Yearly Archives: 2003

Goodness, it’s been a while. What have I been up to you ask? Well, the answer is: not much. Term finished so I am officially allowed to do nothing for a couple of weeks. Permission to worry more like. I went into Lahndahn tahn to meet some friends and look for cowboy boots. Unfortunately although i made my way through a swimming pool length of shelving I did not manage to find a pair that fit. Very frustrating. I then met up for a rather unpleasant tasting dinner at Busaba Eathai before heading out to drink. Two and a half pints of Strongbow later I left along with my Partner in Crime and navgated our way back to Paddington. We hopped on the next available vomit comet before evacuating the train due to impending regurgitation of dinner from said partner. I sat with him making sure he was okay and selflessly feeding him cheeseburgers, chips and coke. It was very cold and I even lent him my scarf. I am such a martyr. Vomiting did not occur thankfully and we waited an hour and a half for the next train.

I was fairly compus throughout all of this palava as I was taking care of the Partner in Crime (PiC). After being batted away again by my PiC i’d had enough and I was cold and the alcohol was getting to me. The final straw was PiC biting me rather too hard on my forearm causing much pain and making me cry. I was just stressed and kept going with the tears. PiC was feeling better by this point (no doubt due to all my chips he ate) and sort of propped me up/supported/held me until we got back home. Felt quite bad the next day, all blocked up and grim. Speaking of blockages, I am going back to get more potatoes mined from inside my head this week. I just hope they don’t put any packing in, it’s unpleasant to say the least.

I somehow found myself watching Metallica on the 20th at Earls Court. It was cool and enjoyable with the (temporary) loss of hearing associated with a good night out. It was quite strange being so close to the band. We were seated to the left of the stage and Hetfield et al would wander over to our side to play. They seemed so big. As an iconic stadium band it seemed unnatural. James did look quite good in his tight black jeans heh heh. Old eye candy. Not so old I suppose, he’s younger than Gorgeous George. I was sadly impressed by Earls Court. I’ve been past it a couple of times but never inside. It was a bit like MSG in size and had a large, airy concourse. They had good food too- even a Pizza Express. Well, it’s better than a Vomitburger TM.

Other than that, shopping for Christmas and birthday presents, making lots and lots of mess in my room. Went back up North for a week to use the facilities and got to watch some wrestling woo! One of my friends pointed out that the bet I have going about my love of wrestling is null and void as there was no independent witness to the signing. Apparently i’d have to renegotiate the terms, which somehow I don’t think is going to happen.

What a performance tonight
Should I react or turn off
the light?
Looks like you’re picking
a fight
in a blurring of wrong
and right
But how your mood changes
You’re a devil, now an angel
Suddenly subtle and solemn
and silent as a monk
You only tell me you love me
when you’re drunk

It’s better than nothing,
I suppose
some doors have opened,
others closed
but I couldn’t see you exposed
to the horrors behind some
of those
Somebody said: listen
don’t you know what
you’re missing?
You should be kissing him
instead of dissing him like
a punk
But you only tell me you love
me when you’re drunk
You only tell me you love me
when you’re drunk

All of my friends keep
asking me
Why, oh, why
do you not say goodbye?
If you don’t even try
you’ll be sunk
‘Cause you only tell me you
love me when you’re drunk

What’s the meaning
when you speak with so
much feeling?
Is it over when you’re sober?
is it junk?
You only tell me you love me
when you’re drunk
You only tell me you love me
when you’re drunk

After much faffing about with javascript i’ve managed to put my Salzburg pictures up in the Photographs section. They’re not perfect and i’ve filtered most of the bad ones out (ie Monky looking stupid) but at least you’ll have some idea of what the place was like. More info to come. I know I promised! I’ll get round to it eventually… Too busy doing nowt at moment

Edited for link removal 2007

Salzburg Field Report: Here’s what Agent Moo got up to in Austria… (photographic evidence to follow)

Well, started out at 1am on the 28th with a Night Bus into town where the bus got held up by some men fighting in the road outside Bar Oz. This bodes well for the rest of the trip thinks I. Anyway, get the 1.34am train to Paddington where I have to humour a drunken Italian dressed in a parka who says I have nice eyes. Fun. Manage to dodge his requests for my digits and escape to the N23 bus to Liverpool St. This was an actual fun journey. It was a great tour, taking in the myriad tarts, revellers and Christmas lights of nocturnal Lahndahn. Interesting. I was beginning to feel tired even at this point but I hadn’t even got into the correct County yet. Finally got to L’pool St at around 3.30am. The station was closed and surrounded by dozing (read unconscious) men propped up on the benches and against the plate glass. After moseying around for a bit I decided to kill some time and the gnawing in my stomach with a quick trip to the Baigel Shop on Brick Lane.

Probably not the best thing to do alone in the East End at night carrying my passport, camera, phone and £100. I was hungry and needed some cheap eats, plus I was bored with my train not departing until 4.30am and there wasn’t really anywhere to sit or anything to do. All the seating was taken up by the drunk boys. Ah, drunk boys and drunk men. I think I shall have to create a new category for them alongside the Bouncy Girls. I swear, to the drunken, deprived men of the South I was like a ripe, fragrant peach to their swarming wasps. Not just in London either, Reading’s letches came out to slay. So much attention I do not think I have ever drawn. It was like navigating a minefield. I was hardly wearing provocative clothing- A hat pulled low over my eyes and my parka- but attracted they still were. Much as I would like someone to like me, Drunk Boys are not who I really want. I just wanted to blend into the flyer-strewn walls like a chameleon and slip away from their implied threats.

Maybe it’s just me and my “damaged psyche” but when the Drunk Boys yell at me, fondle me or try and chat me up I feel trapped. I don’t want them or their attentions but to get rid of them I have to be polite so they don’t get mad. I feel like if I tell them to leave me alone point blank they’ll do the offended drunken violence thing. I just smile nervously and pick up my pace. “Sorry, I’ve got places to be” or “I love someone else” “I’m messed up” or my all time fave “You’re drunk and you’re just saying that”. Classssic.

Back to the journey: I got me a slice of 60p chocolate cake and “two smoke salmon and two tuna” and walked back with my bag of goodies. Ate some on the way, got the train full of fellow zombies to Stansted. Arrived, headed for check-in. Suddenly realised that I have my Swiss Army knife on me and that they don’t allow them on the flight. I thought it was just Transatlantic flights with that stupid rule. I didn’t have any checked luggage to stash it in so the helpful Ryanair clerk suggested that I “Bin it”. I think I responded that that was fantastic. Bought me an envelope and posted that lil’ baby home (I received it this morning). Only after an absurd search for a post box that had a slot that was wide enough for the bastard thing grrr. Consequently I was late to the gate and nearly incited violence after I placed my coat on the conveyor belt and not in the box on the conveyor belt.

The security little man was being a patronising twat and he got angry with me about making that little error. I’d taken everything out of the thing like I was instructed to do so the box wasn’t needed but he decided to sigh and be rude and sarcastic. Please don’t even bother doing that to me. You’re making me angry… After Stare-off at Security Control, lumbered (ran) towards the gate where there was a big queue of people anyway. Took delight in muttering “Get a room” with some Australian gals towards two face eaters waiting lazily on the carpeted seats nearby. Got on the plane. 737-800 for you geeks. Watched Essex glitter below me like molten islands adrift on velvet and soon we were above the clouds and speeding into the sun.

The flight was uneventful. The day was bright above the clouds and grey below with the Alps poking through the cloud tops. The land below me was covered in green fields which were seemingly darker than the ones in England. It made me laugh when we touched down at 9.20am, swung into the parking space and banged the anchors in. Precision parking it was not. WA Mozart Airport was small and quiet. The weather was dry and dull and it stayed that way all day. It wasn’t as cold as I was expecting. Wandered around the airport for a while feeling weird and lost before making my way outside to catch the trolley bus into the city. Bought a ticket from the automatic machine (hurrah! no interaction) and joined the rest of the tourists and locals on the big bendy bus.

The suburbs to me seemed typically Continental with lots of immaculate flats and boxy commercial buildings. I got off at the main station and looked for the tourist information bureau from which I could buy a Salzburg Card which would pay all the entrance fees for the places I wanted to visit and my bus fares. I couldn’t find it and fucked up my question to the woman at the information window in the station with a bizarre mix of French-German. Argh, disaster. I was just nervous and even though I’d rehearsed it in my head several times I just fell on my face when I opened my mouth. So I asked in English and was told I could get it from the tourist information bureau. Which I couldn’t find. Doh. So I gave up and walked into the centre of the city.

Lots of shop windows filled with Primark/ TKMaxx type clothing; snowboarding and skating shops and beauty parlours passed me by. As I got nearer to the river that separates the Old Town from the rest of the city the shops and buildings got more interesting and colourful. The number of tourists started to climb, too. I think Salzburg can be compared to Windsor in that it is crawling with them and as it’s relatively small it can be extremely frustrating. That said, I was a tourist, but I was on my lonesome and not part of a herd following a totemic umbrella.

I first came across the Mirabell Palace. It had pretty gardens that yes, The Sound of Music was filmed in. I surveyed the scene from the top of a wall and ate my Brick Lane chocolate cake. After shooting a few photos I hopped down and went to the Dwarves Garden which is a sculpture court filled with oversized caricatures of the disabilities and vices of men as portrayed by grimacing dwarves. Walked into a skeleton maze made of autumnal trees and watched a Blackbird take a bath in the puddle at the bottom of an ornamental stone veranda. I liked watching the water running in silvery beads off it’s ruffled feathers as it puffed and preened. Sadly, some American tourists made me move and scared it away.

I walked further into town and crossed the river into the Old Town…. And there I shall have to leave it for now as my neck is beginning to complain. More tomorrow and photos soon I promise.

Map of Salzburg, 1493, Hartmann Schedel

Apparently i’m going here next Saturday. I’m excited but quite scared.

I’m looking forward to it but it’s a little nervewracking. I cried for about 10 minutes after this birthday present was sprung upon me. My German is crap and going solo in a non-English speaking country will be interesting. It looks so beautiful and interesting. Nice and romantic for the Monky to be lonely as a cloud in.

I got Spongebob on dvd too which was good. Spent my evening laughing far too loudly at the ‘Idiot Box’. Patrick is so stupidly great. Does it make the Monky dumb for liking him so? Probably.

Look what I found:

The worrying thing is, it’s Part 32. I’m only up to Part 23. Clearly I have a lot to learn.

Musashimaru is going to lose his top knot:
BBC SPORT: Musashimaru retires from sumo

This is cool. Shelley Jackson is creating an art piece using people’s skin as her writing material. She’s getting a story tattooed word by word on willing participants. You have to email her and she’ll ask you to get a certain word inked on your body. You don’t know what the rest of the story is until you send her proof that you got it done. It’s an interesting concept, especially with the random factor of the word choice.

Ineradicable Stain: Skin Project

Isn’t modern technology wonderful? The turn-around time between coming up with an idea and producing an end product is so short now…

I found this at T-Shirt Hell {caution} along with other such goodies as Gang Bang Elves and Christ Mas Tree wrapping paper.

I particularly like the Treasure Map Pants
and the titshtml: “For women who know that you don’t find Cascading Style Sheets in the linen department”

Who is Paris? Not the giver of the Apple of Discord. See The Smoking Gun 1, 2. The “sexually promiscuous drug addict” only gets better and better:

“Hotel heiress Paris Hilton’s sex tape shame refuses to go away – a second video, in which she appears naked with a model pal, has reportedly surfaced. Producers of American scandal show Celebrity Justice claim to have unearthed information about a new sex film featuring a naked Hilton and Playboy playmate Nicole Lenz playing with sex toys. The film, allegedly shot after Hilton’s 22nd birthday party at the Bellagio in Las Vegas in February, also reportedly features Scary Movie 3 star Simon Rex – who appears to be the cameraman.”

“Meanwhile, Hilton is looking to go public so she can formally apologize to her family for embarrassing them by appearing in a sex tape. She is allegedly in negotiations to feature in a TV interview in America, in which she plans to talk candidly about her recent sex tape controversy and apologize for shaming her high-ranking family. The socialite hit the headlines earlier this month when footage of her having sex with ex-boyfriend Rick Solomon leaked onto Internet sites.”

Well, my birthday is now over, at least until Friday. It was uneventful. As usual. I bought myself a pizza from Tesco and shared it with The Monster. I’ve bought myself a Betty Crocker Brownie Kit and some candles and coloured icing so i can make my own birthday cake. I don’t know whether it’ll work but i’m looking forward to finding out. I got a cd, vouchers, some dvds, an atlas and a book. A good variety of things.

Every site should have one: Introducing: The Web Fire Escape

Switch me off! Switch

Happy Birthday to me. Four years until i reach celebrity death age. Plenty of time to work on my groupie stats (not too work safe). I have to think of something gratuitous to post as birthday wishes. Do i only get one? Hmmm…

A Kiss…

Some Love…

And a bit of *ahem* action…

The Bettie Page Shrine

Sad to say, the cheese is the only thing i’m going to get. At least it will make me happy for a while. And it will be yummy :)

Darn. Richard Burns, the rally diver from Reading (mechanics at Henley College) has been diagnosed with a brain tumour. It’s something called an Astrocytoma.

He was on his way to Cardiff to begin preparing for the end of season Wales Rally GB when he blacked out at the wheel of his Porsche on the M4. Burns was saved from crashing when his passenger fellow rally driver Markko Martin grabbed the wheel and steered the car to safety. If he’d been able to race in the last rally of the WRC he had a chance of becoming world champion but he had to pull out. He won’t be racing next year either for his new team Subaru. He’s only 32. It’s really very sad.

This story is excellent. Imagine you’re working at the Royal Mail sorting office near TGIFriday’s for extra Christmas cash. Midway through plowing through through cards and parcels you notice something amiss with the large Parcel Force box that’s waiting in the pile to be sorted…

Newsday: Milwaukee Postal Workers Find Live Gator

Well written story from the NYT about the varying personal and public attitudes to the injured American soldiers coming back from Iraq

New York Times: Rebuilding Bodies, and Lives, Maimed by War

Kyusho Basho November 2003: Another week to go…
Fukuoka: Live Sumo From approx. 6/7am GMT

For more information on this see the July 2003 Archives. My favourite Rikishi is Miyabiyama just because he always wears a nice shade of green like a bean. He is also quite good. I also like the cross-eyed Takamisakari as he’s a bit of a crazy one. He makes lots of noise chucks the salt as hard and as high as he can and slaps himself profusely about the face to psych himself up. He’s considered a showman and a bit mad.

This site eats away into your time and your life. It’s an online confessional filled with posts from the sinners inhabiting the internet. I want to confess my sins and my many fears but i’m not sure what to say. I have so much to say; I’ll have to make several posts. Just like nopokemeo i suppose. Some are funny, some are touching, quite a few are just darn scary and many are depressing. A good sampler of life’s complexities.

Confess: grouphug.us

If you’ve any suggestions as to what i should write e-mail me some…

Confess:

Today is self hatred day. I haven’t posted a rant in a while but just feel down today and reading grouphug has stirred up lots of bad things inside me.

I’m not doing enough work and know i am easily distracted and disorganised yet when the shit hits the fan the first thing i start doing is think about all the things i could do to avoid the situation. I agree with people’s criticism of myself because they are correct but at the same time i feel a little indignation that they slag me when i feel superior. I’m not . I’d much rather hurt myself and hate myself for whatever thing i’ve done (or am not doing) like a martyr to my own stupidity.

I used to get told told off or blamed at home for doing things that i wasn’t guilty of. Maybe this sense of injustice has followed me into so called adulthood. Blame the Parents. How novel. I take responsibility for my actions but i am happier sliding into depression because it’s easy.

Today i have been wondering what the point is of my university existance. I’ve never really gotten ‘into it’ probably stemming from my first year problems which have dragged on for the rest of my course. I’m fed up of living on a small budget and wonder if i would be better just going out and working some shitty job so i could have some money and use it to get drunk for a while. Of course i can’t drop out because i’m too chicken to do it. Like getting angry with yourself because you can’t go through with killing yourself. After i graduate the only people i really care about are going to leave me and i’ll be alone once again.

I’m an independent girl who can do things and go places. I always have been. I was ready to start school at 4, ready to go to Secondary school and ready to go to University. I’ve always been considered “well capable” of life on the outside of the family unit. Before i started university whether i had any friends or not was not really much of an issue to me. Now they are an integral part of my life. I miss them intensely even though sometimes i feel like i should move on and make new friends outside of school or university. The friends i do have have been with me for quite a while and have been compressed by the pressures of the world into top grade diamonds. They are very important to me and i’m sorry i never show them enough what they mean to me.

I don’t feel i have much connection at home. I’ve got much closer to my Mum over the last four years. This is probably a combination of contemplating her (and my own) mortality and shared distress in the way my Dad treats us both. Banding together for comfort. I also feel i’ve got closer to my brother since he has gone to university. That may make no sense but i’ll call him or he’ll call me and we can talk about lots of things other than who has the remote control. With my friends- i’ve gotten closer to them through shared pain. I’ve been a bitch in the past to people and i’ve tried to apologise to them or treat them better. Perhaps i feel the loss of my friends more acutely because of the feelings of aloneness, because i feel i have no one around me who will love me.

Love- I have many friends who care for me and love me as a friend and i love them very much. It’s just that there’s another kind of desire for love that makes your heart ache. I don’t know why it is. Maybe it stems from (fear of) being alone, maybe from just growing up and needing companionship. For some inexplicable reason i’ve come to realise that i feel like i need someone to love and to share things with, to be there for and hold their hand through difficult times and share in the good times. It wasn’t a “woke up this morning” moment of clarity but more a gradual realisation. Maybe this stems from realising there are certain people i would be at a loss for if they were to just disappear from my life. Struck dumb, crippled, just paralysed without them. This is perhaps why i’ve grown closer to my Mum, brother and friends.

The one person i truly care for has a bright and shining future ahead of them without me (dragging them down). They’re going to leave me after graduation without a backward glance. I can’t blame them really. I possess inside of me so much hurt and anger towards them at what i conceive of as sleights against me. This perhaps comes from caring so much about them but not being able to express my feelings and my feelings being stomped on, be it intentionally or unintentionally, on many occasions. I love them still. Pathetic i agree.

I think this contributes to my angst in that there is no stability, nothing to anchor myself to. Caring for someone, being there for them always and being stuck in the revolving door of roles has wrecked me. Friend, best friend, lover, partner, hate object, sparring partner, wronged woman, carpet i’ve played them all. This is why i like dressing up ;) Being stuck in limbo with no status is a problem for me. I don’t want the hilarious (and vomit inducing) “I love you” “I love you too” automatic response bullshit. Just… something. A little loyalty or a little love? Then i do not deserve any of that simply because i am nothing. Just a clingy menthol-flavoured Monky.

It puts me under a lot of strain to give so much and put up with so much. That’s because i’m not really very significant in society’s scale of things. A best friend is never as important as a boy friend or a girl friend. I have no status because: I. Am. Not. Anything. You mean nothing to me. Get a life. Move on.

I haven’t eaten any proper, nutritious food for three or so days so maybe it’s messing with my brain. A diet consisting purely of chocolate, crisps, tea and (own brand) coco pops will get you in the end.

“She’s got issues…”

Guess what this is:

E-mail me an answer

I love Cowboys. Cowgirls are just as great…

Click to enlarge

This is by the great pin-up artist and illustrator George Petty. You can find more of the deck here:
George Petty

Hoorah I’ve managed to move nopokemeo to my site (with a little help from My Beloved Monster). The site is still a big mess and in no way complete but at least I can now post images and other such delights. I can’t actually think of what but it’s the possibilty that is so enticing.

Today I heard about a man in Oregon who has managed to grow a Tomacco plant. I didn’t even know what one was. Apparently it’s a fictious plant from the The Simpsons. “It does (taste terrible). But it’s smooth and mild — and refreshingly addictive.” Anyway, even without this knowledge I found the idea intriguing and the man, Rob Baur, has indeed managed it.

Wired: Simpsons Plant Seeds of Invention

I’m in the process of attempting to move my blog to my new site:

nopokemeo.org

I’m having difficulties with the FTP settings so nopokemeo will continue to be hosted here for the moment.

B3ta.com are holding a “Reductionist Challenge”. You have to make pictures of people in the smallest number of shapes possible and post it on their message board. There are some good ones up there already.

At last, The Monky has come back to cyberspace…

Yes, at long last i’m back on glorious broadband. As you can see by the time this was posted at it’s already having terrible effects upon me. I’ve ordered a domain name so soon you should be able to see all the pictures, photos and icons i’ve got on the site. No more annoying grey boxes. Hoorah. Unfortunately, i’m trying to learn HTML so the new, improved site is going to be a little while coming.

When I was filling out the information needed for registration I had a pang of realisation that I could be driven out of my nest into daylight to be exposed as the scruff that I am… Argh. Anyway, here’s a nice little thread on Privacy issues:

Generic Names Supporting Organization: WHOIS registrant data inaccuracies
Generic Names Supporting Organization: Bulk WHOIS Data Issue

Being the day it is today, here are some appropriate links:

ROSPA: Firework Safety
Firework Glossary
BBC: Fireworks Displays around Berkshire
Reading Post: Fireworks arond Reading
UK Firework Review (requires membership to access fully, dammit)
And finally, some cheese: Cyber Fireworks

And now for something completely different: Bloody Finger Mail. Perhaps it’s not so unrelated to fireworks in a trips to A&E sense.

“Monky is now on red…” Here’s what Google thinks of Monky: Googlism.

Five Bewick’s Swans – Alexei, Andrei, Anatoli, Kostya and Pechora – and one Whooper Swan – Huck – are on their annual migration to our sunny climes. You can follow their progress by their satellite tags and get updates every morning on the Today Programme on BBC Radio Four.

Wildfowl and Wetlands Trust: In From The Cold

Oh no, Roy is paralysed down one side due to complications from the munching. A part of me feels sad that the highest purveyors of camp may be no more. Makes me regret not paying the $87 that I needed to shell out to see the Masters of the Impossible. One quarter of his skull has been removed to relieve pressure from his brain and the skull piece is being stored in a pouch in his stomach. Ew.

Some flies seem to fly in squares. It’s true- sit and watch one. If not squares in geometric shapes. They make sharp turns and zig zags. I wonder how and why they do this? It must take some effort to be able to change direction so quickly. Maybe they throw their weight around, so to speak. Only some flies seem to do it though, not the big flies like Bluebottles or Houseflies but the smaller, fruit fly types. The ones that are bigger than the fruit fly but look sort of furry when they fly because of their dark wings and heavy body are the best to see it in.

Hurricane Isabel lashed the East Coast of the US recently. Winds got up to 160mph and damage is thought to be around four billion dollars. Approximately 40 people lost their lives. It got me thinking how do they get named? Why?

I remember hurricane Andrew tearing though the trailer homes of Florida and Louisiana back in 1992: thirtyfive billion dollars-worth of damage and 61 deaths. In many countries the cost may be low in financial terms but high in the loss of life. Though the final death toll will never be known, it is quite likely that Hurricane Mitch of October 1998 killed more people than any Atlantic hurricane in over 200 years. More than three million people were either homeless or severely affected. It severely damaged Honduras and Nicaragua with many other Central and Southern American countries affected.

Mitch was a Monster and consequently has been retired. They retire a hurricane’s name if it has caused extreme loss of life or damage in respect to the people that suffered through it. Somehow I rather like the idea of a bunch of Meteorologists sitting around a big table and working out what to call the next storm. Are any named after (ex)husbands or (ex)wives? If someone pissed you off could you use their name? There’s no Tropical Storm Monky before you ask.

NOAA: Worldwide Tropical Cyclone names
World Meteorological Organization: Tropical Cyclone Names (pdf)

There is a huge variety of names and systems for all the areas that the storms affect- the US, Japan, China, Australia, Fiji, Papua New Guinea and others. The names are all interesting as they’re all tailored to the locality that they swing by, e.g. Vaianu from Fiji, Matere from PNG, Washi from Japan. Hurricanes can also be called Typhoons or Cyclones depending whereabouts they occur and how fast the winds are: NOAA: What is a hurricane, typhoon, or tropical cyclone?

The sun reflecting off the ocean makes this a very beautiful image of destruction:
NOAA: Colour image of Lili at landfall on Louisiana coast Oct 3 2002
NOAA: Historical Significant Events Imagery
NOAA: The Saffir-Simpson Hurricane Scale
NOAA: Hurricane Hunters

The same crews that fly into the eye of the storm also flew over New York several times in 2001 to create a 3D image of ground zero.

Now I’ve rid myself of hurricane fever I can move on to the subject of ice. It’s interesting, honest. I think you’ve probably all had enough of me now so I’ll leave it for another day.

The German fleet has returned to make a another desperate stand against local shipping BBC News: Danube Reveals It’s Metal Graveyard

I’ve gone home for a week to see my Bro who’s recently returned from doing laundry in Banff. Yes, he smelt that bad. It is actually sunny up here at the moment. I’m more used to grey sheets of rain. The countryside looked quite beautiful through the train window as I sped by. It’s great to have access to a fridge well stocked with all sorts of tasty food and drink and Sky and broadband to boot. Sad to say but its a treat to have many shelves in the fridge piled with things other than the obligatory Flora, eggs and jar of pasta sauce. My Mum bought me Coco Pops (good games there) and Pitta bread for specially for me. Yumm. Stuff just goes off too quickly in the micro fridge back in Reading or there’s no room. Everything begins to smell peculiar after a while; it gains a distinctive smell and taste that doesn’t match with anything atcully contained within. The Flora tastes of it, my OJ tastes of it; I don’t know what it is (or where it comes from) but it’s nasty. I think the fridge needs a good decontamination.

At the moment anyway it’s good to be back even if it is just for the amenities so to speak. It’s good to see my Bro. He looks well and has tales of vomit, the RCMP and moose (no, not that one) to tell. He does have really scary biceps from his laundering. He is still quite skinny and the rest of his arm is still the same but it’s his biceps- They look like apples have been stuffed under the skin. He brought me back a ‘Dentists don’t recommend hockey’ tee and best of all, an ‘I Am Canadian’ hockey jersey with nice maple leaves and molson signs on. Ver nice and most excellently Canadian. It all stems from the (in)famous advert that was aired back in 2000:

Hey.
I’m not a lumberjack,
or a fur trader…
and I don’t live in an igloo
or eat blubber, or own a dogsled…
and I don’t know Jimmy, Sally or Suzy from Canada,
although I’m certain they’re really, really nice.
I have a Prime Minister,
not a President.
I speak English and French,
NOT American.
and I pronouce it ABOUT,
NOT A BOOT.

I can proudly sew my country’s flag on my backpack.
I believe in peace keeping, NOT policing.
DIVERSITY, NOT assimilation,
AND THAT THE BEAVER IS A TRULY PROUD AND NOBLE ANIMAL.
A TOQUE IS A HAT,
A CHESTERFIELD IS A COUCH,
AND IT IS PRONOUCED ‘ZED’ NOT ‘ZEE’, ‘ZED’!

CANADA IS THE SECOND LARGEST LANDMASS!
THE FIRST NATION OF HOCKEY!
AND THE BEST PART OF NORTH AMERICA!

MY NAME IS JOE!
AND I AM CANADIAN!

This caused much fuss when it was first released and has gone on to become a national icon of national identity.

Spongebob toys at Burger King! Patrick running in a bubble! Yay! Squidward! Boooooo! On the subject of junk food i thought of one of my favourite ‘desserts’ The Doughnut. To put it another way Donut, but i think that is a little crude. I imagine Homer would use that word as it’s few in letters and thus brain usage.

The Ultimate Donut Homepage
Nashville Doughnut Review
Lamars
Krispy Kreme – This has really nice pictures to drool over
Shipley Donuts – My entrance into the vast and sometimes bewildering world of small cakes in, appropriately enough, Sugarland, Texas

Bearclaw, anyone?

Subscribe! Or not… If you look on the right below the links section and everything else you’ll see that you can sign up so an email is sent to you every time I update this little beauty. So you can be informed when i’ve posted something new, if not exactly worthwhile.

I got the geek at ITS to put me back on the network as I seem to have fallen off, of at least been a bit wonky. I’m now free to type and message from the confines of S@il, Soil or whatever this air conned place i’m sitting in now is called. Sadly, i’m only here until 5pm so ranting is limited. I have a tale of library espionage to tell you all and tales of bike riding and general stuff, as well as all the exciting things i haven’t really been getting up to over the Summer.

I think i’m going to get chucked out now, probably best to leave before security get here.

Hello World sorry i’ve fallen off it for a while. No internet access at the moment so here am i in the monument to brown brick that is Reading Central Library. Hopefully i’ll be back online in the next couple of weeks so those of you who were breathing a sigh of relief at not being assailed by Monky are just going to have to start deep dive breath holding (if you get good then you can do six lengths underwater).

I’ve moved house and have got a new smaller, yes messier room and i’m still riding around with my ghost pets in the back of my car. I’ve still not upacked everything and my room is a tip. It started out so well and has just disintegrated into chaos. I do have to live there i suppose.

I’ve been to the Festival, worked lots flogging pipecleaners to old ladies (and some who are just middle aged) and have generally not done much interesting. Went to wedding reception form hell but that’s another 30 minute booking entirely. I’ve booked myself in for a tattoo at the end of the month so fingers crossed i will have a beautiful tale of blood, pain and wrestling to tell you. One can hope.

Oh, I was called an Iceberg, which i am far too proud of being. Not so much the cold, icy, crumbly girl thing but only a small part of me is visable and the rest i hide away from the world. Quite poetic and beautiful i think. Better than being Goldberg whatever way you see it.

Anyway, off to surf i go, i will type soon

Darn this site has gone to pot. I’m sorry, I’ve been too busy panicing about the housing thing whilst being busy doing little about it. No money to buy myself a site to run this off and get all my pictures up. monky.org and nopokemeo.org anyone? Everyone’s so short of cash at the moment so I guess it’s going to be a while before I sort everything out. If I have internet connection after this week. Some of my special characters seem to have bitten the dust in terms of functionality so I apologise for that too.

The highlight of my week has probably been the 15 minutes of free wrestling I got to watch on Monday morning. It was WWE Vengeance and cost £15.00 but Sky forgot to pull the plug so for a while, at least I got to watch the ever wonderful Chris ‘Rabid Wolverine’ Benoit wrestle Eddie ‘Latino Heat’ Guerrero. Sadly, Eddie’s mullet is slowly but surely creeping down the back of his neck. I’m ashamed to say that he actually looked good with short hair. Or at least better than when he had some sort of dead animal on his bonce. Today I emailed WWE to try and get my hands on a Rey Mysterio poster. It’s supposed to encourage kids to read but I just think it’s a damn cool poster- ¡Leer es el Poder!

WWE Parents: Get R.E.A.L.

I can’t quite work out what the R.E.A.L. means (really excited about, er… literature?) You can get some rather interesting recommendations from the other ‘Superstars’ on the page too, such as: the Bible (Shawn Michaels), The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho (Nidia), or my personal favourite- Fantastic Mr. Fox by Roald Dahl (Spanky). Oh how I love that man. His shiny green shorts and boots, surly attitude and his balloon animal prowess win me over every time ;)

Take a look at this cutie: Brock Solid

Oooh- Fake tattoos. I found the only real temporary tattoos out there: Temptu. There’s some really nice stuff on there with some good pictures of the inks in use. Temptu did the tats for Max Cady amongst others. They’ve got some really nice transfer tats too and even airbrush inks to do your tan.

Disaster- Cat litter is killing the Sea Otters in Monterey Bay: Chicago Tribune

The sound of the rain dripping down the windows onto the concrete makes me think hamsters are rustling around in their nest. No nest, no hamsters. *sigh* I miss those little fluffballs :(
“For my entire life, I’ve been denied – but I WILL not deny myself. I’ve torn ligaments, shattered bones, broken my neck, but those aren’t the scars that feed my anger and fuel my rage. Keep your praise, your music videos, your cliches – they mean NOTHING. The pain, the anguish and the torture I go through was hell – and for my enemies… now it’s your turn. I was born to hurt, and you will FEEL MY PAIN.”
CripplerCrossFace

“And I suppose it’s as good a time as any to mention that I am officially and thoroughly tired of the dramatic practice of placing strong and intelligent women at risk of violence — or exposing them to actual violence — as a road to hooking them up with a boyfriend. Stalked, raped, and beaten within an inch of their lives, television’s population of bad-ass chicks has honestly suffered enough at this point. There has to be a better way, and if you can’t find it, get the hell out of the way and go write episodes of Saved By The Bell: The PhD Years, because if I have to watch one more affair between a menaced woman and a cop, bodyguard, district attorney, federal agent, or vigilante boyfriend in which she learns the true meaning of love by winding up in a body cast or having to fear she will, I’m going to start a non-profit organization whose only purpose is to make life as uncomfortable as possible for every writer, director, studio, and addlepated, creatively bankrupt pinhead who can’t break the habit. Enough.”

Miss Alli at Television Without Pity

I see the genius that is Professor Kevin “Jim’ll Fix It” Warwick is at it again:
Education Guardian “University Robot Ruled ‘Too Scary'”

My dreams made clear, glorious Quick Time: 360Geographics. I’ve done well for deserts over the last week. I saw The Hulk and i’ve managed to dig up a couple of great panorama sites. They don’t just have deserts in either, there’s architecture, towns and cities, glaciers, wildflower meadows and vast lakes and oceans. They are all very beautiful and sadly very unattainable. Like the rest of my desires- they are only dreams, after all. Mr Josh and Vince aren’t going to turn up on my doorstep, and neither will I find my Cowboy *sigh*

Panoguide.com – A guide to panoramic photography, virtual tour creation and the tools needed to create the finished visuals
Panoramas – Worldwide – Panoramas of every sort. Fullscreen of the week pick
Virtual Guidebooks – USA & Canada – You can search by location, theme (brothel anyone?)
Virtual Parks – USA & Canada – Again, location, theme, most popular etc but you can also view trip guides and reviews. Very big, beautiful pictures
Gilles Vidal – Tour de France at the finish line 17th July 2003

To go with the panoramic Antarctica here are some more penguins:

Monterey Bay Aquarium – Live Cams

If you go at the right time of day you can watch the penguins, fish, Sea Otters and yes, even the sharks being fed (GMT -8)

Get Quick Time

I’ve always found these fascinating and have got a few pics myself: Fading Ad Campaign

Over at the QotSA board they’ve taken to invading the No Doubt board and terrorising the locals. What fun blasting sk8r bois and grlz. I like the idea of virtual gross intrusions. The QotSA board members are a pretty tough nut to crack.

Oh yeah, there’s a new Batman film coming out. Sadly it’s only eight minutes long but it looks very intriguing- see Super Hero Hype. It’s not going to be released commercially, it’s an independent production by someone who doesn’t own the rights to the Cowl. It’s going to show up on Kazaa in the next couple of days though as it’s being shown tonight at the San Diego Comic Con. The Director Sandy Collora has promised a QT copy to a fanboy so it should be circulating shortly. He’s had his own board up posting the goings on for the last couple of months: Back with “The Bat”.

I love the brow of the cowl- scroll down the page til you get to the set pictures, it’s the one where Batsy is getting his levels checked. The Joker looks damn trippy, a bit like Alan Cumming after a rampage round Rimmel in Boots. A more basic Batsy with no padding, no Kane-style mascara, no rubber nipplege in sight. On the subject of nipples, did anyone see Sable’s fuzzed out nips bursting their way onto Sky Sports this evening? Pity the poor editor who had to blank those puppies out. Enough of the puppies, and the PMS- Jerry Lawler would be proud of VKM’s performance tonight- Enough!

Random recollection- Several years ago I was in San Diego at the time of the Comic Con. I wanted to go but had arrived too late so me and my family went to the local Old Spaghetti Factory to stock up on cholesterol. The place was filled with convention attendees (read- freaks & geeks) and one party in particular attracted the attention of my Dad. He took great delight in ridiculing one party member- a Goth outfitted with the typical long hair, pale white skin and lippy along with the black bondage trousers, black net top and black Doc Marten’s. Said Goth had even done it tastefully, I was quite impressed. Anyway, my Dad took the piss ‘cos he couldn’t decide whether this man was in fact a man at all. No faggoty males allowed. He was obviously a man to my eyes but to my enlightened father he was a figure of fun and it annoyed me. Another example of his forward-thinking, accepting attitude that I so admire. Try dropping in on my family when there’s a tennis match going on involving Navratilova or Mauresmo on televison and listen to the insults fly. I don’t drop in either if I can help it.

Yay the Archives are finally working. Only a new site and a new house to find now…