Right, first of all, Monsieur Picard was barely French, what with that English accent and those "Tea - Earl Grey - hot" commands to the nearest replicator every five minutes. Which leads me to conclude that French culture has been completely obliterated by the 24th century. Which would not necessarily be a bad thing I hear many of you cry. But I digress. Secondly, it's photon torpedo, not proton torpedo. And if you bit down on one of those you'd soon know all about it. Thirdly, I thought Han Solo owned that ship and what the fuck is this hairball doing in my "falcou"? Finally, Klingons are about the least vegetarian creations in the history of science fiction. Try Vulcans next time kids.
Oh dear, I've just revealed myself as a complete Star Trek nutter. Well screw you too.
‹ 30.11.01
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And from Tom comes this: ''Star Trek'' actors join ''The Weakest Link''. Dear God, if I ever get to see this I think I'll explode in a fiery orgasm of televisual cross-over synergistic bliss.
‹ 30.11.01
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And now, a humourous interlude:
A man decides that he wants a pet, but not just any pet, a really unusual pet. He walks into a pet store and goes up to the shop assistant.I'll get me coat."Excuse me, I want a pet, but not just any pet, a really unusual pet."
The shop assistant says "I have just the thing for you, it's a talking centipede."
"Cool!", the man exclaims. "I'll take it!"
The man takes the centipede home in his little box and places him on the kitchen table. He looks into the box and says, "Hey centipede, how's about you and me go to the pub for a beer?" The centipede doesn't answer, so the guy thinks, "I'll just go off for five minutes and come back and ask again."
Five minutes pass and the guy returns. "Hey centipede, how's about you and me go to the pub for a beer?" Again, the centipede doesn't answer him. "Hmmm", the guy thinks to himself, "I'll just go off and watch a bit of tele, then come back and ask him again."
Half an hour passes and the guy comes back again. "I'll just ask him one more time", he tells himself. "Hey centipede, how's about you and me go to the pub for a beer?" The centipede looks up at the man and says, "For fuck's sake I heard you the first time ... I'm putting my shoes on!"
‹ 30.11.01 / 0 comment(s) ›
From Scally comes some more Engrish: "A Day In The Radio". I can't decide which is my favourite line: "Yes! Cherry and apple line up on the table for red mood" or "I must anxious my boy friend". Sing along kids!
‹ 30.11.01
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I had the absolute pleasure of meeting Dan on Saturday at the (appropriately) grandoisely titled "BigGayTransatlanticBlogMeet II" (which sounds like a ropey late twentieth-century pop ensemble - KLF meets The Village People perhaps?). A more delightful chap you couldn't hope to meet. As is the norm for these things, gossip was traded, banter exchanged, snaps digitised, beer swilled and general camaraderie enjoyed by all [the evening's rogues' gallery].
‹ 29.11.01
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All quiet on the western front, or so it seems. I've very little to report as of late: the job with BT Ignite looks as though it's secure until the end of the financial year (March 31, 2002) which is fantastic timing as my two-year working holidaymaker visa expires at the same time. Like sands through the hourglass ... so are the days of our lives. And stuff.
‹ 29.11.01
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It's not the most beautiful of sunsets and the camera doesn't really do it justice but it impressed me nonetheless: like a stage curtain slowly descending on an amazingly mild late autumn day.
The sun sets on London town: Looking west at 3:30pm
A low-travelling sun can do some wonderful things sometimes.
‹ 25.11.01
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As Tom notes, today is again "Buy Nothing Day". Last year, Meg and I unanimously decided that for us it was "Buy Everything Day". One year on and still consumer conscience free, I'm again celebrating our version with beverages at a public house in aid of Kate's birthday. The equivalent Friday in 2000 year saw a similar course of events. I like buying stuff. And I like being able to. Long live the art of purchasing!
‹ 24.11.01
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As you may have noticed, I'm easily amused. Hence, my love of Engrish/Japlish which has been mentioned here before. To wit, the synopsis page for Japanese software company FKDigital:
"Although our company is a young company for establishment one year, the main staff is engaged in the technology about compression and distribution of an animation from five years or more before." [more]And so on.
‹ 23.11.01 / 0 comment(s) ›
Pong meets Grand Theft Auto with a dash of existentialism. Watch it.
‹ 22.11.01
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What a strange evening Saturday was: a pre-season quasi-Christmas do, uniting our group who are split across two locations. So, there were hats and crackers and other trappings - I really just wasn't the mood I suppose. Now, Down Mexico Way was interesting - hen parties in full force and an extremely filling (if over-priced) set menu. Dessert was served and then, all of a sudden, arriba! There were dancing couples. There were salsas-a-go-go. There was Latin American boot-scootin'. There was a group line-dance session. There was me ... resolutely seated, smoking furiously, downing glass after glass of red wine, with a faux cheesy smile plastered over my gob. As I said, I wasn't really in the mood (minor gripe: does anyone in this city know how to do a decent vodka, lime and soda?).
‹ 21.11.01
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Feel like validating a wishlist-possessing weblogger this Christmas? Then sign up for Secret Santa and you'll be assigned one at random, whom you then have to pony up for. Cool.
‹ 21.11.01
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Urgh. Post-alcoholic binge (The Dogs + Britney Spears 2-4-1 drink promotion + Escape = trouble) and I'm suffering with a fat tongue à la Jamie Oliver. Zero concentration. Turd/spinning blade interaction at work. Thank you, weekend.
‹ 17.11.01
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Message-in-a-bottle, internet-style.
‹ 17.11.01
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Harry Potter in homosexual shocker:
"Harry (Daniel Radcliffe), wearing an unisex hairstyle resurrected from the 1970's by America's First Lady Laura Bush, is Jesus Killer Rowling's (and you wonder why she goes by her initials!) homosexual recruitment poster-boy. How do we know he is a depraved homosexual? Well, he's English. Furthermore, when he lives with his dreadful Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, he sleeps "in the closet." (I never claimed that secular imagery was anymore subtle than our own!) As Harry becomes more attuned to his satanic powers, he comes "out of the closest" and befriends Hagrid (Robbie Coltrane), an old biker "bear" of lascivious intentions."Betty Bowers (America's Best Christian!) reviews Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. With tongue firmly in cheek, of course.
‹ 16.11.01 / 2 comment(s) ›
Kylie Minogue Worn & Signed Lingerie is from a Sydney concert from which a collegue was lucky enough to have been given a back stage pass were he met the wonderful person herself. The Lingerie has the message "thanks for a wonderful night kylie" written and signed by Kylie and it still smells of her *sigh* this is a forced sale as I need the money for a few bills this is a one of a kind and I'm sure would make a great addition to any collection good luck and happy bidding. Comes with a COA so bid with confidence.*Sigh*
‹ 15.11.01 / 0 comment(s) ›
Now, as for that Potter boy ... well ... it was quite an enjoyable movie actually. I guess I felt like an outsider to Star Trek would if they stumbled into a cinema and randomly decided to plonk themselves down in front of Picard, Riker, Data, et al for two and half hours. Tom, having read the books was definitely in the "emotional investment" camp, face lighting up with glee as his imaginings wer realised on the screen in front of him. I on the other hand, took the role of newbie - no preconceptions whatsoever existed due to my reading not a one of Ms Rowling's oeuvre prior to the show (almost unthinkable in England, I know, but never mind).
It's definitely easy to see why kids lap all this up: using universal themes doesn't make for original characters but it does make for entertaining and popular ones. "Small child is orphaned, struggles with life, is befriended by a mystical being, has his/her life forever transformed and saves the day/lives happily ever after". Cf. the following: Cinderella, James and the Giant Peach, Star Wars. Therefore, a winning formula and, fortunately for this novice, one which was well executed by an extremely proficient cast and crew. Colour me impressed (but not quite converted, yet).
‹ 14.11.01
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So long, farewell, Auf Weidersehn, get drunk!
My social calendar (read: sparsely filled and on Yahoo! ferchrissakes) has been filling up rapidly over recent weeks with people departing these fair isles, mostly for good. Bye-bye blighty and hello homeland appears to be all the rage this season. Which makes me a little glum and weirded-out because I realise I'll be doing the same thing in only a few months time. Anyway, on with the tales.
Friday was the day ... dividing my time evenly between two locations was the goal. Duncan bowed out of London life with a last hurrah at On Anon and I happily consumed my half-priced happy hour bottle of pinot grigio. In record time too. After a quick hop-skip to Victoria, I was farewelling Zippy, Beckman, Ingrid and a few others who had decided to hold a joint leaving bash at the Pimlico Wine Vault (suitably subterranean and warren-like). The theme was "Yesterday's Heroes" - they may have just said pick a noun and come as that - and I was all geared up to go as Magnum P.I. late into Thursday afternoon. Until I found out Linda's boyfriend was going as Magnum P.I. Fuck. So what's a girl to do? Why, go as Higgins of course! Cue tip-to-toe tan and a tacky pink lei - maahvellous.
Other celebs in attendance? A trio of Supermen, Batman, Wonder Woman, Sandy Olsen (in slut mode), Madonna, Jake Heke, William Wallace, Ronald Reagan and Abraham Lincoln, Luke and Leia, Danger Mouse and Penfold, a dashing Captain Stubing (must ... not ... fetishise ... Love Boat ...), along with geisha, clowns, cats ... dear God, you name it. In a star turn, Zippy donned blonde wig and slinky white dress to appear as the hairiest Marilyn Munroe ever envisaged - I worry about that boy sometimes. No, most times. I seem to recall dancing a lot with Lucy W who appeared to be very drunk right from the get-go ("Who's she come as?", someone asked ... "Herself probably", I replied). I worked out the next day that it was probably Ab Fab's Patsy. But who can tell whether that empty bottle of Stoli she insisted on clutching was merely a prop or the real deal? Best left in the realms of mystery I think.
Farewell travellers ... may your fondly remembered tales of life on the opposite side of the globe be as entertaining as they were at the time!
‹ 14.11.01
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On this day in history: brainsluice sprang into existence to replace my old weblog and other personal online crap. Read about it here. So, happy first anniversary to this domain I guess ... and it's still churning out sub-quality content for your mild amusement and/or annoyance. Huzzah!
‹ 9.11.01
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Synonyms For Intercourse. A dash up the channel? A poke through the whiskers? A bit of hard for a bit of soft? My my, we're such a vulgar species.
‹ 8.11.01
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Pop Quiz VII: A bit of a mixed bag this week ... Iain teamed up with Jonathan, David and Ian, while Scally, Rick, myself and Steve-The-Boon formed another. It was, alas, a spod-and-anorak-fest, as is normally the case with guest quizmasters: this time the majority were two-part answers revolving around whether the song played was a cover or an original. We scraped together 12/21 which wasn't too bad (and there wasn't even the need to resort to writing "Wendy" every time!). Jonathan reports.
‹ 8.11.01
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I've now recovered sufficiently from the weekend's capers (adventures, not these) to relay them coherently. So here goes.
Friday: We really should be ashamed of ourselves ... almost eight months after moving into the flat, Meg, Luke and I still hadn't thrown a proper bash. So that was set to with a vengeance. Scores of our nearest and dearest popped over to help "wet the baby", to borrow a celebratory phrase, and we did indeed do so. I sensibly stuck to beer while all manner of other beverages were consumed around me (a hell of a lot also being left behind - my liver thanks you in advance). An elaborate cocktail involving a watermelon and a lot of vodka was concocted using every kitchen utensil known to humanity. Martinis were poured. Martini glasses were broken, to cries of "I bought those at Heal's dammit!". Food was consumed via osmosis at hitherto unheard of speeds. Nero and Poppaea tidied up while Rome burned, and eventually I retired with a large vodka, blue curaçao and orange juice - a suitable shade of Hallowe'en green - to drink myself to sleep. It was a marvellous night.
Saturday: Peggy Sue Jonathan got married registered! After emerging from bed more than a little dishevelled, I attempted to decide what to wear to that afternoon's festivities. The dilemma essentially boiled down to tie versus no tie. Why do I own three ugly ties? No tie it was. Arrive roughly on time to see David and meet Marcus and twinning nicely they were too! Mmm, champagne ... don't mind if I do. Repeatedly. The rest of the troops arrived shortly thereafter to a fabulously decorated Retro Bar (Wendy truly outdid herself) and proceedings began in earnest. There was barely a dry eye in the house by the end of the day - it was all just too sweet really, even for a non-sap like myself.
The masses retired to Barcode afterwards to be immediately harrassed by an unruly mob of Scottish lesbians (I quizzed Ian about the collective noun for a group of unruly Scottish lesbians ... he wasn't sure). Well, the kilted ones did anyway. More drinking there, then with Long-Time-No-See-Rob who had new beau in teau (Christ, you'd think it was Spring or something the way people are shacking up faster than a revolving door at a Las Vegas wedding parlour). And then it was to Stockwell, for Andy and Wade's flatmate departure/arrival party (bye to Duncan, hello to Johnny). Oh, and more beer too. And stumbling. And smoking too much. And leaving just as things were kicking off. Busy busy.
Sunday: Mmmm. Feel really healthy. Well, time for just one more engagement this weekend: Linda's birthday party at Inigo on Wandsworth Road. It's been a year since I'd seen most of that gang - one fucking year! I could barely believe it. So we settled down to drink beer in inimitable Noo Zullun style - comfy sofas and beanbags abounded. The birthday girl hugged her new monstrous Zippy pyjama case like it was going out of style. And of course, I drank more than I had on the previous days. Fool! Just managed to hold it all down on the tube trip back (isn't that the most helpless feeling in the world?) and collapsed into bed shortly thereafter. As one of the attendees put it yesterday, "Staff handover not so good when you keep forgetting what you are talking about mid sentence".
And the moral of the story? You tell me and we'll both know.
‹ 7.11.01
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[Stockwell tube station, northbound Victoria Line]
Him: Umm, excuse me, do you have a light?
Me: Erm ... yes ... but you can't smoke on the Underground.
Him: Ahh, right. I thought you may have been able to ... just not on the train.
Me: Umm, okay.
In the time it took to travel from Stockwell to Victoria I discovered he was 20, had been at a house party that evening, was a web designer discovering the joys of layout with CSS, was starting his own business with friends to cater to students in Bath, and was going to be in trouble with his girlfriend who lived in out west on the District Line somewhere because he was a bit drunk. And I never managed to catch his name.
‹ 4.11.01
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Stalwart of this weblog, Anne Robinson, returns: Robinson is top TV earner. Apparently she raked in £6,500,000 last year. Mock the bitch all you like but soon she'll have enough cash to amass a private army of flying monkeys and then who'll be laughing? I can guarantee it won't be you Sonny Jim.
‹ 3.11.01
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Barely ranking above eMode tests in the easily detested department are "What is your X name?" generators. Even though they generally garner my complete disdain, I'm giving one a break. Generous old me. Purely for sentimental reasons you understand. I present to you, the Smurf Name Generator.
Oh, you expected something high-brow on a Friday? Think again my child.
‹ 3.11.01
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If you're shopping in Sainsbury's at the 02 Centre on Thursday nights, watch out for two diminuitive Mediterranean women in the queue behind you: they're marrow rustlers.
There we were, idly minding our business and about to pay for our groceries, when this fuck-off big marrow comes sailing down the conveyor belt like some bizarre Generation Game prize. And then they were pushing through and starting to bag up. WAIT! Um, hello? We haven't even paid yet! And other such words, spoken by Meg to the women and then the cashier who'd began to ring up their purchases into our total. They dutifully shuffled back behind us with a happy, glazed expression over their faces while we remained with "WTF?" written all over ours. Freaks.
And in other supermarket news, orange lightbulbs explode really loudly when they fall off your pile of groceries, some women have the top shelf at eye level and I don't even want to know what that brown mess was in aisle 24.
‹ 2.11.01
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Mo returns from hiatus - don't call it a blog or he'll hit you with his rattle. Welcome back you brown-eyed, bushy-tailed, slicky-haired, equal-opportunity-hating freak-o-nature ... we've missed ya!
‹ 2.11.01
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I've been grapevined. I am of course, extremely flattered and should anyone require some Dave deoxyribose, you now know exactly where to go.
‹ 2.11.01
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Making new discoveries is always fun, especially when they're right under your nose - dinner with Julian, Brigette and Dallas was at Ark, a great little Middle Eastern restaurant with a funky bar downstairs and a great line in lamb upstairs. Turn right out of Finchley Road station and it's there (my missing it before now is what you get for taking a hard left every day).
‹ 2.11.01
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An interesting interview with the folks in charge of snopes.com, the urban-legend debunking repository, who discuss Nostradamus, "the accidental tourist", and more.
‹ 1.11.01
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Happy Hallowe'en to y'all ... rejoice in that marvellous celebration of heathenism, hedonism and general all-round nonreligiousness that perfectly compliments the holy-days scattered around the year. As my gift to you, I present the horror that is ... celebrities without their makeup on!
‹ 1.11.01
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Pop Quiz VI: After a quick nosh at Balans with Tom and Nick, the three of us set off for the Retro Bar for the quiz. Scally and Rick were in attendance, as well as the three lads (plus rotating member [insert your own joke here]) of course. Given that it was Hallowe'en Eve, the quiz was of course of a spooky style, but by sheer chance Tom couldn't have chosen a better night to pop his quiz cherry: three Bowie covers, an observation round on a song he knew back to front and horror themes. Poifect. Well not quite, but 13½ is a fairly respectable score - the lads won the £64 cash with a score of 17 and good on them! David reports (but lumps me in with Scally and Rick who answered the majority of questions with variations on "Wendy". And then had the cheek to put Tom's, Nick's and my name at the top! Grrr. They did however receive a few vodka jellies for their humourous efforts ... hurrah!).
‹ 1.11.01
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