SUCCESS!

Highly accentuated celebrations of procrastination Batman - I DID IT! A full year - in fact more - with a complete lack of activity and maintainence, updating and so ons. I am almost drowning in a swell of disgust and self repulsion, more so than normal. Now then, on with life...

A Whole New Smell

You read it correctly; we are clearly dealing with an entirely new smell as so far unfamiliar to myself and probably most other people alive in this century without the support of an iron lung. Behold...


Gripped by a frenzy of impulse buying at the hardware store, along with one of those little wire wool bundles of joy which prevents kettle filthing up, I noticed these colourful looking bars nestling next to the Brasso. Knowing we were in need of more hand soap, I willfully bagged them up. And at 4 for 3, bargainalicious. I can confirm they clean your hands a treat, and don't leave any sort of cracking or bruising but the smell is something else entirely.

Claiming to be flavoured with 'Coal Tar' which is, as others would rightly posit, a rather dubious boast. But the smell from these bars, which I can only describe as cross between a burning chimmney and a vets waiting room. It is awesome. And it has well and truly stunk up under the stairs where reserve bars are stored, and the bathroom where a single bar lies in state.

If you see this stuff out there people, I don't think i can recommend it enough. Its an entirely fresh olfactory experience. Even if you hate it, you can at least say you tried. Now get out there.

Quiet on teh Westernized Front

Excellent. It would seemt hat due to almost an entire year's worth of producive inactivity I can post here without feeling guilty about being late as no one is sitting waiting. Champion.

It snowed here last night, in a pathetic sort of way. The way which means lives and transport links with the rest of teh country were not threatened and life continues apace without encumberance. Balls.

The most important thing to know at the moment is I am making a megaman sprite out of wooden blocks. Like someone trying to built the internet using paper. I read something about the internet being God the other day. I think that is a lie, as the internet does exist, and you can use it do do your shopping.

Do do do. I meant to do that.

Eye Sore

I see that you've been practising.
Excellent.
I also see that you've been looking out for yourself, keeping an eye on things.
Watching other people, watching them watch themselves.
Keeping it all in check.
I've been guided by other people's vice, upstanding beer cans by straight backed sentries.
(standing them up doesn't count as litter)
I'll see you right, see you off, see you get what's yours.
See to it that you can see your way clear.
I can see so many, but I can't hear them
thinking.

I'm struggling to see any point to this at all,
Thats why you can't see that much of me
(I've got a low hit ratio, you see)
I don't see how I can change this, because I can't see what you can,
See?

Saw?
Not this time, and not for a far stretch into the future,
you don't get many chances
See you around.

Sluggish

I know, I know. Quite frankly I make no apologies for my poor update schedule. In fact, the only realy reason I'm here is because I wanted to post on UK Resistance and I had to log in, and then I find that someone has been messing with Blogger and its all apparently gone not good. Hey, I can live with that.

I can't sing a song now. I can listen to new arcade fire album now. Its good. Its what I wanted it to be. But less about death. More about stuff.

I also think that the word should be spread about Kamichu. Its Ghibli, without actually being Ghibli. Interesting.

Can someone buy me a 30 hour day cycle please? And some Pringle? The hot n spicy ones, they're rather good....

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.