25 March 2006

one meeeeelllllliiiiiioooooonnnnnn dollars

I had a look at my hit counter this morning and over 1000 people have visited my blog. 1005, actually. Not all different people of course. But the 10 of you out there who check it out have done it 100 times or so, which is cool. And I suppose there's me as well. Compared to some of the big guys, that's nothing. They get like, 1000 hits an hour. But they spend most of their time making fun of George W Bush. And I think I've only done that twice at the most.

So for a non-political site run by someone whose friends aren't really the type to check blogs very often, 1000 hits isn't so bad. But I'm not going to let it go to my head. I'm going to chronicle the same drivel I always have. I'm not going to put a bunch of nonsensical political buzzwords in to attract google searches. No mention of cash for peerages, hurricane Katrina, the Bush-Cheney-Rumsfeld-Rice 4-way bukake action (ew), supreme court justices, Islam, Iraq, Palestine, Israel, oil, cartoons, Christians, Intelligent Design (well, I have mentioned that, but only in exasperation BECAUSE IT'S SO FUCKING STUPID) or anything else like that to garner fresh interest.

I might mention Africa occasionally, because everyone else seems to forget about them.

And I might randomly mention loads of lesbian porn. Every once-in-awhile.

24 March 2006

return of chat and hangovers


I've not been posting very often, I know. I just haven't had much to say. You can only talk about leftovers for lunch so often. Bolognese today, as it happens. No spag though, just some nice, toasted, crusty bread. And lots of bolognese. And some innocent smoothie to wash it down and get some fruity goodness in the system.

So. Last night. It kind of crept up on me, like a Japanese Giant Salamander creeps upon a fish in high mountain rivers. Yes, I've been watching Planet Earth. I suggest you do too. It's brain candy. Like a box of assorted chocolates that doesn't have any of the rubbish flavours that you hate to get. And with everyone you eat, you get smarter. Now that's assorted chocolate. But it's not, on reflection, anything to do with last night.

Last night was assorted chocolate for the soul. Though perhaps beer festival for the soul would be more apt. The locale was The Dove, the participants were Marcus, Ru and Clair. Marcus was late but made up for it by getting very drunk. Fuller's Anniversary Ale played a crucial role insuring that Marcus was not the only one to get very drunk. That, and Clair's "small" glasses of wine and "small" vodka and tonics. Then, in one of the world's great injustices, the pub shut.

Lesser men (and women) would have been defeated, dejected and felt better this morning. But not us. This was an auspicious occasion, throwing caution and schedules to the wind - we were students again and no closing bar could defeat us. Displace us perhaps, but not defeat us. So we had a Belfry Party. That's right - we grabbed some wine and rocked out until the wee hours, dancing on beds, swigging rioja and boogying something chronic. There was sillyness, such as Marcus's insistence on emailing his boss to inform her of how wrecked he was, and the farce of arranging for morning medication. I'll save the rest of that for later.

Belfry Party!

So today's been a bit slow to the start. And I think I ate too much leftover bolognese. In fact, I'm pretty sure of it. And I think I'm meant to have an important meeting today. But the person hasn't called yet. For that I am grateful.

20 March 2006

it's all a conspiracy

About a year ago I found myself kissing a young lady. This had been a rare occurance at the time and the situation surprised me. But moreso was her admission, post-smooch, that she couldn't take it any further as she and another friend had sworn never to sleep with me. The details of why this pact was ever agreed upon have never come to light.

They'd actually plotted against me.

It came as a shock. Having one's paranoia proved correct is crushing.

And I'm still convinced that the conspiracy extends beyond the two friends mentioned above.

So, without further ado, The Onion's own take on such things.

the blogger's tale

Irony (now known as Alicia the Magnificent) just dropped this my way. Genius. Though indicative of someone having way too much time on their hands. Chaucer's cool.

That's it. My chat's terrible at the moment. Sorry.