Check out the, erm...Barometer on that.

Oh yeah. You said, amongst yourselves, no it can't be done. I'm to incompetent for that. But then, out of the blue, Blogger start allowing the uploading of pictures to the blog. YEs! Much scan fun ahoy!
Spreading the word of the world of atmosphere pressure measuring guages (yes, I spelt it correctly, but only in the world of Appleseed. Otherwise...sod off) can be fun, but now... I have to go to work. Uuuurg. You can tell its monday, its sunny. Groan.
But seriously, this girl is terrified. Something wrong with her face or something. She doesn't really like barometers, you know. She's more of a drowsimeter girl. Possibly.

The Countdown Is Finally Over

Another long established cozy pair of slippers leaves this mortal plain for another leg on the great journey of existence. You will already know, Richard Whitely has left the building for the last time. I won't decend into the gush, for he was a man who made bad jokes and bantered with Vordermann. He had bad ties and was just some happy guy who carried on as he did.
Word up Richard. One from the top row.

In other news, I got this off the site of the ever awesome Warren Ellis. I like it. There are others which may be better, but this sums something up for me.

It also puts something other than text in the way.

Also, good to see many friends on the weekend, it makes me plus good also extra. Barometers are the new thing. Well, not new, but they are apparently good enough to deserve their own world. In Devon.

All The Meats

Well, okay maybe not all. In fact, some of the meats were downright imposters. But the jambalaya that was prepared tonight was to very high standards, and soared away with a well deserved plae in the top five things that Sarah can cook really well, a chart which is undergoing constant restructuring. A quality meat based meal, which shall be coming back into the mix, hopefully, asap.
Dinners aside, the weekend seems to have rushed by somewhat faster than I would have liked. I haven't drawn anything, which I hope to do between now and bedtime. I did buy some plants and have made the move into buying a new computer to replace my downright grumpy sack of festering evil that I currently run my life from.
OOh, the door openeth. Sarah is back from here external pub going activities. I shall away and push her in the forehead with my pinky finger.
Fwiiiing.

Cheques Out And Maybe Inwards?

Why do my titles always end up sounding like a Times crossword clue? Its not like something I can ever attempt to get. Backwards? We hear...
See? I don't get it. Anyways, right. I aim to be more on the regular with this feature now considering my pronounced distance from many places and having got all the furniture in suitable places in Norwich. The living room actually looks tidy.
New objectives ahoy. I am drawing something. On a piece of paper. I hope that other things will join it. All I need to do now is to continue in the same vein for a while, or ratehr, long enough not to looose interest in what I'm doing. To stick with something. Anyway.
Dissapointment of the week was a chinese takeaway. The slightly bluer one of the two which inhabit the Unthank road strip. Its been cleaned up, maybe changed hands. Now I'm always inf avour of the cleaning of a place which purveys food, but the standards have plummeted. The standards, which I calculate, by use of my yard stick for Chinese food: The cantonses style sweet n sour chicken. This product should be in more monosodium glutomate than is necessary, radioactive orange, but with a chewy crunchy coating and various vegetables in the sauce. Pineapple, tomatoe pieces, onion and pepper are all accepted. Unfortunately, they are now dishing out a soggy half brother of the hated chicken balls-the bastard uncle to cantonese style. Complicated isn't it?
So anyway, I need to move to takeaway pastures new.

Smattering of Fun

A quick burst of blog I feel is in order, before I become completely obliterated from the world. Currently amid the process of moving my meagre and dusty possesions from on house to another, from Lincoln to Norwich. This has put a bit of a damper on my at best atrocious communication tendancies, especially since the phone gave up the big one. NTL seem to have taken an early revenge and disconnected us a week early. Possibly for their own amusement.
It does cause pain, as you can probably appreciate that the phone is most needed on the last days of being in a house.
*hurls abuse at the unfairness of it all*
Will be difficult, I assume getting things settled in Norwich. May well be with out net for a week. Don't know if I can cope. Could be painful.

I now feel bleuurg. With a capital starvation. I started playing Metal Gear Solid 2 about, ooh, five hours ago. I thought I owuld be there till nine oclock o the evening. Its now half twelve and I had a break fr a shower. Its all happened so fast. Needless to say, the game is indeed excellent, and I feel overindulged by its makers. Hats off to you fellows in Japan. However, I am hungry, and there is a lack of biscuits. Its all hold on the food front until monday now.
Still, I feel that today has been a particularly good. day. Quiet at work, allowing play time for hangman. Quite some competition aflame in some people. Discussed strapless bras with a collegue. My transfer is inthe bag. I may get a pay rise, thank you deeply to those responsible at work who are giving me the opportunity. And to pop a cap in the ass of the situation, due to the offchance probings with a pin, I now have my old 'superfluous' piercing on my left lobe back, and at no cost to the taxpayer! No pain, none involved, so please feel no alarm. Just pleasant suprise and the possibility of more metal ahoy. Solid Metal...

I now feel bleuurg. With a capital starvation. I started playing Metal Gear Solid 2 about, ooh, five hours ago. I thought I owuld be there till nine oclock o the evening. Its now half twelve and I had a break fr a shower. Its all happened so fast. Needless to say, the game is indeed excellent, and I feel overindulged by its makers. Hats off to you fellows in Japan. However, I am hungry, and there is a lack of biscuits. Its all hold on the food front until monday now.
Still, I feel that today has been a particularly good. day. Quiet at work, allowing play time for hangman. Quite some competition aflame in some people. Discussed strapless bras with a collegue. My transfer is inthe bag. I may get a pay rise, thank you deeply to those responsible at work who are giving me the opportunity. And to pop a cap in the ass of the situation, due to the offchance probings with a pin, I now have my old 'superfluous' piercing on my left lobe back, and at no cost to the taxpayer! No pain, none involved, so please feel no alarm. Just pleasant suprise and the possibility of more metal ahoy. Solid Metal...

Hugh.
Better put in a word, its been days. However, its soon gonna be a case of lots of gaps, for soon I move. A month and a little more, and this sack of bones shall move from The Lincoln back to The Norwich. Huzzahs!

I bet that doesn't work, but anyways, image or no, I would like to track down the new and improved MCvitties Orange chocolate digestive. It could surpass my current fave, the milk choc digestive. But only if outstanding.
Thats enough of that.
Fwang!

Huah! Thar she blows. I like the last panel, I like the fact that I actually spent the time to give it some shades of grey. Huzzaz.
Now, I can return to wondering when Gunbuster 2 will be available in my own language, or at least with subtitles, and hoping that my wallet will still be there when I turn up for work tommorrow. That would be nice.
Aside from that, I caved in and bought a Gamecube on the weekend. This may seeem a little frivolous, but fear not, I have Rebel Assault 2 and can smell all the glory of the trench mid death star antics. Its quite fun. But not as fun as the games i shall eventually come to hold. Give it time...
Also, does anyone smell Spearmint? They really are rather good, you indie lovers. Fwaaaaang.

Quicker than the present

Briefly this morning I experienced a real life cartoon moment. For just one second my life became that of Calamity James of Beano featuring fame. Yes, the old style one, the good one. You remember, little squelchy things, keys to life etc, all of which James seemed completely unaware of. I'm sorry, I just spend half an hour looking for a picture of the miserable little weasle and he is no where to be found on the entire poxy fucking web. I'm rather ticked off at that.
Anyways, I found a coverted golden ticket marked million pound prize, in gold, on the pavement on the way to work. I felt special, and left it where it was. It was a thing.
Also, I'm getting envious of people's possesion of the digital picture taking equipment. I really would have liked to document the roofly destruction of the building I can see from my window. No, really...

Nudging The Tapestry of Life

Currently, I have a mental note. It says 'stop eating so many bisuits'. It can't be helped, I tell it. Fate is conspiring against me, in an effort to singlehandedly keep the McVities corporation afloat. It brings me really big packets of said product forth from Tescos for a relatively cheap price.
Actually, I want to talk about the Tescos here in Lincon. I went there yesterday.
The walk from my house to Tescos is possibly the most depressing, soul destroying journey I have ever had to regularly undertake, and I went to school. It starts off with my leaving the house, which is never something I'm wild for, and heading down my street to the main road that runs through Lincoln. This usually involves my distain for the people with a dog and no front lawn who leave it in their fortress-like paved front yard to shit to its hearts content whereby they hose said shit out under the front gate and across the pavement. I hate these people.
Upon reaching the main road, I am greeted by practically a duel carriageway running through a residential area. Kebabs debris and shit litter the pavements. I dodge across the road, bereft of regular pedestrian crossing oppotunities, and continue down the road to Tescos.
Lined with poxy pavement fronting terraces, the pavements are littered with rubbish, mostly polystyrene packets from burgers and other filthy takeaways. Everything is dirty.
To actually get to tesco, I have to make a large detour as there is an actual duel carriageway in the way, running directly through where terraces once stood. The hideous bulk of warehouse stores edge the other side, where my goal lies. I go through the underside of the carriageway.
Broken glass, vomit, rotting wood and filth abound. I dodge throuhg a car park, and across a busy junction with no provision for people with feet whatsoever.
There is no pavement to Tescos. There are no trees.
The message is clear, if you have no car, you are worth approximately shit.
Who built these places? Does no one care for their surroundings? I am annoyed. It may fade, but more than likely it will lead to me burning down the empty Office World building, which has clearlygone out buisness. What? Oh, didn't you realise that a town the size of lincoln did not need an office supply warehouse the size of a football ground? The sheer greed of it disgusts me. I am not in a good mood.

Captured the Trifle

What's the tune? Tahiti 80 with their strange and, to me, slightly unfathomable tunes. I can't quite settle with them, and to me they will always be one of those albums with the white sleeve that you bought on a whim and barely listen to, but always know they're there. I bought one recently; the Broken Family Band. I know, even now, they will slip into that category.
So, snow. Yes, thats right, great big knobbly chunks of it. White n fluffy n, well, its actually melted now. But it may well be back, meaning I have to wear trainers to work. Because apparently, posh blokes shoes should not allow the wearer any grip, greeting any sudden movement on a normal surface, such as carpet, with a crashing down and breaking of bones. So, to whosoever decided that these shoes should be as such, you are a crithard. Pure and simple.
Back to basics, you bastards. Lets have some shoes that do the job. Not do you in.
Job.

'ahhhhh' Chorus of slightly bored angels humm in unison heralding the arrival of fresh new steaming frames of comic stuff. There it is. I'm so proud 'sniff'.
In other news, circularity is getting to me recently. IN several ways. Firstly, the repetition we have to go through to maintain certain standards of life. For instance, I must wash up, nd clean myself and eat to maintain life, pr3event creatures in the kitchen taking up permanent residence, and to keep my friends and not drive them away in a green haze. Okay, thats fine. But it perpetuates so, so sodding MUCH. Also, I find it annoying that no one can draw a perfect circle. If any mathematicians are watching, please correct me if I am raging slightly unfairly, but surely. Its not fair that what we call a circle is only an ideal of something which could exist somewhere, possibly. Am I wrong?
Bugger.
Anyway, in real news, it snowed a bit in Norwich and in Lincoln. It melted. Its bloody cold. But I still have to wash and eat etc.
Does someone want to swap?

So, why the generic medium of all staple Japenese Entertainment? Well, firstly, its really there as me testing putting thesew things into my blog, because it needs some colour and it seems a good idea at the time. Also, it quite nicely illustrates what I plan to spend some hard earned money on. All fifty episodes, if I manage to pull it off. Stop! You're Under Arrest, for the uninitiated, is a cunning mix of car chases, explosions, humour and stuff. Lots of stuff. Anyway, it looks like fun. So, as every, I'm taking a guess and going for it. I'll let you know how I get on.
In other news, Mum bought me some frankinsense from Mofo, of something or other (in the middle east) I can't actually remember, oh hang on. Omahn. It was Ohman. Sic. Nyes. So anyway, this cunning porcelain cup thing came with charcoal and lumps of aforementioned sense. So, setting match to charcoal in the traditional way, I was greeted with a shower of sparks and then around two hours of thick smoke as the amber type tree sap burned away in the dish, gagging the entire upper floor of my house. Lesson learned: Remember, this is product used mainly in large airy places. And stagbles, according to legend. Not wise. Not by a long shot.

Oh Ho !! Feel the wonderment of http://animalreviews.zelica.net/.
It truly is the site which reviews animals It can only be seen as good.

First Things Last, With Flavour

Trebuchet? Its more than just a new font, its a whole new way of life. Or not. If it was a new way of life, it would probably be the sort of life that keeps all its receipts from purchases, stores them in their wallet and then throws them all away at the end of the month wihtout giving them so much as a second glance. So very much suited to me then.
Music? Mr Scruff currently, after literally months of getting round to sucessfully downloading it. To back up the copy I own. Ahem. Anyhow, its rather funky and squelchy. A flat eric for the laid back looper.
And, and and! Literally Bonus Eventus as the 'man' coughs up a sweet four hundred for me in my every six months performance related bonus pay. Which seems a little remiss of whoever is in charge, because I could have made more money by standing at the door and telling people to go away and boil themselves in gravey. Which I should have done, come to think of it. So that's good. I quite enjoyed the way in which our manager sort of sneaked everyone away into a corner to tell them to prevent workplace 'bonus' envy. Which isn't pretty. I just wonder who would actually care if they weren't happy with what they got. Grind their teeth and complain that actualy they think they deserve more? Its just a question of numbers in the end as these things often are.
Went back to a random issue of Transmetropolitan, the ultimate comic book. IN fact, its more than that. Warren Ellis, at least for this particular comic, was so much on track, he was practically wearing sports shoes. Rage. Its good.
Also good is Metal SLug 3 for the MAME emulator I could never be without. Its beautiful, brilliant. I'm sure eveyone knows about this but give me a break; I didn't have any disposable income in the eighties. Or the ninties. I barely have any of the bugger now. Anyway, with tha automatic coin add button, I can play as long as I like, without the need for fresh and tasty skill but just blind determination. Lots of explosions. Which neatly brings me round to defending my position in a cunning juxtaposition with my previous 'retro' rage. I don't regard this as retro for the sake of it.
You see, people can have interest areas, which carry a deep and rich heritage across time and space. Time and space there, making an appearance. Not to get too overbearing, but computer games change in style along with technology, and it just so happens that my favorite type of game is the platformer, which has evolved into the third person adventure game. I love the 2D genius stuff, and this game whips tail. So teenage mutant ninja turtle it up and prepare to be destroyed, for it has the smooth scrolling and pretty sprites of Gunstar Heroes, and the richness of graphics that only arcade cabinets could brush, and that the SNES would struggle to manage.
A man can love Jazz, but this is not necessarily retro, it just so happens that a huge wash of good quality jazz was produced back in the day. I mean, lets be honest, in another music school, have you heard what some people call 'modern blues?' That is one particualr term that can only be embarrassing, conjouring images and sounds beyond the realms of taste. To me, a blues afficianado has to traverse back in time to find the best of that school without purposely being 'retro'. So goodnight, mushrooms. And thanks for watching.

Getting to know your own Pavement

Now, I did have some fascinating rumination to slap down here, like a hated fish, but its clean gone. Oooh, hang on, it returns. Yes, thats the bunny. I was thinking, as I have this horrible habit forming tendancy to do so, that as we look upon old people with their crazy old fashioned ways, such as cashing cheques (and their corresponding fear of the debit card) wearing those jumpers with diamonds on them (not in the bling sense obviously. Did you know that could well be the first time I used the word bling ever? IN written texT) and driving those mobile things that really freak me out. I think; what shall be the habits of our generation that become outmoded, frowned upon, laughed at and driven off the high street into specialist shops manned by, well, old men. One, I have decided, is the humble cd. Not just the format itself but the very act of spending money on an actual tactile thing will become passe. Because as it all stands now, although with access to the internet and al its crazy downloading things, I still have to buy cds because I want to. This will perish, eventually, along with nostalgia for bloody eighties cartoons which weren't very good (guys, lets face it, it was all a sack of shite aimed at the brains of children. It wasn't subversive, it was just, sometimes, slow and friendly, and not in your face and shite like today. The point being, it was our shite, shite we had grown up with. SO we love it. Just don't read too much into it. The same people who drool over transformers (blah blah blah) would baulk at anime, so kiss it. Fashion junkie loosebag heathens.
Also, for those of you who would dabble, I recently sidled over to www.potatoe.com for a gander at the messageboard. Guess what? The often abused, hated and downright feared 'Is Eilijah gay etc' message is back again at the top of the popular charts. It just bothers me a little, that out of all the varied and less tedious strings this illustrious board has to offer, this is the most hit upon by chance by mild surfers. I do despair, quietly and constantly.

Maturity Reaches My Towel

Yes, thats right, its finally arrived. Literally, months away from its forth birthday since I bought it as an emergency in Italy on a camping holiday, having forgotten my own towel, my trusty two tone green and other green beach towel has matured. It was the last wash which finally pushed it ovver the border of being just 'nice n firm' after being washed, to being 'crisp and rough'. Not everyone appreciates this effect, indeed some mark it as the time to change the offending item in question, but I see it as the advent of a new era in its existence. Now a quick rubdown after a shower not only cleanses the skin deep down, but itches and scratches at those hard to reach places. Its a dream finally come true.
Now all that remains is for my Portugal blue beach towel to catch up with it and I hav myself a pair o' beauties. I also want to know why do I only have beach towels? Is it a total unwillingness to seperate the two? Both are made of the same material, but only the purpose built bathroom variety xomes ina resdtricted range of boring colours. Bring the hearty range of bright ones I say. Make my eyes bleed.

Roughly left in one piece of different size

God what a horrible week. The hideous disease of the LuftSheisse has passed through me leaving only a scoured and detatched feeling lingering in its place. It has now been four days since I lost an entire evening and night of precious sleep to the disease and my stomach still feels wrong. Difficult to place a finger on the exactitude of the sensation, but it just aint right.
However, Norwich was a fair remedy to my illness blues although beer was out of the question. Also, I have issued myself with an internal ultimatum which I shall tell more about at a later date. It makes me feel better, to try and counter the feeling of massive depression which is starting to settle over me, mainly due to low blood sugar from the illness which I blame wholeheartedly. PLus the fact of course, that it always helps to be able to blame a sudden bout of depression actually ON something as opposed to accepting that it comes and goes and its just there. Bastard. I hope I feel better tommorrow. Whinge.

Something fresh-ish from the bowels. Ironic, and somewhat a little too graphic, considering the week's events.