things not to say to your girlfriend

who are you?
don't leak on me!
well i guess from an objective perspective she is prettier than you
you're very homely
periods are just an urban legend
can i have one of your birth control pills
you do look a bit pregnant

not that i've ever said any of these

They Call me...(or i'd like them to call me)

...The Iron Liver
The man with blood on his hands
Disabled Cain (think about it)
Thankertons Blue Flash
The Maltease Falcon
Die schone Krieg
Shalashashka
6
King of games
bloody thumbs
the boner donor
liquid alcohol
grey eyes
Punch Fist!
Guitar Beer-oh
Lando's revenge
da vinci tongue
Jaeger Master
whos the Jose
Scooby Did
The turner
Lesbians last resort

and how was your christmas?

neither a man of wealth nor taste

My mother-Now remember Robert, don't beleive a girl just because she says she's on the pill
Me-what pill?
My mother-oh christ....

But that was quite a while ago, and i now know that the pill is a type of tax that women have to pay based on the size of their breasts. Winter is here and i am cold. i wear 5 layers to bed and still wake with a shiver. Maybe i should really invest in some thermal under wear, for the fashion police deemed me criminally inane a long time ago.

Ploughing my way through lost, the result of which a new sexy theory has emerged. Metallic objects disrupt the smoke monster from taking corpeal form, hence why evil locke had to get richard to yank that bullet outta past locke, and ALSO why echo's brother couldn't be impersonated (excluding dreams) till echo took the metal cross off him. Also, i suspect the valinzetti equation is far older than you might think...

the futures comin fast, and maybe i should actually start making some plans to meet and greet it, rather than it just barging in unannounced and drinking all my hooch.

also me and musical dave (his other nickname is too harsh for the online world) decided to form a band named THE DEVILS THREEWAY! it doesn't get much more ambiguous than that.

If i had fish I'd name them after fonts

Guess who totally scored a bottle of ketel one vodka last night? MEEEEEE. Hopefully no one will realise that the only reason I am buying such an extragant liquid is because it keeps getting mentioned in the now web comic of choice Achewood. Whoops! too late. But maybe, deep down, I wanted to be caught. It's certainly true that that shit is smoooooth man.

Last nights zany antics inspired this poem for my next creative writing class. Blame Bukowski for making me think its ok to write about shit like this.



Damn you Mr Daniels

I am riddled with shots
from a duel with a
Southern gentleman

My insides feel like
They’re trying to make it outside
A peristalsis betrayal

Stomach is trying
To copy Russian gymnasts
Summersault assults

My body, filled with sin
Casts the first stones
At my kidneys

A cowardly liver
Turns yellow at the sight
Of its mighty workload

Whilst my bladder
Taunts me
With its weakness

Robert in...BLUNDERLAND

Wouldn't you know it, they moved my bloody essay submission date a whole month the wrong way. and due to a lack of observance at the critical moment i only found this out on the bloody day it was due. Cue 3000 words of sheer pish in 2 days from me, the worst of which was my confidently declaring that Alice in wonderland was a text promoting veganism.

Also, wheres a brother to buy to ketel one vodka in Glasgow???

shades

man i gotta find a reason to wear shades more often than just when i'm hungover

lyrics for drunken guitar playing

Modern times make a clockwork mind
Mines gone rusty from the daily grind
So I lube it up with weak willed liquor
To make the week pass by quicker

To make it pass I’ll make some passes
Stare at tits and grab some asses
Come the morn you can smell the musk
Split like glue and piss like rust

What say you to a heart slow beating?
Rest your head on my central heating
Sweat will stick and cling like dew
As you lie with me while I lie to you

I got more tears than a crocodile
Got more dreams than a paedophile
Full of more shite than a sewer pipe
My souls an arse that needs a wipe

Never grin at a sharks fin

Insomnias hit me again, and my eyes feel a few sizes too big for their sockets. Reckon I'll go on a long late walk so i get my z's for work tommorow.

I have some strange ways of trying to get to sleep. here are a few

• I imagine i am being buried under the earth, each spadeful weighing me deeper into sleep
• I picture me sinking into warm black oil
• I pretend Derren Brown is hypnotising me with a big gold watch
• I count the different parts of a sheep jumping over a fence and re-assembling on the other side
• i try to use my brain as a radio to tune into FM Dreams

We did the 12 hour challenge once again, although for me personally it was more like 10 and a half. And some might say that it went rather well (not me though, considering how many drinks i got for other folk)

My dissertation supervisor gave me the vote of confidence yesterday. Basically said that a decent mark was in the bag if i contined as i was. And I'm not exactly straining myself. As always, the bob is all about la Sprezzatura.

Motivation has been hard to come by lately, despite a fairly eager start. i suspect its more to do with health, diet and exercises than any deep rooted melancholy.

A bit about me

I remember being small and thinking I had super powers-namely the ability to tolerate supreme heat. Story goes that i used to take baths all the time (back when i could actually fit in the tub) And these baths would be scorchio hot hot, as hot as i could stand. And i realised that if i waited long enough, i'd eventually get used to it and be able to have even hotter water in the tub. i would do this for hours, thinking i was getting towards boiling point and evolving or training my body to take it. The idea that i had just waited so long that the water had cooled down again never once entered my head.

And that is why......all my sperm are dead

Abraham Drinkin

The presidents only company on haloween was the first lady's

which shows what happens when you don't plan

still, learned to tie a bow tie

A sheep in Wolfs clothing

Let me tell you a story.

Once there was a lamb, not born white or black but a deep grey. His wool was short and wirey, and so rough that not even his own mother would nuzzle him, though she painfully endured his scratching and biting at her teat.

While other lambs played and frolicked in the vale, this lamb would venture far and wide, taking pleasure in his solitude.

One day he found a cave, with a flickering sun within. Drawn to it, the lamb ventured closer, savouring the warmth as he came nearer and nearer.

Until he saw the wolf.

It was lying down in front of the flickering sun, and slowly raised its head, wild white eyes staring.

“Hello little lamb,” it rumbled. “Come closer. Lie with me in front of the fire”

“Fire?” the lamb asked. It had only heard tell of such a thing once before, when the old black ram of the herd would recount the tale of the broken sky and the tree. The ram had spoken with fear, but the lamb looked on with joy. He slowly moved closer.

“Yes, that’s it. So much braver than the rest of your kind”

Then he saw that the wolf was tied down, a thick vine running round its neck to a heavy rock. Had he come any closer, the vine could have reached him. He stopped, and returned the wolfs hungry gaze impassively.

The wolf gave a low, hoarse laugh. “And smarter too. It matters not. The skin wearer will have scraps for me. He wants me starved, not dead” The wolf lowered its head, looking sad and confused. “It has been so long since I have killed anyway. I keep forgetting the old things. Too many of the new in my head”

“Skin wearer? New things?” the lamb asked curiously. He was still young after all, and loved new knowledge.

“Sit! Come! Heel!” The wolf spat each word out like a curse. “It makes me do things other than I am, whilst it wears my brothers fur as its own. Such a beast there never should be. Oh how I hate it!”

The lamb could not help but feel sorry for the wolf. “Then why not fight it? I see your claws are long and your teeth are sharp. Surely you are more terrible than it?”

The wolfs eyes went dead and it cringed. “I must not bite the hand that feeds” it said softly. Those awful nothing eyes met the lambs “You see, this is what it does. It makes you think things you never would, forces its ways into you. You slowly change. Already I am forgetting how to hate. Already I begin to love it. What am I in the face of such things? A terrible wolf? HA!”


There was a stirring further back in the cave. The wolf cowered. “I have woken him. Quickly little lamb, flee from here, and unless you want to be remade, flee from all such beasts. Surely death is a better fate”

The lamb took heed and ran from the cave, but not before hearing the last growl of the wolf turn into a pitiful yelp that never finished.

Eight suns later the lamb had found its way back to the cave. And there, lying on the ground was the skin of the wolf.

Slowly he crept up to the cave. Slowly he crept up to the wolf. Slowly he crept into its skin.
It was so lovely and warm. The lamb had never felt so safe. He moved its head to the front, and looked out through where the wolfs eyes had been. This felt right.

The lamb wore the skin out of the cave. Stepping clumsily due to its great size, he made its way back to the herd.

As he drew nearer he smelled death in the air. Upon reaching the vale he looked down at what had befallen.

Most of the herd had fled. Those that remained were dead or dying, with a pack of wolves tearing at them. The lamb watched unseen until they had ate their fill and left. Then he came down, and tried to find the trail of those that had fled.

He searched five suns for his herd, all the while wearing the wolfs skin. Nothing attacked him.
And finally, he found them in the one place he didn’t want to search-near the cave. They were all penned up, in a strange dead tree hedge that went all around them.

The grey lamb approached, and saw his mother.

“I found you!” he cried joyfully.
“Baaa” said the mother.
“I can free you! I can free you all!”
“Baaaaaaa” cried another.
“Baaaaaaa”
“Baaa”
“But…”
“Baaaaaaa”
“Baaaaaaaaa”

A terrible truth hit the lamb. The sheep’s coats were all cut short. He didn’t need to think who had done this. His heard. His family. They had all forgotten themselves.

The lamb turned and walked away. Not knowing where else to go he made his way back to the vale. The bodies were still there, as were the wolves. The lamb came down and approached them, waiting to be eaten.

Instead, the wolves greeted him.

“Welcome brother”

“Come eat with us”

“The meal is cold, but hasn’t yet spoiled.

The lamb looked down at the bloody remains of the old black ram who had told him about fire. Slowly he lowered the wolfs jaw down and open, and forced himself to eat.

Here’s a truth for you to keep
Better to run with wolves than live as sheep

Adverse Camber

This miserable weather is getting to me. Or maybe it's my poor diet, lack of exercise and mild alcoholism.

Halloweens outfit has been confirmed, and honest abe shall take the podium. a drink divided cannot stand. My brother fell off the wagon hard on Thursday, and i joined him, though I had slightly less of a distance to fall. I ended up trying to the spoon the dog, but Larrys only intertesed in the rough stuff. Then I spent the entire hangover trying to work back my failing guitar hero skills, it's embarrassing how much i suck now.

We were sad and played yugioh. Chazz it up baby

Then at another unrelated party i dared people to feel my girlfriends boobs. someone did, which was annoying. I'm a jealous pimp

thought of the day-Shepards are just sheep with crooks

That fresh soul smell

Douglas looked around the sterile room and felt an unwilling kinship with it. He too had been swabbed down and purged of as much bacterial presence as was physically possible. A gleaming man in a gleaming room. Blinking with stinging, fresh washed eye lids he observed all the spare parts that hung about the place, some of which observed him. No, not a gleaming room. A gluing room. These were old thoughts however, and did not trouble him greatly.

The air pressure door opened with a hiss and in came Dr Franklin, all brisk and business. He was after all, a busy man. Excelling at what he did, Dr Franklin was in high demand. Both his craft and the skill in which he practised it required one to be either very rich, or very powerful. Douglas was under no illusions as to which category he fell into.

“Well now Mr Peace glad to see you back so soon” Dr Franklin said as he strode up to Douglas and shook his hand. The courtesy was turned into task and the hand was lifted up to be studied. “Hmm, yes discolouration already. Only to be expected of such early work” He then lifted up Douglas’ other hand to compare. There was an unsettling lack of symmetry between the two
“Only a 52 year difference as well” the Dr murmured, as if this was no time at all. “Still, it’s a wonderful example of how far we have come, don’t you think?”

Douglas flashed him an infant smile as he was guided to the bed. He knew the question was rhetorical and any attempt to begin conversation would be ignored. It seemed to him that even though people now had much more time on their…hands, they were a lot less inclined to spend it on such frivolous tasks as chit chat. Yet it did amaze him how streamlined things here had all become. Previously there had been endless forms to fill and tests to take. And at the end of it all there was still no guarantee of success. Back in the beginning, some of the less skilled blood monkeys had reported failure rates of over 40%. Not that this had dissuaded people. And now here he was, only a few days within making his appointment, first being brought to the operating table, now lying down on the operating table, now having tubes inserted into him on the operating table, now breathing in the gas on the

Now waking up on the operating table. Then a few more tests, a small fortune to be handed over electronically (when was the last time he had actually seen money?) and that was that. He gave Dr Franklin another handshake, firmer this time, and went on home.
Douglas had lived in the same apartment for over 80 years now. It felt stale, even through it had the very best air recycling unit. Over time, he had owned enough possessions to fill it ten times over, but much had been given away. There was a whole library worth of books out there that used to be his. Current furnishings were much sparser.

He sat down on his thick, worn chair and retreated inwards, losing himself in the simple process of remembering.

It had been thanks to his parents that he was able to have his first replacement. When he was born they had asked for the stem cells in his umbilical cord to be saved. This wasn’t an entirely altruistic action on their part. His dad thought it could be used to help cure his own testicular cancer, perhaps even grow a whole new ball. But they had both died in a car accident before this plan could be carried out.

And so he had been left alone to grow while his cell line did the same. It wasn't all that arduous. His parents had been exceedingly wealthy, leaving him a very well cared for orphan. And eventually, his fathers’ investment had paid off. An accident while clay pigeon shooting had resulted in his hand had been blasted to smithereens. Rather than accept a prosthetic, he decided to have a replacement.

That had been the first, but far from the last. The body was a very treacherous thing indeed. Most parts of it were only good for 40 years or so. His heart had been replaced twice and he had gone through 5 livers, heavy drinker that he was. In fact practically every part of his body was a replacement. The only law against such procedures was no growth of brain tissue, and even that was scheduled for review. Beyond that you could have as many spare parts for yourself as you wanted, speedily grown and ready to replace what ailed you.

Yes, the Hayflick limit had well and truly been defeated. The process by which cells could only divide a set number of times was a moot point. The elixir of life was nothing more than a gooey clump of undifferentiated mass, waiting to be fashioned to your needs.

The reason he had so many replacements was simple. He didn't want to die. Douglas was no coward, but he saw no sense in letting death come to him if it could be avoided. Hence his many trips to the blood monkeys for refittings and tune ups.

Douglas stood up and stared deep into the mirror. He closed one lid and looked at himself through a teenager’s eye. He then swapped to the other and the world was viewed from a much older perspective. It had lived a long and unhealthy life he had led. So long. He had been to christenings and funerals of the same people. Friends passed like seasons. He didn't look old, but he certainly felt it. He didn't like to think about his age, but when he did he tried to calculate an average from all the different parts. Given today's operation then he had actually lost a few years.

He looked at the offending article. A second hand second hand he thought wryly. Was he still the same person that he was when he was born? Practically no part remained that he had been born with. Perhaps he had had his soul accidently replaced at some point as well. it wouldn't surprise him. All Douglas knew was that he would keep going on, refreshing his cells so they could keep dividing. Just like an immortal cancer.

There was a small noise. The mirror in front of him fell, the nail it hung from bent out of shape. Glass shattered on the ground. Douglas looked down at the pieces for a long time. Then he went out, came back with some glue, and patiently began to piece it back together in the wooden frame. When he was finished he looked at his handiwork. A criss cross face looked back.

The internet does it again

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oyuoUwxCLMs

No, i've no idea why either

Accademic pandemic

Back at uni. Back to paying unreasonable prices for books i'll only pretend to have read. Back to zoning out in lectures and bullshitting through workshops. Back to emailing excuses about late essays that are in fact, quite legitimate reasons

Still, at least i have that smug self superieor air that all 4th years affect. and as an added bonus, i have both wednesdays and fridays off. there is going to be some major party heartying let me assure you.

apparently all the hard work i've doing for my dissertation just aint good enough, so sayeth my supervisor. i, on the other hand, think that having a picture of a lego man in a duplo house perfectly highlights the themes of failing to connect.

thought of the day-how do you know when sour cream has gone off?

modern times make a clockwork mind

I called up the taxman today, in the hopes that full time studentness would score me some cash back. He was very unhelpful and patronising, but the gist of it is that i'm earning too much mula annually (by a mere £200 or so) and so qualify as full time employed. BAH. TV said my university experience would be all about booze broads and zany antics. instead i spend more time working to go to uni than i actually spend there.

Had to temporarily pay council tax as well. That man was far more helpful, and assured me that i could claim it back at a later date, so least thats one thing to be thankful for.

its depressing when you wake up, go to work, finish, go to bed, then go to work. in the past 4 days i aint been anywhere else but bed and work. And i'm still poor!

but plans have been set in motion to make this haloween one of the very best ever, so free yourselfs up team, cause its gonna be sexy!

And I sure as hell don't know why this is saved on my hard drive

I like ponies and rainbows and the colour pink
I like ponies and rainbows and the colour pink
I like ponies and rainbows and the colour pink
I like ponies and rainbows and the colour pink
I like ponies and rain I like ponies and rainbows and the colour pink
bows and the colour pink
I like ponies and rainbows and the colour pink
I like ponies and rainbows and the colour pink
I like ponies and rainbows and the colour pink

I'd forgotten i'd written this

Breaking the 4th wall

“Hello”
“Hi”
“We’ve met before haven’t we?”
“Well we’re the only two people here, so I think it quite likely”
“Your name is John right?”
“Yes, and yours is Derek”
“Right”
“Right”
“Right?”
“Yes, there is a right. It’s right over there, to the right”
“My right or your right?”
“Mine”
“So the right is actually to the left?”
“I guess so…look can you just turn around so we’re facing the same way. That would be a lot simpler”
“Well why can’t you turn to face me?”
“Because I’m facing the right direction”
“I thought right was over there…or was that left?”
“Right, what I meant to say was I’m facing the correct direction, and if you did too then we would be happily unified in our perspective of direction, time and space”
“Well how do you know you’re facing the correct direction?”
“Look at the wall in front”
“My front or yours?”
“Oh, just look behind you”
“Ok”
“HA!”
“What?”
“Now you ARE facing the right direction”
“Sneaky bastard, I hope there’s a point to all this”
“Now we have the same view of the world, I shall explain this point”
“I hope that’s not innuendo”
“No, now look at the wall in front of you”
“Ok
“It’s different from all the others, isn’t it?
“Well, let me just turn around and see”
“You better not stay turned around”
“OK, OK. I see what you mean”
“Then explain why they are different”
“The other 3 walls are solid, thick and black, while the wall in front seems to be thin, white and almost transparent”
“Which I think, given its uniqueness, should call for it to be called the front”
“Ah, well I guess that makes sense. Kudos to you”
“Why thank you…Derek?”
“…Is that right?”
“No. That’s right over there”
“Ah, fair enough. But wait, if we’re surrounded by four walls, doesn’t that mean we’re trapped?”
“Blast, I hadn’t considered that”
“Maybe our oxygen is running out and we’re about to die. Maybe every breathe we take is just a sad recycling of every breathe we’ve ever given”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have farted then”
“Chances are you’ve only farted the same air that you breathed in anyway, so it’s kind of a moot point”
“Regardless, you’ve invigorated me to form a daring escape plan. I’ll be damned if I’m to spend eternity composing words from my mouth that are given voice by my anus”
“Very poetic”
“Just talking shit really. Now, it seems clear that we must break through one of those walls in order to be free”
“Ok”
“And it seems equally clear that those black walls seem impassable”
“Impenetrable”
“unbreachable”
“Unfathomable”
“Their black voids might stretch forever until they come back on themselves for all we know. The right side might just in fact be the very end of the left”
“Right”
“No left. And I think it safe to assume the same of floor and ceiling”
“What about the back?”
“Well maybe it does stretch to the front as the left and right and top and bottom do, but that’s a risk we’ll just have to take”
“So how do we break this 4th wall?”
“Well, it only seems paper thin. I guess we could just run through”
“That seems rash, we break all our bones”
“More likely to result in a paper cut actually”
“Don’t you hear noise on the other side though? Like teeth chattering or lots of tiny high heels walking across a plastic floor”
“Hmm…26 by the sound of things. Not counting punctuation, numbers and formatting. But fine, if you’re going to be such a coward about it, I’ll go myself and stick my head through so peruse. Or my name isn’t John”
“Isn’t it?”
“Right! Now forwards I go. Chaaaaaaaarge!”



BOOOSHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………?













“STOP RAPING ME WITH YOUR EYES!”



















KKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKCAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRHHHHHHHHHSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOBBBBBBBBBBB

“Well, what’s it like out there?”
“…..I don’t want to talk about it. I’d rather sit in here with my own odour as sustenance than risk breaking the 4th wall again”
“Did you notice it just healed up after you pulled your head back in?”
“Good! No more red veined lines assaulting the blue iris mote and breaching the black keep of the pupil!”
“I wonder, does that mean if you break through the 4th wall and stay there, that there is no coming back to this world? That once real there, you would cease to exit here, from now until infinity comes back on itself like the very walls around us?”
“Please. Just don’t. Break. The 4th. Wall

fuck WMG

my holiday came and went, with the expected excess of boozing and spending. Now i'm poor and the plan is pretty much just work till uni starts (christ knows when that is) BUT far more importantly, i figured out yet another global conspiracy from too much time on the internet and daytime TV.

while i suggested earlier that the reason you got all those adverts asking you to send in old mobile phones for big bucks was to get them back cause they give you cancer, i reckon now its probably bigger than that. They just want you to buy all the shiney new phones instead, partly for unnessecary consumerism, but mainly cause all the new phones got hi tech tracking devices in em! (probably) its the exact same reason they want you to send in all your old gold. with no private indiduals owning any gold, it loses all its purchasing power and yet another form of currency is lost, bringing us all one step closer to a single world currency. which of course will be issued by a single world government, who will of course only issue it to those who stick to the rules. I think it only a slight exaggeration to say that in future we will see a direct inverse relationship between the number of different currencies out there, and the number of civil liberties we have. And yes i did get super bored and watched zietgiest again.

Thought of the day-am i the only one that thinks that there are people that actually get paid to go around posting negative comments on subversive youtube videos?

annorlexic disrexic (another potential band name)

well, the ridiculously long summer holiday is fast heading to the finish, and i've ridiculously little to show for it. HOWEVER, I have decided to step up my game and can now recite 8 verses from memory of Billy Joes seminal "We didn't start the fire" Only another 7 left to memorise. Will i make it in time for the 1st blindfolded karyokee challenge of the student union??? Gripping stuff.

it is less than a week till my long overdue holiday from work, with only 20 more labourious hours rota'd in. And let me tell you that time has decided to make out with turtles, snails and any other lethargic animals it can get its lips around. Sunday limped for 12 hours and Yesterday positivly CRAWLED like a caitpillar for 13. it is no exageration to say that even the clock was to tired to caress the top numbers.

On the upside, foolish rotaing has given me an extra day off, so i can go back home and celebrate my good friend rosses 21st, and far more importantly my freedom from the mind forged manacles of work. in preperation i am doing my best to avoid booze till that happy day, where i will get drunker than a skunk who lost his wife in a tragic car accident. plus i can hit on both rosses MAW and his sister. there is literally no way that could end bad for me.

Thought of the day-lets be honest, we all secretly wanted dick dasterdardly to win at least once

I am not a number-merely a series of letters

you know, i don't think i've been 100% healthy in about 5 years. i spend more of the year with a cold than without it and my body seems to see saw between shivers and sweats hourly. Then again i guess most people spend the majority of their life not being 100%. Probably we all hover in the mid 70's and 80's. Only monks and fitness gurus feel the best they can feel within any concistant time frame

In an unrealted thread of thought, am I the only one that is VERY suspcious of all those adverts and websites that offer to pay you for your old mobile phones. There is almost certainly some scam or plot going on there, maybe old phones never passed safetly tests so they're being called in to avoid lawsuits. or perhaps ear cells are being harvested to create clones, having carefully been culitvated and mutated by all that microwave radiation. Well they sure aint getting my phone! mainly cause i lost it (Although a call did reveal that it is now owned by a surely old man who is also called Robert)

I saw the last episode of cult hit series The Prisoner, and was dissapointed. And worried. I've a sneaky suspcion Lost will end in a similar manner, despite all those fan theories I checked and crossed referenced. It seems that absolutely no female lost fan like Kate, though i suspet thats out of polar bear prision sex jealousy.

thought of the day-I wonder if the queen likes coronation chicken

A factotum soul

Full time work is OVER, and you'd think i'd be rolling in it. exept i'm not a billionair playboy that fights crime at night. turns out i play a RIDICULOUS amount of tax on my full time earnings, which with any luck can be claimed back from the man and his complex military industrial complex.

anyway, with the extra money i figured i'd buy myself a swanky suit. then we actually went suit shopping and i DIED of boredom so that plan was put on pause, whereupon i pushed A and had the bazuka car to his thing. i very much suspect the money will go where it always does-to my liver and kidneys and my being awesome in general. and novelty t shirts.

The big summer of reading could be going better. but it could also be going worst, so with any luck i won't have any unread books in my room-a pet hate of mine. i've noticeced a hell of a lot of stephen king in the charity shops actually. looks like the old dude is past it.

Typically now work is lessened so has the sun. Global warming is such a tease, but i guess we'll all get burning hot skin rashes soon enough. suits me fine anyway. makes places quieter and people less stir crazy. will also keep the orange walks down, which lets be honest have lost all real meaning and are just scummy piss ups.

was thinking about growing my hair long again, getting some ink on me and finally stepping up to the open mike with the band name of Fleshy circuits. if i even do one of those three things i will be a happy happy man.

Also have some holidays booked. west highland way keeps looking appealing to me. and i've never been that far north. then again i might exchange walking for wheels and go on some crazy road trip, with zany happenings.

Saw an ungrown man cry last week. It wasn't fun. have to meet the womans mother tommorrow (presumably a woman as well) will probably be hungover and look like shit, which lets face it i always do.

the bad boyfriend list

Reasons why i am bad boyfriend

Mild alcoholism
refused admission to cinema while on date as result of above
occasionally smother girlfriends face with pillow
occasionally hide under bed and refuse to exit
force girlfriend to stand on my back (for chiaropractic reasons)
make suggestive comments about girlfriends sister
make suggestive comments about girlfriends brother
ate girlfriends xmas chocolates (gifted by me)
drank girlfriends birthday wine (gifted by me)
fell on girlfriend to cushion my own fall
occasionally hide small objects from girlfriend and pretend they never existed
grew beard and pretended it didn't exist
force girlfriend to make obscure video game references
disclose unnecessary information
named girlfriends boobs individually (lincoln and reginald)
wear girlfriends clothing (accidently)
use girlfreind as battering ram for clubs
make innappropriate pregancy jokes
make innappropriate gynacological jokes
force girlfriend to be big spoon
strangle girfriend while sleeping


Maybe it was a bad idea to put these all together in the same place....

I'm blogging. FACT!

BLUURGH, full time work again. 30 hours in 3 days, plus it's busy busy busy with the good weather. And to add insult to injury, my title of "the handsome one" has been usurped by handsome paul! Damn him and his deep brown eyes, honey dew skin and flowing hair. Still, means the females tip bigger, so probably a financial win. Plus it turns out i am now on a dazzling 6 pound and hour. perhaps down to working bloody hard, but more likely to do with turning 21.

Passed exams, so i gues that means I'm now a BA. holding out till next year so i can be a BA hons.

the last few weeks have been down right abusive, what with me showing up to work pissed twice (no one notices a difference) and on one occasion drinking so much my tongue started bleeding. truly i am a role model foe young children everywhere. I blame bukowski. reading his shit just makes me want to drink. And take dark pleasure in my hangovers. no one hungover ever had to question their existence. And it is one way of sticking it to both the capitalists and communists.

I am also rediculously late to the trend, but have discovered Dr horribles sing along blog. and guess who'll be going as captain hammer this haloween. ME. FACT!

Every sentence can be made more awesome by putting the word fact at the end. FACT. Just picture yourself at the bar. "I'll have 3 jack daniels and coke FACT!"

quote of the YEAR-the ankles are like the knees of the feet

crazy times

i showed up drunk at work the other day, still running merry on the fumes from last night. i know i looked drunk and certainly acted drunk, declaring loudly about how work trys to keep a man down from his proper state of existence, and yet no one gave a shit. maybe its because half the other folks that work there do the exact same thing, or maybe its because they just expect it of me. what i do know is that the first 3 hours zoomed by, at which point i sobered up and the next 3 CRAWLED.

dave the rave came in. did a velma from scooby doo impression, and was EXTREMELY surely in the morning. but all in all a fun time was had by all. except my hat was stolen in camp arse. again.

then another night there was opperation gay, which was me trying to scam the homosexuals into buying me drinks by pretending to be one of them. i even wore a sailor hat (though surpisingly the gay bar was devoid of village people) cut a long story short a lot of men said a lot of nice things to me but by then i had gotten myself good and drunk and was makin sweet moves on my hoe. foshizzle.

thought of the day-isn't it a bit pointless to advertise HD tv on a normal tv?

summer to do list

• finish novel(a)
• finish play
• Learn all the words to we didn't start the fire
• construct beer pong stadium
• heal
• get ass up to preforming standards with guitar
• grow a thick mane of glorious hair
• try and not offend anymore single mums (they hold a mean grudge!)
• buy some clothes that fit
• MAYBE suit up
• be awesome

Whoops, just cross that last one off as already done!

alternative like a knee to the groin

Feel I've been neglecting old Betsy here for a while, so time to post some new shit. watched the MTV Movie awards, and not surprised to see twlight getting an unfair amount of goldage. Vanessa Hudgens was PRETTY PO'd about missing out on best kiss as well. Also got THX 1138 for no other reason than it was £3. It's pretty lame, but after reading 1984 every single distopian novel or film seems lame in comparison. Betcha big bucks that Orwell had a time machine, and in fact that H.G Wells is just a very lazy psedonome he went by. Also read Kafka's the trial. Felt dumb for not following it well, then relieved when i learned it was never actually finished.

My 21st came and went. got a guitar (a fender no less) which means in my room there is now 4 guitars, a ukelele, a harmonica and a metronone. couple that with all the books, graphic novels and empty booze bottles I'd like to think someone would stroll in and say "my my, what a cool happening guy must live here." Providing they had no sense of smell of course.

I've started a vicious rumour that my girlfiend spikes all my food and drink with booze, knowing that it softens my adamantium heart and i become exponentially more affectionate while drunk. it's the sneakist excuse ever for mild alcoholism.

thought of the day-you'd think that hospices would be subject to frequent orgies. i mean what else is gonna happen if you stick a bunch of people together that are soon to die

Kidney hangover

Everyone gets hangovers
but mine are kinda special
I don't get them in my head
I get them in my kidneys!

How can kidneys be hungover?
yet they twist and writhe and bite
like two horny snakes
trying to fuck

And everyone gives me advice
Drink water! Shower! Spew!
Eat fry ups! Run! Wank!
Pah, I do all those anyway

But no one offers me THEIR kidneys
all fully functioning
with perfect nephrons.
Damn those tight fisted bastards

stuff is happening

I remember hearing once, that utopia and dystopia are the same thing. In a dystopian society there is no choice as eveything is chosen for you, while in a utopian soceity there is no need for choice, as everything is perfect. Point is be very wary of anyone that bangs on about utopia.

Apparently our university is being sold off in chunks, and every course that doesn't have "pracitcal applications" ie that isn't engineering, pharmacology, prosphetics (i hear we educate people to make great fake legs) is being stream lined. Like a turd. so it's a bad time indeed to be doing an english course. And i can only imagine the level of mocking when i graduate with a degree in creative writing. I know that language students have had to go to the other university in order to complete their course, as the language department has effectively been shown the door. and you should have seen the module selection thing for next years classes, was lame beyond lame. only thing that jumped out at me was childerens lit.

Star Trek was good, what with an alcoholic womanising kirk stealing the show. kinda ruined my captain pike piece though, and time travel is and forever will be lame. I'm getting a bit sick and tired of it as a plot device, and Lost lost some major respect points when it slipped that finger in. also romulans? who gives a shit about romulans. a cold evil vulcan would have been a far better antagonist

bah, exams are getting to me. seems the more you study the more you worry. I never stressed two weeks ago. on the plus i actually have a reason to learn about sir fancis bacon, who's name always captures my ravenous attention

A new low

Well it seems old bobby boy has hit a new low in his life, and lets be honest a large portion of which has been spent closer to the ground than the sky. what was it this time, you zaney chap? I hear you cry. well it all started with the amazing idea to start drinking at 11am. Hardly crazy, considering it was the last day of class and all. But as always moderation failed me and those damn appltinis sure pack a whollap.

So, 6 hours later i remember i have a date to get to. tickets have been booked for the cinema and hugh jackman awaits (swoon) So i stagger on up and pretty much assult my girlfrined in a playful manner outside das kino. Unfortunatly times must be troubled as it turns out the cinema now employs door staff.
"Sorry, but you've had too much to drink. have a coffee and come back in an hour"
It took a while to sink in, but when i realised, i took it well. fair play to the gent, i was none too steady on my feet. however, my lady friend had to endure the SHAME of asking for a refund, and the reason had to be recorded on paper. Customers boyfriend was too intoxicated to be allowed entry. Now i know what you're all thinking-HOW AWESOME IS ROBERT. the answer-VERY!

no idea why but young miss DIDN'T kick the shit out of me later, mainly because i am a VERY affectionate drunk. its the only times i'll admit to having feelings.

Also, how many now adults do you think have been screwed up for having seen apparent"childrens" film watership down when they were kids.

ALSO my new thing is when peeing in close quaters at a urinial with other gentlemen (or women with funnley things) is to quote ghostbusters and say "don't cross the streams!" little side not, i've finlly sussed out my mini diesseration project angle. the title is-Technology and the supernatural-the machines of ghost busting. Finally got back my essay where i talked about g-strings as well. 57%! get it up you floss butts!

my rattle bag

The Fruit Bowl

In the fruit bowl there are
Three yellow oranges.
Two wee kiwis.
A fermenting apple.
A honey dew melon-
crowned by the web
of a money spider.
Lots and lots of dust-
dead skin on fruit skin
A guilty onion
And....a goldfish
that doesn't remember
why it is there.

that shit aint legit

Imagined conversation in Glasgow English lit- "And so, by examining architechture that was typical of the time of Charlote Bronte's Jane Eyer, we can see how one culturual medium-the design of rooms, has effected another, the instances of listening-hearing and eves dropping in Jane Eyer."

"I see how it effects the semantics, but what about the prominant liminal zones?"


Real conversation in strathclyde english lit-"J.K Rowling was clearing an anti-semite, as exemplfied by her characterisations of goblins as large nosed suspicious bankers that don't trust the burgious wizards"

"Shut up Robert"

Imagined conversationat in cally english lit- some people think shakespeare might have been gay...

You're gay!

...or even a woman

You're a woman! Woo lesbians!

doublethink

Tried to watch 1984 on youtube just now, and of course the internet being the kind of place it is-parts of it were censored. IRONY

also, best youtube debate ever!


I disagree. It says in the bible that God is love, and as we all know, NOTHING is stronger than God!
robfisher1 (2 weeks ago)

Reply
what about a wrestler?
silk88 (2 weeks ago) Show Hide

Reply
You Ass. That wasn't even funny

robfisher1 (1 week ago) Show Hide

I dunno, some wrestlers are pretty strong...

shitty plot synopsis

Jonathan Nightingale is an apathetic Ambulance driver that lives in Glasgow. When he is on call he takes naps in the morgue of the Royal Infirmary, as it is the only quiet part of the hospital. During one such moment, his pager goes off and he is called out. It is shown that he never turns his siren on because of the loud noise it makes. He arrives at the house very late because he gets stuck in traffic, and discovers an old woman on the floor with a broken arm, having fallen down the stairs. She berates him for being so late, but Jonathan remains unconcerned, and tells her that 80% of ambulance call outs are for non life endangering incidents, like hers. He loads the complaining women into the ambulance and drives off

When taking her details at the hospital he notes that she shares the same unusual surname as a girl he went to school with and had a crush on- Sarah Lamorte, and so waits around with the hope that she will show up to pick up her grandmother. Eventually she does and he greets her warmly. She thanks him for “saving” her grandmother and after some awkwardness he secures a date with Sarah.

During their date Jonathan reveals his past crush to Sarah and tells her that at school she was the only one that didn’t bully him. It is revealed that all the other children made fun of Jonathan and thought he was strange and “creepy” because his father was an undertaker. During his youth Jonathan would frequently see dead bodies and become comfortable in the sight of death. He tells Sarah that this was how he got his job as an ambulance driver, as he is not fazed by bodies. Sarah tells Jonathan that he is doing good work and is saving lives. Jonathan presses her for information about herself and she reluctantly tells him that she works in an abortion clinic. She tells him that it is the only well paid job she could get in short notice when her boyfriend left her and with their baby. Jonathan laughs at the irony of working in the abortion clinic so she can provide for her son, and Sarah awkwardly joins in.

Jonathan thinks the date is going well but at the end Sarah tells him that she only agreed to go because she felt grateful for him taking her mother to hospital. She asks him not to be upset, and Jonathan lies tells her he is not. She leaves him and when she is gone Jonathan breaks down into a deep depression.

Later, back at the hospital Jonathan is lying in the morgue again staring despondently into space. His pager goes off again and he reluctantly gets up to drive out to the source of trouble in a run down part of Glasgow. Here he finds a beggar, slowly dying in the street from a heart attack. The person who made the call, a well dressed business man is standing over him, and immediately leaves when Jonathan arrives; coldly explaining that he has a meeting in the morning. When Jonathan tries to question the man why he didn’t cover the beggar with his jacket, the man angrily tells him that both he and his jacket are more “important” than the beggar, and walks off.

Rather than help the beggar, Jonathan questions him, asking what his heart feels like right now and comparing it to the pain Jonathan feels in his own. The beggar dies before he can answer and Jonathan muses how much more peaceful he looks. He remembers how his father once told him that “despite the life they might live, all men find dignity in death” Jonathan gently folds the dead beggars’ arms and closes his eyes, then leaves.

Initially worried about getting in trouble, Jonathan soon realises that no one cares what happens to “unimportant” people, after he finds no significant news coverage of the beggars’ death in the news. During several other call outs to beggars Jonathan explains to them his newfound philosophy about death, and offers them a lethal amount of drugs in order to make their passing easier rather than continue their “wretched existence” As the beggars are frequently drunk or mentally disabled, many of them accept Jonathans offer, and die with smiles on their faces as Jonathan comforts them and tells them not to be afraid. Jonathan also begins to spend all his nights in the morgue, sleeping with a slight smile on his face as well, with all the others he has “cured of life”

Some time after this, and still not having been caught, Jonathan gets a call to a house in the eastside of Glasgow, where he notes that life expectancy is the shortest. The address sounds familiar to him, and then he realises it’s where Sarah said she lived. Because he still has feelings for her, Jonathan drives recklessly there, even turning his siren on. Once he arrives he is greeted by a tearful but unharmed Sarah, who rushes him upstairs to her baby, who has possibly suffered cot death. In an emotional scene, Jonathan does all he can to save the baby, but is too late and can do nothing.

Sarah breaks down and wails with despair. She tells Jonathan that she hurts so much and that her grief feels like she is breaking in two from the inside out. She cradles the dead baby in her arm and refuses to let it go. Jonathan tries to comfort her, and slowly takes her downstairs to the ambulance. He tells her he can make her pain end if she wants him to, and she agrees. Jonathan administers a fatal dose of morphine and Sarah slowly falls asleep on the ambulance bed, baby still cradled in her arm. She dies quietly and Jonathan lies on the bed next to her, imagining a life where they were together and happy.

fisting the armgina's elbow clit

Really hungover right now, was a to bed at 4am job last night. thats after the 3 mile walk between joes flat and mine. totally owned at drunk chess though, with the wronksie feint dominating all. And i spited the road closure at duke street and solid snaked my way under the fence. EXTREME. also me and stew play "THAT'S MY GIRLFRIEND" where you randomly shout that at couples making out to scare the dudes-and possibll the chicks. be awesome to say it to lesbians. saw an urban fox as well, which i take as a sign of good luck.

Apparently i'm on holiday for 2 weeks, but don't much feel it. basically signed by soul to work for one of em-doing 50 hours. still money money money. gotta keep busy and all that. right when all the nice wheather starts as well. reckon my sexy sweat rash will come back-watch out ladies!

speaking of which, if my girlfriend hasn't gone done and bugger off home for 3 weeks. how dare she want to see her parents! totally gonna convert to mormonism when shes away-father coon and brother ashua have been urging me for weeks. Poligamy for all!

thought of the day-A man can spend his entire life thinking of his epitaph

Blinkers

Mathew Murdock strode down the street, fully confident in both his progress and his destination. He stared straight ahead, eyes on the prize and no blinking. His focus was so great that he failed entirely to notice the man and the boy coming in from the side, until they were both right upon him. He was not surprised by their appearance however. His peripheral vision often failed him, though it was not something he would give a moments thought to. Anyway, he had been expecting to meet the man that now stood in front of him. They shared the same destination after all.

“Hello Issac” Mathew said, greeting the man warmly and shaking his hand. “Looking forward to the vote?”
The man, who allowed his hand to be shaken, laughed dryly. “Looking forward? No, not really. But at least there are other choices available to me”
“Now now Isaac,” said Mathew, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. “You’ve known for some weeks now that this has been coming. And about time to if you ask me. It really is indecent that a certain type of man is to be excluded from holding public office”
“And I see, quite clearly in fact, that the certain type of man you are referring to is of course yourself” Isaac replied.
“Indeed” said Mathew. “I’ve made little secret of it”
“An enemy in plain sight” muttered Isaac.
“Ha yes very good. But we live in a civilized age, and it is only fair that the disabled have equal access to the opportunity of serving the people as anyone else”

Mathew nodded to himself in agreement but Isaac stared at him incredulously. He gestured to the child, who had been standing patiently at his side, bright eyed and alert. “You remember my son Nathanael?”
Mathew nodded and beamed down at the child.
“Keep watching him then” Isaac told him. Mathew obliged and looked on. He saw Isaac giving a sandwich to the boy. He saw Issac whispering something in his ear and the boy nod. And he saw the boy stride away to a vague harmless looking shape. The rest was indistinct, until the boy returned, empty handed.
“What just happened?” demanded Isaac.
“I don’t know” confessed Mathew. “Nothing important I’m sure”
“Well, I guess that’s just your point of view. Not that I expect you to be troubled by it, self maimed as you are”

“Nope” Mathew said happily. “However, there is something I wanted to say to you” He put his arm around Isaac and drew him away from Nathanael. “Listen,” he said in a confiding tone. “I don’t want to tell you how to raise your son, but don’t you think you’re being cruel? I mean it’s important to protect our children and…”
“Lie to them?” cut in Isaac.
“We think nothing of telling them there’s a large red man coming down the chimney once a year to give them presents. Anyway, if you continue being the kind of parent you are, and letting your son be like that…well I can’t in good conscience allow him to play with my kid. Nathanael’s already upset him several times, and when he comes crying to me and asking why he can’t see what your son does, I have to answer some very awkward questions”

He looked at Isaac beseechingly, and said in an even lower voice “If it’s a question of money…”

Isaac sneered at him “I hear the fashion is now to get Blinkers installed right after the umbilical cord is cut”
“Well it’s certainly convenient, given that you’re right there in the hospital. And they do have a lifetime guarantee on them”
“I guess if you had them since birth, then you would never know of any other world, than the narrow, grey around the edges one that you see in front of you”
“Looking nowhere but ahead means you get there quicker. You’ve seen the great work I’ve done, and how efficient I am about it. I have helped a great number of people, there’s no denying it”
“Only those whom you see eye to eye with”

Mathew finally lost his patience “Look, live your life staring into the shadows and loosing your self in them, but I intend to walk the path of the straight and narrow. And let me tell you, once I take your job, I will have child protection services onto you. It is cruel to let Nathanael see the world as you see it, and we will get him a set of permanent blinkers, like me. And all the pain and suffering that you’ve made him bear witness to, it will all become nothing but a glimmer at the edge of sight. Then we shall see what’s what”

Turing stiffly, he strode down the road towards public office, where the vote would be held. Shaking his head, Isaac walked besides him, though of course Mathew could not see this.

Walking some slight distance behind, Nathanael brought up the rear. When he passed another small wavering shadow, he gave it a little doll he had been given for Christmas but thought too girly for himself. He had heard little of the conversation, and instead had been thinking about the silly thing his gran had told him earlier that day. It made no sense, how could he have his fathers’ eyes?

Weird Dreamscapes

The small girls ran across the red barren fields of mars, struggling to breathe and in such much pain. Above them unseen satellites traced their movement, waiting to strike them down with angry red light. Bu the girls were smart. Every 50 yards or so they threw small pieces of white bread as far forward as they could, where upon the single sparrows that each had nestled into her hair would eagerly take flight to it. As they flew, all the dumb pigeons that had clawed purchase wherever they could on the girls dresses and skin fluttered off to follow, going high in the air. It was this interference that had so far stopped the satellites from firing. Once all the bread was gone the birds would fly back, claw holds and draw blood from the girls and the whole thing would repeat itself. But the girls were fast running out of both breath and bread. It wouldn’t be long now.

Analize THAT SHIT Freud!

like a bobo outta hell

I peaked on saturday. I said the smartest best most awesome thing i will ever say, and only a few people were around to appreciate it. So lets cheat and use to internet so someone can tell me that i just photoshoped it from elsewhere. Anyhoo here goes. at a flat party several people were wearing kilts. Whilst taking to former flatmate ian i decided we should all play the game "guess what's in Ians sporran!"
"condoms" shouted one hopeful contestant
"Inconceiveable" I replied

..........bah, once again something that i thought was awesome is less so when it actually gets out of my head. In other news i thought it would be funny to send my mum a congratulations on your engagement card in place of a motherdays one. there is no way it'll come back to haunt me.

On st Patricks day I finally got hammered enough to fufil my secret ambition of singing meatloaf on empty orchestra. And I would do anything for love was the selection and lukewarm was the reception. But I made it all the way to the end, which just goes to show that guiness is thick enough to line your voicebox with a protecive layer so all them sharp notes don't rip you to shreds.

Writing contests coming up and confidence is like my steak-medium rare!

Shitty poem

Snorting Pollen off the back of a Queen Bee

I think that
Butterflies are like….
Rockstars!

No wait
It’s not so stupid
If you think about it

After all
They live fast
And die young

Spend their time
Boozing and
Drink Driving

It’s not very responsible
Nor is all their
Casual sex

Sex and booze
Fly away, die
What a life

Sometimes I think
I am like that
But I’m not

I’m just a big hairy
Caterpillar, too lazy
To Transform

Watchmen Review

I don't really like going to the cinema much, the more you go the less of a big deal it is, so I try and make a point of only going to see films that I think are silver screen worthy. And the latest film to which i felt merrited a visit to the land of sticky floors and closed doors was Watchmen. Being a huge fan of the novel I went with the assumption that it would never measure up.

It certainly didn't, but nor did he reveal itself to be disapointingly endowed. some things were done very well indeed. It's descion to be an 18 was a smart one. Action scenes were brually well coreographed and it didn't shun away from the darker aspects of the novel-though seeing a big blue cock every 5 mins was a bit off putting. It was also smart in its cutting of plot conrers to save time-any longer and the film would have outstayed its welcome. And personally i think its intro montage was one of the best i've ever seen. over all the aesthetic look was buffed to a mirrior shine.

Bad points-sometimes it seemed too concerned with sticking EXACTLY to the novel, dialogue was occasionally strained and scenes held long to the point of awkwardness. the soundtrack was hit and miss-sometimes perfect but mainly innapropriate and failed to work.

But what makes watchmen the novel great is the characters-so how did they transfer from page to film

Doc Manhatten was great-his detached sad and lonely presence was conveyed excellently. only flaw was a few of his choicier lines were cut
The commedian was good enough-far too old in his flashback scenes but can't really be blamed for that. again a victim of forced dialogue
Ozymandias-Another great portrayal-smart, suave with just the right amount of moral ambiguity
Nite Owl 2-boring in the novel-boring in the film-can't complain really. apparently has a huge arse according to my girlfriend
silk specter-just there to look hot really. her plot twist wasn't very twisty
and most importantly of all, Roarschark-arguably the main charcter and my biggest dissapointment. he just wasn't butt ugly enough-in appearance and deeds. needed to be more deadpan and emmotionally dead. fighting scenes weren't vicious enough-looked kinda stupid doing kung foo kicks rather than stabbing with forks. and his voice...bah he sounded EXACTLY like batman in the dark knight. too many humerous associations to work. Now he certainly wasn't auful, but he could have been sooooo much better
Oh yeah-Nixon was cool

In summary-Watchmen flirts with awesomeness, buys her plently drinks but never really suceeds in getting her pants off and sealing the deal. Bob gives it 4 outta 5 thumbs up

I'm sorry Paxman, I'm too hungover to answer the question

I've been having problems reading. or more accurately finishing. started loads of books, read none to the end. Still, as long as you can blag your way through the tutorial I guess. But it makes me feel kinda bad. Think I've gotten too attached to the short story narrative-damn you Chekov
and JJ's Dubliners. Though what with St patricks coming soon i should probably be adopting a more pro Irish stance

Been taking some super vitamin mineral supplement thingies lately-a product of me being struck down with illness a week ago, and ashamed to say ive been noticing a difference. Kinda gets me down that I need pills to keep me functioning well, if only i could be arsed maintaing a healthy nutritious diet.

Apparently we're gonna learn about dildos in class next week, maybe bang on about female emmancipation and how technology always gets utilised for pleasure. Maybe I could go on about how lilith got chucked outta Eden cause she always wanted to be on top. God hates women because of the chafe factor.

Thought of the day-University challenge is the least beleiveable program in existence-Do you really think those on it represent your average student.

realised recovery

ARRRHG. what the hell was i thinking! stupid caffine painkillers keeping me up 2 days straight and clouding my common sense. how the hell could i ever think mentioning G-strings in an accademic essay was a good idea. cheese strings as well. AND i referneced both metallica and V for Vendetta. well it's his own bloody fault for telling us to have fun with it. coem on bobbby boy, big 3rd year now, and they play for keeps this time arround. can't afford to be pissing marks away on a whim.

Rob K-Ace attourney

I was privy to a sight that totally reinforced my relatively new philosophy of letting people screw up on their own. Christ knows i've had my fair share of mildly traumatic events and look at the fine, sexually unambigiuous young man they have moulded. but not for too long, a just fall to pieces when anyone stares at me.

Amusing annecdote number 451. Whilst taking fair young lady out for a meal, where we had mysterious green stuff, a table of drunk middle aged women come in and are seated next to us. After making some vaguely racists remarks about the lack of booze on the menu (persian place) one of them, an austrailen starts to make a pass at me. AND THEN MY JEALOUS GIRLFRIEND TOTALLY PUNCHED HER IN THE FACE AND THEY BOTH WRESTLED IN THE MUD AND IT WAS AWESOME. that part might not have happened though

Also, because i am a fine upstanding member of the community, one who has certainly never dodged the Tv licisning dudes, I have been picked for jury duty. i might not be actually on the jury though. from what i gather they basically get a bunch of you in a room, stick your names in a hat and the ones drawn are the ones in the stand. I am sorely tempted to dress up as pheonix wright and randomly shout objection!!!!!! but maybe contempt of court is one dream i should wait until i';m old and senile to live.

Thought of the day-whenever you offer or are offered ferroe roche you MUST say "Ah Mr Ambassador!"

conquering the word count

That night Stephen dreamed. Usually he only dreamed when he was drinking, small fractures convalescing into some vague shape, but this was whole and perfect. He dreamed he was in a large theatre, sitting in a big red chair. All around him there were people, with blonde hair and blue eyes. They were naked, and out of their backs poked thin hollow bones. These bones twisted down, over their shoulders and to their wrists, where they were wrapped around the arms of the chair. Thus they were tied and held there by their own bodies turning traitor. It looked as if they had been bound this way for some time, as thick layers of dust covered them from head to toe.

But oh how their eyes stared, so intent on what was going on in front. Those poor beggars were not even spared a blink, and through the grey dust chalk lines were drawn by tears clinging to cheeks and falling from chins. But what was the object that had so fully captured their gaze?

Upon the stage, bathed in sickly yellow light stood a lone male figure. Strings from above ran down into him, and with slow ponderous movements pulled him about stage. Carefully he made his way from part of the stage to the other, looked around, and with a shake of his head walked to another spot.

This dull scene was repeated for some time until a trap door opened behind him and another figure rose up. This new actor grabbed the strings of the first and pulled them viciously and enthusiastically, making the first flail and dance. There was much energy and little thought behind the movements, and the first actors face was a picture of exhausted recognition.

A 3rd actor entered from the right, this one female. Delicately she moved towards the two. The puppeteer stopped his jig, smiled and made his charge bow impossibly low, so that his nose touched the ground. Then he pulled out a knife, with which he cut the strings. The captive man fell limply to the ground and his master leaped down the trap door, headfirst like a diver into water. The other man pitifully tried to reach up to his strings and pull himself to his feet, but no part of his body seemed to fully work, and he jerked about like a poisoned insect. Standing over him, the woman held out her hand, and with great difficulty pulled him to his feet. There he rested heavily upon her, but she bore his weight, and started to slowly dance. He tried to mirror her, and though his movements were awkward at first, soon there was an ugly symmetry to them, that grew more and more beautiful and intricate to see. Unheard music swelled and they danced about the stage in perfect unity.

Suddenly there was a deep rumble. With a crashing crescendo from out of the ground there burst a great phallic worm. It raised higher and higher, rising up to the ceiling. Running parallel with the strings, its unseen head let loose a terrible cry, which was joined by a scream that abruptly ended. The limp strings turned red as ruby jewels of blood ran down them and to the ground. It dripped onto the two dancers, who wiped it from their eyes and stared up. The great beast descended, and its bloody maw crashed into the two, engulfing them in their entirety.

The curtains came down upon this scene and a sign lit up. APPLAUSE it decreed, and seeing none of his captive audience could oblige, Stephen dutifully clapped his hands.

Projection Machinations

She looked at her phone for the time. He should be here by now. But he wasn’t, so she went back to waiting. It would have been sweet of him to show up early, and she wasn’t the type to freak out if he was a few minutes late. But it was nearing 10 minutes.

He might have a good excuse. Maybe a car splashed a puddle at him and he had to change. Maybe he was helping an elderly woman with her shopping. Maybe a bear had escaped from the zoo and had him trapped in a corner. Still if that was the case he could have at least texted about it.

She flicked through the film magazine again. She’d already read it all, cover to cover. That’s what she got for arriving early herself, so eager and excited and stupid. To pass the time she tried to memorise the release dates of all the films. January 29th, march 12th, August 3rd, which was also her birthday. Maybe he would show up and they would start going out and he would take her to see the film as a birthday treat.

Again her phone came out. No new messages. She would wait 2 minutes before sending him one. The film was due to begin then. That way she wouldn’t seem desperate or needy. She’d seem practical and no nonsense. “The films starting now, are you nearby?” She composed it, brought up his name, and when the two minutes were up sent it.

And then waited two minutes. Not a problem, just advertising. Then five minutes. Well it was ok to miss the trailers. Then another three minutes. Hopefully there was a long credit sequence at the start. How much longer would she need to wait before it looked pathetic? 20 minutes or so probably, though she knew she’d wait as long as 40.

A boy sat beside her, and her heart soared. But then she saw that it wasn’t her date. Just someone that looked as bored and lonely as she did. He caught her looking, and flashed a tight smile. Then he went back to staring at the cinema entrance and glancing at his watch. It was curious to see him doing exactly as she was.

86 seconds passed. She counted each one, so time would go slower and she might still see the film with her date. When she got to 87 an enormous sigh let up besides her. She looked and again he caught her.

“You been stood up to?” he asked glumy
She smiled, glad to see that she wasn’t the only reject in the world “I think I might have been” she replied.
“Sucks” he said
“Yeah”

A silence followed this. Then he said “what film?”
“I’m sorry?”
“What film were you going to see?”“Oh, Cold Mountain”
“Ha, same”

He reached into his pocket and pulled something out. It looked just some paper, and he fiddled with it in his hands “Did the stupid chivalrous thing and bought both tickets early” he said.
She gave him a sympathetic croon. At least she hadn’t made that mistake
“Yeah, sucks to be me to” he said.

He stared at his tickets in front of him. Then he looked at her.
“Do you…like the look of the film?” he asked.
“Well I loved the trailer, and of course Jude Law’s in it”
“Of course. And let’s not forget Natalie Portman either”
“No,” she laughed. “I guess not”

He looked at the tickets some more.
“Would you like one?” he said “I don’t want to look a saddo and ask for a refund” He tried to give her a ticket
“Oh, well let me buy it off you” she said, pulling out her purse.
“It’s no big deal”
“Then let me pay”
“Girls shouldn’t have to” he muttered

She smiled at this. At least there was one gentleman in the world. And while he wasn’t handsome in any classical sense, he wasn’t particularly unattractive. Besides, she had been looking forward to see Cold Mountain, and all a date for a film was was insurance that you didn’t have to go and sit alone. She made up her mind.

“At least let me buy the popcorn”
“Don’t feel you got to sit next to me if you don’t want to”
She got up, took his hand, and pulled him up as well. “Come on” she said “we’re missing the film so get moving”
“Ok, ok fine. Let’s go”

So they did, and it was nice, all of it except when the ticket collector shot the boy a wry smile and shook his head, but she soon forgot about that and its oddness. The film was lovely and they emerged from the cinema, with her feeling so grateful towards the boy.

It was next week. The boy went to the cinema by himself. He looked up at the listings and went up to the cash desk. Behind it was the ticket collector. He smiled at his old friend.
“What films are out that couples will want to see today?”
The ticket collector rolled his eyes “Try the Pianist”
“She did” he replied, and bought 2 tickets. He sat down and waited, looking around for when a girl would show up, looking unhappy and alone. Looking like they had been stood up for a date. Men could be bastards after all.

You're so crazy...

...i wanna have your babies! But too many hot baths have no doubt caused my sperm to fuse together so any child we make will have two heads! And i don't have defusion in my deck any more!

Having said that, I did play yugioh with mi amigoes for the first time in an age, and things didn't go too shabby, what with me totally metagaming my way to victory. How foolish I used to be in my deck construction-where bigger is certainly not better. The game has gotten a bit silly though, what with the banned list stretching off to infinity chaos dragon. MY idea is far more sensible, assign each card a cost, with crap ones being low cost and great ones being high, then set a points limit for a duel, either agreed on by players or standarized for tournaments. that way loads more stragey goes into deck building, and it aint all about whoever spends the most money on their hobby wins.

A few random things have happened. on tuesday i got drunk and wandered into what i thought was a cool accosutic gig. the vibe was good and folk were friendly, but something seemed a little off. it was only when the guy announced that his next song was called psalm 40, and then some spokesdude gave a talk that i realised i was at a christian rally-and quite smashed to boot. I still maintain that a few of the ladies were giving me fuck me eyes though-but then I always think that. It's a very sexy form of paranoia

I also had the idea of getting up on stage and busting out some "smelly cat" Replacing the words would totally fool any christian

"Jesus christ Jeeesus christ
what are they feeding you...to the lions
Jesus christ Jeeessuss christ
IT'S NOT YOUR FAULTTTTTTT"

of course I am going to hell for that, but the way things are, the rest of the world will soon follow

Other slight crazyness would be me singing away to my MP3 when going home, busting into the kitchen with a lyrical swell, and finding my flatmates being interviewed by police. The song choice was quite unfortunate as well. "I'm a miiiidnight tooooker.......oh whoops" Was quite tempted to make a few jokes about hiding my plants, but didn't reckon they would've gone down so well.

Thought of the day-It's burger thursday and i can't wait to get some meat between buns

Night and Day

The night is your face
The sky is your skin
The moon, a mole
And the stars
are your freckles

The day is your face
The sun is a scab
That black cloud a bruise
And those scars,
made by planes

Bullshitting for the win

I had the dubious honour today of having apparently produced the best piece of tabloid journalism from a ramshackled broadsheet story we were all given. Huzah for bastardisation.

Lock up your daughters (and sons)

Our prisons are overflowing…with children. And while we can all nod sagely and blame the parents, they aren’t the ones that have to do hard time.

For every 100, 000 kids in Britain, 23 will end up in the slammer. In France, it’s six. Spain a mere 2. Custody has doubled in the past decade, despite youth crime having fallen.

Many experts agree that locking up young offenders is both expensive and ineffective. The YJB (Youth Justice Board) spends almost £280 million of the taxpayer’s money each year on detention. Ironic, considering that surveys show nearly 80% of children released re-offend within that year.

As former Home Secretary David Waddington put it, “Prison is an expensive way of making bad people worst”

Youth crime came into the lime light in the 1990’s “Condemn a little more and understand a little less” urged then Prime Minister John Major. Opposing parties battled with each other to show the public which of them was tougher on youth crime. And as always when adults fight, it’s the children that lose out.

Romance, Nazi's and eye-patches

And I can't seem to find my own eye patch, which is a damn shame. For the red capilaries have marched across the whites of my eyes and have my blue grey iris in a stalingrad stranglehold, laying seige so they might penetrate the murkish moat waters and breach the black Keep of my pupil. Maybe

So yeah, saw a nazi film with my ladyfriend (Tip-all chicks dig nazi films) and it proved reasonably good. though the problem with a film about assassinating hitler is that you kind of know how it's going to end. Still, unbeknown to the world they managed to save his brain for putting into a robot and his left testicle (hence the song) so they might harvest his sperm, so with any luck some boys from brazil lead by tom cruise will get another wack at assassinating his ass. Along with walt Disney.

Let us not forget however that without hitler IBM would have been outta business, israle might not be around and of course we wouldn't have fanta!

In other news, after geting a shockingly bad mark for an essay, i've been pulling the finger out and doing a fair bit of studying, hitting the books like their all about the S&M. Apparently our ability to contextualise history has been compromised by the speed of our innovation, and that there is no future in post structural narratives due to their obession with pastiche and nostalgia.
Also, for the first time in like a billion years (5000 for young earthers) I've got the weekend off work, and already have had many exciting enticing and enterprising offers as how to spend it. almost all options will result in hangover.

Thought of the day-kafka kicks ass

The End

Not this blog (though it seems in right now to jump ship with your blogging) but of a series of unfortunate events! Finally finished them all and feel slightly richer for the experience. Of course they did exactly what the Dark tower did-start off strong, get crap in the middle, promise to deliver so much at the end but ultimatly fail to. Like your sex life? Maybe!

They do however agree with me on a number of levels-ie that knowing everything is next to impossible and all you can hope to do are small victories of good, and also that you should ultimately make judgements yourself, rather than letting anyone else-including papers. Wait till the readers Of the Daily Punctillo see that! Interesting how religion gets slammed in the last book, didn't think that would be a target. opiates anyone?

Tune in next week to see my social-political examining of Naruto (clue:tailed beasts=nukes)

thought of the day-the more i work at the gay bar, the more i suspect that men just want somewhere to shove it, and women just want something to fill it. Everything else is conditioning

A teaser

That will ultimately dissapoint

It had been days since he had slept, maybe weeks. Time didn’t mean much anymore. Nothing meant much anymore. How did nihilists get up in the morning? This city was empty, just like all the other villages and towns were empty. Vacant in the day and hollow in the night. That wasn’t how the films all said it would be. Stephen would almost welcome the discovery that zombies or vampires were gathered round campfires telling the story of The Tanned One. Little fleshless children shivering in fear over his sinister ability to absorb vitamin D from the sun. Didn’t that make him a star vampire? By that logic Earth was just one big mosquito circling its prey.

Yep, the sun had baked him brown all right, what with all his travelling. He was pretty half baked himself, and took another drag as he drawed his ass up the stairs. The view from the top would be sweet and he could say goodbye to Mr Sun, maybe apologise for sucking so much.

He made it to the top and stood at the edge, staring into the abyss. Nothing started back. There was no way he could win a staring contest with Nothing.

Minamalist Fiction

How the Mighty Have Fallen

By Robert W Kilgour

George and his girlfriend were walking down the road. George slipped and landed on his back, unconcious. His girl dutifully called an ambulance. When George came to, he was in an ambulance with a paramedic leaning over him.

"How the hell did that happen!" George exclaimed, as indicated by the exclamation mark after his dialogue. Given it was a question as well, then perhaps a question mark should have followed.

"You slipped on some urban fox shit sir" the paramedic replied

"Damn those urban foxes!"

"I supported the hunting ban myself" said the paramedic conversationally. "Now can you tell me your name?"

"Geroge Mighty"

"Thank you"

George later died of complications.

fin

Thought of the day-There's not a single student that hasn't been tempted to submit an essay in comic sans font

sex and the psycho

Now despite the overwhelming evidence, lets not jump to any conclusions about my masculinity here, but I have started watching sex and the city. After all, aparently it covers everything, not that i wanted it too *shudder* And I guess i could justify it by saying it comes right on after south part and the effort to change chanels is too great.

So, while watching it, i realised a few things. Mr Big is a bastard! But an honest one at that, so it's Carries own fault. And, like my brother and kung foo karl, I am definetly a Miranda. However, the slightly more intresting point is that Sex and the city is a hell of a lot like american psycho, what with the cold detachment from love making, the obessions with fashion, style and image, as well as body parts. Indeed I don't think it would be too bold a statement to say that SATC is essentially the female equivalent of American Psycho. Women aren;t physically strong or as violent as men, so they emasculate them! Like that slightly kickass film Network says "Why is it that a woman always thinks that the most savage thing she can say to a man is to impugn his cocksmanship"

thought of the day-Only smart junkies get to pick how they feel

A really bad joke

That I thought of all by myself

What do you call a failed gynocologist?

An abortionist


it sounded funnier when i hadn't totally thought of it...

Deep south

And yet again a man has tried to force his intentions and his manhood upon me. But the circumstances this time are farrrrr more audacious. So in the club (the very fact i am in a club means i am ever so slightly tipsy) groovin with my buddy and grindin with my honey, when after returning from bar run i discover a young man dancing with girlfriend!

"It's ok, he's gay" i am assured by various people. BUT lets be honest, what man hasn't pretended to be gay so he can edge his way closer to unwary females. the ammount of romantic comedies depicting such notions is at least in double figures.

So i hatch upon a master plan. out gay him! what with my love of musicals and whimsicals it should be a cinch. cue sweet dance moves directed directly in his direction. UNFORTUNATLY, much like the time i played gay chicken with a gay dude, things didn't go so well. after witnessning such sweet moves, he asks my girlfriend if i am gay, to which she oh so helpfully replies "yeah, probably" Then, throwing decorum to the wind he goes all handsy on me, and goes south. deep south. all the way to lousiana and tries to shake hands with the Colonel.

I flee and I cry. it was not a finger lickin' good time