Sucks To Be This Beautiful
How picky are you with people?
I've never thought of myself as being extremely picky or anything, but yesterday....I met a girl.
Honest to god, a girl.
She seed like a nice enough girl, and a grower, and she seemed interested in me. She gave me her phone number (which was a digit too long on the piece of paper she wrote for me, bless), and then lit up a cigarette.
Now, I tried to seem unaffected, but I dthink a slight turbn up off the nose. Hell, it doesn't mean that I hate her guts. On the contrary, we've texted each other today.
Hindisight being the wonderful thing that it is worked out for the best already. Friends around here are a bonus (Sibley's only back for two weeks this summer, and haven't spoken to anybody else much), be it a girlfriend, or otherwise. That, and she is amazing at the picture rounds.
But anyway, onto the main point. Are we really so fickle about things like smoking to turn us off somebody who is otherwise, generally okay? Is it just me? Or can it be something else.
More to the point - if Lucy Pinder smoked, would I still find her attractive?
Anyway, apologies for the spazmodic and shit blogging recently, been busy with work and stuff. Blogging from inside my bed doesn't mean that I'm brilliant!
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The World In My Bed
So, the big news that I promised. I've realised now that nobody'd probably be interested in it. Oh well, I'm excited by it, hence me posting....
Okay, this pic may not look very impressive, but by god it is for me. I now have wireless in my home in Colwyn Bay, which means my computer is connected to the internet. My computer is by my bed. Now, at weekends, I don't have to leave my bed.
So, until future notice, all blogs will be done in bed. It's fun, though I'm mainly at the moment lying on my bed, typing. Which means that I'm typing using one hand (not that one handed typing!) and it's taking forever to blog.
Networks interest me. Not the nodes and connections and stuff, just people's reactions. For example, this is the first time that my mum and brother have experienced a LAN, and both of them reacted in similar ways when they first got access. They both messaged me over MSN (Mum being "Hi Rhys! I'm talking to you!" and my brother saying "You're Gay!"). Thing is, I can probably wager that the first time that you have a LAN, you speak to your LAN buddies over it. Likewise you generally access porn within about a day of getting the internet.
No? Just me? Shit....moving on then.
I've spent today pretty much changing my room around. Down comes the poster of Oasis I've had donkeys years, up goes the Welsh Flag. I'd of loved to put up my Lucy Pinder posters but I'd thought against it, Mum wouldn't approve. I'm suprised I've managed to fit all my stuff into my room, as I have far too much stuff. However, my PC - once pride of place in my room - has been relegated to a darkened corner, which exaggerates the ambient glow from it's arse end.
Anyway, I'd just thought I'd share that I can now blog from my bed (therefore making blogging the second most fun activity you can do in your bedroom. A ha!).
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The Gospel: Graphed
This is not the cool update I promised, this is just a little filler material, as I saw this and had to blog it.
This application takes the HTML of your site and puts it into a funky little graph such as this. It's quite clever how it does it. Each of the colours represents a different HTML tag. Obviously, the bigger it is, the more complex it is. My HTML looks like a right crock of shit anyway.
From Open Switch.
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Blockbusters Meme
I used to love
Blockbusters. Still got the board game on top of my shelf and used to have the annual with an interview with
His Holiness in it.
Anyway, why I'm mentioning this? Well, Ally tagged me for a meme. It features letters, as did blockbusters, hence the tenuious link. Therefore, as it's my blog, she's playing the nation's favourite grandad to my student who answers 'orgasms' instead of 'organisms'.
My letter is M. For mother. 10 things that are regarding M and me are the following.
Moles: My body is completely devoid of them. Well, not completely. Got one on my belly and one above my yoohoo. Both have been covered by hair.
Materialistic: I suppose I am quite materialistic. It doesn't make me a bad person though I don't believe, but I do like my stuff, and my stuff to be awesome.
Macromedia: I do use their products a lot when I work, so this is going in. Had no real formal training on them too, but adapt very quickly (one of my key abilities).
Macho: I'm not in the slightest bit macho. I feel I have no need to prove the fact that I'm a man to people. Can probably put up a shelf though. This, and materialistic make me think that I'm probably gay (I'm not gay).
Male: Was, last time I checked.
Manchester United: I'm probably the shittest Man U fan around, allowing myself to be sucked in to supporting Liverpool. Probably more of a Liverpool fan now. I know how much people back home will HATE me for saying that - but you try spending 3 years in Liverpool and not be sucked in. I know somebody who has managed just that, but on the whole you pick it up. I do like Manchester though.
Memes: By and large, I hate doing memes, as it seems like "filler material" for blogs. This is an exception.
Microsoft: I have a cheque from Microsoft for around £13, and I don't want to cash it, as it looks awesome. I'm sad like that.
Mick Foley: He's my personal hero, and I started blogging. If you read some of my earliest work, it's very heavily influenced by his writing. Or I'd like to think so.
Magaluf: My biggest regret was not going to Magaluf with on a mate's stag do. Seemed like an awesome holiday. Plus I'd of been appreciated there (private comment). Apart from that I don't regret many things.
McDonalds: I haven't eaten McDonalds in 10 months, and counting. The "food" is making me sick just thinking about it.
Anyway, I've been informed that I have to tag people. If you want to continue leave a comment in the comment box and I'll email you with a letter (if you leave your email address. Don't and I'll ignore you).
Proper update tomorrow, and it's a goodun!
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Old Ways and Subways
As I've returned to Liverpool, it's wierd how easy it is to slip into an old routine. Hell, playing poker whilst sitting in your boxer shorts is hardly routine, but hell I was doing that for most of yesterday. But my time in Liverpool was not about Royal Flushes in my skivvies, it also featured a lot of visits to
Subway.
I first got introduced to Subway through my ex bowling captain in 2nd year. We used to go on impromptu pub crawls at around 4pm every Tuesday, and we stopped at 7pm for Subway. It was awesome times, and earned so many loyalty cards with the sub club scheme. Instead of spend them, I save them for a rainy day. I've still got 8 left now. There's no time limit on them.
Is there?
The little shits! They're removing the loyalty scheme on June 1st. Probably because they're going on eBay for a song. I dunno. Either way, boo subway! I had 2 footlongs yesterday, and going to have another footlong today.
And they didn't reply to my letter.
In other news: I've been cyber packing today. Basically, I'm moving my computer back home, so I've been trawling through my computer removing anything remotely dodgy. This 3 hour task has proved one thing with me: I have very little, if anything, dodgy stuff on my computer (by dodgy I mean boobies and willies, not MP3 and Emulators. I've tons of them). The biggest thing was the temporary internet files - 250MB that stopped on Monday 21st November 2005 - the day I installed AdBlock. Although my mum will be pleased, I suddenly feel very inadequate, so I've taken it upon myself to download dodgy stuff just to make me feel better. I feel more manly now.
Right, off for a subway. I've eaten enough Italian BMT to last me a lifetime....
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Per Year More People Get Eaten By Sharks Than Bummed By Clowns
Last night was Tom's 21st, so we went to the
Comedy Club to celebrate. I have missed going there, just feel so cultured going, and we don't have anything like that around North Wales. Well we do, but it's like Joe Pasquale in Rhyl for £20. No thanks. Shame really, as I'm sure a comedy club in somewhere like Speakers Corner in Colwyn Bay would be good.
Anyway, I digress. There were two really funny comedians and two bombs, so 50% hit rate is not to be sniffed at, especially as the two that were funny were laugh out loud funny. Following the show, we went to a place caleld Heeby Jeebies. I've never ever been there before, and kind of got separated from the group on the way (largely due to me wanting a burger, so I got a burger). I was lost, and I couldn't find anybody. All I knew was this club was "awesome" and "on the same street at the Raz". I walked up and down the street, walked past the Raz 3 times, and could not find this bloody Heebie Jeebie place. After 3 phone calls, 2 bouncers questioned and a fit girl questioned, I finally found the place. Christ it was well hidden, down a flight of stairs and only a gold, solicitor-esque plaque on the wall notified me that there was something there. Heeby Jeebies.
It was an underground club. By the fact it was a club, and - err - it was underground. Guy and Tom bigged up this place so much, and I didn't know what to expect. It was nothing like anything I've seen in Liverpool, bit posh, but cheap. They had unisex toilets which confused the hell out of me the first time I went in. But something happened that hasn't happened for about six months.
I got the attention of a girl.
Now, this girl was blantantly (and I mean blantantly) eyeing me up, smiling and brushing up against me. These are pretty good signs that somebody fancies you (probably because I do similar), I would of made a move, but I was nervous. So I made my excuses that "I didn't really like her" and "her mate was in a wheelchair, so I'd only feel guilty" (both true, though I did spend the rest of the night wondering how they managed to get her wheelchair bound friend into the club, as it was a serious flight of stairs). And spend the rest of the night talking to an ever increasingly drunken Will.
I think herein lies my problem with girls, and I expect to much. I want every realtionship to be perfect, so it's either all or nothing. I must get used to failure, and get confident.
Anyway, this post has taken me around an hour to write, partly because I'm exhausted. So I'm off to play some MAME. Speak soon!
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Bakewell Tarts: Enough To Make A Man Get Angry
Should I ever need a proof reader, the only people I will even
consider employing from this blog's readers are
Tilesey and Sibley. Both of who are the only people who
actually read the whole of yesterday's post, and gave me both answers which I was looking for. Most of you got distracted by Avril and were quick to point out that I used to fancy Avril and now I didn't recognise her. So, for those of you who missed it (which is about 99% of my readers), despite the fact it was bold and underlined, here is the question again: -
There, it wasn't too tricky to miss, was it? Or were you too busy looking for spelling mistakes and "innacuracies"?
Right, for those of you who were on the blink, you'd probably of answered the same as Tilesey: and said Bakewell is famous for it's tarts. You would of been wrong.
How do I know this? Well I went to Bakewell a few years ago, expecting to get a Bakewell Tart easily. You cannot. All you can get is a Bakewell Pudding. Bloody tasty too. You can even get them online now. The Bakewell tart that we are all familiar with was introduced by Mr. Kipling, and has fuck all to do with the town. The Bakewell Tart is more like a custard flan with jam in it, instead of covered with icing and with a cherry on top.
Now, the quizmaster does strike me as a man of knowledge. Even if he as very little contemporary knowledge (which is why we never win), but he seems learned, pulling questions from all over the place in very obscure areas. As such, when the above question came up, I thought "Hmmmm....Bakewell Pudding". When the answers came up, and he said what I didn't want to hear.
"It's a bakewell tart. A bakewell tart."
He likes to repeat things.
I was livid, it should be a mistake. Surely a well educated man such as him would see sense when I question his decision, he'd be willing to learn.
"Oi mate, don't you know it's a Bakewell Pudding, not a tart."
"It's a bakewell tart. A bakewell tart."
"No no, let me explain. Mr. Kipling invented the bakewell tart, not the town of bakewell. They had a traditional bakewell pudding. They're two different things."
"It's a bakewell tart. A bakewell tart is what bakewell is famous for."
"Aha! But you said that "What is bakewell famous for producing?" I answered that question. They've never made a bakewell tart in bakewell ever! The only thing that bakewell has produced in the last 100 odd years is bakewell tart."
"It's a bakewell tart. A bakewell tart."
I gave up. I reluctantly accepted defeat, I knew I was right, but he wasn't having it. Which what made me so angy. I walked off, dejected, and muttering something about "Go stick your willy in a bakewell tart, cake or prostitute, you decide". One last attempt at a compromise when he collected the sheets - "if I can prove it to you next week, can we have an extra point?"
"It's a bakewell tart. A bakewell tart."
I'm not letting it lie, I'm going to print off information on Bakewell Puddings and subtlely leave it lying around the bar. This is going to be as famous at Tom's Scrabble Sheet (AKA: Fuck you Spud, I was right!). I'm angry, pissed and we got screwed in the quiz. We were doing well at the quiz too, though largely thanks to Sibley, who knew the name of the inventor of the Bouncing Bomb. He was in text contact, and I remember he did a presentation about it in A Level Physics. T'is amazing what you remember from school.
Any of you had a similar experience with quiz answers?
Righty ho, I'm off to Liverpool for a few days celebrating Tom's 21st Birthday. A lot of alcohol will be drunk, so much so that if I'm still alive on Sunday, you can call me Superhuman.
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Go on, have a guess....
Who's that?
Clues to be added at around 5pm tonight, if nobody has got it.
It took me ages to get, I'll be honest.
Okay, thanks for all of you proving just how useless I am. I'm more interested in the question below now.
EDIT: Second Question: What food item is the town of Bakewell famous for producing? I'll be answering this tomorrow.
I know it's cop out blogging, but if you join the fantasy football tournament for the world cup I promise more content. Deal?
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Spoilers
I've read many books recently. None of which are
The Da Vinci Code
. I have no desire to read it, as it's far too common to like it. It is the Westlife of the book world. I my books like I like my women: those that haven't had half the world population's head buried in it (think about it, think about it, there we go). Instead of buying the Da Vinci Code (note to those of you half way through it: The Grail is Hidden in the Louvre*), I bought an infinitely better book, even though I haven't read it.
Millions of Women are Waiting To Meet You
Now, it seems like my sort of book - semi-geeky and a true story (seriously, any book about blogging I automatically buy) but alas, I've already ruined it.
I have a habit of spoiling things for myself. Most of the books I've read, I've known the jist of it before hand: Jarhead, saw the movie; Dave Gorman's Googlewhack Adventure, I saw the stage show before hand**. Even things on the TV - such as TNA Pay Per Views - I read them on the internet before watching them. Why, I have no idea. I just do.
I made the promise that I wouldn't do it with this book. I went into this blind. Some people - horror of horrors - say it's chick lit. It can't be, it's written by a bloke! We cannot write sensitive writing and not get laid for it. It's not in our nature. So when it arrived this morning, I had a quick flick through it.
And my eyes caught the last page.
So. What happens in this book? I don't want to tell you, wouldn't want to spoil it.
Update: Turns out it's one of those books that has the begins at the end, and explains how said person gets to the end. Huzzah!
In other news: We've got 8 teams in our Fantasy Football league, are you? Go on, it's fun, and you may win prizes! You probably won't, but you may! Join by reading this post.
* Curteosy of Scaryduck
** Which I'm kind of glad I did, as the stage show would of been rubbish if I didn't read the book first.
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The World Cup Fantasy Football Tournament!
I love football me. Not as much as Rugby Union but certainly equal to (if not slightly ahead of) cricket. So therefore, in honour of this years world cup, I've created the first annual GATR Fantasy Football Tournament (in association with Liverpool 10 Pin Bowling Club).
The premise is simple, pick 12 players (11+1 sub) and, depending on their performance in the world cup, you score points. The player at the end of the tournament wins nothing but bragging rights for the next 4 years (and probably a link). I am going with The Metro for this tournament, reason being they have linked to me, and as far as free papers go, it's not so bad.
Anyway, I'll guide you through the process, from just past registration stage to joining the league, so nobody gets lost.
STEP 1: Go to http://fantasyfootball.metro.co.uk and click "Register Here"
STEP 2: Fill in all the details, until you reach a page similar to below.
STEP 3: Fill in team name, favourite team (you can pick England, but it's not big, and you'll get laughed at), and team colours (notice my Colwyn Bay Colours). None of this makes any difference, until you get to something similar to this screen.
STEP 4: By using the drop down menus down the side, pick a team. You can have 1 goalkeeper, 4 defenders, 3 midfielders and 3 strikers. The maximum you can spend is 100 points, and you can only pick one player from each team.
STEP 5: When that's done, click on "submit team" (or something similar) and then click on "Leagues" down the left hand column. Under "Join A Private League", enter 6989-1419, and then click Join league.
And then you're in! May the best team win.
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Eurovision!
Last night, I went to a house party around at a mate of a mate's house. "It'll be a Eurovision night!" my mate said "They've got a Eurovision buffet, just bring a few cans and a bit of cash for the sweepstake, it'll be great.". Hell, I wasn't upto much, bring it on!
So off I toddled with a 10 pack and we arrived to catch the end of the Lottery, whice there were some protests, making it the best lottery in...well....ever really. There was a distinct Eurovision feel with the buffet (though I couldn't think of what was represented by Armenia, but nevermind). I pulled three names out of the hat: Andorra, Portugal and Croatia. Which is all well and good, but Andorra and Portugal dropped out, so I was left pulling for the Croats when the show began.
If you haven't seen Eurovision before, it's basically a farce. Camp to buggery and full of political voting, but - as a stright man - there are a few things that keep my interest. The first one being one aspect of the Moldovan entry.
Unsuprisingly, in our eyes she became the early favourite.
After drivel after drivel after drivel (with a few exceptions: I - unlike Fern - quite liked the Danish tune), came our boys and girls from Blighty. I had heard so much about the song: mostly saying it is shit, and that it's full of schoolgirls (the one on the left has seemingly perfected the Soccer A.M. "EASY" chant).
Now, I agree with one of the points. It was full of schoolgirls. The song, whilst not great, wasn't too bad. Hell, my mum liked it, and she hates anything that resembles rap music.
However, as a group of metal heads, we were pulling for the Fins. Their song, "Hard Rock Halleujah", was refreshing. They came out with flamethrowers and pyrotechnics and were just awesome. Okay, they weren't lookers, but they were awesome.
After the last song (which I think was France. We didn't like them because they were French), we waited the 10 minutes for voting and got ourselves some beers. The voting was a disadvantage to some countries - you ever try writing "Federal Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia" with predictive text, it's not easy - but it's probably the fairest way to do it.
Then came the scoring. Straight away, Croatia scored 10, which was bad, as any entry that gets "nil points" gets their money back. It also saw the beginning of the drinking game: no matter how many points you score, you drink for that length of time. I was lucky with Croatia, as I only drank for 40 odd seconds.
Finland, took an early lead, and kinda stayed there. Even more so when our results came up - read out by The Cotton - and we gave the Finns 12 points. Take that Eastern Bloc, we voted for the song we liked, and they ended up dicking on you.
It was certainly one of the best Eurovisions I can remember, as the most Un-Eurovision song won. As somebody last night so eliquoently put it: "We're taking back the Eurovision from the poofs.". We saw them play out the show, and somebody switched it over to E4.
Big Brother was on. I've completely fallen out of it, and just not interested in it anymore actually. So I left the party and went home, drunk, £1 down, but an awesome night!
UPDATE: Hello to all the readers who have come here from About.com! Thank you for pushing up my bandwidth costs! As such, you may wish to download an awesome Tag Generator. Go on, it's blooming good!
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Manly Chest Update #2
Yesterday, because I was bored, I went for another session in the swimming poool. It was not as long (around 45 minutes, compared to an hour), but I did more swimming, if that makes sense. It was a lot easier this time. Maybe because my body was prepared for it, maybe because the pool was practically empty, maybe because of something else.
Or, should that be, someone else.
She was on lifeguard duty, and she had mousey brown hair tied into a ponytail. First thought was that she had really nice thighs. Not the usual thing i notice about a girl, but she did. That's not saying the rest of her was minging, it wasn't, she was a very attractive girl.
So, plan of action, what to do about it. I mean, she was looking at me (because I was the only person in the pool at the time, but that's beside the point)
The first was to deliberately get into trouble, so that she'd dive in and give me mouth to mouth. Hell, I managed to skive off school with a "headache", because I couldn't be arsed (hell, not the only thing I've managed to avoid doing by saying I had a headache. She wasn't happy), and I've watched enough WWE and TNA to know how to pretend to be in more danger than I actually am, how hard can it be? The problem with this that there was two life guards. The other was 50's, male, and had a goatee. I know it's a 50% chance she'd jump in to rescue me, but goatee guy was guarding the deep end, and there aint no way I'm drowning in 0.6m of water, I'm too proud.
The second way was the inbetween way: pretend to struggle, and hopefully she'd come over and offer me some tips. It'd be a teacher-student relationship to begin with, then blossom into something beautiful, and I'd teach her something, like....ooooh I don't know....long division or something. We'd have a perfectly normal symbiotic relationship, like Venom and Spiderman*.
Instead, I took the alpha male approach, and to try and impress her with swimming lengths. Lengths and lengths and lengths. All of a sudden, swimming went, well...swimmingly. I could be in London 2012 at this rate, as with her in my line of vision I could swim all day. My mind began thinking of the future. What would happen if I plucked up the courage and asked perfect thighs girl out for a date, or how I would blog it if I didn't.
Guess what happened?
To be fair, I didn't really get an opportunity, she left her post when I was the other side of the swimming pool, and dissappeared.
She did say one thing to me though, after I swam 10 meters in the breaststroke, 10 meters in the backstroke and 5 meters front crawl. I then backflipped out of the pool and landed on my feet. Unfortunately, my shorts got caught on the exit of the pool, and tore off. She stood there, and said "wow, what an impressive length!".**
Sorry, I'm allowed one dirty joke a post, and I though the "she can teach me the breaststroke!" joke was too predictible.
* Wait until Spiderman 3 if you don't get what this means.
** Lie
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Su-don't-ku
The Daily Mail, utter right wing garbage, and the only paper we get at home (I've
tried switching my mum and dad onto something less....pessimistic, but with no success), as such, I've used the internet for news, and the Daily Mail for the only thing it's good at: Sudokus.
I'm usually pretty good at them, and I regularly complete the 5 * difficulty one. I was on a week-long undefeated streak, until last Wednesday, whre I got stuck.
I admit defeat, so, lets put our communal IQ's together, and waste your day by helping me complete this sudoku! Below is how far I've got to. The red numbers are numbers I've put in.
Bung your answers in the comment box (in the style of A1: then your number). Cheers!
For those of you who have missed yesterdays entry, I ask you this question again: Shaved chests or non shaved chests?
And finally, a quick Big Brother Update (yes, I'm watching it live, so sue me): Glyn has gotten a bollocking from Big Brother for speaking yn Cymraeg to Imogen. Fwcin dysgrace! I'd fucking speak Welsh if I was in there. Christ, half of them haven't even got a grasp on the English language yet, and I'm having a trouble understanding a lot of them.
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Big Brother 7, First Thoughts: CONFUSION!!
I know that not all of my readers know or care about Big Brother, it's very much a guilty obsession for me, because I look down on all of the people in it, without fail.
And this year, it's going to be painful for one member of our family.
This is Bonnie, my dogling. She is gorgeous, not too annoying, and have managed to put up with her for nearly a year. She occassionally chews the furniture, and wee's in other people's gardens but apart from that, she's lovable, friendly, and you wouldn't mind waking up to her in the morning, hungover.
This is Bonnie, the first person to enter the Big Brother house this year. She is tarty, annoying, and I can't stand her after three seconds. She probably chews the furniture, and wee's in other people's gardends. Because of that, she's obnoxious, anti-social, and you would die if you woke up to her in the morning, hungover.
There are certain words that Bonnie (that is, our Bonnie), understands. "Up" means she jumps, "Lie Down" me she lies down, "Pussycat" means she sprints to the window barking and "Bonnie" makes her look at you. She can also tell what sort of mood you are in by the way that you speak. If you're angry, she barks at you.
So, imagine poor Bonnie (that is, our Bonnie), when I spurted the following:
"BONNIE WHAT A FUCKING IDIOT SHE HAS NO FUCKING BRAINS WHY THE FUCK IS SHE ON TELEVISION!?!?!?!?"
No suprises, I'm pulling for the Welshies, Glyn to win. Just because he is from my neck of the woods (and probably from Colwyn Bay, there aren't that many swimming pools in North Wales), and not a total dickhead.
In Other News: Sarah asked me to post this query on my blog, regarding the last post: Shaven chests or not shaved chests?
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Manly Chest Update #1
One of the joys of University was the swimming pool. In it, at any time, could be between 30-40 women who you could stare opened mouthed at (which, accoring to my
namesake,
is very good for you. So we're not being perverted. Honest.) for hours of end. It's really no suprise: it's a university swimming pool, it'll be full of students, bright eyed and bushy tailed people.
Fast forward two years, and I'm in Colwyn Bay's swimming pool. A vast majority of Colwyn Bay's residents have one foot in the grave or two feet in the dole queue. As such, the swimming pool was filled with old people or the kind of people you really wouldn't want to ogle at, with fear of "being done in". There was around 30 people in the pool at the time. Do you know how many I would actually consider for a relationship? Two. And they were swimming a lot faster than me! It's hard to impress a girl if you can't outswim them! It means in water they will always have the upper hand.
It got worse too. After an impressive 10 lengths, I took a breather (never really did understand when people say "do an hour swimming". What sort of breaks we talking about here? Surely you can't go full tilt for an hour!), I noticed an old lady walk into the swimming pool. She was slight, and I recognised her.
She used to be my head of year in my old school.
At least, I think it was. Being a goody two shoes I never visited her much, and I doubt she knew my name anyway, but it did look like her. All of a sudden, all those bad dreams you get when you imagine yourself naked in a public place came flooding back. I don't like being topless in front of many people, least of all old teachers, so I hid for a while.
However, all that being said, I did enjoy it. I felt like I'd dome something good to myself. Of course it's going to not undo the three years of hedonism I had as a student. Hell, it might not even justify the three ales and a glass of red wine at the quiz (we won a bottle of red wine, I'm not going soft). So, hopefully, manly, unshaven (thank you very much Tilesey but I agree with Celeste. You shave your chest and you're not a professional athelete, questions will be asked) chest that women will swoon over may soon come. Go me!
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Falling Flat On My Arse
I apologise for yesterday's post.
You see, we were getting new internet connection in our house, which is more capable to handle wireless (512k split between 3? No thanks). I rang up BT and they said "no problem! Go ahead and cancel Tesco.net, we'll be set up by Friday.". Ever the pessimist, I thought "okay, we'll be online on Friday, not a day sooner. Now, how to tell you, my 100 million readers."
See, I've been meaning to get Tom back, as he's labelled me "the world's most gullible bastard". He has the ability of coming out with facts that maybe, just maybe be true. Things like "You know Johnny Cash is origionally from Liverpool, that's why Liverpool use 'Ring of Fire' as one of their songs." and "You know that Ricky Gervais' real last name is Hatton, but they didn't want to confuse it with the boxer?" subtly inserted into the conversation. He waits for me to go "Really?" before he shoots me down with a "fuck know, you big gullible bastard!". So, I used my time offline to come up with a plan.
I would announce on my blog that I'd be going into the Big Brother house on Thursday. It seemed reasonable. Not many people talk about it, do they? Not something you'd announce, except on small community pages such as this.
As I sat down to a day of work, I thought it could go either one of two ways. Number one was that everybody would fall for it hook, line and sinker, and then either be pissed off or say "oh ho ho, you" when I come out of my internet slumber. The second way would be that people would dismiss it as a joke and be confused. I could just picture Tom sitting in his room and saying "fuck off Rhys, nobody would want you in the Big Brother house!" in his gruff, Nottinghamshire accent.
I would look forward to Friday. Except, when I returned from work, we had brand spanking new internet, and I can't live without the internet for 3 hours, let alone 3 days. So this is my humbling "sorry!" post.
Right, onto more important things.
Today, I am going swimming. It's part of my "lets get Rhys healthy, to avoid the hospital, plus I wouldn't mind having a nice chest that ladies can swoon over.", since returning to Colwyn Bay full stop, I've managed to eat a lot better. But the food's been a lot nicer, so whilst not limiting myself to a couple of slices of stodgy pizza and a few chips, I've been eating three times my bodyweight in asparagus. Would be so funny if it wasn't so sad. So, I'm off to swim in the chlorine and old people piss pool that is Colwyn Bay's swimming pool.
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You Can't Please Everybody
"Be careful..." Mum warned me on Thursday, "you have changed your life so much in the last 3 weeks. When you go back to Liverpool, you look at what you've thrown away. Your life, your friends, your job. You can't go back.".
"I know mum. I'm not sure I want to."
I know it sounds a bit harsh, and Mum didn't exactly mean that I've thrown my friends away. I'm sure they're glad that I'm working in an awesome job, and they'll still be there. I had a pretty amazing weekend, but I know one thing.
I did the right thing.
This weekend I drunk double what I have done in the rest of the 3 weeks combined. At most, I drunk 6 pints in the last 3 weeks, so it wasn't too hardened drinking (trust me, compared to my main university days, it was nothing). Nevertheless, I struggled, more so on the Friday than the Saturday (figures, I drank less then). I've lost all my tolerance to alcohol
But the hardest thing was being out of the loop for 3 weeks. I am just one man, and a hell of a lot has happened in 3 weeks in my life. I have been almost completely out of touch with everybody else in Liverpool, and whilst it was nice catching up, I felt so out of sync with everybody else.
I had a bit of a realisation though: when I was in Liverpool, it was easy keeping upto speed with everybody, but now that I'm back home, I feel I'll lose touch with people who were, at one time, very very close friends. I think I need to accept that, and understand that.
Right, I'm off into the Big Brother house for a few weeks, so I won't be online for a while. However, check back on Friday, whereby I've lined up somebody to take over the duties of blogging on this blog for my duration. Wish me luck!
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Sex, Drugs and Mario Kart
Willy Enhancers. They're bloody everywhere these days. For some people, they want bigger willies, longer willies, willies that can go around corners, and there is apparently a market out there, the amount of garbage I get every day. Luckily,
Thunderbird blocks most of them (you should use it, as Outlook users are known to support Nazi's). However, the odd one escapes through the net, and violates my inbox. Today was such a day.
Right. 1 is a given, as I think we all want that. 5 is just being arrogent amongst loose women, which I'm not sure what for. 4 can be done, providing her "dreams" are not "Make England Win The World Cup". 2 is a bit odd as it depends on "ze list" (sorry, it reminds me of that bit from Dads Army: "You will go on ze list! Vat is your name" "Don't tell him Pike!". Oh ho ho. Anyway, I digress.). But 3 is just odd.
Now, the only thing that I really time is my performance in video games. As such, I have a legendary status on Mario Kart. These times will show that:-
Also, despite scoring 1'06'16" on Mario Circuit 1, it hasn't impressed a lady yet.
However, coming to think about it, the willy-growing spam is right. If I had a girlfriend, and me and her invited all her hot fit mates around for a massive session on Mario Kart, it would be pretty much awesome.
Then again, I'm the same guy who would take a girl on a first date to play Crazy Golf. Is that an awesome idea? Or is it no suprise that I'm single?
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Il, or Elle Sunglasses?
I recently purchased a pair of sunglasses off
eBay. I had Aviator style ones last year which didn't really suit me, so I decided to go for a completely different style.
I went for these ones. They were listed under "Men's accessories" and they seemed quite nice and cheap.
However, doubts were thrown into my mind when Guy (a man who is about 100 times more attuned to fashion than I am), and Tom (who's as camp as a row of pink tents) took one look at them, and said they were "girly". I asked the only woman besides my mum who'd give me an honest answer about them, Sarah, what she thought of them. She said they were not girly, but not macho. I wasn't really looking for a macho, but I've had doubts put in my mind. So I'm asking you lot:-
Are these girly sunglasses? Do they suit me? If the general consensous is "no, yes" in that order, then I'm keeping them. If the opposite is true, then I'll give them to a friend of mine, who likes them.
I like them, I think they suit me, just I don't want to go around with girly specs on.
Please be honest, this is "Blogging Eye for the Welsh Guy", not "lets be nice to Rhys" (though any comments about my mum and I'll hunt you down).
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The Greatest Ever Final, Ever: FA Cup, Liverpool vs. West Ham.
What a match, what a great match. In what must go down as one of the greatest games of football (certainly this season)
Liverpool beat West Ham in a penalty shoot out after extra time finished 3-3.
To leave it at that would not tell the full story. It was immense final. West Ham took a 2-0 lead before Djbril Cisse knocked in one before the break. The atmosphere in the pub, while subdued when West Ham were 2-0 up, suddenly sprung to life. 2-1 was a good place to be at half time, as Liverpool were not playing well.
Following a break, and a well executed corner, Steven Gerrard blasted a screamer into the top right hand corner of the net to equalize, and the pub went ballistic. They were silenced a few minutes later when West Ham began asserting their dominance on the game again, and took the lead with a Paul Konchesky moment of brilliance/fluke: chipping a back peddling Reina from the right wing.
The clock wore on, and the pub seemed resigned to not winning the FA Cup. After 90 minutes, Sissoko went out injured, and Scaloni put the ball out of play in a sportsmanlike fashion. Liverpool returned the ball to Scaloni who cleared it only as far as Gerrard, who rifled the ball from 30-40 yards out into the back of the net. We've got extra time.
Extra time was a struggle, as it was like a battlefield. Cisse, Sissoko, Harewood and Gerrard all picking up injuries and still continuing. Harewood could barely walk, and there will be a lot of sore people from both ends (so much so that certain people are calling for a fourth sub to be used in extra time, which is a pretty good idea). It went to penalties, and although Hislop saved 1 penalty from Liverpool, Reina made two crucial stops to gift the FA cup for Liverpool.
It's certainly the greatest cup final I've ever seen, the only thing that tarnished it was that it was against West Ham on the losing end - one of the "good guy teams" (the teams, not the fans, who have a reputation for being hard asses), and you couldn't help but feel sorry (well, I couldn't). If it was somebody like Chelsea, it would of made it so much sweeter. I understand that not many of my readers love the beautiful game, but I urge you to watch this game, as it could convert you. It certainly dicked all over the Arsenal vs. Man U final last year, which again went to penalties, but had 120 minutes without a single goal.
We headed into town after the game and - whilst not on Champions League night level - it was certainly fun to be out in town for a little while, and soak up the atmosphere.
Righty ho, more about the weekend to follow soon. I'm heading off home now with two massive bags of stuff. Not looking forward to lugging them around!
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Better Than Sex?
Quick game for those of you who won't be glued to the Cup Final today: Better than sex.
- Go to Google Trends
- Type in "sex, "
- Put in a noun after the comma
- If it has a higher hitrate than sex, post it in the comments.
Currently Found: "lyrics" by Dawn.
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The Apprentice
There has been a change in my posting methods recently. You may of noticed it, far more stories that could be interperated as "News", far less stories about everybody's second favourite Welshman, behind Huw Edwards.
This new job I teased about is based in Colwyn Bay. It's a web design job that's currently 3 days a week. I've been there just over a week now, and it's interesting work. To find something like that in Liverpool is tricky, let alone Colwyn Bay. So in that respect I'm very happy. Of course, it does mean I'm back in Colwyn Bay indefinitely, and there are an awful lot of bitter people in Colwyn Bay (not the people I work with, just I see them around. You know the sort, collecting a giro every week, and moan because it's so little money.).
The bad news for that is that nothing really interesting is happening in my life, or blog worthy. Something about being a depressed or out of work makes it very easy to blog. That and sex, though I'm far too much of a gentleman to do that. That, and the firm belief that you want to read anything dirty from me, you should first get your head examined.
Don't get me wrong, I'm very happy with the way things have turned out. If you would of said a month ago that I'd have a "weird heart thingy", followed by quitting the call centre, and ending up finding a job that I want to do, that I enjoy doing and getting paid well for it, within the next month. I probably would of kicked you in the nuts (or equivalent) for being a liar. All things considered, I am very, very happy at the moment. Just nothing really blogworthy.
Except one thing: a few of my readers have read Dave Gorman's Googlewhack Adventure, if you haven't I suggest you do. In it he basically goes around the world meeting various people who write websites and have various googlewhacks for them. One visit is to Llandulas (a town about 3 miles from Colwyn Bay) to meet The Welsh Rarebits: Mini enthusiasts and also the googlewhack (at the time) for Rarebit Nutters.
Whilst walking through Colwyn Bay, I saw a mini adorned with "Welsh Rarebit Minis" on the top of the rear window, I just had to take a picture, didn't I?
Of course, very few of you will appreciate this (and even fewer of you would believe me. Trust me, it does say "Welsh Rarebit Minis" on there). But those very few who do, will appreciate the amazingness of that.
Righty ho, I'm off to Liverpool for the weekend for much controlled drinking and FA Cup action. Liverpool vs. West Ham. I was in Liverpool the night they won the Champions League. Obviously I'm not expecting repeated scenes if the FA Cup is won, though it should be a good night.
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Separated At Birth?
So, is the new
Apprentice of Alan Sugar
Michelle Dewberry (which is an odd way to spell her second name) and rubbish Kids TV presenter
Kirsten O'Brien separated at birth?
I'm going to miss The Apprentice. It was an ace series. Reality TV for intelligent people. Real characters have emerged this series and: even with the shite vision mixing at the end (missed it? click the video on this page), I enjoy it so much. I both love and hate Alan Sugar, and parts of it have had me and Guy at the TV saying "Fuck me. If this is the best UK business has to offer, we're screwed.".
The final question: who'd win a fight between Ruth Badger and a real badger. She's a very scary woman!
I will do a proper update tonight. Pinky swear.
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The Slims
Here's something that's a bit screwed for you. Maiden Love Revolution is the number 1 best seller in Japan for the PS2, and unlike other dating simulations, it's beginning to get noterieoty. The reason? Well, it incourages weight loss. From
Wired News:
The PS2 game, a best seller in Japan, starts with a snack-happy ex-beauty queen who wants to get back to her dating weight. Players assume the role of 220-pound Hitomi Sakurakawa as she struggles to slim down - mostly by restricting her diet. To advance, Hitomi must count calories and increase her exercise. The game keeps stats on her progress and ultimately rewards her conformity with a boyfriend.
Right, first thing that came through my mind was the same thing that is in your mind at the moment: "That's just wrong!". Second thing was quite simple: fat people can have relationships too. Hell, I had a very bitter 19th year when I saw tons of fat people in relationships. "You fat bastard", I thought "You don't deserve that girl, she's far too thin for you." (I know, it's pathetic, and that way of thinking was one of the reasons I never got much female action. That and I fart like a trooper). Then I thought "Hell, if it makes people be healthy, then good for it". But one thought has lodged in my mind which typifies my way of thinking.
Who the hell would buy this game?
I'm sorry, but I honestly cannot see this game being popular with either sex. For ladies, I cannot see themselves playing a game which can only make themselves feel bad about their weight (I'm speaking as no lady, but just imagine if your weight coincided with Ms. Hitomi's weight, and something came up on the screen calling Ms. Hitomi "A Big Fat Loser". Would make you feel horrible, wouldn't it?).
And that leaves the blokes, and we all know what sort of women are in video games to try and appeal to us. Lets look at a few examples:-
Lara Croft from Tomb Raider
Kasumi from Dear or Alive
And, finally Mai from King of Fighters (who gets the honour for the first ever Animated GIF on this site)
Now, she's joined by Ms. Hitomi.
I'm sorry, but I agree with the game. I can't see her appealing to 99% of video game players on a sexual level.
But then again, she's only pixels.
I would like to hear your opinions on it. Good idea? Bad idea? Neutral at those crazy Japanese?
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Tottenham, Tottenham. Food can Stop 'em
I'm sorry to bore you, as this
will be a football post, but bear with me, as it's an interesting one.
This season, the only battle that's gone down to the wire has been the battle for 4th spot in the English Premiership. The coveted 4th position means that the team who finishes 4th can qualify for the Champions League. There is one exception, which means that should the winner of the Champions League finish outside the top 4, they play in the Champions League instead of 4th position. The Champions League is a Europewide competition, with masses amount of sponsorship and prize money. Playing in the Champions League can net a club upto £12million, so it's well worth going for.
This year, Chelsea, Manchester United and Liverpool guarenteed Champions League football with weeks to spare, but the final game decided 4th position. Whether it will go to Tottenham in 4th, with 1 point lead over 5th place (and local rivals) Arsenal.
Tottenham were favourites to hold on. What with the point advantage and the (statistically) easier game. However, the night before the game, after a buffet lunch, 9 of the first team squad fell ill with a bout of food poisioning. The games went on as planned. West Ham beat Tottenham, whilst Arsenal beat Wigan. As such, Arsenal took fourth place in front of Tottenham.
Of course, the less reputable papers are having a field day with this, shouting "conspiracy!" and things like that, but I don't believe it is. Food poisoning is very easy to catch, and it's over just as soon as it's started.
I think people want to believe things. The ideal story would be Thierry Henry sneaking into the hotel and poisioning Edgar Davids and co, as everybody loves a good conspiracy theory. Why do you think the Daily Express reports still reports about Diana? Because we like a conspiracy theory, and also some people cannot seem to accept that she died in a car crash.
I don't know when I am going with it, it was a nice twist to the end of a fairly dull season (Chelsea's dominance is getting a bit boring now), and hopefully some justice will come from this. Tottenham have taken some tests on the food, and - seeing there's no foul play - they will probably launch some action against the FA (for loss of revenue, as The FA didn't cancel the game like they should of. More bumbling from the FA eh?). That being said, the UEFA Cup could be a blessing in disguise for Tottenham, with such a strong team, I wager a guess they will do awesomely in it.
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How To Appeal To Geeks part 1
As part of my degree, we looked briefly at some areas of the history of the Internet. One story we looked that in a relative amount of detail was the story of the domain name
sex.com. It's story is one of extortion, misrepresentation, bribery, blackmail and all sorts of brilliant things to do with people being genuinely nasty to one another in persuit of cash. It's the sort of thing you'd see in Grand Theft Auto, that you'd thought you'd never see in real life. In an extra lecture I attended, we watched a documentary (which was completely clean) explaining the history, the legal battles and the outcome surrounding the domain name. It was genuinely fascinating.
So imagine my suprise when it said in the listings it was on late night Channel 5, tonight. However, they have tarted it up though, to appeal to a....ahem....wider audience.
I mean, why? Why do they have to spoil a perfectly good documentary (assuming it's the same one), with porn? Just because we're geeks, does that make us perverts?
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IQ Test: Lazy Blogging!
I saw
this on
Fern's blog, and I always like proving that I'm clever. As such, I decided to take part and see how much I got. Here's my results.
Result!
Yes, I'm having an off day, nothing bad, just can't be arsed blogging. However I've been a blogging dynamo recently, and I'm not prepared to lose it!
How have you all got on in this quiz? (Yes, I'm aiming that at all my friends who are still at university, and have much more important revision to do!)
Right, off to work.
EDIT: It appears that it prints that I've an IQ of 80 above, but I scored 148. Boy, don't I look stupid. You see why I try and generate fresh content every day now, can't you?
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The GATR Guide for Pissing off The Religious Minority
Before I begin, let me just say that I'm not a bigot. I believe that anybody can believe whatever the hell they want. As long as you're nice to people and don't forcibly impose other people's beliefs, then that's okay. Therefore this post should be taken as funny, as opposed to offensive.
In Llandudno yesterday, I was approached by a man named Robert. He was about my age, and wearing a black tie, white shirt and grey trousers. All immaculately clean. He was also wearing a badge, saying "Hello! My name is Robert! I am a PROFIT for JESUS CHRIST!" (yes, those words were capitalised, and "Prophet" was spelt wrong). He seemed interested to speak to me.
"Hello! My name is Robert! I am a prophet for Jesus Christ! I want you to join me in salvation."
"Hi, yeah, umm, I'm not really that interested. Trust me."
"Are you sure? We have fun and sing to our lord."
"Ah right. Good."
"And you know orgies and beer, those things that people our age dream of?"
"Yeah?" (interest picking up)
"We denounce them. They're wicked, and not fun"
"Oh."*
"Well if I can just take your name, just so I know I've spoken to you."
"What?"
"We put these stickers on people with your name on it. So we don't speak to the same people twice. People were getting awfully angry."
"Ah right. I understand. My name's Mr. Wynne."
"Excellent, and your first name Mr. Wynne?"
"Judas."
He left after that, he didn't give me a badge in the end. Still, it's worthwhile to know that if you're hassled by a Jehova Witness/PROFIT for JESUS CHRIST! Say your name's Judas (or....I dunno....Judith for the ladies), and they seem to disperse pretty quickly.
In other news. My Auctions are finishing today! Bid High, Bid Fast, Bid Often!
* This line, and the 4 lines above, didn't exactly happen. I just made it up to be funny.
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FArce of England: My Opinion
In the past week, we've seen the appointment of
Steve McLaren as the new England manager. He will take over from the current coach, Sven Goran Eriksson, following this summer's World Cup, which is only 34 days away. Following the appointment, there have been cries of
"farce!"
, in that it's been
over 3 months since Sven quitted, and it's been the worst possible time to name Sven's replacement: too far after an immediate naming of somebody, and it's too soon to the World Cup. Even as a Welshman, I do have an interest in it.
Why? Because they didn't pick me.
You see, last February, I started writing letters to various people , as a way to alleviate the boredom of my job at the time. One of which was The FA, asking to be considered for the position of Manager on the basis that I've won the World Cup with Portugal and led Wales to the quarter-final of the World Cup......in Football Manager. Admitedly, I haven't won the Carling Cup (like McLaren, his only piece of silverware), even on Football Manager. Nevertheless I wanted to be considered for the job.
Why would I want the job? Simple. I want to bring it down from within. I'd play Rooney in goal*, Heskey up front**, Ryan Giggs on the wing*** and Dixie Dean in defence****. I'd make sure we'd play Wales in a friendly, and I'd throw the match. Sure, England would hate me, and Sarah would never speak to me again. But I'd be a hero in my native Wales. That's all that matters.
Unsuprisingly, I didn't get the job. However, I did expect a response (anybody who have worked for a major organisation will know that any letter that comes into an organisation must be answered. No matter how ridiculous it is. Reason being it can be damaging if it's not). As of today, 2 days after the appoinment was named, and 2 months after English FA recieved my letter, I haven't heard anything. So, in my opinion, the FA is an organisation that everybody says it is. Unorganised, rubbish, and up their own arses.
* He's an attacker
** He's shit
*** He's Welsh
**** He's dead
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Mcdonalds: An Observation
I went to McDonalds for the first time in 9 Months on Saturday. Now, this all stems from reading
Don't Eat This Book and watching
Supersize Me: both by Morgan Spurlock (if you haven't read or watched either of these, please do. They are highly,
highly reccommended), and after - specifically - reading the book (I went to McDonalds straight after watching the film actually), I stopped eating McDonalds. For good. I was
deadly serious, so much so that I had a Marks & Spencer Sandwich on my own as opposed to go to McDonalds with my family on our holiday last summer to Edinburgh. I'm passionate about very little (just ask
Sarah and Alyson), but by god, I'm passionate about not going to McDonalds. Since then, it's gotten easier and easier to stop going there: the 'food' now gives me a nauseous feeling. A happy relationship is had: I don't agree with McDonalds food, and McDonalds food doesn't agree with me.
Truth be told, we were in the middle of deepest darkest Lancashire for a comfort stop in a service station (the only one without any fruit machines. Boo!), and my mum was hungry for some hot food. I wasn't in a position to argue, so I went in. But I wasn't going to eat, despite my mum wanting me to. Instead, I listened to crappy hard house version of the excellent Hard Fi album, whilst watch my mum order.
Now, McDonalds has recently changed it's menu from just burgers, chips and coke. Reason being is to try and persuade the ever-diminishing numbers of people going there that their food is healthy. They've introduced Subway style sandwiches (which is a bit of a joke - I had a Roast Beef Delistyle Sandwich in Burger King - turns out they got a burger, cut it in half and put it lengthways in a baguette, that's not roast beef) and Salads. You can now have salads with your sandwich and coke. However, I suspect their not as popular as fries. Why?
Well, when my mum ordered, she said "Chicken McSandwich Extra Value Meal". The assistant assumed she wanted fries. As such, she just got fries. They asked what she wanted to drink, just not whether she wanted fries or a salad. I mentioned that to her when we sat down. She had no idea that you can have salad with it (she goes to McDonalds only a little bit more than I do). Of course, most people who go to McDonalds know the menu off by heart. And - looking at the general size of the people in the place on Saturday - they knew about salads. They just didn't want them.
Of course, that's assuming the salads are amazingly healthy. They're not brilliant. And loaded full of cheese and cream it makes me feel queasy too.
I don't know what I'm trying to say with this entry, just found it very strange that McDonalds who are supposed "McDonald's is committed to reinforcing the importance of energy balance - that is the food you eat balanced with the activity you do." (according to this website would not allow a customer to make an informed choice about their food.
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The Professional
After a 1 hour interview, and much bouncing around (including a mention of this very website - which was talked about in the interview, hence why I am mentioning this in brief), it turns out that this web design firm
are interested in me and want me to come in for a few days on a trail basis. I start Friday, and with news like that, May is turning out to be a hell of a lot better than April.
Couple of other things I want to talk about. I know that should this job falls through, the one thing I can't do is exclusive journalism. Leaving the interview, I headed over to the bus stop which is opposite the train station in the hope of catching one of the twice-in-a-blue moon buses that go to my house. There was a hell of a lot of people around the bus stop, more so than usual. Then I noticed the two fire engines, police van and ambulance. As well, there was a train in the station, and the entire station was cordoned off.
Apologies first of all for the quality of the picture, but I couldn't be arsed crossing the road.
First thought was "Oh shit! Al-Quaid'a has struck the diamond in the North Wales Tourism Crown"*, but alas nothing that news worthy. Apparently, somebody jumped underneath a train at the station, (though BBC said he fell), and he got stuck, and he needed to be rescued. Not hugely newsworthy, but it disrupted both the train service and the bus service. As such, I had to walk home. Boo!
Today in UK are local elections. There's been a few posts around the blogosphere about it, and it's been on the news. As I'm not doing anything today, I thought I'd go and vote. Except it's only on in England. So why do people say it's a "UK" local election? Next they'll be saying that "The UK is unhappy that England crash out of the world cup". I will not be unhappy. There'll be one man dancing in the streets of Colwyn Bay. Me.
Finally, whilst playing poker on Pokerstars (as usual), I have gotten over my 1 day slump, doing well in tournaments (finishing usually in the top 3 or 4). However, my greatest ever moment in poker came today, when I got a straight flush.
Read 'em and weep!
* That's a lie, Llandudno is the diamond. Colwyn Bay's like a lesser jewel. Such as a amethyst, or something.
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Call Out The Instigators....
You know that advert for
Talk Talk? The one for their free broadband service with all the people making bigger shapes? What's the song off it called? It's sung by a female artist, and she has probably the most beautiful voice in the world. A bit Andrea Corr like, but less Irish. I've tried searching on iTunes for it, and nothing's showing up at all. Any ideas on who sung it?
Right, onto other matters. I haven't really done much since the end of the bank holiday, just dossing around the house. I have been applying for jobs recently, but I'm getting into the same situation as I experienced last year, whereby I'm applying to loads, and not hearing anything back. Actually, it's probably just me, I'm very impatient, and only one job has got back to me so far.
Nevertheless, I'll be suprised if I get any of them: I messed up the covering letters, in that a lot of them I say I'm applying for "Call Centre Advisor" when they are "Administrator" positions, and vice versa. I feel like I've gotten stupider the last couple of days. I haven't been placed in a poker tournament for a couple of days, and I have not been mentally with it for a couple of days now. Heaven forbid I get an interview anytime soon.
Update: Which I do. This afternoon, I've got an interview with a web design firm. Wish me luck!
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Llandudno Show
Yesterday, I went to the Llandudno Show. It's official title is "The Llandudno Victorian Transport Festival", but I'm sticking with "Llandudno Show". Reason is that for the last few years it has been less about the transport and more about the funfair, which is sprouting up along the entire of Mostyn street in Llandudno. There is still the old school victorian vehicles, but mainly it's funfairs and carnies with dodgy games. Which is only a good thing, as those old school vehicles played havoc with the environment.
I didn't really go on too much (bit skint at the moment), but I did have a go on the dodgems. Officially the acest ride at any funfair, I love the dodgems. I take it far too seriously - perfecting the technique to bang dodgems. However, I was a little distracted, as in car number 15, was the cutest little blonde I've seen in a long time. She looked around mid 20's, and a little part of me fell in love with her. Whether that she, too, was a lone driver. Maybe it was that she had no rings on (yes, I did notice). Maybe she had the same problem with dodgems. Maybe it was the fact that she was so destinctly unchavvy with a beautiful flowery dress that hung in all the right places. I don't know, but my heart fluttered. This time, in a good way.
What did I do about it? I did the only thing a man with a crush on a girl would do in a situation like this. I banger her brains out. After 10 minutes of constant banging, she left, walking funny, but with a huge smile on her face, and as a throwaway comment said "that's the most fun I've had in ages".
I'm talking about the dodgems, you perverts.
No, I didn't do anything about it, because I'm pathetic, and - as the picture above suggests - am in desperate need of a haircut. Not exactly the world's most eligible batchelor. Besides, I have toothache, and toothache puts me in a miserable mood.
Technorati Tags:llandudno, bank holiday
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