Tuesday, February 28, 2006

Why Won't It Snow, Like They Said It Would?

As a self confessed geek, it comes as no suprise that I trust the internet for almost everything; encyclopedia, knowledge, and even basic medical advice. One thing I don't trust the internet for.

That's the weather.

I'm sorry, this comes from my day of naive internet user, when I knowingly installed weatherbug and found out it was spyware. Since then, I've never trusted the weather or any person who reports the weather. Even my mum, who was due to be a weather lady until she realised she couldn't move down south.

So, you can imagine my reaction when I loaded up the BBC website and saw this....

"Bullpoo!" I thought. It's nearly March for Christ sakes! Surely they brought Michael Fish out of retirement to do the weather, as by god, I believed it hasn't been as misanalysed since the day of The Great Storm of '87. Whilst I admit that I wasn't going to work in a t-shirt and shorts. It's nearly March, and there's global warming at the moment. It's not going to snow!

My, how wrong I was.

I know it's a poo picture, but nevertheless...that's snow. It's March! It's not allowed to snow! Seriously, if I get pneumonia on Saturday, I will not be happy.

I finish on saying two things to different groups of people.

For Mr. Michael Fish MBE, the internet and the bbc. I promise to never doubt you again.

For Freinds of the Earth: Global Warming? My arse.*

* Yes, I'm quite aware that a feature of Global Warming is that freak weather (such as snow in spring) can happen, so I'm just trying to be funny, not an insensitive, ignorant bigot. Don't flame me, hippies.

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Monday, February 27, 2006

The 4 Million Pound Question

In celebration/comiseration on my 22nd on Saturday, so begins a week long set of posts, showing "You know you're getting old when...". Today, it's "You know you're getting old when you start thinking about the future."

One of the regular nights out we have is every Thursday, on that day, we go down to the comedy club and exercise our laughter muscles. We vary each week, between the Rawhide club in Royal Court Liverpool and the Sniggers club in the Guild, because the Sniggers club is cheaper. Last Thursday was the Sniggers club, where we were sat right at the front, which means that we were due to have the mick taken. Me, being a geeky Welshman, was due for the biggest ribbing.

Often the mick take was justified. I am Welsh and I am a geek. I make no bones about it. Though one thing he did say kind of pushed the mark. Basically, he was talking about Charlie from rubbish pop band Busted, who - on his 18th Birthday - got a royalty cheque of £4million from Simon Cowell. He went on to say that Charlie is quite boring by not spending the money on a booze, coke and hooker filled party. He wanted to know what I'd spend that amount of money on, just to see that I wasn't like "Rock God" Charlie, and would actually blow the money on something completely inappropriate.

"So, Valley's Man (my name, because I was from Wales), what would you do with 4 million quid?"
"Errr.....buy a house."

I'm sorry, but that's what I would do. Maybe I'm getting old, as about 2 years ago I'm sure I would say a golf course or something.

Maybe it's just me (Charlie put that £4 million towards his pension), but I suppose the (4) Million dollar question is this. What would you spend that money on? Also, give your age (if you don't want exact year, just say whether your in your teens, 20's etc). Just want to see if most of my generation are boring old gits, or whether it's just me.

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Saturday, February 25, 2006

The Roof, The Roof, The Roof Is On Fire

I'm always just a ickwle bit scared about blogging about work, as I really don't want to get fired. Sure, if something funny happens, then I'll blog about it, but I'm just a bit careful exactly how much I say. However, I think I'm safe blogging about this.

Thursday Morning, approximately 8:50am. 10 Minutes before starting Thursday, which both simultaneously is the best and worst day of the week. Best, because it's nearly the weekend, worst because it's just not quite there yet.

I was suprisingly early, due to the fact it was pissing it down and I got the bus instead of walking. I was all set up and ready to go when I heard this.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEE!!!!!!"

Such begins the 3 second delay, which is the length of time you need to find out what's going on, and react to it. What had happened was that the roof started leaking (and by leaking, I'm talking a massive gush of water) above this poor lady. She - god love her - continued on veinly, until she said to a client "sorry, I've got to go, I'm soaking wet.". She was sent home to recover.

Within 10 minutes, a wierd, almost sewerage smell could be smelt in the office which actually made me nausious (yes, it was that, not the 6 or so pints I quaffed the night before. Honest). Thirty minutes later, the builders arrive to knock out the section of the roof to see what the problem was. This cause a huge smell to linger through the office, we were still answering calls at this time, but was unsure exactly what was happening, whether we'd be sent home for health and safety reasons, or not.

In the end, we were told via an email.

"Due to unforseen circumstances, the canteen is unable to serve hot food today."

Bugger, no short day. What apparently happened was a food outlet pipe burst, so - whilst it smelt revolting - there was no danger to our health.

Still, it's something to blog about, isn't it?

In other news: 1 week today my life goes downhill, and I hit 22.

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Tuesday, February 21, 2006

Home Truths

I live in the Kensington area of Liverpool. It shares nothing but name with the posh area of London of the same name, and generally it's pretty grim. Luckily, I'm on the outskirts, so no bricks through windows, just the occassional arguements which consist of a manscally and a womanscally yelling at each other "Youse fook off" (when one finally does "fook off", the other one shouts "ey! where do youse think your fooking going?"). Generally that's as bad as it gets, but I'd be lying if I said that in certain trips to the chippy I didn't walk overly fast.

On Saturday however, was the funniest arguement ever.

A few doors down were having a major tiff. Once you've lived in Liverpool for a while, you start to notice the variations between the different accents, so now I give them names. This arguement was between Francis (who I'm not sure of the gender, hence a unisex name) and Isaac (definitely a bloke). When these people have an arguement you just wait, wait, until they suddenly become unthreating because they say something so stupid that defies belief.

Saturday, hormonal Francis provided it, with a beauty that deserves to be blockquoted:-

"I'M GOING TO FOOKING STAB YA! AND I TELL YOU WHAT? YOU KNOW THAT BIT OF BODY BETWEEN YOUR HEAD AND SHOULDERS? I'M GOING TO STAB YOU THERE!"

I mean, come on. That's not intelligent stupid, or ignorant stupid, or any type of medical condition stupid. That's just stupid stupid. Even a mate of mine from my ex-workplace, who left school with only 2 GCSE's would mock them for being stupid. How can you be that stupid? I just don't get it.

In other news, this is - for me - very very scary (you need to be aware this isn't my only site).

EDIT: For those of you who didn't realise the deliberate mistake, yes the quote did say between "Head and Neck". It should read "Head and Shoulders". Apologies for all those readers who I called stupid because they didn't get the joke. I need a proof reader!

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Liar, Liar, Chip Pan Fire

It appears though this blog has suffered an invasion, not seen since the days of "Your Mum/Your Dad/Your brother/Sarah's an ugly lesbo" Fletcher's invasion of 2005, which was - to be honest - the most pointless invasion since Vietnam.

However, this invasion as such is from my housemates who - unlike previous attempts, make valid comments. I make no apology that occassionally I exaggerate things, and an entry a couple of posts back is no exception. As I said, I make no apologies about it, as it usually adds drama, or if I think I can get a cheap laugh, then I 'modify' the story. They do this all the time in hollywood, Cool Runnings would of been crap if they didn't have the US coach who cheated, and the fact that the Jamaican bobsleigh team was rubbish, and didn't stand a chance.

My post raised the attention of Guy and Tom, casual readers of the site, who pointed out some untruths with my article. This post is a response to their queries.

Tom: "i was at the football dude, get it right! Just becase you're jealous" Yes, and no. Tom did spend Valentine's night at the football. However, the said event actually occurred on the 13th Feburary. The story wouldn't of been nowhere near as funny if it was 13th Feburary. Of course, on the 13th, Tom did rehearse for his play.

However, I didn't credit Tom being at the football because, well, he'd only gloat about it. He's still boasting about being at the Third Day of the Fourth Test and seeing that catch and that run out and that Shane Warne golden duck. If you don't watch cricket it'd mean nothing to you. But he is right, yes I was jealous. Hence the changing from football to rehearsal.

Guy: "being asked to open a jar of, and i do believe im right in this, thousand island dressing was a new one on me!!" I was wrong, but Guy was wrong. It wasn't mayonnaise, but it wasn't thousand island dressing. It was in fact seafood sauce. Mayonnaise sounded funnier (as it's the sauce of the comedian), and you've got the whole innuendo side of things (none of which is funny, or indeed that relevant, or that well known except from that dark area inside my mind).

Tom: "Oh, and please make it known that i play the part well due to my stunning acting ability, not the fact im just a bit pouffy" That's true, he is a great actor, but he's also a bit poofy.

So, yeah, I'm not going to to this again, as it's a bit dull. The only thing you need to take from this entry is that, yes, like my 12 inch penis, a lot of this site is exaggerated. But it's done to make you happy.

Surely that's not a bad thing.

In other news, I got an email back from the speed dating. Two matches, woohoo!!!

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Sunday, February 19, 2006

On Speed

I was planning a quiet night, I really, really was. Alas no, instead I recieved a text at around 5 from Ian, who's up for the weekend to see the Liverpool vs. Man U game. I haven't seen him since August, so - even though I was knackered - I agreed to meet him in the AJ's, and then in the Gilmour bar in the University.

This is when it gets wierd. You see, we're in the midst of recruitment season, and the Guild is awash with studenty people trying to recruit us for one thing or another. Pokerroom.com is holding a Student Texas Hold 'em tournament, they were there last night. People who were getting people to vote for them in the Guild elections were there. But the one that interested us most was this Moby lookalike, who sat down at our table.

"Hey guys!" He said, in a very unMoby voice. "Fancy a speed dating evening? It's free and there's a free pint at the end of it."

I'll be honest, I wasn't sold to begin with, it was only a long chat with Ian looking over the benefits (free pint, chance of a shag, and I'd be lying if I said that both me and Ian didn't both say "it's something to blog about"), we thought "fuck it, lets go!"

Speed dating, for the unaware, is a fairly new thing. Instead of going on a date for a whole evening, you instead go on 20 'dates', each lasting 2 minutes each. You don't tell the people that you like them or not, instead judge them on whether they were interested or uninterested and submissive or dominant (yes, if you're thinking "oohhooo, bondage!", you're not the only one). And then a tick or a cross in the box saying either "yes" or "no". Should there be a match (they say yes and you say yes) then an email is sent giving the names, emails and other kinks of the match (or matches, if you are able to hypnotise people). As it was part of physcology experiement, our height, weight and fingerprints were taken as well. We also had to say whether we were wearing any cologne (other than BO) and had previously drunk some alcohol (which was a resounding yes for me).

I can't really remember too much of the night, as I had been in the pub before that, nevertheless there are a few things that stood out to me. Firstly was they were nearly all medics. My mum would say "good breeding material", but as a former Engineering student (albeit Electrical Engineering, and albeit practically Computer Science), I'm legally required to hate medics. It must of gotten boring for the girls to hear "another medic!". I certainly was a little bored talking about tracheas, fibulas and areolas.

A few people were from near where I lived, one was from Llangefni which is slap bang in the centre of Anglesey (a place I get confused with Rhoesneigr, for some reason), one was from Conwy and one was from Bryn-Y-Maen. I felt I did bond with them, largely due to the typical "England Sucks, Wales Rules" conversation, and also on the topic of "how shit is Broadway?".

Another one I did actually bond with was this Sri Lankan girl. Basically, I'm very honest, and I told her that "The only things I know about Sri Lanka are they have a cricket team and they got hit by a tsunami.". Lucky for me it turns out she knew a fair amount about cricket. Tom would be pleased.

An hour and a half later, we finished. We collected our free pint and congregated in the bar, talking about the experience. A few people mocked me for going. To them, I say fuck off. It was a hell of a lot of fun, and - I thought - it raised the confidence in speaking to random girls. That was until last night in Walkabout, when I saw a really pretty girl, and was too shy to say owt to her. Shame.

I'll let you know if I get an email back. So far there's been nothing, but they probably put it off for the weekend.

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Friday, February 17, 2006

Let's Get Quizzical

One of my hobbies are quizzes. I've never been fabulous at sports but I'm pretty damn good at quizzes. I'm in two teams, which do two pub quizzes a week. One team is called "Barry Scott and the Cillit Bangers", the other is called "The One Legged Pirates". Both names are funny if you get them, but especially "The One Legged Pirates". Me and my mates laughed in the pub for a good quarter of an hour when we found that out. Espcially the "bonus points if you kick 'em in the shin" line.

Either way, we generally do well in the quizzes, finishing in the top 2 or 3 in both of them. On Sunday, we did the quiz in the Hope & Anchor (under the team name of "Barry Scott and the Cillit Bangers"). The prize? A crate of lager. We won the quiz after a tie break (though no thanks to me, who - a lifelong WWE fan, could not recognise Diva Trish Stratus in the picture round, convincing myself that the person in the picture round wasn't Trish because "Trish has bigger boobs than that"), and claimed the crate of lager.

On Wednesday night we entered another quiz, this time in our local: The Mount Vernon. This quiz is a lot smaller, only three teams entered. Our team of three, "The One Legged Pirates", another team of two, and a team of 11 players. Of that team, 1 of them was over 30. This was dangerous, as The Mount Vernon has a habit about asking for information that can only be known by people over 30.

Ironically, even though there's only 3 teams, the prize is huge: £20 and a gallon of lager. Which we won.

In order to give us a gallon of lager, what the landlord does is gives us pink raffle tickets, each one representing a pint of ale:

Notice them, notice them good. In work if we put a call through to the Advice Team, we get a ticket as well, to enter a draw for fabulous prizes (though the chances are small, due to the 'around 6000 people' who work in the call centre - that's a lie).

Notice the similar look of the two raffle tickets. Now, should I not win any prizes, then I plan on going to my local sometime in the end of the year, and attempting to get free pints.

Of course, if I keep winning the quizzes, then I suppose I won't need to.

In other news: This is the best headline of the week.

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Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Clincially Cynical

I see I wasn't the only cynical bastard out there on VD day, I'm sure pretty much every singeton (and a few couples) on the face of this earth was feeling similar. However, not to be arrogent, I did something not many people did and took advice from Fern.

I did something about it.

Of course, she probably meant "find an attractive young lady with loose morals, and knob your troubles away!". I took the more achievable option of "Ruining a special moment on a couple's special day".

Before I continue, two things I've got to let you know before this story begins. Firstly I have a complete inability to open jars. It's my weak wrists (no jokes), which means I cannot open jars no matter how hard I try. Most things I enjoy (marinades and mayonnaise) however come in jars, so - unless I'm with people - I will probably starve. Luckily I have 3 housemates who all have stronger wrists than me, so they usually open them for the small price of being known as "the bitch of the house".

Secondly is that this is a fairly common occurance, with housemates destroying tender moments in the house. So, don't feel too bad for him. He's done it to me before.

Anyway, valentine's night began with action from another blog post. I made good on my word to make my own prawn mayonnaise, so I went out I bought the cheapest prawns I could find and the most expensive mayo I could find. A jar of Helmanns finest light mayonnaise. I let the Iceland prawns defrost overnight, and was ready to make the mayo. One thing stopped me though.

I couldn't get the bloody jar open.

Time was tight. Tom was out rehearsing for the play where he plays somebody who's unsure of his sexuality (a role he plays far too well), Mike was at a guitar lesson. All that was left was Guy, who was spending valentine's night with his missus. Do I spoil my best mate's valentine's day? Or do I go without mayonnaise. In the end, my desire for mayonnaise won over.

I knocked on his door.

"Hellooooooo?"
"Guy?"
"Yeah?"
"You decent?"
"Noooooo..."
"Oh dude this is urgent."
Guy grumbles, "Oh, alright."

I gave him my jar to open. I have mayonnaise. I'm happy.

Note to St. Valentine: You can deny me cards on your day, you can deny me a special someone on my day, but you will not deny my mayonnaise.

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Happy Tuesday

"Roses Are Red,
Violets are blue.
Sugar is sweet,
And So are You

But the roses have wilted,
The violets are dead.
Sugar will go off.
So let me knob you instead.

There are two types of people for Valentine's day. There are those of you who believe it's "Amazing, one day where the true expression of love is felt and everybody is happy.", and then there's the rest of us who have no shares in interflora.

Me, I'm firmly in the second camp. Of course, it's not because I'm bitter, lonely cynical SOB. Honest. But yeah, VD 2006 will be spent on my own, as I'm not only single, but not going to Liverpool vs. Arsenal, which kinda sucks (I was trying to get tickets, but they fell through. Note to self for future, don't boast about going before you got tickets).

I know you've heard it a million times before now, but I think it is too commercialised. So hats off to Asda, launching a "Smart Price" Valentine's day card for 8p. Of course, Hallmark's lobbying agent has written in response to Asda's "Valentine's on a shoestring" by saying "If you're partner gets you this card, dump them.". I call bullshit, and should any girl get me that card, I would get down on one knee and marry them.

So yeah, Happy Tuesday people. May you not spend a penny and have fantastic sex or something like that. And think of me, (though not during sex, as that would be wierd) alone, in my room, playing TFC or something.

As nothing says I love you more, than blowing someone's brains out with a RPG.

Technorati Tags: valentines day, football, liverpool, team fortress classic

Monday, February 13, 2006

Billy Conelly, can you hear me?

Morning everybody. First, here's some good news.....

After last week's painful defeat to the English, Wales bounce back in the 6 nations, beating Scotland 28 points to 18, though it should of been more (one of Scotland's penalties began with a forward pass, and if we weren't so ambitious in the last minute, we wouldn't of conceded a try). Either way, we've banished the demons of last weekend. Bring on the Irish!

The weekend was - by and large - fun. Nothing major happened as Saturday was spent playing drinking games, which I was rubbish at. But that, the rugby, the start of the Winter Olympics (which I believe that should a country have less than 10 members in the team, they should be banded as "Miscellaneous", making the ceremony a lot quicker), and a hell of a lot of sleep meant, whilst a nice weekend, it was fairly uneventful.

Inbetween these moments I spent most of my time trying to improve my Myspace Profile, which is a nightmare, as - me being stubborn - I'm doing it the hardcore way using notepad. Myspace has probably the world's most difficult CSS to understand! As you can see, for some reason the right column has no borders but the left one does. Why? I don't know. Any assistance would be greatfully recieved from all you myspace people.

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Friday, February 10, 2006

It's Fast, It's Furious, It's the Ready Money Round

I read on Scaryduck's blog a few days ago about him meeting Timmy Mallett. A legend in my books. When I was little, I woke up in earnest every Saturday to watch Wacaday, which introduced us to words such as "Bleaugh!", "Utterly Brilliant", "Yo!" and the dreaded shark infested custard.

Anyway, the Duck asked us if we've met anybody famous ourselves. Although I have claimed for many many years that I've met both Bill Clinton and Tony Blair, It's little more than "meeting" in the sense that 20,000 people "meet" Steven Gerrard at Anfield every week. Amongst the Everton footballers (Duncan Ferguson and Alan Ball) and the endless stream of Hollyoaks characters (including Justin - who I saw in a strip club. Not that I was there, oh no). One person stands atop of the list of famous people I've met.

That man, is Roy Walker host of the popular TV Show Catchphrase.

I was 6 and loved game shows (such as The Crystal Maze and Fun House). On one of our regular trips to Llandudno, we stopped by for some food in Marks and Spencers. I was throwing a wobbly at the time because I was dragged out of the Early Learning Centre, which had just opened up across the street.

Then, my mum saw him!

"Look Rhys! It's Roy Walker! Come on, lets go and meet him!"

Suddenly, I develop the embarrassment that kids normally do when they meet celebrities, dentists or the hairdressers. I stopped crying and put on the breaks, as my mum dragged me over to Roy.

I gave in eventually and co-operated with my mum, after all, I wouldn't want to show myself up in front of Roy. Luckily my mum did enough for me.

"Oh my goodness, you're Roy Walker!" My mum said to a bemused Roy, "I love Catchphrase so much, we watch it all the time on Sunday night. This is my son Rhys, who is very good."

"Ah Rhys...Nice to meet yoy." Answered a polite, albeit slightly annoyed Roy.

"He does this amazing impression of you! Go on Rhys, say what you say in front of the TV every week..."

Imagine me, 6 years old, wearing a Sonic The Hedgehog T-shirt. Bright red. Both Roy and his missus looked on as I struck up my worst Northern Irish accent.

"Look at Mr. Chips, what is he doin!"

Roy, visiably annoyed, said "That's Good....that's....", and walked off. The rude sod. If the guy was on the ball he would of answered "It's good, but it's not right.", that would of made my day.

I think the only thing that needs to be said is to throw it open to yourselves: have you yourselves met anybody famous? Maybe you are famous and are reading this blog, which would be so cool and would be amazing for this blog (even if you were on Big Brother). So, the celebrities out there, speak up and be heard!

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Wednesday, February 08, 2006

I'm Thinkin That I'm Lazy

Although two of my regular readers would probably refuse to read me again with this statement, but nearly all my shopping is done in supermarkets. I just think that it's easy, and conveinient.

Although, recently, I think it's too easy.

Recently, I've been on a bit of a health kick, and trying to vary my basic "chicken and chips" diet with...errr...."chicken and potatoes". To be honest, it's not that I'm morbidly obese or want to look good in a bikini in the summer, it's largely due to the fact that my housemates were getting sick of my constant flatulence. So much so that farting - which was a badge of honour in the house - had become unbearable. A few lifestyle changes (such as brown bread and Fruit and Fibre) have curtailed the problem and Guy has taken over the title he's held for the past 3 years as "The Smelliest Arse in the house". He's also a Chelsea fan.

Anyway, I digress. One of the factors for the new "Make Rhys smell less diet" is "varied diet". So, out the window goes the "ham salad" sarnies for work 5 times a week and the staple sandwich of the Manchester United fan: Prawn Sadwiches. It was kind of a whim thing, as I saw the following product on sale in Asda.*

I'm not having a go at Asda, as I presume it's not the only chain guilty of this. But seriously, £1.08 for prawn mayo spread? I wouldn't mind, but I have made a grand total of 3 sandwiches from it! You could buy a tub of mayonaise for about £1, a bag of frozen prawns for about £2 and it would make tons of prawn mayo! I think I'll do that from now on.

I think society as a whole is pretty damn lazy, I've never understood buying those pre-washed vegetables from supermarkets, and (although I usually buy pasta and curry sauces) also I rarely buy ready meals. I'm amazed that people I work with think that because I walk to work every day (about 45 minutes) is like scaling mount everest. I dunno, it just strikes me as odd.

That being said, it is pretty damn tasty prawn mayo.

In other news, I've been thinking a lot about what I can give up for lent. Anybody who knows me have any ideas? If anybody says "give up giving up", I will hunt you down and give you a chinese burn.

* Yes I am aware that the picture's 90 degrees off. I forgot to rotate it before uploading it. So no smart alec comments please.

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Monday, February 06, 2006

CBA

Booooooo!!!

All in all, it wasn't too good a weekend, what with England beating 14 man Wales B Team, Chelsea marching on and having a not particularly good Saturday night meant that I felt like I wasted a weekend. Now it's gone and it's Monday. I'm feeling very lethargic and can't be bothered at the moment. Even this blog post is a struggle to write. As such, I'm going to do what all the best bloggers do when struggling: link whore! Some of the games I've been playing regularly.

Team Fortress Classic
I've recently got back into this, and been playing this almost non stop. I generally play on the 2fort servers (which is my favourite map), and do quite rubbish at all classes except for the bog standard soldier. It's odd though, I used to be an amazing spy (was in a clan which was the 21st best in Europe, I have you know).

Miniclip Snooker
I'm rubbish at snooker in real life, as easy pots on the telly go miles off in real life. I think however I've got a good snooker brain, as I'm not bad at pool (amongst my Liverpool mates, Sibz, Goz and pretty much everybody in the North Wales area could beat me at pool). Miniclip Snooker proves this, as I've been doing okay. Losses are generally caused by me missing an easy shot, an amazing opponant or (in my match versus housemate Guy, though he rejects my pleas) my computer crashing (firefox seems to have issues with java.....booo!). I'm rhyswynne on there.

Acronomics
In the mid-late 90's, before the fancy graphics and the real online gaming boom, when the internet was for porn, geeks and peadophiles, Sierra - now famous for Half Life - had 3 fantastic games on their site. Acrophobia was the best. After about 18 months, it was taken down, and I was gutted. The best I've found is this Acronomics. It is a lot slower than before (each individual game takes 24 hours as opposed to 30 seconds. But by god it's addictive. I'm rhyswynne on this, and in order to win my votes (should you decide to join), you should fit shagging references into your acronym. Plus it's the only word game I can beat housemate Tom at (as he's much better than me at Scrabble).

In other news: I got feedback from the interview I was rejected from. Basically, it said that my numerical and verbal abilites are very strong, but I fell down on the management exercises. I kind of knew that anyway, I'd make a rubbish manager. I'm too nice.

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Saturday, February 04, 2006

One Door Closes, Another One Opens

So yeah, after that email with said company rejecting me (and saying nothing else - no wonder it went into my junk mail folder. That, and the fact that they tried to sell me viagra), I was a bit gutted. Asking a few people in work on what I should do now, they said email them to try and get feedback, so I did.

Either way, I'm not quite at the stage of camwhoring yet.

In other news, the interview with well known computer giant went very well. They seemed genuinely interested in my thought processes and ideas. Also, I managed to talk about blogging (from a technical standpoint, as opposed to a journalistic standpoint) as they wanted to know an area of technology that interested me - so much whoring of Technorati Tag Generator was done. Also, the psychometric testing went well (though I had a realisation on the loo this morning that I seriously messed up one part of one of the questions. Ah well).

The way they interviewed me was nice too. Instead of a standard interview, they videoed me. Now, I'm sure most of you are thinking "oh my god! I'd just panic!" (except for those of you who are accustomed to being in front of a camera). However it meant that the interviewer didn't take notes (which is nice that they are making eye contact and not looking down), and we also had a dry run before we began. Said company thought it was the best way to showcase your abilities, I wholeheartedly agree.

Thursday night, I went to Rawhide again, this time with the added bonus of Guy's not-easily-shocked new girlfriend. Anyway, it was probably the best comedy night I've ever been too, as it appealed to my sick, blokey, immature sense of humour. Also heard a song that I just had to download - a hard rock version of the gay anthem Word Up. It was brilliant night had by all, even though I was knackered after it.

I also won on the Euromillions! A family fortunes amount of £7.10, which means that - during the course of the lottery - I'm still in the small percentage of people who has actually made money (£17.10 won off £2.50 - a profit of £14.60). It will pay for the pitcher during "Our B Team" vs. "Scum". Come on the boyos!

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Friday, February 03, 2006

Build Me Up, Only To Break Me Down

Grrrr.....

I love the fact though, that Thunderbird thinks it's junk mail. Thunderbird has a filtration system that's not well known that says "oooh, we think this news isn't suitable for you when you've just had an amazing night in the comedy club". Plus I'd be lying if I said I that the excitement that my feed reached 7 visitors didn't overact the fact that I got rejected.*

But I digress.....

In all seriousness, I wish I found out this morning. Would of made more effort for the interview this afternoon. Think I did okay, but not sure what they're looking for. They certainly seemed interested in me.

Either way, I'm drunk and need sleep. Speak to you all soon. SEND SYMPATHY MY WAY DAMMIT!!!!

In other news, buy the telegraph. Chance that I'll be in it. I'll explain all tomorrow.

* I lie, it's been sitting in my junk mail box for the last week. It's only when I'm drunk that I bother to check it.

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