to express that feeling in words more so than that bit just there. I feel like a hippy. A fresh one. So, yes, I have decided to...

BREAK RADIO SILNCE!

COMMIT WORDS TO THE WUB!

SWEAT LIKE A BEAVER IN DFS!

Now I have recovered from my deep seated fear of communication with the outside world, for a spell long enough to appreciate the use of my blog as an improptue messageboard. Nice work with Dan Europe indeed. Firstly I would like to bring some words on the cake that is the Battenburg. Mr Kipling, consider this a personal plea; Sort The Fucker OUT! This one is dry, undercooked, adn I'm pretty sure I can taste raw egg in that there marzipan. Are you trying to do away with my fetid form on this mortal coil? And why do you boast about your use of apricot jam to glue it together? You use the RED jam for cake fixing you shite. Now go away and make it better.

Now....

I have today, this fine Sunday, watched Silent Hill, the movie based on the game based on the hideous world of the human imagination. And sexual repression apparently. And someone pulling off an entire human's worth of skin in one bunched fist. Despite this all being based on a game, it came away with triumph. The ending was unhappy, and to some extent ambiguous. And there was blood. Lots of blood. Not beans.

(trys to remember to stick with one topic per post)

Yes, so films of games. Streetfighter II, for example. Kylie Minogue in her starring role? Van Damme in a homme/non hom precursor to the Big V? Check and check. Colour scheme is tasteless homage to 'Earth Girls Are Easy'? Check, sadly.

I also watched the Transformers movie again last night. Having witnessed the teaser for Transformers the Movie due out next year, I quite frankly have got a little excited before realising it was just a massive marketing campaign beyond the die cast first cut by the bastard Lucas. So then I returned to the film to try and glean some meaning from it. None was forthcoming, but the idea of a massive planet eating robot is rather cool, and the fact that Optimus Prime did die (apparently casuing much consternation at the time, and led to his revival later in the course of things. See Wikipedia to become more confused) is rather forward thinking for an American cartoon.

I know, you're thinking 'I came for the everlasting post and someone with a personality deficit is dribbling about robots that turn into cars which don't exist'. For this I apologise.

My work here is done. But I'll be back. Shudder in fear.

And comments are appreciated. I apologise for the fact that I suck in advance to the expected backlash.

Back to Adventure!

Spume, fester and gestalt. Words I love.

Yes, I got some words converted from my brain and some hapless man has put them on his website. Calm down at the back there, I did a review for one of the UK anime sites I frequent and they posted it up. Which goes to show that you shouldn't believe anything you read on the wub, and the quality control is quite frankly dangerous. Nevertheless, it left me feeling chuffed for small victories. Damn, now I have to buy the next in the series, oh curse you ever reclusive victory.

Also, in good news for voices, in Psychonaughts (the apparently respectable yet way-too-short Tim Schaeffer jobby(he of Day of the Tentacle and Grim Fandango)) hang on are you allowed so many brackets in normal english speech? This isn't an equation, its far too unbalanced. ANYway, yes, its the voice of ZIM! It has to be. It must be. I refuse to check google lest my hopes be dashed. But I think that may have tipped the balance for me.

I am quite annoyed at the fact that yesterday I didn't really know what day it was. Its already Wednesday. I have piano tommorow. That isn't fair, I haven't done nearly enough practice. Crap.

Time flies by, so it would seem. No, it does. I think that it would be very easy to let it all dissapear very quickley indeed. Its that kind of a job. Hmm.

I'll stop now.

Time for the Fresh

Yes, the fresh. Although one handed typing is all the rage as my left hand is giving gyp. My model is doing well and in the final stages of paintingship. I think it needs sticking on a spike or something.
Its really not the best time of night writing stuff now. Too late. Ooh, I know. I bought Kino's Journey, which is based on a series of short stories, about a kid on a bike who journies from 'country' to 'country'. Its very sweet and very much like a whole bundle of fairytales, and so is good. I like doghnuts from the Bakers Oven for their jam is ass-bitingly good.
Next time I promise I will have something better to say.
Curse.

I Can See No Weather

Thanks Stellastarr*, you fill me with titles. They ain't a band to rave about, they just have very catchy little tunes. Me Like.

Oh Man, the model! It progresses apace. I make no apologies for a lack of photo evidence, I hate my camera thing at the best of times, and I don't want to sully the experience with digital outbursts. Instead, I shall note some things. Firstly, don't try and be clever, one coat of skin colour is needed. DOn't go all la di da with base coats cause it will work against you. Secondly, be not deterred by one sheey of instructions entirely in taiwanese, photocopied and handwritten with no actual assembly diagrams. Instead wallow in sheer guesswork and footage viewing to back you up.

Also, I have come to appreciate how awesome Thorns is. Not So awesome I want to breed with it, but getting there. Plus marks for its quality 'wax candel modeling kit' and 'diamond files' but negative to subhuman on the desk. Craft knife sure threw him off the scent. Craft? Surely a scalpel is what you want? No mister, I want a craft knife, not some surgical jobby. Numpton.

Oops, nearly got carried away with the filing. Must finish blog entry.

*struggle*

Okay, I call a close. With a final mention to the big issue seller who was far to zealous (i hate this in a street vendour) because remember kids, people don't necessarily want what you are trying to sell. Just because its for chariyt doesn't make it a necessary purchase. So fuck off.

Lets Hear it for the Octopus

Yes, lets hear it for Seafood; crafting fine melodies ever onward into their advancing years. 'As The Cry Flows' finally made it into my lap as of yesterday, after literally about a year roughly give or take of threatening its purchase. Lacking the abrasive nature inherent in its more boisterous siblings, this quite child of an album wonders and weaves in sunlight. Urgent tuggings amongst the rushes to be sure, but the screaming is away. You want more of the previous? Then put said previous on repeat, give em a chance to mellow out.

Also, lets - tentatively - hear it for Ebay. I have put up unwanted trash in the hopes of making, ooh about a quid. Please pay attention; if you are reading this, you really don't want to know what it is, it will hold no pleasures for you.

Instead, lets all pause for thought and remember the fact that everything is made up of really tiny little balls.

Held together by Gravity.

Or something like.

Finally, I'd like to big up Alliance and Leicester for giving me my annual money for nothing Dire Straits tribute, and similar to those nice people at the Premium Bonds, for giving me 50 quid! Word up to finances this week indeed missus.

(more excitement pending arrival of t-shirts)

The Skank is On

MMmm, smell the Skatalites. Yes, yes all right. Most would argue that an overdose of Phil Jupitus is to blame (or at least time spent in excess of 5 seconds around the man to whom ska is more than just madness, its a form of isanity), but yes, I am now enjoying the Skatalites in all their jolly glory. I like it. I forgot how much fun and happiness could be brought forth by trumpets.

Speaking of happiness, on a visit yesterday, or so, to the house of good friends of mine, I was greeted, almost instantly, by small and popular furry yule log of dog. Instead of leaping up at my chest and mauling me to the ground as a more robust dog would have done, he scrabbled at my ankle in his own inimitable style. I found this very pleasing, alongside being assured that this meant he liked me, and feel very much affirmed by his actions.

Also music fans, digging the men of half biscuit nature. Oh yes, for the delights of Half Man Half Biscuit are multiple fold and nutritious. I can only heartily recommend.

This day was brought to you by Boursin cheese, making a fine soft cheese for sandwich heaven.

Hell in a Handbag

Spent money. Oh its true. I went and bought some paint, its white and its blue and it comes in cans and little pots marked 'don't eat this you cretin'. Yes, folks thats right. Not only have I bought some paints, I went and got them from Games Workshop. Oh the guy who went in before me was genius. In fact, I knew where he was going halfway down the street. He needed a meal. And some hearty sunlight. And zit cream. Hey, I fully sympathise. Anyway, friendly staff who didn't suspect I was just in it for the paint fumes. I have purchased model, all the way from friendly Taiwan.
Well they had better be friendly. If not its knives all round. I aim to make a good job of this as my first anime type model. If it all goes wrong, blood shall be spilled in ritual hatred and gnashing of pants. There will be pant gnashing. I'd like to give some sort of crazy 'photo diary' of the proceedings as and when ('when' based on reliability of post from Taiwan), but given my track record with putting up photos, could be a on a hiding to nothing. Still, intensions are voiced, axes are ground.
Word off.

Quick Quick Go Here

It takes a little flash advert of what drugs do to Frank to make me laugh...I like LSD.

Whistling In The Klondike

Hm.

See? I told you I'd be back.

First off: matters of state, my state, my bathroom. Those dangly things that hang off most bathroom light pullcords? Attention people. Please only buy very lightweight ones. Ornate? Wooden? Curved wrought iron with studden polished stone inlay? Give it a miss. For a bathroom is a place of wofting towels and flung sweaters, and nothing, or very little, irks like a madly swinging pullswitch which bashes off the tiles, twats you in the eye, gets caught switches off and swings around in darkness as you grope blindly for a crazily ossillating plumb line. Please people, for the sake of sanity, install - I don't know- though switches or something.

Also, in good news I just finished (finally, I had to put in two concerted days of reading) The Algebraist by Iain M Banks, and jolly good it was too. His usually wash of a small happpening in a big place, something grand from a small point of view. Awesome as always, black humour placed as ever and confusing till the end. A quality read.

Finally, a word from work, I signed by contract today and became official slave to the wage of a certain stationary company as of 1st Jan 06, a cash friendly way to start the new year.

Word up.