Messages from the 'Other Side'

I just tried to open DreamWeaver, and got this, possibly the strangest error message I've ever got. Maybe not quite as strange as "Error #2484, user has a beard." though.

As my volume gently tweaks...

It's amazing how just switching my blog from mySpace to Blogger has restored a sense of equilibrium to my life. I woke up this morning positively bursting with energy. Well, maybe not bursting, but I kinda felt like a kid on Christmas morning, there was a buzz of anticipation in the air, and my sense of karmic flow seems to be heightened. I feel compelled to write in my blog again...

Why changing my blog would do this to me, I don't know, perhaps I feel less dragged down by mySpace's crap design, less constricted by its nazist censorship. Maybe I just get turned on by the fact that I can upload pictures to my blog from within Picasa now. All hail Picasa, I love you dearly.

Maybe I have a feeling of righteousness because people who choose to read my blog from within an RSS reader can now read the whole thing, and not just the first three words, without having to actually get dragged across the internet just to look at some arsebiscuit flash adverts telling them to chase a monkey for a free ringtone. Although yesterday I did notice that mySpace had finally implemented autodetection of their blog Rss feed. Well done myspace, now if you wouldn't mind making the rest of your site good, I might want to use you again. I can't see that happening though.

So with my newfound motivation I think I'm going to re-install windows on my laptop. There's nothing that would destroy my soul more, but it's something I've been putting off for ages, and I'm tired of MSN messenger trying to install itself all the time when I never asked it to, and Photoshop not working.

If I spike my hair up, I look like the nerd everyone hates from Spin City.

I don't know why I didn't move my blog over here sooner. Looking back at my old mySpace blog, it just looks old and nasty in comparison. I really am just a big bag of style and productivity today. Not only did I get myself some nice new trainers to replace the old Vans I've had for 5 years (I'll always remember you...), I also got myself a new job at the stylish Prohibition in Leeds. Swank McSwank.

Now I just have to save up for those million things I want... New phone, trip to Ibiza, Leeds Festival, new laptop, flat...

How do normal people cope????

Victimized by MySpace for being useful.

Why is it, that every time, without fail, I want to post a bulletin, MySpace is 'fixing them', yet other people have no problem posting 15 in a row telling me nothing more than the fact that they're bored?

Does MySpace have built-in usefulness filters - if something is deemed useful to anyone MySpace will block it?? How many times does mySpace need to 'fix' their bulletins? And why were they broken? Probably too many people posting that they were bored. Do you hear me?? If you're bored, and you're on MySpace, don't feel like you have to tell me. I don't care. Really. Here's some interesting alternatives to boredom bulleting you might want to consider (hey, I had to get a bulleted list in there somehow):

• Write a novel.
• Saw someone in half.
• Do naked handstands.

If you do any of these things, you have every right to bulletin me and tell me all about it (And in the case of the last one, if you're a good looking lass, you have my permission to send pictures as well), but unless you have something interesting to say, stay thy hand from ye poste buttone. It's stopping me telling everyone about my naked handstands.

Fuck it, I'm going to go poke someone on Facebook.

News just in: In addition to not letting me post bulletins, MySpace don't want me to write in my blog either. I think I swear too much or something. This is my new blog now. MySpace can go do illigal things with goats for all I care.

Impetus McDee and his magical performing odometer.

I saw on the telly the other day an interview with some random Brazilian guy, and this daft interviewer chap who didn't have a clue. Anyway, this came up:

Interviewer: blah blah blah blah blah
Brazilian Guy: blah blah
Interviewer: blah blah blah?
Brazilian Guy: blah blah.
Interviewer: hahaha. So Jeff. I've always wondered what Brazil Nuts are called in Brazil?
Brazilian Guy: Nuts.

Maybe the interviewer wasn't that daft after all - I've always wondered what they call Brazil Nuts in Brazil. He's just asking the questions that are relevant to today's socio-economic society as we know it. Hard hitting questions that strike home and that would bamboozle a politician sharper than a sharpened copy of Oscar Wilde's Big Book of Wit.

I mean, if you think about it, it stands to reason really, it's like the default nut in Brazil, so you don't need to call it anything else. Like the way that American Football is the default type of football in America, so they just call it Football. But not Footy. Never Footy.

So I got thinking about a couple of other things:

• Is a French Kiss in France just a Kiss?
  When you're just meeting someone for the first time do you go tongues deep in their throat and try and lick their digestive system? If you're a bit more intimate with someone do you give them a quick peck on the cheek?
• Is a Mexican Wave in Mexico just a Wave?
  I guess the same rules could apply: If you spy a Mexican across the room and want to descreetly acknowledge them, do you jump up and down and do the whole "Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy" thing? In that case does it work with just one person, or do you have to get as many people nearby as you can to stand in a line and do it before you'll be able to get the Mexican person's attention? Can you microwave a burrito in Mexico just by sticking it in a box and getting a load of midget Mexicans to keep doing the "Waaaayyyyyy" thing directed at the burrito for 30 seconds?
• Why was the Brazilian guy called Jeff?
  It just doesn't seem a very Brazilian name to me.

Usurping the Patagonian Health Service

One thing I'm really missing while being over here in the States is British advertising.

You might think that advertising in any old country is surely the same - it's comanies trying to persuade you to buy their shit. Nuh uh. Not true. Here's a comparison between an American washing up liquid advert, and a British one:

• American:
  Narrator - really deep voice, the kind that rattles cheap sub-woofers: Deep in a world where a dish's freedom is measured not by it's cleanliness but by it's godliness, how can you afford to use an inferior washing up liquid? 90% of people don't realize that using a cheap washing up liquid funds terrorism. That's why we designed ULTRA POWER MEGA FREEDOM WASH. Using all-American ingredients, we formulated a wash that's scientifically proven to be marginally better than using lukewarm water on its own. If you don't believe us, just listen to these real customers, who aren't actors...
  Crap Actor #1: I was perfectly happy with my washing up liquid, but when I found out that a couple of the ingredients are made in Europe, it made me sick to my bones. By using ULTRA POWER MEGA FREEDOM WASH I can be sure that I'm supporting America in all it's glory.
  Crap Actor #2: I was told that my old washing up liquid is used by sex-fiends at sex-festivals as lubricant. I was assured by ULTRA POWER MEGA FREEDOM WASH that it was endorsed by god himself, and was untouched by the hands of sex-fiends. That's something you can believe in.
  Crap Actor #3: By using ULTRA POWER MEGA FREEDOM WASH, I've lost 2,000lbs through loss of appetite.
  Narrator: But don't just take their word for it, try ULTRA POWER MEGA FREEDOM WASH Yourself, and see how you can achieve a sense of manly power and one-up-manship over your neighbor and everyone else you know. BUT WAIT! Buy now and we'll send you not just one bottle, but 2 FREE. How can we do this? By employing small black children in juvenile institutions in inner city project areas, we pass on the savings to YOU! That's right, our product is manufactured completely within the US, by US workers, keeping the CHEAP in FREEDOM. PLUS: Order within the next 10 minutes, and we'll send you 15 bottles of ULTRA POWER MEGA FREEDOM WASH for the price of one! WOW! ULTRA POWER MEGA FREEDOM WASH - because what are your dishes if they're not FREE??
  
• British:
  Fancy CGI graphics costing millions of pounds show the existentialism of washing up liquid and how it fits into modern Britain, to a soundtrack by Coldplay. Lives are saved, people with AIDS are cured, black and white images of the black death plague are seen retreating at speed across the English Channel, before being blasted into thousands of bubbles, each bubble designed by a famous modern artist, which in turn burst, revealing happy babies inside. Finally, the product is shown...
  Alan Davies Narrates: Use Frisk to clean your dishes. We like it, and we think you might too.
  

Happy People With Guns.

Are writers running out of ideas these days? Movie titles just seem to keep getting worse and worse. A few months ago, there was "Snakes on a Plane" - Let's explore that for a second. Great, it does exactly what it says on the tin, you know what you're gonna get when you go to the cinema - chances are, this movie involves some snakes juxtaposed to a plane. Amazing. Is this supposed to be some kind of touchy-feely metaphor for having some terrorists onboard? No. It's just snakes. On a plane. How do I know it's not a metaphor? You can't train a snake to fly a plane. They don't have opposable thumbs.

So then I see that they've released a new film called "Black Snake Moan" (look, I've nothing against snakes - even black ones, I'm like the least snakist person out there, but there's just a lot of retarded snake movies out there it seems). First of all, Snakes don't moan. They can moan about as well as they can fly planes. Why? No bloody vocal chords. Plus I have reservations about the size of snake lungs, even if a snake had vocal chords, the size of it's lungs would only allow it to squeak. There, I did it, I got all scientific on your ass. I'm sorry I had to do that. Fuck. I'm turning into Jeremy Clarkson.

Then I noticed that Justin Trousersnake is in this film. This guy seriously has some penis insecurities. He's clearly still trying to shake off those rumours from Britney, back in the day. I mean, first Dick in a Box, and now this?
dick in a box

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Justin, it's ok. Can you just go back to making cheesy music? The wedding DJs are running out of new tunes without you around...

Without me, you'd be an arsonist. And that's nothing to do with being gay.

Have you noticed how when your alarm goes off, and you hit snooze, even if you're really ready to get up, and there's absolutely no chance whatsoever of you going back to sleep, you won't get up again until that alarm goes off.

It's like a bloody raffle ticket. Nothing happens unless it's a 5 or a 0. If you wake up when the minute is a 1,2,3 or 4, fuck that, you're not getting up for kinky sex with Carmen Electra. But when that minute hits 5, noooooooooo problem, you're like a whirlwind of energy*.

*Or as much as anyone can be before lunchtime.

Crotch Fatigue

Oh by the way. Ben ate the last of the Cheerio's I was saving.

I made it through the day by eating a Pot Noodle, which Josh donated to the cause. He doesn't know it yet ;)

Thanks Josh. You made staving off death for another day possible. You're remarkable.

Cheese Flan, and His Parting Soliloquay

I've been wondering something all week. Perhaps just because most of my thoughts have been of food or food related.

OK, you know how shop dummys are supposed to be the 'ideal' size and shape and how we as consumers are supposed to feel insecure about our own size and conform to this 'ideal' size in an attempt to feel attractive?

Well.... do Big and Tall shops have giant, fat mannequins?

I'm just throwing that out there.