I’ve been struggling to think of something to write this week. I kept putting it off, but this afternoon, it was time to take action. Just this year I discovered a genius method for getting work done. It’s a tactic I like to call ‘drinking a whole lot of water and not letting yourself pee until you’ve finished working.’ Unpleasant, but it gets results.
Half an hour later, still without an idea for the blog and now experiencing a certain level of discomfort, I decided to distract myself with chocolate, for I am a lady and the media tells me this is what we do. As I dipped that Twix into my coffee, inspiration finally struck. So I present to you, ladies and gentleman, my explanation of why the Twix is the mightiest of the chocolate bars.
The Twix is truly a king amongst men. It’s got chocolate. It’s got biscuit. It’s got caramel. What more could you ask for? This is a rhetorical question, but if you chose to answer it, you are a fool. More so, if you answered it by saying ‘coconut,’ you should immediately begin drafting a letter of apology to anyone who has ever tasted a Bounty. It is the shame of the chocolate bar world and should immediatley stop ruining boxes of Celebrations chocolates. It ain't no celebration when they're all that's left.
My second preference to the Twix is our friend the Snickers. I quite enjoy a Snickers. If chocolate bars were people, Snickers would be my boyfriend. Why? Because it’s sweet, a little nutty, and according to the wrapper it ‘really satisfies.’ (Please insert your own ‘snicker doodle’ joke here. I’m not lazy, I’m just making the blog interactive, yeah? Everyone’s getting involved, yeah? You bought that excuse, yeah? Stop distracting me, I have to pee.)
If neither of those options is available to me, I will purchase Maltesers. They’re not a chocolate bar, but they’re magically delicious, and quite painful when thrown directly into your best mate’s face at close range. Priceless.
Thank you for taking this journey with me. I’m going to pee now.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Clifford Appears in a Blog
This week's blog is dedicated to my childhood action hero, Clifford the Big Red Dog.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with Clifford and his achievements, where have you been? For real. He had about 800 books and a TV show. Basically, he's a dog, he's red, and he's big. Really big. Super big. His dog house is bigger than a people house. Yeah, that big.
Clifford's owner is a little girl named Emily Elizabeth, who rides him everywhere and refuses to aknowledge the fact that Clifford's size is most likely due to a glandular issue, and that he probably needs urgent and extensive medical attention. She just doesn't love him the way I love him. I would have respected him. I would have paid his medical bills. I... also would have ridden him everywhere (but I'd have done it with love).
Clifford is a spectacular dog. He puts out fires on more than one occasion, is popular with the other dogs in the neighbourhood, and to the best of my knowledge, saved Santa at least once. That's only one less time than I've saved him. Fair effort for a dog.
Some particularly action packed escapades include:
Clifford’s Tricks: in which Clifford's spirit of one-upmanship leads to a street riot, the destruction of a police car, and a young girl falling from a bridge.
Clifford Gets a Job: where Emily Elizabeth’s parents get sick of Clifford's mooching and tell him he needs to contribute to the family's finances. During his efforts to find a job, Clifford and Emily Elizabeth encounter some gun weilding bandits and wind up in the middle of a police chase.
Clifford Saves the Whales: this is... I don't know. I don't own this book. I have no idea what happens. I'm guessing he saves the whales or some shit. Again, fair effort for a dog.
Wikipedia's list of Clifford books includes the title Clifford Sits on a Peanut, though sadly, a quick Google search suggests no such story exists. Until now.
(You’re welcome)
For those of you who are unfamiliar with Clifford and his achievements, where have you been? For real. He had about 800 books and a TV show. Basically, he's a dog, he's red, and he's big. Really big. Super big. His dog house is bigger than a people house. Yeah, that big.
Clifford's owner is a little girl named Emily Elizabeth, who rides him everywhere and refuses to aknowledge the fact that Clifford's size is most likely due to a glandular issue, and that he probably needs urgent and extensive medical attention. She just doesn't love him the way I love him. I would have respected him. I would have paid his medical bills. I... also would have ridden him everywhere (but I'd have done it with love).
Clifford is a spectacular dog. He puts out fires on more than one occasion, is popular with the other dogs in the neighbourhood, and to the best of my knowledge, saved Santa at least once. That's only one less time than I've saved him. Fair effort for a dog.
Some particularly action packed escapades include:
Clifford’s Tricks: in which Clifford's spirit of one-upmanship leads to a street riot, the destruction of a police car, and a young girl falling from a bridge.
Clifford Gets a Job: where Emily Elizabeth’s parents get sick of Clifford's mooching and tell him he needs to contribute to the family's finances. During his efforts to find a job, Clifford and Emily Elizabeth encounter some gun weilding bandits and wind up in the middle of a police chase.
Clifford Saves the Whales: this is... I don't know. I don't own this book. I have no idea what happens. I'm guessing he saves the whales or some shit. Again, fair effort for a dog.
Wikipedia's list of Clifford books includes the title Clifford Sits on a Peanut, though sadly, a quick Google search suggests no such story exists. Until now.
(You’re welcome)
Friday, July 23, 2010
Apple iHateYou
iPods appear to have some kind of built in psychic ability. Sadly, they choose to use their powers for evil rather than good, playing the worst possible song at the worst possible moment.
Incident 1:
You would figure that setting your iPod to shuffle for a train journey would be harmless. It is, unless you’re the kind of person who thought it would be funny to put ‘My Lovely Horse’ from Father Ted on there. Then it starts playing. Then you start laughing. Then you realise everyone is staring at you, and you have just earned yourself the honour of being the train nutter for the remainder of this trip. You also feel the need to buy sugar lumps.
Incident 2:
Still on the train, still on shuffle. But this time that track you illegally downloaded from somewhere quite dodgy, that for some reason has a volume level approximately three times louder than any other song on there, begins to play. The loud noise causes you to flinch suddenly and make a sound that is somewhere along the lines of ‘AAARGH.’ You are now a slightly more terrifying train nutter.
Incident 3:
You are at work, and have managed to get to the iPod dock before any of your co-workers. While chatting to your super-awesome-music-nerd manager about how amazing that Yeah Yeah Yeahs concert was at the start of the year, and how you’re both really bummed that you missed out on Florence and the Machine tickets; your iPod decides to play that ONE Lady Gaga song you think is ok. Everyone looks at you with a sense of embarrassment. You will never be cool again.
Incident 4:
See incident 3, but replace ‘Lady Gaga’ with ‘Miley Cyrus.’ Then hang your head in shame.
Incident 5:
You feel the need to admit to anyone who reads your online ramblings that you actually have two Lady Gaga songs on your iPod, because we’re all friends now and friends shouldn’t lie to each other. Friends also shouldn’t let friends listen to bad music, so technically, incidents 3 and 4 are not your fault, and your friends owe you an apology.
Incident 1:
You would figure that setting your iPod to shuffle for a train journey would be harmless. It is, unless you’re the kind of person who thought it would be funny to put ‘My Lovely Horse’ from Father Ted on there. Then it starts playing. Then you start laughing. Then you realise everyone is staring at you, and you have just earned yourself the honour of being the train nutter for the remainder of this trip. You also feel the need to buy sugar lumps.
Incident 2:
Still on the train, still on shuffle. But this time that track you illegally downloaded from somewhere quite dodgy, that for some reason has a volume level approximately three times louder than any other song on there, begins to play. The loud noise causes you to flinch suddenly and make a sound that is somewhere along the lines of ‘AAARGH.’ You are now a slightly more terrifying train nutter.
Incident 3:
You are at work, and have managed to get to the iPod dock before any of your co-workers. While chatting to your super-awesome-music-nerd manager about how amazing that Yeah Yeah Yeahs concert was at the start of the year, and how you’re both really bummed that you missed out on Florence and the Machine tickets; your iPod decides to play that ONE Lady Gaga song you think is ok. Everyone looks at you with a sense of embarrassment. You will never be cool again.
Incident 4:
See incident 3, but replace ‘Lady Gaga’ with ‘Miley Cyrus.’ Then hang your head in shame.
Incident 5:
You feel the need to admit to anyone who reads your online ramblings that you actually have two Lady Gaga songs on your iPod, because we’re all friends now and friends shouldn’t lie to each other. Friends also shouldn’t let friends listen to bad music, so technically, incidents 3 and 4 are not your fault, and your friends owe you an apology.
Friday, July 16, 2010
The Horror of it all
Everyone keeps talking about The Human Centipede, and I don’t know if I want to see it. Watching the trailer made me feel a little better though, because I didn’t realise he was connecting them ‘via the gastric system.’ I thought they were just pooing directly into each other’s mouths. Either way, I guess you’d still want to be the head.
So, Ladies & Gentleman, I present to you, 'Movies that have scarred me for life'
Scream
I saw this movie for the first time as a 10 year old, and for years afterwards, I was convinced the killer was hiding in my garage. When I went outside to feed the pets at night I’d shuffle along the wall so I could see the sneaky bastard coming. He never did. Probably because I look like I know karate.
Halloween 2 (The Jamie Lee Curtis one, not that new shizz)
It ruined the song 'Mr Sandman' for me. Every time I hear that happy-go-lucky ‘bum bum bum’ intro, I associate it with people being brutally murdered.
The Silence of the Lambs
Why make a suit out of skin? You’re already wearing one.
Hostel
The only movie where I’ve ever had to look away. It was during that scene where he goes back to save the girl, and… her eye… If you haven’t seen it, well done.
Total Recall
Like everyone, I was fine with the three-booby-lady. What kept me awake at night was the scene where he takes his helmet off, and his head explodes. It’s the reason why I turned down that job at NASA.
The Wizard of Oz
Dorothy murders a chick in ugly shoes and the locals decide to have a street party. Munchkins are scum. Except for those gangstas in the Lollipop Guild. R-e-p-r-e-s-e-n-t.
Attack of the Giant Leeches
This movie is responsible for my fear of people who wear garbage bags and pretend to be giant leeches.
Toy Story
I can't help but think about what toys might be plotting behind those cold, plastic eyes. When I was in my teens I made the mistake of sharing this fear with my mum. She thought it would be good for a laugh if she arranged a bunch of toys on my bedroom floor so that when I got home from school, it looked like they were having a meeting. They would also frequently appear wearing reading glasses in front of the newspaper, or on the couch with the remote control in their hand. That's some quality parenting right there.
So, Ladies & Gentleman, I present to you, 'Movies that have scarred me for life'
Scream
I saw this movie for the first time as a 10 year old, and for years afterwards, I was convinced the killer was hiding in my garage. When I went outside to feed the pets at night I’d shuffle along the wall so I could see the sneaky bastard coming. He never did. Probably because I look like I know karate.
Halloween 2 (The Jamie Lee Curtis one, not that new shizz)
It ruined the song 'Mr Sandman' for me. Every time I hear that happy-go-lucky ‘bum bum bum’ intro, I associate it with people being brutally murdered.
The Silence of the Lambs
Why make a suit out of skin? You’re already wearing one.
Hostel
The only movie where I’ve ever had to look away. It was during that scene where he goes back to save the girl, and… her eye… If you haven’t seen it, well done.
Total Recall
Like everyone, I was fine with the three-booby-lady. What kept me awake at night was the scene where he takes his helmet off, and his head explodes. It’s the reason why I turned down that job at NASA.
The Wizard of Oz
Dorothy murders a chick in ugly shoes and the locals decide to have a street party. Munchkins are scum. Except for those gangstas in the Lollipop Guild. R-e-p-r-e-s-e-n-t.
Attack of the Giant Leeches
This movie is responsible for my fear of people who wear garbage bags and pretend to be giant leeches.
Toy Story
I can't help but think about what toys might be plotting behind those cold, plastic eyes. When I was in my teens I made the mistake of sharing this fear with my mum. She thought it would be good for a laugh if she arranged a bunch of toys on my bedroom floor so that when I got home from school, it looked like they were having a meeting. They would also frequently appear wearing reading glasses in front of the newspaper, or on the couch with the remote control in their hand. That's some quality parenting right there.
Friday, July 9, 2010
To Walt Disney, in the event of his un-death
Dear Walt Disney,
I don’t doubt for a second that you will one day read this. We all know that your body is cryogenically frozen in a secret room under the Pirates of The Caribbean ride, and I can only assume that exploring the magic of this ‘internet’ contraption that everyone keeps talking about will be your first priority as soon as mankind finds a cure for death. As you were responsible for the creation of the greatest cartoon character of all time in one Miss Minnie Mouse (total legend), I’ve always admired your work and feel the need to warn you that quite a few things have changed since 1966.
For starters, you need to know about a little company known as Pixar. There have been a number of advancements in animation since computers became capable of magic (did they have computers in your day? A computer is kind of like a television with a wizard living inside it). Consider sitting down with a stiff drink before you watch Finding Nemo, as there is every chance the graphics will blow your partially defrosted mind.
Celebrity isn’t what it used to be. They give stars on the Hollywood walk of fame to pretty much anyone now. I realise you don’t know what an ‘Olsen twin’ is, but trust me, when you find out, you’re not going to be happy. On a brighter note, you own The Muppets now! When you find out what THEY are, you’ll be stoked. From a business point of view, I recommend that you give the Swedish Chef his own movie while people are still into this whole ‘celebrity chef’ thing. Oh yeah, people are into this whole ‘celebrity chef’ thing. I know right? It’s madness.
Your beloved Pirates of The Caribbean ride is going to look a little different. Or a lot different. I don’t know, I haven’t been there since they changed it. Some genius managed to turn it into a movie franchise a couple of years back. Please don’t be mad at him, just thank him for the cash and continue going about your business. They’re quite good movies actually, you should get your hands on the box set. OH GOD AND WE HAVE DVDS NOW! Ask someone else about those. I have a life outside of you. Geez.
Regards,
A well meaning fan.
PS: Racism doesn’t fly anymore. If… if you were, that is. I mean, I didn’t know you, I’ve just heard… things.
I don’t doubt for a second that you will one day read this. We all know that your body is cryogenically frozen in a secret room under the Pirates of The Caribbean ride, and I can only assume that exploring the magic of this ‘internet’ contraption that everyone keeps talking about will be your first priority as soon as mankind finds a cure for death. As you were responsible for the creation of the greatest cartoon character of all time in one Miss Minnie Mouse (total legend), I’ve always admired your work and feel the need to warn you that quite a few things have changed since 1966.
For starters, you need to know about a little company known as Pixar. There have been a number of advancements in animation since computers became capable of magic (did they have computers in your day? A computer is kind of like a television with a wizard living inside it). Consider sitting down with a stiff drink before you watch Finding Nemo, as there is every chance the graphics will blow your partially defrosted mind.
Celebrity isn’t what it used to be. They give stars on the Hollywood walk of fame to pretty much anyone now. I realise you don’t know what an ‘Olsen twin’ is, but trust me, when you find out, you’re not going to be happy. On a brighter note, you own The Muppets now! When you find out what THEY are, you’ll be stoked. From a business point of view, I recommend that you give the Swedish Chef his own movie while people are still into this whole ‘celebrity chef’ thing. Oh yeah, people are into this whole ‘celebrity chef’ thing. I know right? It’s madness.
Your beloved Pirates of The Caribbean ride is going to look a little different. Or a lot different. I don’t know, I haven’t been there since they changed it. Some genius managed to turn it into a movie franchise a couple of years back. Please don’t be mad at him, just thank him for the cash and continue going about your business. They’re quite good movies actually, you should get your hands on the box set. OH GOD AND WE HAVE DVDS NOW! Ask someone else about those. I have a life outside of you. Geez.
Regards,
A well meaning fan.
PS: Racism doesn’t fly anymore. If… if you were, that is. I mean, I didn’t know you, I’ve just heard… things.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Age ain’t nothin’ but a number
Time is a bitch. A mean, nasty bitch.
I think I'm aging prematurely. The years don’t seem as long as they used to, there aren’t enough hours in the day, and I struggle to stay up late. Last time I went to a pub with friends, we got a taxi home at 12:18am. Party hard, y'all. Party hard. Just yesterday I heard myself say the words ‘the cold weather’s making my back pain play up.’ I’m a walking stick and a shawl away from being able to predict the weather through my bones.
I went back to studying this year, and spending my days with 18/19 year olds has made me realise that a) I look younger than I am, and b) their youthful enthusiam is draining the life out of me. For starters, I’ve already lost the ability to understand internet slang. After much confusion, I eventually had to ask a friend of mine what ‘fml’ meant. She told me the answer, paused for a moment, then admitted that she only knew because she asked the teenage sister of another friend of ours. Turns out I was way off the mark with ‘Fat Mother Liker,’ ‘Frisky Male Llama,’ and ‘Fully Mischievous Lesbians.’ I come from the days of obvious internet terms. My typing was littered with classics like OMG for ‘oh my god,’ and LOL for ‘laugh out loud,’ and WWABISSOHAHFUF for ‘wow, what a bitch, I’m so sick of her and her fat ugly face.’
You know the oldies radio station? The one that plays ‘classic hits?’ Last year I noticed they were playing songs that I remember being on the charts. I choose to believe they’re letting their standards slip, because it’s easier than admitting that 1994 was almost 20 years ago. I know bugger all about the charts now. What’s a ‘Beiber?’
Kids these days have no hope. They aren’t learning anything from Hannah Montana. When I was growing up, we had real role models on TV, like the Power Rangers and Blossom. Blossom would kick Hannah Montana’s ass in a dance-off. The Power Rangers would just kick ass. Then they'd turn into a giant dinosaur robot. That show was countless kinds of awesome.
But at the end of the day, you can always rely on the constants, all of those brilliant things that will never change. Sesame Street will always be quality viewing, William Shatner’s cover of Common People will always be hilarious, and I’ll always just be killing time until Ben Folds agrees to run away with me.
I think I'm aging prematurely. The years don’t seem as long as they used to, there aren’t enough hours in the day, and I struggle to stay up late. Last time I went to a pub with friends, we got a taxi home at 12:18am. Party hard, y'all. Party hard. Just yesterday I heard myself say the words ‘the cold weather’s making my back pain play up.’ I’m a walking stick and a shawl away from being able to predict the weather through my bones.
I went back to studying this year, and spending my days with 18/19 year olds has made me realise that a) I look younger than I am, and b) their youthful enthusiam is draining the life out of me. For starters, I’ve already lost the ability to understand internet slang. After much confusion, I eventually had to ask a friend of mine what ‘fml’ meant. She told me the answer, paused for a moment, then admitted that she only knew because she asked the teenage sister of another friend of ours. Turns out I was way off the mark with ‘Fat Mother Liker,’ ‘Frisky Male Llama,’ and ‘Fully Mischievous Lesbians.’ I come from the days of obvious internet terms. My typing was littered with classics like OMG for ‘oh my god,’ and LOL for ‘laugh out loud,’ and WWABISSOHAHFUF for ‘wow, what a bitch, I’m so sick of her and her fat ugly face.’
You know the oldies radio station? The one that plays ‘classic hits?’ Last year I noticed they were playing songs that I remember being on the charts. I choose to believe they’re letting their standards slip, because it’s easier than admitting that 1994 was almost 20 years ago. I know bugger all about the charts now. What’s a ‘Beiber?’
Kids these days have no hope. They aren’t learning anything from Hannah Montana. When I was growing up, we had real role models on TV, like the Power Rangers and Blossom. Blossom would kick Hannah Montana’s ass in a dance-off. The Power Rangers would just kick ass. Then they'd turn into a giant dinosaur robot. That show was countless kinds of awesome.
But at the end of the day, you can always rely on the constants, all of those brilliant things that will never change. Sesame Street will always be quality viewing, William Shatner’s cover of Common People will always be hilarious, and I’ll always just be killing time until Ben Folds agrees to run away with me.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Great days in history: June 25
If you live in the Philippines, happy Arbour Day! Yay for trees!
If you’re Nicole Kidman and/or Keith Urban, happy anniversary! Yay for not being Tom cruise!
If you’re American, happy National Catfish Day! Yay for catfish! (Not just any catfish though, it only celebrates the farm raised ones. That’s a tad discriminatory. No one should be judged or excluded based on where they were born, which is something President Regan neglected to mention in the speech he made when the day was introduced. And he called himself a leader. For shame, sir. For. Shame.)
If you’re a Michael Jackson fan, welcome to me never being able to have another birthday without someone saying ‘You know it’s been *insert number here* many years since Michael Jackson died?’ and everyone else saying ‘Wow, really?’ and me saying ‘Who wants cake?’ and them saying ‘So sad, isn’t it?’ and me saying ‘It’s good cake,’ and them saying ‘He was so talented,’ and me saying ‘Like, really good cake,’ and them carrying on with the conversation as I start to quietly weep into the icing.
Yes, today we celebrate the fact that I managed to make it through another year without accepting candy from strangers, forgetting to look both ways before crossing the street, or getting (fatally) electrocuted. High five!
For a child raised in a (loosely) Christian manner, June 25 is the best possible date for a birthday to fall. Why? It’s exactly six months from Christmas. Presents were always distributed to me on a half yearly basis, and with careful planning, a kid could make their birthday money last the entire six months. Of course, I never took part in this careful planning, and pissed it away in the toy department at Kmart the very next weekend. It’s not my fault Barbie needed so much crap, it’s society’s fault.
Wikipedia tells us that I share my birthday with the likes of George Orwell, Carly Simon, Ricky Gervais, Phill Jupitus (who I saw walking around Edinburgh last year during the Fringe wearing a hat that I can only describe as hideous), and some rapper called ‘Candyman.’ If he’s actually made of candy, it’s gonna be one kick ass party. However, it’s also George Michael’s birthday, so you might want to avoid using the men’s room.
But it’s not all about births, deaths and marriages. And fish. Other things have also occurred on this day. The BBC claims that on the 25th of June 1970, the US launched a new peace plan for the Middle East. Glad to see that worked out.
If you’re Nicole Kidman and/or Keith Urban, happy anniversary! Yay for not being Tom cruise!
If you’re American, happy National Catfish Day! Yay for catfish! (Not just any catfish though, it only celebrates the farm raised ones. That’s a tad discriminatory. No one should be judged or excluded based on where they were born, which is something President Regan neglected to mention in the speech he made when the day was introduced. And he called himself a leader. For shame, sir. For. Shame.)
If you’re a Michael Jackson fan, welcome to me never being able to have another birthday without someone saying ‘You know it’s been *insert number here* many years since Michael Jackson died?’ and everyone else saying ‘Wow, really?’ and me saying ‘Who wants cake?’ and them saying ‘So sad, isn’t it?’ and me saying ‘It’s good cake,’ and them saying ‘He was so talented,’ and me saying ‘Like, really good cake,’ and them carrying on with the conversation as I start to quietly weep into the icing.
Yes, today we celebrate the fact that I managed to make it through another year without accepting candy from strangers, forgetting to look both ways before crossing the street, or getting (fatally) electrocuted. High five!
For a child raised in a (loosely) Christian manner, June 25 is the best possible date for a birthday to fall. Why? It’s exactly six months from Christmas. Presents were always distributed to me on a half yearly basis, and with careful planning, a kid could make their birthday money last the entire six months. Of course, I never took part in this careful planning, and pissed it away in the toy department at Kmart the very next weekend. It’s not my fault Barbie needed so much crap, it’s society’s fault.
Wikipedia tells us that I share my birthday with the likes of George Orwell, Carly Simon, Ricky Gervais, Phill Jupitus (who I saw walking around Edinburgh last year during the Fringe wearing a hat that I can only describe as hideous), and some rapper called ‘Candyman.’ If he’s actually made of candy, it’s gonna be one kick ass party. However, it’s also George Michael’s birthday, so you might want to avoid using the men’s room.
But it’s not all about births, deaths and marriages. And fish. Other things have also occurred on this day. The BBC claims that on the 25th of June 1970, the US launched a new peace plan for the Middle East. Glad to see that worked out.
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