The Inquisitor
I have had countless e-mails and comments from the
last post. The question is practically all the same: "Why was the bookcase being thrown out of the window?" and "Why were we filming it?". The answers are simple. It was easier dropping it out the window and dismantling it that way and we were filming it because we knew it was going to make a nice explosion. We're blokes, we do things that way. Case closed.
Right, onto today's post: "The Inquisitor". Firstly, let me set the scene. For years I have always been told "always shut down your PC, or you could lose stuff.". Recently, I've been lazy shutting down the PC at home, and last night I finally paid for it.
All my bookmarks got deleted.
And even though I've included it in Technorati Tag Generator, I don't have a del.icio.us account. Meaning every single bookmark I have I cannot transport. So I'm going to have to rebuild my bookmark lists.
And I need your help.
Sure, I've got the important links (and Myspace) already on there, but what other sites do you think I should include? I'm especially into funny, football, rugby, wrestling and sites with ladies in bikinis, if you can help you with them, then that's great.
However, I expect that you're most likely to help me with my "blogs" folder. You can either suggest a blog, or justify why you're blog should be in my daily click list (Don't worry, I'm a fair juror, even accepting the arguement of "that I'm hot").
As for the title, it comes from a Red Dwarf (which is the officially the best sitcom in the world ever) episode of the same name. I am the Inquisitor, justify your blog*.
* No, not in the font terminology.
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Gravity Always Wins
Before I begin,
the play was good last night, well worth watching. Full of innuendo and rude words about German people. However, my mate snogging a man was dissappointing. It was kinda like the Britney Spears/Madonna snog from a few years ago at that big awards ceremony. Sure, we all saw the pictures, but if you actually watched the video footage, it was no more than a peck. I was expecting tongues with my mate, knowing that he probably would (even after the play he said he wished "he went for it"), but overall, I've kissed the
Carling cup with more passion than
that kiss last night.
So anyway, onto what is now known as "the incident". I came home from a hard day's work (long story short, the products that the company I work for sells was featured on Watchdog for being rubbish, and the program's presenters encouraged the watchers to ring us up to find out what they can do. Nicky Campbell: I hate you). I walked past a group of chavs carrying planks of wood with nails in the end, and thought "how the hell have we not been attacked in Liverpool?"
I got home and I felt like retracting the last statement. I questioned Tom "What's happened to the kitchen? And what's happened to your bookcase?", I said. He responded with three words: "Come and see."
I was prepared for the worst. Twenty seconds later I was laughing out loud.
The reason? This video.
It looks set up, doesn't it? It wasn't. In fact, Guy and Tom - who have no money between them - we're crapping themselves as they thought they'd had to replace the window.
Luckily, our landlord didn't know the whole story, and we were getting double glazing anyway, so that's being put in soon.
The kitchen is very dark though now, doesn't help that the lightbulb broke as well.
Still....£250 from You Been Framed will be worth having.
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Curtain Calling
Sorry to all you regular readers as - after the last few days of amazing posts - this is going to be a serious case of blog-pimping. Don't blame me, blame
Tom for going on about his play - which is at it's last night in
Liverpool Guild. The play is "A Flea In Her Ear", and there's largely two different schools of thoughts for it: one for men, and one for women.
The women, they will be impressed by the (according to this review as a classic French tale of farce, full of innuendo, intrigues and mistaken identities. It casts a woman as suffering from jealousy, when she thinks that her husband is having an affair, she then spies her husband in over-the-top ways to try and catch him out, with slapstick and cartoon-like results. It was seen be a satire of the feminist movement in early 20th Century France, taken to the extreme.
For the lads, you'd probably see it the same reason I am. I'm going to see it as my housemate has to snog a man.
In other news: Patrick has started a web/blogging game of Cluedo, after his previous success of Oregon Trail. Currently, I'm on a team on my own, as "Rear Admiral Welshman" (I was tempted to call my character name "Sister Fister", but that's just too rude). If anybody wants to join my team, leave a comment or post on Patrick's blog, and I'll get back to you.
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Keep An Eye On Me
I think I'm being watched.
According to the Metro, 75 days a year are lost by workers surfing the net. One of the sites which I do surf in work during quiet periods and break times is this site (which is featured for a second straight week on Metro's front page: all newbies from that site, weclome! And download Techorati Tag Generator, and your life will be better), all was good, all was fine and all was dandy until last week.
I mentioned on Friday that work have blocked my website. Basically, websites are classed into 3 different groups: "red": which are dodgy sites not allowed at all, "yellow": websites which you probably shouldn't be on, things like "sport", "entertainment" and the like (you have a daily allowance of 30 minutes outside of break periods to go on these sites). The final lot are "green": which you are allowed on all the time, providing it's not too much.
Last week, this very site went from a "green" site to a "yellow" site. Needless to say, I was pissed, as this site I visit the most in work (largely due to there are some blogs I'd daren't go on in work: Fern I'm looking at your general direction). However, I was kinda chuffed by being blocked, for a simple reason.
I was filed under "Entertainment".
Now, I know nobody in the IS Department, so they probably had no idea I worked for the same company as them, but by god I had a bit of a spring in my step day. I'm chuffed if at least one of you find this blog entertaining, but to be blocked because you're entertaining? Man, that's special. I feel like one of those sites that are blocked in china. I feel like the Dalai Fucking Lama.
However, the spring has been replaced with lead weights.
My this site has been reclassified.
As an "Alternative Journal".
Alternative chuffing journal? Is this website black on red? Do I post entire Radiohead songs on here? Do I have a DHTML clock surrounding my cursor? No! For christ sakes, even my Myspace profile is bright, welcoming and professional (well, I'd like to think so, largely as my attempt at myspace posing is crap, see right). I'm not a freaking Alternative Journal, as those on the whole are pants: "Ooh, I saw Casey today, he's sooooo hawt! I wish I could sleep with him, though I'm 12!!! LOLOL!!!! Linkin Park, man, I feel those lyrics. All this anger" etc. etc.
Maybe my journal is alternative, alternative to crap that is!
So, Mr. IS Department Guy, whoever you may be, please change it back to "Entertainment", as I know you read this site. Cheers.
In other news: My mum hasn't seen that last post, and I'm debating whether to email it to her (don't want to appear like an overly mushy son, I have a reputation to uphold). Any thoughts?
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Mummy's Boy
Happy Mothering Sunday everybody! Hope you all cooked your mum's breakfast or something.
That's me and my mum, from my graduation last year. Rick found the picture for me, and I like it, so I'm keeping it. My mum does not believe in Mothers Day, saying it's a waste of money and that she thinks we love her more than one day a year. She says she's happy with an e-card, not with a CD with Spice Girls' "Mama" on it.
See, that's typical of my mum, she has spent the last few years learning. Now that I don't need my nappies changing (the last one being my 14th birthday) she's had more time to learn about things and develop new interests. The house is littered with photos she's taken and all of them are fantastic. The garden is well looked after and she's always willing to try new things. Hell, I introduced her to Chicken Fajitas and Chinese Stir Fry, and now they're a staple part of my diet back home "because it's one of the only things we all eat". When we first go the internet, I honestly thought there'd be 3 of us fighting over it. Not so, my mum demanded time to browse and use it. Now she's a master of eBay, and reads this site regularly.
Next week sees the 29th celebration of my mum's 21st birthday, which is quite a big event. However, in all honesty, I think she acts a lot younger than she did 10 years ago. She has an active social life with a large number of people (in fact, we used to joke that one my mum's best mates in work is younger than Sarah, and that's not offensive in the slightest to Sarah). She has friends all over the place, and I can't name anybody who could even consider her an enemy. She hasn't got a bad bone in her body, and she forever sticks to what she believes in. If I can be half the person she is, I'll be fine.
In today's career driven world, which demands that the best years of your life are given to work, work, work, she sticks two fingers up at that. Her and dad own her own house, and has raised 3 well rounded children, all with having a part-time job for the last 22 years. They're this close to paying off the mortgague, if they haven't already.
My mum is brilliant, and mum - if you're reading this - I love you to bits.
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Three Words: Sucks, To, Be (adding a fourth) Me
A disturbing number of blogs now are posting posts where they say they are, in esscence, happy. That's nice to know, and I'm not one to comment. Myself, I'm a happy chappy, but I don't think I'll be joining the
fantastic bloggers who post "I'm happy" posts as, well, there are things that - whilst small and insignificant, are driving me mad. So, as a form of Blogtherapy (When you post on your blog something for the sole purpose of making you feel better, you heard that word here first © Rhys Wynne 2006) I'm listing all the things that are driving me insane at the moment.
- The occasional realisation that I feel like I'm wasting my life away.
- The fact that my blog is now blocked by work (though it is down as listed under the "Entertainment" category. The notion that my blog can be any sort of entertainment has pleased me greatly).
- The fact that, even though I think this video is hilarious, nobody else thinks the same. (Except for Vicky). Video link found at Wonderful Electric.
- The fact that after Sunday, the amount of sport on the telly will drop considerably, what with the Commonwealth Games coming to an end.
- The fact that I've put on so much weight, I could almost fill a bra, not a good bra. A bra designed for those girls with rubbish boobs.
- The fact that parts of my hair is going grey, whilst half of my hair is going ginger.
- The fact that I've had no reply from the FA.
- The fact that Radiohead are not playing in Manchester on their European Tour.
- The fact that, when my mum was 22, she met my dad.
- And - most disturbingly - the fact I've started developing an interest in investing money, whilst losing my ability to deal with hangovers effectively. This means one thing: I'm slowly turning into my dad.
If all the above were to right themselves, and Lucy Pinder would be my bride, then my life would be peachy.
It's not all bad though, I have recovered from that Technorati slump and am almost in the humourous 69,000's. Thanks largely to a few blogs who have started using Technorati Tag Generator (which, suprisingly, not all of them are dirty sites). With Fern offering to ride my coat tales to stardom my coming up with some sort of ilicit "kiss and tell" (without the kiss) blogging story to the tabloids, coupled with the fact that Will said that I have groupies, the silent majority who read but don't comment (show yourselves people!). I think I can still get my Wikipedia article yet.
That is all.
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For Seven's Sake
"Rhys!"
Guy said to me, in the midst of a blog post on how boring my life is at the moment, "fancy going to the Gilmour to catch the second half of the Liverpool game?". How could I refuse? I was bored, and needed something to do.
Guy's a Chelsea fan, and doesn't really have much love for Liverpool. He didn't expect much happening "0-0 will be the score more than likely. Liverpool couldn't score if there life depended on it."
Boy, how wrong he was.
We arrived at the pub after 48 minutes in the game, and Liverpool was 3-0 up. "Jeez" I said, "It's going to be a crap 2nd half. Liverpool are going to sit back."
This time, I was wrong.
After 90 minutes, the final score was Birmingham 0-7 Liverpool
Now, I'm one to pick faults, and as far as 7-0 drubbings go, it was actually quite boring (second worst 7-0 drubbing, the worst being Bamber Bridge beating Colwyn Bay in 1998. I left at half time, as we were 6-0 down by then). Sure, there was some impressive bits of skill by a number of players, but - although it was a thrashing - it didn't really keep me glued to the screen. Liverpool weren't as dominating as the time that Arsenal beat Everton 7-0 last season.
That being said, they should be commended. 7-0's are pretty rare. If you were to put up a full strength Barcelona team against a full strength Barnet team, you probably wouldn't get 7-0. 8-0 or 9-0 probably, but not 7-0. It's unheard of.
Another disturbing thing is a gap that's opening up between the top teams and the bottom teams. As such, I propose the following change.
A complete restructure of football leagues.
Think about it. The top league would be the Champions League, which would just be the champions of every european nation, with the previous league's champions there. Then there would be the Premiership of top 10 teams, and each league would have 10 teams. With 3 going up and 3 going down. It'll keep it interesting I think. Okay, would take longer for a long time Colwyn Bay fan to ascent to Premiership glory, but if it makes it more interesting, with very few teams being stagnated, then by god I'm for it.*
What do you think?
I feel a letter to UEFA coming on....
* Yes Guy, that was originally your idea, but you don't have a blog. So I've taken your basis and modified it slightly.
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In the Metro
To all of those who can use a scroll bar, and visiting from Metro, welcome to both of you! Still, nice to be featured on the website of the most popular newspaper in work*, though I hope that they don't put 2 and 2 together, and get this site. Not quite ready for them to read this (though I imagine they do).
If you do come here from Metro, may I interest you in Technorati Tag Generator? It's bloody good for tagging your posts, and if you do that you get more people visiting you, and it's all peachy. Sorry regular readers, I dropped 2000 places in the Technorati rankings last week, and I'm having trouble dealing with it.
That's really all I want to say. Having poster issues with Lucy Pinder at the moment. On the bad side is does mean that at random times during the night I am covered in glossy paper, though on the plus I can say that Lucy Pinder has, in the middle of the night, gone down on them, and actually mean it.
* Largely because it's free, and we like things that are free
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Paperback Writer
There's a constant struggle in work. Not with the customers, no. Just keeping oneself sane. By and large the people who I work with are all similar age to myself, and have all been through a university education. All of us aren't planning on staying there long, so we really have a lot in common. Talking to them is not a problem, conversation is easy. But, at times you feel like you've exhausted conversation, and look for other ways to amuse yourself.
Myself? I write time wasting letters.
The inspiration came from Blogjam, who - after Terry Venables left the position of England manager - threw his name into the hat. For those of you not in the know on Internation Football, Sven Goran Eriksson, the manager of England, is quitting after this years World Cup.
"Hey", I thought, "why not apply?"
And it all stemmed from there. Letters sent out to organisations, asking questions that daren't be asked. Just to see if I get a response.
Last week, I got one back.
The BBC. I feel it's best if I just post the letter, and then the response I got. Here's my letter:
I am writing to you regarding one of your longest standing programs: "University Challenge". Over the past 10 years I have watched it almost every week, and my ability to answer questions has improved. I enjoy the programme, except I have one suggestion to make it more watchable.
Since 1995, with two exceptions, a college from Oxford, Cambridge or London has won the competition. Whilst I understand that some of the nation’s greatest minds do go to these institutions, I feel like people from all Universities and colleges should have their time to shine, instead of Oxbridge constantly dominating the competition.
As such, I propose a solution: "Handicapped University Challenge".
In this update, each team would have a minimum of 4 players. However, for every 10 places down the Sunday Times University League Table, a player is added to the team. For example, for my former University (The University of Liverpool), we would have an added 4 players on our team (as we are ranked 44th in the country). These players can be any members of the institution. This I feel would make University Challenge a lot fairer, and we would see whether Oxbridge’s domination will continue. Would teams of more players win more games? It didn’t happen in Blockbusters, where statistically the white team consisting of one player competed on more Gold Runs than the blue team (which consisted of two people). Admittedly, the white team only had to get a line of 4 compared to a line of 5 the blue team had to, but that’s beside the point.
I hope you take my ideas into account.
All signed, sealed and delivered to the BBC. Here's a copy of the letter which I got back:
Thanks to housemate Tom for aiding me with the photo.
A couple of points:
- Firstly, and this is fairly standard, is the 'sorry for the delay' in the reply. I wasn't even expecting a reply, so the delay is no problem whatsoever. Why do they need to apologise?
- Secondly, the actually missed the point of the letter. Those of you who are University Challenge fans notice that it's not only Oxbridge universities who compete, it is in fact all universities. I only made the point that Oxbridge usually win. Maybe she doesn't watch University Challenge, maybe she can't read, maybe both.
- Finally, I want to make the point about pay. Like I did this to expect money? I did because I was bored, and thought it was a good idea. People are so materialistic.
Think I may write back to the beeb to correct them....
Finally, as of today, I still not heard from the FA regarding the job. I wrote to them in the middle of February. I hate to tempt fate, but surely they're not seriously considering my offer?
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Craic Addict
So, umm, happy St. Paddy's day for yesterday, hope you all have a hangover as bad as mine.
I've never really been one for St. Patrick's Day. Why to people claim to be Irish? Nobody claims to be Welsh on St. David's Day. I don't claim to be Irish (the closest was that I pulled a girl from Cork in the Second Year), but like I need an excuse to get drunk? Nevertheless, I try and get in the spirit of things and drink the odd Guinness, and as it was a Friday, I didn't really need to worry about the consequences, which is a good thing, as Guinness seems to make hangovers a hundred times worse, maybe the fact it's a soup, fish course, main course and pudding all rolled into one pint. It's like drinking dark matter. I was only planning on having two, then going back to the lager.
However, we won the quiz held by Will's Lions group. We honestly didn't cheat: I was impressed of my knowledge of Roland Ratzenberger as the question was "What was the name of the diver killed in qualifying before the 1994 San Marino Grand Prix, the race that claimed the life of Ayrton Senna?". So our prize was a half crate of Guiness. Hence I had 3 more. Bleugh.
We were planning on going to Matthew Street (where the Cavern Club is), because it's the place to be when there's a bunch of Irish people drinking, due to the large number of Irish bars there. However, it was packed, so instead we headed to Time Tunnel in the Liverpool Guild.
The night did seem to get a little hazy. Well, not really hazy, more unblogworthy. I left around 1am, and did some light drunken surfing before greeting my housemates, who arrived home at around half 1. I moaned to my house mates that I'm "wonewly" and "no girl fancies me". Typical drunken rant really. Boo hoo me.
At 1pm this afternoon, I awoke from my drunken stupor. Man was I hungover. I headed to Tesco and had to navigate a group of Christians complaining about Jerry Springer: The Opera. Not one to bring up a relgious flame war on this site, but by god were they annoying. It's because of them I missed the start of the France vs. Wales game.
Yes, I know that wasn't very interesting. The blog post I was planning on writing is postponed until next week. But it's a goodun.
Thanks also to Potter, who contributed £2 to the Rhys Wynne Beer and Food Fund (Unregistered Charity #1240239).
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Birthday Post #2
So after a short kip, watching
"Deal or No Deal" (believe me people, this is the greatest gameshow made since Bullseye), shit, shower, shave and shoeshine. I was ready to hit the town, and paint it all manner of shades of red.
We met in the Flute to begin with (l-r: Jen, myself, Rick, Sarah, Tom. Guy took the picture).
After awhile, we were joined by Chris and Karen.
The first birthday drink was a shitmix, the second was this. This was worse than the shitmix, as you can see, Jen can taste the drink, even though only I'm drinking it. It's telepathically a shitmix.
After much whinging, I got bought a pint of Carling, I was a happy man again, though it was spoilt by the bitter aftertaste of the crap I've just drank.
A pic of me and Rick, guess which one's more sober?
Will soon joined us, and we were plagued once again by Guy's photographs from the "Lets be cool and do slanted shots" School of Photography.
Guy's beard did attract some attention though.
At this point, we started taking some more Myspace pictures:
Oh how we laughed.
I'll be honest, though I hid it well, I was a little bit miserable. I took the advice of Terrorvision's song: "Oh Tequila, you make me happy", and headed to Bar Cava, a must if you visit Liverpool. The finest Tequila bar outside of Mexico, bar none. So I had a few tequila's. I'm not saying how much, but the fact I'm standing and smiling in these next few pictures kind of disproves the "One Tequila, Two Tequila, Three Tequila, Floor" rhyme.
Again, another nice photo of me......
But this time, we all spoilt it.
After all that, we headed to the Raz. It was cheap! It was nasty! We couldn't get anywhere else. I can't remember too much about it, because I was too far gone to even care, but here's some photos from the Raz.
The next night, we went to the quiz, which I'm only mentioning as I was wearing the coolest T-shirt ever.
Right, I'm done for tonight. You don't want to miss the next entry (believe me, it's going to be a goodun. Those who know what I get upto in work: Sarah knows, will know what it's about.
Right, I'm stopping before I build it up too much, toodles!!!
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Birthday Post #1
Finally, I've got my hands on some photos from my birthday
Sarah's been having some PC issues, so her ones are being delayed. They're the ones with me wasted. Instead, here's relatively sober Rhys generally making a tit on my 22nd.
Me woken up, after just been presented with my Sheep Thong. It will get a picture on this blog soon. Notice the depresingly limp thumb action. That's even though I have two FHM posters behind me on my wall.
That's a better thumb action! Probably because we went for Chinese straight after this photo was taken.
One thing I will say: my mum couldn't make it up, so instead she put £20 in my account and we went for Chinese "All You Can Eat" buffet. They had a strange policy on children this place, which was "4ft 5inches or under.". I know a midget, and he takes advantage of that offer.
Unfortunately, I have no picture of said midget. Instead, here's one of me trying to force feed my brother BBQ ribs.
Guy gave up shaving for lent as he cannot grow a beard. This is him after about a week or so.
Following the Chinese (which I dissappointed myself with, I had a plate of Thai Green Curry that tasted like mouthwash, couldn't eat anything else after that), we met Sarah and headed to Weatherspoons.
Arguably my favourite picture of me ever. Unfortunately it's ruined by Tom being all gay and such.
Guy argued that the best taken pictures are ones on a slant. You be the judge of that.
What's the connection between all the people in this photo? We all have Myspace profiles! All are linked from my super sexy new Myspace profile. Here we are practicing our crazy emo myspace poses.
By this time I was a bit shattered, so I headed off for some kip, to prepare ourselves for the night out. That follows soon.
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Compensation Culture
A group of people who don't make nearly enough appearances on this site as I'd like to are
'Francis' and 'Isaac', the two rough-as-sandpaper individuals who live next door to us. They're loud, they're obnoxious, and they're the two funniest northern people since Ant and Dec. There's a very good reason why I don't speak about them too much: they scare me. Of course, they probably don't have the internet, or where I live and things like that, but by god I'm being careful that I don't talk too much about them, just in case.
Today, I feel like I should.
Sunday morning, there was a blizzard in Liverpool. Ally said it was very deep, and we got around half a foot. I'm desperately trying to avoid "A good 7 inches" innuendo, but nonetheless, it was thick.
I wasn't feeling to great, so I didn't bother going out, instead playing Rugby 2006. After Wales' 20th straight defeat in the World Cup to South Africa. I decided I needed a pastie, so I headed out to the shop.
Outside, leaving at exactly the same time, was Francis and Isaac. I can confirm that Francis is male. Francis and Isaac, were doing what most people do in weather like this, play in the snow. It's the big kid in all of us that enjoys playing in the snow. Myself included. I tried to avoid making any eye contact or speaking to them, but underneath they're evergreen kappa tracksuit tucked into his socks and argos jewellry was a big kid desperate to escape. that was until Francis slipped on the ice. Then, jovial Francis returned back to the chav that he was.
"OOOOWWWWWW!!!" He shouted, clutching his ankle. "I slipped! I'm going to sue!"
Now, I'm pretty sure that if you slip on the pavement, you kind of know if it's icy, by the....oh I don't know....7 inches of white stuff everywhere. Of course, there is no 'icy floor' sandwich board sign anywhere, but I think that everywhere's white kind of gives it away.
Secondly, who is he going to sue? Mother Nature? Even if she does accept requests for damages, she may have a backlog from all the earthquakes and typhoons and tsunamis and whatever. A chav wanting a top up for their dole money may be on the bottom of the pile.
As you can probably tell, I don't believe in the whole "compensation culture". Sure, if somebody broke my leg, and I couldn't work. I'd think about making some compensation. However, falling over in the street, claiming stress and taking 2 weeks of work doesn't count. If my dad found out that I'd done something like that he'd probably never speak to me again.
I dunno, it's probably the way I was brought up (even with Chicken Pox we were told to "snap out of it").
In other news: I've recieved feedback from that job. I also made it be known that I didn't think much of their email which wished me a happy birthday. Also, their feedback didn't feel like feedback, and I mentioned that both. They're response was simple: A less-than convincing "Sorry". I told them I didn't believe that.
In happier news: I got a bottle of wine from work for being fantastic!
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FUBARdCdUK
So yeah, update on the PC front. It's been playing up for ages - and it's mostly my fault. I have left it switched on for nearly two years, I've learnt my lesson now. My judgement is it that it's the power supply that is knackered. After frantic "please let me use the intenet!" (I'm
really that bad) calls to my housemates which must of drove them potty, I've resorted to using one of Guy's old computers which is in the house, and is not doing much.
It's an old P450, and it's taken a bit of getting used to. First off is the fact that there is only 2 USB ports, which means my webcam loses out to my mouse and wireless adapter. Even Firefox runs at a crawl on it. But, I experience non-firefox browsing at work, so what am I complaining most at?
It's just not my computer.
No disrespect to Guy who I am very appreciative with lending his PC, but I'm sure those of you who have been forced to use somebody's else PC would understand the confusion I'm having at the moment. The fact that nothing's where it should be, or listning to somebody else's music collection (or none at all). The fact you tread carefully to avoid scandallous searches or material on this PC. I'm sure Guy wouldn't kick up too much of a fuss if I searched for naked pictures of Whoopi Goldberg (probably a look and a slow run towards the nearest door), but the fact that this PC isn't mine makes me feel a bit apprehensive to do stuff.
So, why am I telling you this (apart from the spirit of blogging)? Well, it's largely due to the fact that one program which I use regularly - Goldwave - is on my broken PC. Goldwave is what I use to record Podcasts. Long story short, there probably won't be another podcast for a while.
Bet your all so disappointed, aren't you?
In other news: I've got a massive ulcer on my lip. That, a job rejection, my computer fucking up and a few other bits and bobs which are unbloggable means that being 22, so far, has sucked big fat donkey dicks.
pc, podcasting, birthday
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Reassuringly Expansive
So, what have I been doing with my weekend? Well, despite wrestling with a hunk of junk that is my PC (the power supply is nearly gone, and it only seems to work whenever the radiator's switched off. Long story short, I'm currently wrapped in a sleeping bag), I have also been doing some much needed additions to this website.
Up there, you see a navigation bar. I've been feeling like I've wanted to use some more of my space than I currently do, so I've uploaded a few bits and bobs, and created a few pages. They're going to be worked on a lot more, but they're uploadable.
For an update, and those of you who can't be arsed clicking, here's what's included:
- About: Unsuprisingly, an "About" page, with a horrible photo of yours truly.
- Podcasts: This will include all the podcasts I record. If and when I can be arsed (one from a few days ago is up there. I'm drunk whilst doing it).
- Programs: This area lists all the games and programs that I've made.
- Donations: Contribute to my beer fund here.
They're all pretty self-explanitory, but I'd like to include an FAQ in the About section. So please, leave your questions in the comment box below, and I will answer them. Egotistical I know, but never mind.
Right, off to fix my PC.
The Podcast According To......
As well a ticket to
fail at lent, the package that crappy royal mail
finally gave to me contained my main birthday present, a small MP3 player.
To be honest, I'm impressed, it looks like an iPod Shuffle, plus around a third of the price. It's a bit dodgy switching it off, but after 1 day of near constant usage, it's still working. I'll be honest, there's been two reasons why I have been late to join the MP3 generation: one of which is unfounded, one has reared it's ugly head.
The unfounded one is simple: I swear it was going to kill me. Basically, my road and traffic awareness is crap. It's amazing why I am actually still alive, as the Green Cross Code Man Films had no effect on me. He must look at me, and think that I'm the luckiest man alive. All you drivers: you know those people who dart out inbetween cars on a busy high street, or cross on a red? That my friends is me. It's your insurance premiums that will go up, not mine.
I was worried on my first MP3 assisted, hearing impaired walk to work that I'd step out in front of an 18 Wheeler, but alas no. In fact I seemed to be more alert and more cautious, I have no idea why. But I've made it into work in one piece, aren't you all happy.
The second reason was that I'm very much a singer. I can't sing good, I sing loud. Usually I'm drowned out by whatever tune is playing at the moment. With an MP3 that's not the case though, and - at 8am this morning - people were giving me funny looks as I was singing B*Witched's "C'est La Vie" down London Road.
One thing that I've been listening to is the Ricky Gervais podcast. In 12 episodes, they've made themselves the most popular podcast on the interweb. Which has me thinking.
Could I podcast?
I've done a little piece of research on it and it seems impossible, and it doesn't seem to difficult. I'd have to get my nerve up to do one - the first one would probably be after a couple of ales (I'm at my most intelligent, my most witty and my most sexual after two pints), but a lot of people says I've got a dreamy voice (thier words, not mine. I think I sound like I've got a sock shoved up my nose).
But, the question is, would you listen to it?
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Forgive Me Father, As I Have Sinned
A couple of posts ago, I talked about Lent, and giving up gambling for 40 days and 40 nights.
Well, I've failed.
In the worst way possible.
Last weekend was my Birthday, due to somebody sprinkling flour on the floor in Colwyn Bay, the train services ground to a halt, meaning that my mum couldn't visit me. Instead, she put all of my cards and easily posted presents into the post, and it should of arrived on monday.
Of course, with both my housemates and the Royal Mail being lazy and useless, I had to collect the presents from the Royal Mail centre, which meant I only just got them now.
Amongst the cards was one from my younger brother. He's 17 years old and is turning into quite a talented fellow, being able to play the drums and is one hell of a photoshopper. He made me a fantastic card, with Bonnie sipping on a can of lager, and looking ever so cute.
His present was well appreciated, £5 and this.
Now, those of you who are aware of my lent promise would know I've given up gambling for lent. You will also notice that - if you look closely - the card has been scratched. Due to the fact that Lottery Scratchcard are gambling, I've lasted for 8 days lent this year. God/Allah/Buddah/Whoever, I have failed you.
Of course, some of you would think that I'm whinging, and since that I had not purchased the scratchcard, I'm not technically gambling. That's beside the point. Some of you doubted last year's efforts. To prove these people wrong, I wanted to do it properly. Therefore I've failed you all.
I also was 1 £2,000 figure away from 2 grand. That would of make the pain of failure feel so much better.
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I Wish I Was Making This Up......
In my last entry I talked about recieving a
very personal email about a very impersonal situation. Now, would you fucking adam and eve it, tonight I've recieved the exact opposite.
Regular readers would know that little over two weeks ago, me and Ian went speed dating. It went well, and we weren't expecting much back. I managed - by hook or crook - to get two responses. One has developed into a wierd kind of MSN relationship, the other filtered out, and I hadn't heard anything from her. Until tonight.
"Hey Rhys,
Just to let you know i now have a boyfriend (whome i did not meet speed dating!!) So i will not be looking for a romantic relationship with you, but i do know all the people i put a yes to on the speed dating were thoroughly nice people and i'd love to hang out with them as mates.
If you still want to meet up for drinks let me know, if not then i understand."
Don't believe me? Have a screenshot.
Now, you may notice that I gave my hotmail account, not my gospelrhys one. There was a very good reason, if speed dating did go belly up, I am allowed to mock them. And such a case is now. I'll be brutally honest, I expected fuck all to come from it, so two people who matched me, plus one who still kinda speaks to me at the moment, it's not a failure, it's a success! She made it quite clear that she didn't want a relationship, and that's fine. I just find the said e-mail amusing, as it so blantantly looks carbon copied.
Anyway, I went to the comedy club tonight. Was amusing for the most part (as it was the last one to be held on a Monday). As such, we were treated two 4 relatively funny acts, 4 relatively funny acts, 2 rubbish acts and a guy in a spider man's costume, who's routine involved setting a dildo on "speed wank" (I'll be honest, my knowledge of dildo settings is a bit poor) and dropping it into a pepsi max bottle. He was shit.
A write up of what I can remember of the weekend's events will be done once Sarah gets her arse in gear and sends me photos. All I can say is that Tequila was drank.
That is all.
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Happy Birthday To Me
Today, at approximately 10:30am, I turn 22. Today should be a celebration, but I really don't feel like celebrating. Sure, last night was a blast, with my workmates going beyond the call of duty and got me not only a fabulous card, but also a board game I'd daren't tell my mum about. I'll be honest, recently I've gotten closer and closer to my workmates as friends, they're great people.
Of course, that was all spoilt last night. When I got this lovely email.
For those of you unaware you can click the above email, it from that job a few weeks ago and basically wishes me a happy birthday, but then says that I was unsuccessful. I have already emailed them back for feedback, as - in my heart of hearts - I cannot believe how. I know it's good intentions wishing me a happy birthday, but it comes across rubbing salt in the wounds. Anybody else think so? I was lying in bed last night at around 2am, after reading that email, next door being loud and a few other things that wouldn't normally cause me distress, but have done. I was angry, seething, and I couldn't sleep.
As far as what to do now, I have no idea. I really do not want to go back to the zoo, as - more than anything else - £4.50 per hour doesn't seem as much money as it used to. One option is to stay in Liverpool, one is to back to Colwyn Bay. Either way, I am printing out that email and sticking it on my wall. Something about it has made me even more determined to do well, and I really want to prove they have made the biggest mistake of their life (I could become a proof reader, look at the poor grammar in the email).
But, that begins Monday. As of today, I'm getting pissed.
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40 Days and 40 Nights
So, what are you attempting to give up for Lent?
Myself, it's a simple one: Gambling.
I'll be honest, I'm probably being too much of a sissy about it, I really don't gamble too much (at most usually £3-£5 on a night out), but money I kind of wished I have. I'm not as bad as some people (including people I know) who spend a fortune chase the elusive dream of becoming a professional gambler (which is slightly different from a professional poker player, which I believe is a game of skill), and end up skint. However, the real reason I'm giving up gambling is not for monetary reasons.
Oh no, it's actually for social reasons.
Take three to four weeks ago. A Friday night out. We went to Mood (a £3 in establishment) and.....immediately headed for the fruit machines. We stayed, and stayed, and stayed, and stayed until every fruit machine in the club (of which - over 3 floors - there are around 6 or 7) had paid back at the very least a big win (£10 or so). This continued for an hour, at which point, said mates left to play more fruit machines, leaving myself, housemate Guy, housemate Tom and Will in Mood. None of us were playing the fruit machines, just watching, and we didn't fancy walking around Liverpool staring at flashy lights. Instead, we stayed, had a quality night. Guy pulled his current girlfriend, Will - who was going through a torrid time with his housemates - found that we consider him as a friend, and Tom and myself had fun too just being silly buggers.
It's certainly was the best night out since the beginning of 2006, and probably the best nights out when I've been single since the beginning of last year, and I want more nights out like that. Therefore - for 40 days and 40 nights - I hope to spend as much time as far away as possible from gambling.
Wish me luck.
In other news: Guy is givng up shaving for lent. How funny's that? It's worth mentioning that I can grow more stubble in an hour than he can in a week. Bumfluff pictures are guarenteed on Easter Sunday!
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Dydd Dewi Sant Hapus!
Happy St. David's day everybody! On this day, you should celebrate everything that is Welsh, and be proud. Unsure on how to celebrate this day? Here's are a few ideas.
- Wear a leek/daffodil/sheep/tie that your ex-girlfriend wouldn't allow you to wear because it was "too Welsh".
- Blame Gavin Henson for "Not keeping himself out of Church" and generally sucking against the Irish on Sunday, though still applauding him for admitting his mistake and hope that he can return to pre-suspension form.
- Write a letter to the BBC that, despite what they think, Wales is part of Britain and we can watch them on TV and we don't always want to see England play in meaningless friendlies.
- Learn to say Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch (which is roughly said to be "Lan-fire-pook-gwin-gick-gore-gare-ook-win-drob-wick-
lan-tee-silly-oh-gore-gore-gorck"
- Eat Bara Brith
- And, most importantly, make fun of the English.
Happy St. David's Day everybody. Only 4 days until my 22nd. Boo hoo.
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