Toes, Drawers, and The Laws of Gravity
Yesterday morning, I woke up
sore all over from yesterday, and a bit of a blocked nose. Not good. Due to the bank holiday, this was my Tuesday. Tuesdays are days that I generally don't like, I'm either on a physical or emotional low. Nevertheless, I was hoping today would be different. I went to my jeans draw, which has put together been put together like a cheap knock-off of Ikea furniture. When removing said jeans from said draw, the front of the draw fell off, onto my foot. I proceeded to jump around like a over-stimulated kangaroo, and collapsed on my bed in agony. A few hours later, it had developed into this.
Not pretty is it? But by god those people into BDSM Foot Fetishists would be absoultely creaming themselves. I'm sure the Sexual Karma Fairy is taking notes.
Right, I'm off today to do one of my least favourite things: go to the dentist. Wish me luck.
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20ft Drop Slides and Drinking
You know yesterday I said that tonight was going to be Laser Quest? Well, it wasn't, instead it was a giant adventure playground. Kinda a bit like
Fun house, though you can't win a mystery tour, or your very own bank account. And less
Pat Sharp too. Part of the attraction were 2 20 foot drop slides, which were hugely entertaining (though I only went on one, it went into a ball pool).
We nearly didn't make it, we got a lift (we being the zoo members and ex-members of staff) on the Zoo minibus. We we're drinking and laughing and joking when all of a sudden, the gearbox went on it. Luckily, we were not on the motorway, nor were we far from the place. So we walked the short distance to the place, wondering how they're going to run the zoo tomorrow, what with no zoo bus, no zoo staff, and no zoo web designer. Luckily, we decided "fuck it, I spent £13 on this, lets go play!"
We were greeted at the front door by a girl who sounded like the female version of Glyn. She proceded to read through the rules with the kind of enthusiasm that minimum wage employs - "No going down the slide more than 2 at a time, keep your arms in, tuck your shirt in, no jumping, go down on your bum. We can't be held responsible, etc. etc. etc.".
Like all of them were going to happen.
Instead of going down the slides to begin with, I checked out everything else, and was generally running around, acting like a tit, and signing the Crystal Maze music. A lot of the apparatus was ruled redundant (the rope swings I could just jump across, for example). But nevertheless, it was all rather fun. I never realised though how unfit we all were. Kids are just so fit, after about 20 minutes I was out of breath, and I assure you I wasn't the first.
The AA came and picked us up to take us home, so that wasn't a problem. Still wouldn't like to be in the office when the words "Um....I broke the minibus" is heard.
Better update tomorrow, I promise.
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Pride of Wales - Colwyn Bay Football Club
Yesterday I went to the
Colwyn Bay vs. Rossendale United in the Unibond League (only 7 promotions off the Premiership). I was alone, as my partner in crime Jason was at a wedding. Nevertheless, the new Colwyn Bay kit was due out, so I had to go along and buy one. I'm not usually this bad, with the only tops I have is a 3 year old Wales top and a Welsh Rugby top I got for my 21st. Nevertheless, I fancied getting a bay shirt as it's something a bit different. Jay got the away shirt too, which I picked up for him also.
It's a similar style to last year (which means that we can't be the "Claret and Blue Army" for at least another year), but we have new sponsors: Boddingtons. It's quite nice having a sponsor that most out of towners have heard of, rather than "Dave the Garage in Old Colwyn". I never really bought a shirt before because it would have a company that I'd have to explain to people "Who are they? Oh, they're the 9th biggest teacosy manufacturer in Wales!", that and being poor, of course.
On top of that, Han duely noted that the sponsor logo was in the right pocket area of the shirt, rather than prominantly displayed in the centre, as is tradition with football shirts. Of course, Han (being Han) didn't say that, she simply said "hehe, you've got Boddingtons on your boob". At first I wasn't sold on it - prefering the traditional placement of sponsorship in the centre. But the more and more I think about it, the better I think it is.
Onto the match, Colwyn Bay drew 1-1, we didn't play at all well in the first half but we did pick our heads up when we dropped a goal behind. Maybe towards the end of the game we could of sneaked it, alas it wasn't to be, as the referee, linesman and a pigeon being against us. Luckily it doesn't make my shirt a "bad luck" shirt, so hopefully it will have some good luck in it as we entertain Osset Tow/Albion (don't know which one, can't be bothered looking) in the FA Cup on Saturday.
Tonight I'm off to Laser Quest, so that will be fun, wish me luck!
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Fruit Machines, Cars, Mobile Phones and Transfer Lists
First of all, I'd like to point out that I was successful in preventing both the fruit machine arriving and my mum finding out. The person suspected I was drunk!
Last night I went to the Pen-Y-Bryn with a few mates of mine to have a few beers. As nice as the Pen is, there are no itboxes so you have to, horror of horrors, speak to each other. Even the odd game of Hangman (which I lost, due to the fact that somebody threw a double bluff at me and said "We're not allowed to use Colwyn Bay footballers", then proceeding to use ex-Man U and Colwyn Bay centre midfielder Craig Lawton, grr) was not enough.Anyway, couple of interesting observations made.
First was the talk about the "pre-season" transfers (one of my mates has been in the US for the past few weeks, so missed all the gossip), and then we got talking about the Transfer List. When a player wants to leave a football club, or a player is no longer needed by a club, he's put on a transfer list. I always thought it was just an expression, but I would like to be proved wrong. Is there, in existance, a transfer list. I don't care if it's full of Oxford United players, but I would like to see it. Paper based preferable, but web based would do.
Second point of note was something on Braniac a few weeks ago. Brainiac is an awesome science programme hosted by the best member of the Top Gear team (sorry Han), Richard Hammond, and Jon Tickle, a man who was both successful post Big Brother and not annoying. The experiment in question requires a remotely locked car, and a mobile phone. Apparently, if you were to get somebody to stand by the car with a mobile phone and call the person who has the remote locking device, they can sound it down the phone and it will work. I think a diagram is in order.
Apparently, it works. However, my parents can't afford remote locking, so if anybody has a car with remote locking, two mobile phones and a friend you can trust with keys, could you try it to see if it works? Cheers.
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Llandudno Pubs, Drinking Souvenirs and Fruit Machines
Tilesey a few days ago posted about the last time he'll be in his
favourite pub in Southampton. Last night was something similar - the Navy Club in Llandudno is closing it's doors, and yesterday was it's last night. It was simple, drink the bar dry.
It's quite sad that a place like that closes, as the people who were in there are usually the older crowd (we were easily the youngest people there), who shunned the traditional haunts of the Llandudno residents on a Friday, preferring the more quiet, serene private bar. Alas, it closed last night with a game of bingo and kareoke, though no songs were under 30 years old.
It's quite wierd being in a place like that, for the last time. It's like "woah, this is the last time I play pool", or "I could be the last to take a wee here". Stupid stuff like that comes into my head. I felt sorry for all the people who were losing their favourite watering hole (I go in there because Jay works there, else I would easily be kicked out). Such a shame.
Nevertheless, times changed and I manage to pick up a couple of souvenirs. First is this beauty from one of the bar taps.
The second, well. I may not get it, and if my mum found out, I'll be killed. But the conversation went something like this.
"Everything is included in the bar, pool tables, dartboard, taps. Only thing that isn't is the fruit machine. I dunno what to do with that. I mean, I can fit it in my van, no problem, but nowhere to put it."
"Oh, I'll take it off your hands."
Now, instead of watching the football, I'm going to make a few frantic phone calls to stop it being delivered.
Woe is me.
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SSG Update, Myspace and The Sexual Karma Fairy
A little update on the Sandwich Shop GIrl Situation. I think I know her name!
I didn't ask her her name, which shares it's name with a capital city (clue in the picture). That would of been noble, manly, and something I wouldn't do. Instead, I used my hearing and powers of deduction I overheard another customer saying her name. However, she did say it rather loud, which has gotten me paranoid. I reckon it was a plant, you see, to say try and catch me out.
Think about it, a little amount of googling for any Colwyn Bay resident brings up my page. Pretty much for the last week or so this blog has been nothing but her. She probably put two and two together, and asked her mate to set a trap for yours truly, so see if I'd blog about her. So as if to say "Aha! My name isn't really a capital city, it's is in fact Craig! You stalk me online! I'm going to get somebody to arrest you!". Thus, scuppering my chances forever.
I know. I worry about me too.
Another romantic setback is that last night, I had a choice in my dream to have illicit relations with a well known TV presenter, or help my mum put the bin out. I chose helping my mum. Even in my dreams I can't get laid.
Finally, it appears that everybody has a Myspace account these days, including certain faries. View. Add. Believe.
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Comedy Nights, Mech Warriors, Space Websites and Bluetooth Spam
As I really cannot be arsed posting today, here's a collection of links that I've found over the past few days.
Firstly is Andrew Lawrence. Veteran readers may be aware that for around 4-5 months this year Thursday nights were spent at comedy clubs up and down Liverpool. One of the first acts I saw was this comedian called Andrew Lawrence, who came out of nowhere, and was one of the funniest things I ever saw. Anyway, turns out he has a myspace on the new myspace comedy site, and he has posted two videos of him performing. I urge you to check it out, especially if you like my sort of humour. The link is here. Check out video 2, which was almost the exact same set as I watched. Cheers to Guy for digging that one up for me.
Secondly, from Fark.com is this. How cool is that? I used to love playing the Mechwarrior games, even managing a go in those mechwarrior games they used to have in the Trochadero in London. That was fun. But a real Mech Warrior (even if it's slow and only fires rubber bullets)? That's awesome!
Next, we have the rather intreguing (if mind fucking) Deep Sky Frontier (thanks Gorillamask. It a webpage which supposedly shows the amount of stars in space (or something) and - if printed out, the amount of paper used would run from the centre of the Sun to Saturn. I dare you to print it out!
Finally, I suffered one of these myself recently. We drove past a billboard in Colwyn Bay's East End, and I had a message via bluetooth from Land Rover. I accepted it, and it was a video which couldn't fit on my phone. It's a cool idea, though I can imagine it get annoying and cause accidents. What do you think?
Proper update soon, I promise.
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It's Not The End of the World
Pat yourselves on the back, because we're still here.
Was reading Celeste's blog earlier that due to her toothpaste having 2 stripes instead of 3, that the apocolypse is nigh. When I read that, I remembered a news article that said that yesterday* we were due an apocolypse, not according to some whacko who predicted World War 2/JFK's Assassination/Pete Winning Big Brother 7, oh no. This was based on religious fact**, between Islam and Judaism, or some twaddle. Anyway, a quote from a blog about it:-
"“[The long awaited return of the Hidden Imam, ending in the final victory of the forces of good over evil] may even have a date, indicated by several references by the Iranian president to giving his final answer to the US about nuclear development by Aug. 22,” which this year corresponds “to the 27th day of the month of Rajab of the year 1427. This, by tradition, is the night when many Muslims commemorate the night flight of the prophet Muhammad on the winged horse Buraq, first to ‘the farthest mosque,’ usually identified with Jerusalem, and then to heaven and back (c.f., Koran XVII.1).
Now trust me, this isn't going to be a mocking post about "Oooh, look! I survived ANOTHER apocolypse! People will think that I'm Bruce Willis soon!", because should there ever be an apocalypse in my lifetime, I want to be on the winning team. So I'll leave you with this question.
If there was an apocalypse tomorrow, what would you spend the last 24 hours doing?
Difficulty: you cannot spend time with your family.
Proper update tomorrow, I promise.
* Yes I quite realise that I posted "today" in the comments - sue me.
** Again, I realise the irony of this statement.
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I Don't Like Tuesdays
Tuesdays are fast becoming my least favourite day of the week. Last week I was miserable to the point of Sibley texting me beacuse he was worried about me. The main reason was (and this is going to sound stupid) I was putting profiles together for a client, and they all looked so young and happy, and it made me miserable. Today I'm in a fairly good mood, but those of you who have recieved
an email off me will know I've a spot of tummy ache. I say spot, I was considering ringing up ill for work. I'd of loved to have used my favourite excuse.....
"Hey boss, I'm ringing in sick."
"Really? How bad are you?"
"I am fucking my sister, that sick enough for you?"
.....but I have no sister. Even if she did, I'm pretty sure she wouldn't put out.
So I made it to work, and there seems to be a stigma attached to 22 year olds with tummy ache that they ahd drinks the night before. I haven't touched a drop since Saturday! Also, I went out and played football for two hours (I truly am dire at football) last night, so I've been good lately. Nevertheless, three people said to me "oh, you're hungover aren't you.". Pfft.
Anyway, I'm taking it easy tonight, even if it does mean sacking off the football. Was tempted to drive to Alsager to watch Colwyn Bay vs. Alsager Town in the Unibond league. However, 3 hours in a car with the only sustenance being a meat & potoato pie with greasy chips is not what I want in my system at the moment. Though what I need is a lot of sweet tea and strawberries, preferably delivered to me by a loving caring nurse, who would manipulate more than my pillows.
In semi-related news: SSG wasn't working today.
I still don't know her name.
Blame Canada
Today I went for my first sandwich of the week in the sandwich shop. Sandwich Shop Girl was working, and I did a very sad and pathetic thing by making sure she served me, by using a "oh, I haven't decided" until she came. To me that is. Lo and behold she seemed blissfully unaware at my quite pathetic attempts to speak to her, au contraire she actually said something that shocked me.
"I saw you in the Madoc on Saturday."
I beg your pardon? Not a "Oh, were you in the Madoc on Saturday?" No, straight for the the throat.I had nothing to say to that, I wasn't expecting it.
"Err...yes I was. Sorry I didn't see you."
"That's okay! I was going to come over and say hi and introduce myself, but you seemed busy with that girl."
"What girl? Oh, Canadian Girl! Don't read anything into it. I only met her that night, she'd have buggered off back to Toronto by now."
"Cool......do you want mayo?"
Good news! She's over 18! A big plus point for me, as 17's too young, it's "refused from pub, can't buy fireworks and unable to get a credit card" young. Though I'm a bit gutted that she said she would have* come over, though I think she was just saying it. Still, not like every day you meet a Canadian is it? Unless you live in Canada, I assume.
But it's obviously a positive. I mean, she saw me in a pub where the smoke means that you have trouble seeing your own catteracts. And thought "ooh, there's that blisteringly hot Welshman who buys sandwiches from us. I'll make note of that should that, by speaking to Miss Canada, he contracts Canadaitis which grows two balls in his scrotum, and actually takes the trouble to ask me my name, so that I can at least yell out his name during our one night stand."
Ahem. Yes. I still don't know her name.
In other news, my shoes exploded today! No, I wasn't on a plane, and the only damage done was to my socks, as it was pissing it down. Therefore, I bought some new ones. With the rather sexually dynamic phrase of "Dragon Power". I took a photo of them, with my very sexually static-bordering-on-retarded face behind it.
Grrrr....baby yeah!
* LOOK YOU PREDANTIC GRAMMAR NAZIS!!!!
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Cassy the Canadian in Colwyn Bay
Last night after seeing the
Mighty Seagulls dominate Wakefield (proper update of that will be tomorrow), I went with my brother and a couple of ex-workmates to the Prince Madoc in Colwyn Bay. It's only the third or fourth time of going in there, and it was mainly because there was a happy hour, two drinks for one. Get in! I had a few at the football, but nevertheless handled myself pretty well.
About half way through the night, a girl came over to our table, and said "Hi, I'm Cassy! I'm visiting this area, so I'm just finding a big group of people to hang out with!". Fair enough, as the group which started out with just six of us swelled to around 15-20 people in the Madoc, probably the biggest group of people there and - knowing the people that go in there - probably the nicest. Eventually, I got hold of her ear (not literally), and made my introduction.
"Hi, I'm Cassy, what's your name?"
"Rhys."
"Oh like Reese's Pieces?"
Now, I'm quite aware that there is some sweets in America called "Reese's Pieces": and people often bring me back Reese's Pieces when they go there. However, as far as things to say when they mention my name - "Reese's Pieces" is the best. I much prefer it to "Like Reese Witherspoon?" and definitely to "Like that asshole kid off Malcom In The Middle?". So it's not too bad.
We then got talking about everything - music, sports, mocking American foreign policy. Anyway, she wanted to sing Kareoke, but the guy who ran it said no. Not even seemingly infinite pleas of "But I'm CANADIAN!!!" did anything. "Yeah," said the Kareoke Guy said, "that's what they all say.", "But I SOUND Canadian!". No joy was had. Anyway, the company was brilliant - she was very intelligent (I'm a sucker for intelligence, trust me. My future wife has to be intelligent. I'm not saying that she has to go through University, but I would never have a trophy wife) and at the end of the night I gave her my number.
Big Mistake.
You see, she was going back to Canada eventually. Chances are that she wouldn't call me from Canada, an e-mail address would of worked. I was immediately reminded of what Fern said ages ago: "Rhys probably hands out business cards to strangers in clubs with only his url on them". Last night, I wish I did.
And so to this entry: this is the first time I've actually used the name of the person I want to get in touch with on an entry, as opposed with giving them names like "Sandwich Shop Girl". Reason being is that if she is egosurfing for herself, this page may, just may, come up highly in google. How many famous Cassies are there? I also took the liberty last night of friend requesting every 22 year old Canadian called Cassie, Cassy or Cassandra on Myspace for exactly the same reason. Sad I know, but I really wouldn't mind getting back in touch with this girl. Not because of "oh yeah, I want a long distance relationship with a Canadian" (I had trouble when my girlfriend lived in Chester, I would not manage Canada), just because she seemed cool, down to earth, fantastic company and a nice person to be around, and something that I have been taught far too often in my life.
If you like someone, by god, do your best to keep in touch with them.
Fingers crossed for developments, which knowing my luck, could take the form of a major international diplomatical incident as there is a scary stalker Welshman blogs about a Canadian he met in a bar in North Wales.
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Ballsing up Chances, Big Brother Glyn and Football
Yesterday I managed to do what I always to with women: fuck it up. I went to the Sandwich Shop and got served by
SSG, and she spent
ages on my sandwich, slicing up olives individually (if the shop likes you, they slice up spherical accompnyments) and laying them on my sandwich. I even managed a funny compliment: "I don't whether to eat or frame that sandwhich!". Okay, it's hardly hilarious, but it's a safe way to make her laugh, can't really launch into an
aristrocrats style joke with people I don't know, can I? Nevertheless, she giggled and began conversation.
"So you've been coming in here quite a lot recently, what do you do?"
"I'm a web designer."
"Cool!"
At this point I remembered advice that Sarah gave me: ask questions to make them like you, as then you'll seem interested. So I did.
"So, what do you do?"
Foot. Meet mouth. She stared at me, cajun chicken covered knife in hand, and tilted her head as if to say "what a dumb thing to say.". I giggled and left it. I changed the subject to something else, and got talking about Colwyn Bay FC, which - luckily - didn't seem to bore her. I said I was going today, so hopefully she decides to take a chance and go to Llanelian Road today.
In other news: Big Brother finished last night, with Glyn finishing second. I'll be honest, I watched none of it, just the first 3 or 4 episodes. Nevertheless, I liked Glyn. He seemed normal and very amicable, and has done a hell of a job promoting North Wales and Welsh, proving that we're not all inbred hicks. It's been quite surreal in that - footballers aside - I know very few "celebrities" from North Wales. Since Glyn entered the house, everybody has claimed to know something about him. I've heard "oh, I've played football in his back garden", "my mate dated his sister" and the strange "oh, when I was swimming and got in trouble, he came and rescued me". If he stays in the North Wales area, rather than go chase his fortune in London, he could be very popular, and switch on the Christmas lights everywhere. Though he seems grounded - and is going to Bangor University in September, good on him.
I don't often say "I wish I was more like somebody", but I wish I could speak Welsh as well as him. And to answer the most popular e-mail question I've had in the last few weeks: no, I sound nothing like him.
Right, it's nearly midday, and I'm still in bed. I'm due to be at the football in an hour, to take advantage of the new clubhouse and our sponsorship by Boddingtons, which makes a change from the usual "Who?" question I ask whenever they announce who is sponsoring us this year. However, may take it a little easy today, because as well as my lucky scarf, I've also got my lucky hangover. I drunk quite a lot of an ale called "Fish King" last night that I was slurring my words so bad at the end of the night, I asked the barmaid for a "Fisting".
Urgh.
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Sandwich Shop Staff, Sheddites and Students
Hi. I feel like I've been neglecting my blog a bit recently, and not really explaining what I've been doing. So, to hopefully provide you with a bit of an update, here's what's been happening.
Well, work is continuing nicely. I passed my 3 month trial period and they're keeping me on, which is good. First time ever I feel like I'm getting a bit of money behind me, and I don't know what to do with it. I'd love to go on a holiday somewhere, but the original plan (which was to stay with Guy in Buckinghamshire for a few days) looks set to be breaking, what with Guy's new job going swimmingly. It's quite bad really, as work are asking me when am I going to take my first holiday. Truth is I have no idea.
It's not all doom and gloom. Something has given me a bit of confidence. Maybe it's the feeling of safe and regular (because I'm at home), but I seem to be quite chirpy recently. Even staying 15 minutes later in work. My mum isn't happy with me at the moment though, with the fact she's had to throw out sandwich fillings, which I usually eat. Tonight, she cornered me and asked me why. I gave her the honest answer.
"Oh, I just fancy the girl in the sandwich shop."
It's the problem wiith having a blog that everybody knows about - I can't really talk about people that I fancy, as there are some who are reading this blog. Yes, you! As such, I can't talk about "oh such and such is gorgeous", because there's a very real chance that Miss Such And Such will read it. But looking at Sandwich Shop Girl (SSG from now on in) has made me quite happy, which means I look forward to lunchtime even more so than normal. Anyway, I'm not sure if she likes me. I mean she's begun to notice me when I walk in and always makes a point of asking how I am, and she makes damn fine sandwiches and gives me discounted muffins (though I think that they are just cheap). Apart from that, I know nothing - what her name is, her age, or what she's into. I haven't seen her around town or anything, but we shall see.
In more certain news Colwyn Bay kick off their season against Wakefield. It also marks my first Colwyn Bay game in nearly 4 years, and the first in Unibond Division 1 (we were in the Unibond Premier). On top of this, only two of the original Sheddites can make it, but if anybody can make it to Llanelian Road, Colwyn Bay on Saturday, come and join us in the Shed, and sing with us, and listen with intent as we bore you with stories of Shedites past - including the classic story between Colwyn Bay vs. Stafford Rangers, FA Trophy, Third Round, October 1999. Saturday, the we return - this time, we can get into the clubhouse.
Finally, congratulations to all of you who are reading this who got the results you wanted. Han ended up in Kent, and Aled got a A, B, C and U (I think, know he got a U in Chemistry). All cousins of A-Level age all got into their respective universities, and the hoohaa is over for another year. Not before the papers praise the students hard work on one hand, and then bitch about them being too easy on the other. Everybody did it in their own way, especially the Sun, who had these girls adorning the story about A Levels.
I don't know their results, but by the look of it it looks like they got D's.
I'll leave now.
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itBoxes, Firefox Crop Circles and Football Stickers
Hi all, after a disappointing night in the quiz (for the team, was quite fun the quiz) I'm feeling a little bit worse for wear. I needed the pub, as I had a bit of a bad day yesterday. Don't really want to go into the main reasons, but here are two of the more humourous reasons:-
- Doing a website for a client, for some reason one page on the "employee's profile" listed this girls occupation as "Chief Sex Inspector" as opposed to "Chief Tax Inspector".
- Saw Disabled Gay Foot Fetish Man. Saturday's events and non-pulling have led me to believe the Sexual Karma Fairy doesn't exist, so I had no trouble in ignoring him.
As such, today - we're going to have some linky love as opposed to a decent entry.
This (from Fark) has become my new desktop. Years ago when I regularly visited the farm Dad owned, you did see crop circles around the place, and often wierd and wonderful designs. However, this I think is the greatest piece of firefox promotion ever. Even beating the Firefox for Prom Queen link Han posted, which had the excellent "the prom queen election officials informed us that web browsers, no matter how awesome they are, are not eligible for prom queen." line in it. If Google are reading this take note: get your google earth satellites over to Oregon now!
This story grabbed my attenition on Fark (again! I will find another link whoring place). For those of you who don't read the Sun (and I don't blame you), the link goes to two Cambridge Graduates who - after finding a loophole in an itbox game and armed with a basic level of general knowledge - managed to take nearly £10000 (which is around $20000 in a weak currency) out of various machines over a long period of time. My mate Jay does something similar. He generally goes to Rhyl arcades (where stupid people hang out) and reguarly takes about £10 or £20 out a time. We used to go to JMU student union and do the same, because we'd get beaten quite badly if we played Liverpool University's quiz machines, due to our superior intellect. Likewise, I also took out £4 of the quizzer last night, result!
Finally, thanks for all your ideas for what I should do with my football stickers (well, both of you anyway. Sayre's answer sounds the most appealing though (even though I will have to take the stickers and stick them on some card - there's no space for phone number/email on the back, and was thinking about it quite a lot in the pub. Then, when at the bar (at the time), I actually got chatting to the barmaids. I never do that! Okay, it's not much of a start and will go nowhere, and I know that - after dating Sarah - that they usually be all nice and friendly, but I felt quite pleased of myself for doing that. I still want your ideas though, so send them in!
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My Panini Premiership Sticker Update
Some of you may remember
this post from a few weeks back. In it, I urged you to visit
Mypanini and make a football sticker for "Gospel Rhys XI". So far, only
Han have committed to the team, but I'd like to get 11.
Anyway, that's not the reason for this post. The reason is that through the website, you could also buy the stickers. Now, I said I wouldn't, but unfortunately, I left the computer on with the window open and went out for a few beers. Long story converted into a picture form:-
These came through the post this morning.
Question is, what to do with them. Well, Han suggested that two of them could be used as prizes for the fantasy football, which is a fabulous idea and if it doesn't convince you to join the league which starts on friday, then by god, I don't know what will. That then leaves 8 stickers left, suggestions would be well appreciated.
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School Reunion and Chester Blogmeet
I'm afraid I told two porkies in
my last entry. One promised "Minietta", the other said that I wasn't going to the blog meet in Chester (
well, it was more of a maybe, but that was my nice way saying I wasn't coming).
The school dress idea was knocked on the head pretty early on, so Minietta remained in the closet. Nevertheless, I arrived at the pub with Sibley at around 6ish, and we slowly made our way across the bar. It was good seeing him again - never really spoke to him as much as I liked at the last reunion, so it was good to sit with him for about an hour and a half talking about stuff, and generally catching up. In the end, there was 8 of us, and - whilst the company was fantastic - I had a cob on all night. Why, I've no idea, probably because Broadway was crap this time around, and I was lead to believe it was amazing. Sure, I've been in when it's been crap before, but this time I felt cheated. As well as the company, the only other highlight was playing the Deal or No Deal fruit machine and fluking a £19 win. When the only blogworthy thing from a night out is playing on a fruit machine, it's not good.
In the end, I left at around 1ish, and headed home with Sibley. About this time I was thinking "I'll be in bed by 2, ooh I wonder if I can make that blogmeet thing?"
Fast forward to Sunday morning, about 10. I awake with slight - but not unmanageable - hangover. A quick bacon butty and I was good to go. I'm going to make go. Concocting a plan to justify my trip to Chester - I don't think "I'm going to Chester to meet some random people I've never seen before!" would cut it - I told my mum "Me and Sibley are going to Chester for a bit" and Sibley "Me and my mum are going to Chester". I pray to god that they don't bump into each other in the street anytime soon.
Anyway, there was 4 of us (Andy, John and Jeane), and - whilst apprehensive to begin with - the conversation began flowing and a good time was had by all. I was a bit unsure about meeting people off the internet, and looked at today as testing the water. If 20 people turned up, then the chances that 20 of them were rabbit murders would be slim. Luckily, not only were Andy, John and Jeane not bunny killers, they also were nice people, and I'm looking forward to meeting more people off the internet, whereever you may be.
If you're lucky, I'll even turn up without a hangover.
Pictures to follow...
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b3ta.com Multiple Underwear Wearing Challenge, School Reunions and Blogmeets
b3ta.com is one of my favourite sites out there, and it is the only newsletter that goes directly into my inbox. This friday's newsletter introduced the "Pant Challenge" basically - how many simultaneous pairs of pants can be worn. They said 8 was physically impossible. I laughed in the face of physics, as I managed a massive 13 pairs, plus 1 pair of jeans.
Sure, it just looks like a pair of boxers, but no, I did manage to get proof. Have a gander at this photo.
13 pairs, count em! 13! Couple of observations though that need to be made:
Colour: It is important that you use clearly contrasting colours. Otherwise people may not believe you, and you have to stretch your pants out more.
Balance: It's tricky to balance with tons of boxers on, so just don't climb any stairs.
Blood Flow: With the sheer amount of elastic around your waist, blood flow is restricted. My legs went a little numb when taking off the boxers.
So the gauntlet has well and truly been laid down. Can anybody beat it? Alternative challenge for the Ladies - the record for bras is 7, won by a friend of mine who used enough fabric in those 7 bras to make an awning.
In other news, I've a busy weekend ahead of me. Tomorrow is the second school reunion in Llandudno. I've been told to expect a "different crowd" to last time. I prepared for cutting my hair and buying some new jeans. I really went to town and thought that with my new look the Sexual Karma Fairy may take pity on me and help me out. That was until one of my mates said it "could be a real school reunion - ties, white shirts, the works.". All in all, we could see the re-emergence of Minietta this weekend. Bet the filthy little minx can't wait.
As a kind of a knock-on effect, my participation in the North By North Wales Blogmeet has been labelled as a 'Maybe'. Trains are dead bad on a Sunday, and I have been so busy I was kind of looking forward to a lie in. I'll be honest, it completely slipped my mind when people started making plans around me. If I can make it for an hour or two, I will come. Guess I'm mentioning it not to feel guilty!
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The Sexual Karma Fairy Owes Me Big....
Certain times on this blog, I stretch the truth a little bit. Occasionally I flat out lie to get a cheap laugh. What I am about to relate to you - I can assure you - is 100% fact.
I was sat in Colwyn Bay yesterday on my lunch break. I had bought a cajun chicken sandwich and thought - as it was a nice day - I'd eat it outside. I could of gone down to the beach, but instead I found myself a nice little bench outside the Colwyn Centre, and watched the world go by, until I heard a voice.
"HELLLOOOO!!!!"
I turned and saw a guy in a wheelchair coming towards me. Me being polite, I answered with "Alright mate!". I've spoken to him before - he appreciates the company. This time, he didn't want general chit chat, he wanted more.
"You have very nice shoes, how much do they cost?"
I wasa bit taken aback, "Errmm....well, thanks. They were only cheap."
"Niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiccceeee. Are they real leather?"
"No," I said, with a dismissive laugh, "you couldn't kill a cow for £15"
"Can I have a closer look?"
Bit of a strange thing to ask, but never mind. I put my foot on the bench for him to see. He twitched, sighed, and then continued.
"Do you wear socks?"
"Ummm....yeah, I do. They're black."
"Can I see them?"
"They're not exciting, but yeah.". I roll up my trouser leg just a little bit to show my socks. He twitched harder, sighed harder, and then it struck me. Although a fairly innocent act of rolling up my trouser legs, it appeared to him sexual. My god, he was getting off on me! To him, it was like a model rolling up her skirt to show her suspenders, I kept my deadpan expression, whilst trying to search my conversation libarary for "Things to say to a gay disabled foot fetishist in order to say to 'no' without hurting their feelings". All the time, my concentration being violated by his further requests.
"I bet in this weather your feet are nice and sweaty."
"I'd love to see your tonails."
"Take your shoes off, for me please?"
Dejected to not find an solution to this, I made my excuses that I have to go back to work, and walked away. Briskly.
My mate told m once about a "Sexual Karma Fairy". Apparently, she's a bit like Cupid. But she decides who you end up with in life. She creates happy marriages to beautiful people for people have been good, and punishes those who have been assholes with strings of unhappy marriages to munters who don't give oral sex. The Sexual Karma Fairy tests you with situations you don't want to be in, and scores you on the way you handle them. Today was such a test and, despite my less-than-perfect end of the conversation, I think I handed the situation pretty well. Although I don't know what the Sexual Karma Fairy has in store for me, but you can bet that - after the today's performance - I would be miffed at something less than "Average Looking Normal Person/Below Average Looking Celebrity".
1980's Cartoons - Not Dangermouse or Thundercats!
As it's
apparently all kicking off at the moment (I've been considering doing a James May and applying for a pilots licence. No bombs on my light aircraft bitch!) and to kind of apologise for last nights
fairly drunken entry, I'm going to talk about 80's cartoons.
They say there are two ways to know what a man's like. Look at his porn collection, and look at what cartoons he liked when he was a kid. Now, suprisingly, I never jumped onto the Dangermouse/Thundercats/Transformers franchises, as they were too popular (yes, I was an alternative kid). I was never really one for guns and swords in a fantasy world, I prefered more serene cartoons.
My absolute favourite was Stoppit and Tidyup. I loved their japes with characters such as Comb Your Hair, Eat Your Greens, Clean Your Teeth and the Big Bad I Said No. Narrated by Terry Wogan, no episode was more than 10 minutes long - catering to my short attention span, bordering on ADD levels. You can now buy the whole schebang on DVD. Anybody want to be nice and buy that for me? Fuck it, it's only £3!
I hate Disney, but for some reason I loved Chip 'n' Dale. Something about the bastard child of Walt Disney that were named after strippers made it watchable. Something has played on my memory the whole time, and I'm not sure if this is true, but did they kill off a number of the Rescue Rangers in the last ever episode? Wikipedia has not come up with any answers. Any ideas guys?
It's amazing cartoons like Dangermouse and Thundercats have quite a rabid cult following. Some don't. I wondered why Teddy Ruxpin doesn't have one, partly because I used to love it as a kid. Looking at the intro, I can see why - it is kind of gay. Nevertheless, it must be fairly popular, as it's also on DVD as well.
Onto more manly matters is The Hurricanes - the global "Soccer" Team owned by the oldest looking 12 year old girl I've ever seen. These band of football superstars made Chelsea look like Halifax Town. This cartoon was introduced to get Americans into football after the 1994 World Cup, and failed miserably. As such, nobody remembers it except for me and Guy.
I also enjoyed Captain N - The Game Master, primarily because I loved playing Castlevania as a child, and the hero from that was in this program.
Finally, although I never watched it, Power Rangers had a fairly big influence on me through my brothers. As such, we stared a football team called Queens Park Power Rangers. Now, remembering this winning name for a football team, I attempted to change my Fantasy Football team name to that, but unfortunately they said it was "too long".
Heh. Story of my life really.
So, dear readers, what cartoons did you enjoy as kids?
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Cold Showers and Liverpool Champions League
Bah, what's wrong with all of you? Less than a week that I posted that I was a bit down with my dating calamity, this -
this - is what I've had to put up with within the last 24 hours.
Logging on at 8am to blog (seriously), and being greeted with Vicky talking about Japanese porn.
Fern talking about Morgan's boobs and snogs.
Celeste talking about knobbing minor royalty/BBC Reality TV stars.
Guy wittering on about this girl he met in real life off myspace and used the ";)" a lot.
Closest that I got? A mate of mine talking about his Hypospadias* condition to me, with detail. And pictures.
All in all - in my semi drunken state, I am feeling fairly left out. STOP IT YOU LOT AND JOIN MY FANTASY FOOTBALL LEAGUE!
In other news, I mostly spent tonight watching the match between Liverpool and Maccabi Haifa. Before I talk about the result, I just want to say: were Marc Gonzales (Liverpool new signing) and Chris Coleman (Hannah's favourite football team - Fulham manager) separate at birth?
Scary.
Liverpool went on to beat the Israel side 2-1. Hezbollah must be chuffed to bits.
* Men: google that word and wince.
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Blogging, ITV Dreams and Fantasy Football for Girls/Gays
A story that's going around the blogosphere that's causing a major stir is the story of prolific blogger
Girl With a One Track Mind getting outed
by a national newspaper, three days after her
book: "Girl with a One-track Mind" was published. Bloggers have been unanimously supporting her, since being outed, and I do too. Nevertheless, I can't help thinking that when it's all said and done, she'll be okay. I also can't help thinking that newspapers (such as the Daily Mail), are scared about blogging. I'm not sure whether it was broken in the Daily Wail, but the fact that they are so backward and they
think that change is not a good thing. First story I've seen in that paper about blogging, and pretty much every other one has mentioned it.
Anyway, I digress. the reason why I mention it is that my dad read the above story. Now, he's a typical Daily Moan reader, and also he treats me like I'm a little younger than I am. We get on fine, don't get me wrong. He knows I write on here, and has promoted it to various aunties and cousins on his side of the family. That being said, with the exception of a couple of especially selected amd edited (by my mum) stories - he hasn't actually read my blog. He has no desire to learn how to use a computer, I'm not going to get a book deal, we're at some sort of stalemate. I could be talking about.....Lesbian Seagulls for all he knows, and he would be none the wiser.
In any rate, he read the story about GWA1TM, and I was sat in the room at the time, watching something on the TV. He piped up.
"Rhys?"
"Yeah?"
"About your internet page?"
"Yeah?"
"What do you talk about?"
"Ummmm.....stuff. You know, things that I'm interested in, stories that have happened. Y'know, stuff."
"Nothing blue."
"No not really. I find it all a bit private, and wouldn't share it with the world. Sure the odd joke which you wouldn't find funny, but nothing really offensive."
"Ah."
"Ah?". What sort of reaction was that? It sounded like he was, dare I say it, disappointed. This was not good, as every child knows that the worst thing that a parent can say is "I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed....". I was preparing myself for a massive tirade against me, on how I shouldn't write about rude stuff. He hates porn and all forms of it. Where was the preachy speech about blogging and talking about my personal life to complete strangers. Confused and more than a little concerned, I read the article, and found three words which eased my mind.
"six figure sum."
Turns out, according to the paper, GWA1TM's tales of knobbing earnt her a pretty penny. He was hoping that this crazy website I run was worth a few bob. I feel like I've let him down in the most peculiar way!
In other news: To try and drum up further intererest in the fantasy football league (especially amongst girls), I am running a competition in conjunction with the league. Idea was pinched from Fern, and basically the premise is "Whichever girl/man who knows nothing about football comes highest in the league due to the tactics of 'funny name' or 'cutest bum' will be known as a champiion". Dawn is excluded, because she knows more about football than I do. For all you people who know nothing about football, this is the competition to make you feel less inadequate. Details on how to join are here.
Finally, does anybody analyse dreams? I had a wierd dream that ITV went bust, and it's confusing me. Any ideas for what it's about?
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Pimped up Mouse, Volkswagen Periods and Hezbollah
Hey all, first off, an apology. This entry would of been a video blog, but for some reason every single method of taking videos seemingly went tits up overnight. So, for
those of you I spoke to last night to indicate something special with this entry. The closest you are going to get is an animated gif. I would of posted a video, I swear.
Right, what am I talking about? Well, after 2 years of sheer wear and tear, my poor sony mouse is due a much needed retirement. It was a laptop mouse that I actually found quite comfortable to use. Plus I could use tables/beds/other people/bonnie as mousemats, which kinda ruled. So, I packed it off into retirement, and scoured eBay a mouse that could live up to my expectations.
I found one, and - well...let the animated gif show you it's beauty.
How fucking cool is that? Sure, it's more expensive than a normal mouse (Guy said that they saw me coming), but it's a conversation starter, should the moon be aligned with the Chrisanda Nebulous and I actually manage to get a girl back to my room. "Have a look at my mouse!" I shall say, then - dumb struck by the pretty lights, which show a sensitive caring side to me, she'll have her knickers off, lickety split.
Probably not.
In other news. I was looking around at concept cars today (due to a discussion on b3ta, and came across this beauty from Volkswagen....
That IS a cool car, unlike the heap of shit Rolls Royce has produced. Only unfortunate thing is the name - The Volkswagen Beetle Ragster.
Ragster? Can you just see the advertising?!?! "The Volkswagen Beetle Ragster, perfect for women on the go blob.". Should be white with red stripes instead, and be impossible to control 5 days a month.
Finally - as I lose half of my audience, I was watching the BBC News today, and there was a story about Hezbollah. Is it wrong to laugh at the fact that their missiles are called Flanj Raiders?
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Cricket Day 5 - Final Day's Action, or lack of it
At this point, I half expected to post a collection of One-Day cricket pictures. But alas, there was quite a lot of rain, so - while there was two hours play - I errrr, forgot to take any photos. Luckily, the person I was with was a member of Colwyn Bay Cricket Club, so she managed to sign me in to the club house, where I felt all....welcoming.
The game was abandoned with Glamorgan firmly in control (which was a shame), and that was the end of my free tickets for 3 days of cricket. Would of been nice to see a result, particularly as I was in the clubhouse at the time, so the players would of come down and we would of got drunk or something. So, instead of pictures and an indepth review of the days action, I will instead bore you with what I've learnt over the past 3 days.
I know where Worcestershire is on the map! I can also spell Worcestershire too. As such a fan of Worcester sauce as myself, I always think there's a "h" in it. Now I've gotten over my extra "h" habit.
I finally know what a runner is and how it is utilised after hearing the people on Test Match Special whitter on about it. Like the name suggest, it's a guy who runs instead of the batsman if the batsman is injured. He runs in the crease parallel to the batting one (which is why there is slightly darker areas each side of the main crease.
I've learnt that cricket is like no other sport in that you can actually go on the pitch during the game, bonus points if naked.
Likewise, you can also bother the players during the game, and they often speak to you. Be warned, if you know nothing about cricket, you will look silly (as I did to James Franklin).
All in all, it's been a thoroughly brilliant last 3 days. Shame the weather wasn't great, but it was still dry for the majority of the week.
Right, I bet you're all sick to death of cricket. Normal service will be resumed tomorrow.
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Cricket Day 4 - Beer & Rainbow Drops, Cricket WAGS, and The World's Campest Seagull
Yesterday was another day of cricket, however instead of flogging tickets to Navy Guys, I gave my ticket away to
Ian, who made the short 40 minute journey from Caernarfon to visit me and to watch some county cricket. There was still an outside bet that Glamorgan could catch Worcestershire, with a 500 odd runs needed to win the game.
Friday I lost my cricket virginity, and I told Ian to come prepared. He didn't, luckily I did, risking a strip search by smuggling contraband into the ground.
We took ourseats in the temporary stand (and stand we did - seats were so uncomfortable), and I began taking snaps. Don't worry, they weren't not just of cricket (as there's only so many you can take). We were sat near the cricket WAGs, of which both of them nattered throughout the game.
After a while, we got tired of piles, so we found a nice bench around the other end of the ground. This became our bench for the rest of the game. Lunch came, and Glamorgan were toppling quite specatularly. We walked across the pitch to get lunch, but posed for a photo first.
We went to get Fish and Chips and eat them on the promenade. It was there Ian saw the world's campest seagull, and implored me to take a photograph of it.
Look at that cocked leg! It's so camp!
As mentioned before, Ian didn't bring any alcohol, so a quick trip to Spar meant he bought some strongbow. Ian was happy.
He also bought some sweets I haven't seen in years: rainbow drops.
In the end, Glamorgan were bowled out for 191, losing by 311 runs to Worcestershire. This happened at around 3pm, so we went to a few pubs, before waving goodbye to Ian.
It was a fun day - the quality of the cricket was a lot better yesterday, and was nice having company. Today is the final day - a Pro40 match against Wawrickshire. One of my mates is planning on going too, and it should be a good day. The weather? Light drizzle.
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Glamorgan vs. Worcestershire Day 3 - Liverpool Victoria County Cricket Review
So, after two days and selling a grand total of one ticket (to forementioned navy guy), I finally managed to get my arse down to Colwyn Bay cricket club to watch some of Glamorgan vs. Worcestershire. I was on my own, so took up seat in the stands first of all. I missed the start of play, and Worcestershire were in bat at 23-0. Before I settled down, I took a few shots, to test the camera. This was the best.
I then slowly moved around the ground, chasing somebody with what I thought was "Cocker" on his back. I took more pictures.
I finally caught up with Mr. Cocker, but I was to be disappointed.
Boo!
It was a fairly uneventful morning session, with Glamorgan not taking any wickets, but Worcestershire not really imposing themselves on the game. At lunch they were hovering around the 80-0 mark (I can't really remember). So I headed onto the pitch, which is quite an wierd thing to do in my opinion. Nevertheless, young and old went out onto the pitch to play a few games of cricket in the lunch interval.. Coming from football - where if you go on the pitch you are shot - it was a plesant suprise.
I was feeling peckish too, so I went to one of the trucks. This truck was for welsh lamb - which is tender and juicy and just fabulous. I had a welsh lamb burger - as far removed from the McDonalds processed garbage as you can get. It would of been an orgy in my mouth if they left it be. But no, they had to put mayonnaise on it....
Luckily, my pudding of a scone was a lot tastier.
After lunch, for about an hour and a half or so, it got exciting. Phil Jacques was Worcestershire's opening batsman, and a player considered to be in the running for an Ashes call up. For a couple of overs he became a batsman possessed, knocking sixes left, right and centre. One of which smashed a window (third pane from the left).
Then there were 3 outs in fairly quick succession, two catches and a brilliant run out. Then as the 4th wicket seemed to settle in, it was back to slow run scoring before tea. I decided to call it a day, but before I did, I headed over to the Sky Sports News cameras. Boy you could get some fairly impressive shots there.
I also managed to get my ticket stub signed by two players on the way out! One is Ryan Watkins.....the other I have no idea, could be anybody.
For more detailed report on the match play, visit the BBC's website. Tomorrow I go back again. But this time I have Ian, and I have alcohol. Should be an awesome days play, with Glamorgan run chasing. Though the weather for tomorrow: light drizzle.
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Hollyoaks on Love Island, Singledom, and The Start of the Cricket
Around 8ish last night, my mate rang me to say that we're off to Colwyn Bay Weatherspoons. It was a leaving "have a nice holiday" do for one of my mates, as well as getting rid of one of my tickets for the cricket (navy guy, mid 40's. I was scared meeting him). Not one to turn down a drink, I had a few, then - in the clouded haze of non-soberity - I came home and switched on
Love Island. The latest piece of reality TV garbage. In it, non-celebrities go to an island in the south pacific and sunbathe and tease relationships. It's all rather dull. Guy loves it anyway, and he proceeds to tell me exactly what's going on in it.
Anyway, it was a recap show, and as such it brought you "the best bits" - one such was Bombhead from Hollyoaks (man I miss that program not being a student) mentioning that he's been single for three weeks. And then it hit me.
To the very day, I've been single for 9 months.
Fuck
Now the above "fuck" is not a "fuck that's depressing", it's the kind of "fuck" said when it's June 25th, and you realise that it's closer to that year's Christmas than the previous years. A realisation fuck that, if on that fateful day instead of just dumping me she wanted break up sex, and the durex's weren't upto scratch, I could be a father now. That sort of fuck.
I'm not a father.
I'd love to say a lot's happened, but alas no. Sure, I've got my career off the ground after two screwups and there's that forgettable business with the hospital, but apart from that, nothing in the least bit exciting, or new, or indeed remotely fun.
I mean, on the "lets get Rhys a girlfriend side of things" there has been an alarming amount of opportunity. But every single time I manage to screw it up. Some examples for you:-
That time when I was back in Liverpool and a girl who worked in the same building as me (saying no more) invited me back to hers for "coffee". I declined because I'm pretty much caffiene intolerant.
The time when I was dancing with a girl in Liverpool, then grease came on, and suddenly got myself into a slanging match with her stating that musicals are "gay" and "the day I see a musical is the day Satan ice skates to work". She suprisngly didn't run off, instead offered to take me back to hers to "watch a musical". I declined.
The time when I was dancing with a girl in Broadway. She said she fancied me, and I replied with "you loser", for some reason.
The whole 'date' business which was blogged extensively, and the first date which I went from "enjoyable conversationalist" to "leach that makes you wince which is the personification of a cucumber" (even thinking about it now makes me wince) in one kiss.
And the fact that I've pretty much ignored almost everybody on myspace who has not known about my blog and shown some interest in me. Though I feel justified. That place is full of pyschos (blogging company most definitely excluded)
Don't get me wrong, I'm not misearble or owt (though occassionally, when my mates are all with their significant others and I'm sat watching TV, I do feel a little down), I'm just doing it to amuse myself and look back and how femilliterate I am. Take today, for example - I'm sure any girl who was my girlfriend would of been nice and accompanied me to the cricket - on promise of chick flick/lunch bought/satisfy some wierd fetish that she has (going on previous girlfriends here). But instead I'm going along alone in the light drizzle to watch it on my todd, with my other ticket in the sweat grasp of some navy guy.
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The GATR Fantasy Premiership Football League 2006/2007
The world cup is now a distant memory, who could forget England cocking it up again, Zidane's headbutt and that Argenitne goal. Truly it was a fabulous summer of beer and football. What made it even more special was the excellent fantasy football league. Thanks to everybody who joined - but
Ian ended up the winner, beating strong challenges from
Tilesey and Dawn. I ended up decidedly mid-table, Sibley is "officially my best mate" and
Vicky almost caught Mike, amazing when you consider she had a week handicap, and a week where half her players were either Japanese or South Korean. As it was so interesting, I've decided to do it all again.
The Gospel According To Rhys Fantasy Premiership Football League 2006/2007.
Yes! Take up valuable office time coming up with all sorts of wierd and wonderful teams. Will Emile Heskey shine now he's away from Birmingham? Will demi-god Craig Bellamy finally realise his potential now he has half decent service at Liverpool? Will Shevchenko and Ballack perform in the premiership? What of Phil Neville? These are important questions you need to consider when picking your team.
Alas, it's not with the Metro this time, but the official game at fantasy.premierleague.com. Don't worry Metro fans, this game works very similarly to the Metro game we all knew and loved. I will also guide you through the menus to make sure you won't come unstuck.
1. Step 1 - Registration
At the bottom of the big yellow box on the right of the screen is a link to Register. Click it. It's pretty standard questions - but for some reason both the username and password need to be alphanumeric (I tried registering under rhyswynne, and they didn't like it, but they liked rhysboy84). According to Dawn only the password has to be both letters and numbers, there must be two rhyswynne's out there :S.
2. Step 2 - Team Setup
Again, those who played Metro will be familiar with this. Pick your kit colours, team name, and a few other basic bits and bobs that really are irrelevent, but quite nice. Click the bottom at the end to update it.
Step 3 - Team Selection
This separates the men from the boys, and is similar to the Metro, yet different. You select 15 players from all 20 teams in the Premiership. 2 Goalkeepers, 5 defenders, 5 midfielders and 3 forwards. The only other restrictions is that you spend a maximum of 100 points and no more than 3 players from each club.
Step 4 - Pick Your Subsitutes
You choose 4 of your players to be substitues. 1 of them has to be a goalkeeper. What this means that should any of your players not play, then one of your subs takes over. Similar to the world cup scoring, but now 4 subs instead of 1.
Step 5 - Join the league
On the sidebar down the right, click on Leagues, and in the "Join A Private League" textbox, enter 354804-59717
And then you're in! You can make only one transfer per week, but should be interesting to see who does well, and who doesn't do so well. As long as that mysterious bloody "La Resistance" doesn't win again, I'm happy, and will dance about it in the forums.
Right, busy few days ahead, what with cricket and rhyswynne.co.uk needing work, so I may not blog for a few days, but I'll be around!
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