me

I done run out of words... Feel very small.

Lost in Transgression

I've loved cars since I was old enough to think about it. My first remembered car-crush was on a Lotus Esprit that I passed on the bus on the way to school; looked like this one:



Then I moved onto BMWs, which adorned my walls as a teenager. I passed my driving test as soon as I turned 17, then had a fairly long term crush on Volkswagen.

I sort of had a Golf when I persuaded my mum she needed that when she needed a new car and then most obligingly got a job where she got a lift every day. Selfishly, when I left home, she kept it though, so many moons later, I got my first car at the age of not-quite-25. Off I toddled to ogle the Volkswagens, looking at probably a 3-4 year old Polo or similar, maybe something a little cheaper. Stopping smoking had provided the funds, all I needed to do was choose which little car was going to be mine.

I came home with a 5 month old 1.0l (973cc to be precise) Vauxhall Corsa, by mistake. Despite the woeful lack of power, it was a great little car. It had a tiny tank, but it still drove from Worcester to Kirkcaldy on one tank. The Golf, which I had been allowed one trip south to source a place to live, got as far as Knutsford going south. I transported a double bed (with foldable mattress and the base on the roof rack) , several Billy bookcases, a wardrobe, a sofa and various other items at different times in the Corsa. It did many pootles rounds Worcester between massive drives north and really did ok. The potential arrival of twins meant a bigger car was needed, as well as the fact that my husband had passed his test (finally! I taught him, you know) meant that he took ownership of the Corsa and I got the most wonderful car in the world, my Volvo. I loved that car. I had a most anxious ferry trip in a storm with my baby strapped up in the cargo area, I was so pleased to see it in one piece after that. Yet, I killed it just over a month later and that was where the whole car thing started to unravel...

My current car is a Vectra. I don't love it. I had an all consuming crush on it when I got it, it's ever such a nice colour and it is like the Corsa with power. Then bits started to creak and groan, and I had two massive skids which were freaky and thankfully caused no more damage than a broken wheel. I dream of owning a BMW.


Except, no, I don't any more. I have sort of fake daydreams where I'm the old me and I loved driving and don't care about things and it's just not real.

So I started to listen to people. Mostly people I have a giant crush on. Like Marcus Brigstocke. It went in. Something weird has happened to me and I'm starting to care about things. Cars aren't that great. We should all ride bikes, get the train, walk. Walk a bit more.

What? Hello? Where did that come from? Next you'll be a vegetarian.

Oh.

So there's me for approximately 30 years: I love cars. Technology is the future, we should endeavour to build better roads, climate change is random and chaotic and unpredictable: we should all drive BMWs. Food chain things, we breed animals to eat them, it's the way of the world, we've got teeth for eating meat; we're built to eat meat, you can't get proper nutrition from vegetables; everyone should eat steak.

A bit of wavering from the age of 31 (30-31 was mostly spent being pregnant and I didn't think anything) and insisting on organic milk, trying to buy local stuff and obsessing about seasons and buying free range everything. Not hard to go anti-plane: although it's fun to take off and land, flying is a painful experience. Horrible waits after tedious check ins with increasingly strict rules, cramped space on the plane, constant hassle to buy stuff, tedious waits for bags, etc etc. It's not fun. If you're going a relatively short distance, get the train. If you're going to Australia, then yes, perhaps the plane is the best option. If you're going to London, it's probably not. 4 x 4s are just wrong, so wrong in so many ways. Not least because they make every other car on the road less safe, so if you want a safe car, you need a 4 x 4 because other people have them and they might hit you. Ban them all. Bring back Ken.

Then wham! I'm a vegetarian. Bam! I think we should all cycle everywhere unless it's too far then we get the train. I am not practicing this at the moment, I still drive, but it makes me feel GUILTY I justify it because I take the children with me most of the time. I produced a coherent argument as to why we should have congestion charging.

Is this growing up? Why now? It's not making me happy, it's making me question everything else I thought I knew to be true. I don't like it.

Inertia

Oh fla.
I've woken up in one of those moods. This happened some time ago and I've been stagnating since. Should really be cheerful but swamped with inadequacy today.

I've got so many things to do, and most of 101 things I mostly don't need to do, and I'm in a sort of defeatist mood. Can't write owt on account of being uninteresting. Traffic policy isn't interesting. Can't write owt on account of being stupid. Not actually stupid. Can't paint ceilings on account of the fact that the essay's more important. Can't make phonecalls on account of being snivelly.
Need to do stuff. Need kick up backside.

Fester fester, I have no idea why I'm blogging this.

Thank you

Well, I don't really know what to say, other than to thank those of you that were kind enough to vote in the most important poll of the year (official Best of 2008(c) statistic). It looked as if a left turn was inevitable but at the last minute a dramatic swing saw the closing result being that I am in fact normal. I didn't expect this at all and as such haven't prepared fully. A tear has formed in the corner of my eye at the sheer votingness of it all.

I can't begin to thank everyone for their involvement in it all but I feel I have to extend thanks to myself for compiling the poll, to me for existing in the first place and especially to the inimitable me for having the sense to buy such a marvellous phone in the first place.

You are all cordially invited to the virtual post poll party. As a virtual party, it can be wherever you like with whoever you like, at any time you like, and you can pretty much do what you want there as long as you have a cracking good time. My own version will have a vague superhero theme so all the men have to dress as Batman and/or wear a tux; we shall drink copious amounts of appelwein and champagne, then make complete tits out of ourselves while dancing voraciously to 80s hits.

For the record: reality has a cold and has the day off.

Procrastinating

So the chiddlers are stuffed with the cold and sorrowfully sniffing at the television, all Tixylixed and ready to nap. Hurrah thinks I, time to do some of my work.

Think. Think. Empty cavern of head. 9 hours till my brain wakes up.

So I thought I'd do some questions - I like answering questions due to being entirely self obsessed. The slightly interesting meme I have already done, if deleted, so I'm left with bog standard ones. Here goes:

Stolen from here:
1. What's for breakfast?
Toast usually.
2. Do you read a newspaper daily?
I get the Scotsman email. I sometimes read it.
3. What do you do when you can't sleep?
Annoy people, rant, fret, type, fret some more, annoy people further by fretting at them.
4. Say a word that sums up your mood.
Tired.
5. Do you remember your dreams?
I remember the ones that freak me out.
6. Name something from your dream last night.
I don't remember no dream last night.
7. Name a food that describes you.
Umm. I have no idea. I don't feel very foodlike. I think I would like to be a jalapeno pepper.
8. Today you are wearing:
Clothes. And a pair of unmatched socks.
9. What's in your pockets?
My precious. Nothing else in case it hurts my precious.
10. Did you sing in the shower today?
I don't sing in the shower. I sing when I'm cooking.
11. What's the last song you heard?
Imagine by John Lennon. That's good if you haven't heard it for ages and forget just how many times you've heard it.
12. Looking forward to the holidays?
Always.
13. Where do you want to be this instant?
Right now I would like to be seated on a train (a Virgin Pendolino, specifically, in seat A37 with noone next to me), watching the raindrops running down the window as the countryside whizzes past and listening to toons. I don't really mind where I'm headed on this train, I might just get there and come home again.
14. What's for lunch?
It was a Brie and cranberry baguette.
15. What's something you would like to do soon?
Sleep.
16. Reading anything now? What is it?
I am reading everything now, I can't even remember what the last one was. Ask Andrew Collins what he's reading.
17. What's for dinner?
An attempt to recreate a thing with lentils. I've never cooked lentils before other than in soup.
18. A favourite part of the day is:
First thing in the morning: despite my reluctance to be awake, being woken by two gorgeous little boys always makes me smile.
19. Are you happy?
I love what I have but I wish I knew what I wanted.
20. Will your friends do this meme?
No. I can't think of an effective bribe to make them.

The penny drops

I just realised where the vegetarianism came from. Why is this happening to me? I'm not normally influenced by other people. I don't change things because of other people. I used to like meat.

I am a sad, sad groupie git.

I need my own mind back. Give it to me now.

Notes from a small neuron

It's a kitten. Love me.

After much delay, caused by inefficient websites, not being in America and general mistrust by me, I managed to get ereader on my phone, and free ebooks to read. Limited selection till I find a new version of drop-a-book and nab some text files from Project Guttenberg, but I do now have Dr Jekyl and Mr Hyde, Little Women, Oliver Twist and most importantly The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, which I haven't read in, ouch, too many years (25?) and feel I want to read now given the sheer greatness of the author. Also, my brain is much smaller than it used to be and I think children's books are probably just about perfect for gentle reading. A nice little collection of childhood memories there, I'm on a big trip down memory lane today for some reason.

Huge tangent: why a trip down memory lane?

The wonder that is Facebook is causing me to undo the years of damage that my appalling skills of keeping in touch have ravaged upon my friendships. Facebook is strange, it's not like the other social networking sites. I had a mini-cull a few weeks ago and deleted all the "unreal" people that I don't actually know (probably after some hissy fit) and I'm completely unsearchable, so it's relatively "safe". Anyway, I have as my friends on there, my family, my closest friends, my internet only friends, my more distant relatives and increasingly, the friends I had lost altogether. Pretty much everyone I know apart from the ones that don't "do" Facebook. You see who's friends with who, and spot a familiar name and then off you go. Today I was accepted by a girl who was my closest friend when we were about 13. I haven't seen her since we were about 15 and she moved to Australia, and we haven't spoken in just about as long, just because we haven't. It got me to thinking how very strange it is how you can see someone every day and know everything about them, and then end up leading entirely different lives just like that. That can be poised on a precipice of depressing thoughts about how much more interesting everyone else's lives ended up, and I'm still here stagnating in the same stupid town, but I'm not going there. Still on Facebook, I did a couple of the inane quizzes about 70s/80s things. These are infuriating as they are compiled by the sort of person that compiles a quiz on Facebook, I think anyone can, so you get questions wrong that you know are right, just because the compiler was a moron.

He-man, Marathons, Top Deck... Do I remember who this was? Uh, yeah.

My first crush. I have about twenty minutes worth of memories of being at nursery and most of those are about the day the Green Cross Code Man came in to give us a talk on safety. I think it may have even been David Prowse himself which makes me feel quite giddy thinking about it. This may have been where my heightism came from: he's 6'7. Uh oh, giddy again. If only one of my nieces was here to say "my giddy aunt", it would be ever so apt.

(I believe he was also in some film or other that was quite well known but he's the Green Cross Code Man to me. Ok?)

Back on track: on the first page of Huckleberry Finn, Mark Twain says "Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot".

I actually love him. In a way. For a person that's been dead for nearly 100 years and entirely based on what he wrote. But still love.

I'm taking him/my phone to bed now. My cup overfloweth.

Sensory overload!

Exciting things! Hyperbole, hyperbole!

>NB Still in a funk. A fizzy funk. Sort of like Cava.<


Exciting thing uno:

Fireworks. They're always exciting. Except, as always, the first half was seen from the car as no parking space or progression towards site of fireworks was forthcoming. But lights! Bangs! Whees! Damp squibs still working! Squibs may well not actually have been used!


Exciting thing zwei:

The phone. It's lufferly. It's great. I can work it now. It has a thing that "listens" to music and tells you what it is. This is probably the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me. I squealed at it. I'm really not a squealy sort of person. It was that exciting. It works anywhere, I have tested it extensively. The phone does other stuff too, like receive phonecalls, of which I got two dodgy ones today and which I have to raise (stroppily) with Carphone Warehouse tomorrow. One was asking for various bits of information including my bank details, which I wasn't happy about, and I got hung up on when I asked them to tell me what information they had and I'd confirm it, got told that it was against Data Protection, and said that it was ok, they'd established I was me and I authorised them to give me any information I wanted.

I have little tolerance for people that phone me up. I have "Idiot", "New idiot" and Idiot 3" programmed into my landline phone, these are persistent wrong number callers and it's useful to see on Caller Display. I have not yet had the cheek to answer the phone with "you have called the wrong number" but one day I might. They're all of the "who's THAT?" type of callers, the ones that get irritated at you for not being the person they meant to call.

Hello?
Who's that?
It's me.
Who?
Me.
Where's Gemma?
I'm sorry, you've called the wrong number.
Oh.
*hangs up*

space of about 3 seconds

Hello?
Is that you Gemma?
No, you've got the wrong number again.
Argh!
*hangs up*

another 3 seconds

Hello?
Gemma?
No.
*hangs up*

I have a variety of responses for cold callers, depending on the mood I'm in. They amuse me.

But I digress, as often happens when over excited; back to the lufferly phone. It's ever so nice. It does everything I would ever want it to do. Except bluetooth: my old phone and new phone simply won't see each other. I even pointlessly put them face to face and waved them at each other and still, they can't find one another. Silly phones. I may try a formal introduction tomorrow, but no matter how I dress it up, the Samsung knows it's being cast aside for one more aesthetic/generally useful and I suspect this lies at the bottom of its reluctance to bond.

I can access the internet anywhere. I will never get anything done ever again. Woop.

Reviewing: not my strong point.


Exciting thing trois:

Whoever knew how interesting the stock market could be! I suddenly follow what they're on about and find it fascinating. I think this officially makes me grown up even if I do still like making monster leavey feet by scuffing through piles of leaves.


Exciting thing tessera:

Cauliflower! It is exciting! Cauliflower is generally great. And today I received a cookery book that has lots and lots of things to do with cauliflower, and other foods-that-probably-should-be-knighted such as chick peas, mushrooms and courgettes. My mother is resigned to the fact that I'm off meat, she is being as weird as if I've announced I'm leaving my family and going to live in a commune in Tibet. But still, the cookbook was a nice gesture.

There have been two reactions from (most) people to my sudden abandonment of carnivorism. The carnivores take it personally, think it's a phase, and generally shudder at the thought that it might be catching. The vegetarians are victorious and rejoice at my sense prevailing, they have won me over to their cause.

Actually, I'm just off meat. I may go on meat (once I've stopped rejoicing over recipes with cauliflower, mushrooms and chick peas) again, I have no idea. The only thing that's changed is that I finally understand what people are on about, apart from the pescetarians. I will never understand them...

I have sat in a restaurant and watched people eat my pets. Not actually my pets, but you know what I mean. That's not cruel? You eat their EYES.

Why this is exciting: I haven't enjoyed cooking this much in ages. Why am I mentioning fish? Because I am operating at 16x normal speed. These things fall out of my consciousness. No undying love for anyone, I'm doing well.

I should probably sleep now. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. I may bounce instead.

Further revelations

Revelation number one:
I'm not completely rubbish. Aside from suspicious actions by them what confuseth me, there's been a general niceage happening at me:

• The arrival today of a bunch of virtual flowers. They virtually smell gorgeous and look virtually magnificent in the virtual conservatory.
• Most intelligent, funny and generally intolerant person apparently desires meeting with me.
• Hero indicated mild pleasure at existence of, and used nice words in general direction of, me.

Revelation number two:
Manchester is actually the centre of the universe and as such, everyone needs to congregate there on a pretty much permanent basis. Due to the obvious population problems caused, limitations will exist in order to restrict movement to:
a) people who were born there
and
b) people who weren't

It's a flawless plan, nothing can go wrong with it.

Revelation number three:
Wii Fit is ace, an unsurprising revelation. It is a Christmas present and was put in the loft supposedly until December, but luckily I presented a coherent argument for getting it out, mostly based on the XBox "Christmas present" that wasn't put in the loft. Running's lovely (and apparently my forte - how useful to be good at running on the spot), you pass all your other Miis in the park :-)
Just like being properly sociable, but not.

Revelation number four, which isn't really a revelation but it's my blog and I'll be entirely inaccurate if I want to:
I have this idiotic tendency to be wildly impressed by people doing what it is they do. I made an idiot of myself one time over someone rather eminent by going on and on and on about how great the talk they had given was, to discover later that they were a professional speaker. Today I was amazed by someone (I was previously unaware of the existence of) due to their ability to write beautifully, only to discover that they are an author, that's what they do.

Revelation number five:
Oh, I'm not sharing that one, I'm just going to smile a mysterious smile and disappear in a cloud of Coco.

Deja vu

See, I do this, have something going on that is entirely unrelated to anything online and yet I take it out online. Which makes me look like a nut as well as usually ending up offending someone lovely.

Why is it that we are always vile to the people we least would want to? We don't go and tell people who deserve it what we think of them. Oh no. Enter the innocent for the attack.

Like sheep

Explaining a bit for no reason: there were three reasons for my latest hissy fit, one was real and is now amended, two were imagined.

Due to the delightful delete function, most of my fits exist only in the memories of the most dedicated, but look at this, this, this and this. I despair sometimes, I really do.

This is going to hurt me to say, but here we go:

people are far nicer than I give them credit for.

There. Said it. Didn't die.

One day I'll find out what it is I'm looking for and can go look for it. Till then I'll bumble on regardless, bouncing off other lonely people and being generally grumpy.

Meantime: spot the progress, the girl grows up minutely.

No change of background! Hurrah and trumpeting giraffes!
I like this one, it's sort of me-ish.

It's not easy being this thick

It's gone. That thing called intelligence. Common sense, simple understanding, I have none.

We have for example, the cooking of tonight's dinner. An experiment into making something curryish with vegetables that didn't contain peas. There is no problem with peas in their rightful place at the side of the plate or in a salad or something, but why do they pop up in rice or curry or general foodage? Anyway, I found a recipe for chicken korma, wildly improvised due to inability to think what vegetables went in a vegetable korma (the one from the Indian has fecking peas in it, and potato; the recipes I found online all had blimming peas, and beans) and also due to a lack of key ingredients. The dense moment occurred when I added a tablespoon of coriander leaf instead of a tablespoon of ground coriander. Too late, I remembered the fairly major difference between the two. Luckily, I'm a reasonable cook, so ended up with a tasty thing that bore no resemblance to what it was meant to, but had a distinctive Thai Green look/taste to it. Sigh. Thai Gobi Korma because cauliflower is always the answer.

Later, I thought I'd have a nice soak and read my book. All fine and dandy till I dropped Andrew Collins into the bath and am now stuck for two days or so till he dries out enough. Dammit. I haven't done that since I dropped Mary Queen of Scots in the bath, and I never went back to her in her puffed up stiffened state after, I moved on. That would be sad in this case.

I've got my coursework. I'm sitting here with my mouth slightly open just gawping at it like I'm a moron. I have no idea where to start thinking, never mind working out what to do.

Here's one of the parts (incidentally, part 2):

Examine the policy frameworks, government objectives with respect to your chosen topic area, legislation and typical existing practice. This would look at what national and local government say that they want to do for your chosen measure (and any contradictions in that policy); the relevant legislation (e.g. the Transport Act 2000); and how your topic is dealt with currently by “typical” transport professionals. Some critique of existing practice is also required.

>>>>complete blank<<<<<< style="text-align: left;">

As if by magic, I prove the fact that I have no brain, by searching on Amazon for books, finding one that looked familiar and discovering I own it. Which helps. The title? "Transport Policy in Britain". I have previously been to the Shelf of Useful Books and didn't think that this one would possibly be useful for coursework on Transport Policy.

The country is crying out for engineers like me, just think what amazing things I can achieve.
Yes, it was going to be a road, but instead I built a swimming pool.
Oh. You wanted tracks for that train line? Yes, I suppose that should have been obvious.

A challenge

In this, the 4th post of today, I am making a challenge to myself:

1) no comments
2) email instead of blog a bit, I took my initial promise TOO far
3) no being a groupie
4) do, instead of think
5) remembermembermember what a womblewomblewomble I am

Bloggage

To blog:
To write down thoughts, to make them readable for those that might like your thoughts, to find like minded folk.

In theory.

In actuality:
A place for people to judge, to take offence where amusement is intended, to take amusement where empathy was intended and for general superiority over the person you may or may not know because anyone can hide on the net.

Or not, if they're not very clever.

I don't need to have virtual people I don't know confirming all the fears I have about myself. I've been told I'm offensive, not amusing enough, not clever enough, not entertaining enough and not a good enough writer.

It's a blog. Just a blog. I'm not trying to make friends (because people generally suck), write a masterpiece, gain notoriety or be the official voice of blogdom. I just write down what I think. Which happens often, because I think a lot and am in the house bored out of my skull or not asleep when everyone else is. I don't actually want the thought police judging what I think, if that's all right with people. If you don't like it, here's a thought: don't read it. If I comment crap on your blog/website, then feel free to chastise, but this is mine.

What Wiki says:

Personal Blogs

The personal blog, an ongoing diary or commentary by an individual, is the traditional, most common blog. Personal bloggers usually take pride in their blog posts, even if their blog is never read by anyone but them. Blogs often become more than a way to just communicate; they become a way to reflect on life or works of art. Blogging can have a sentimental quality.

I'm not going to stop writing (no, really), although I've got a bit delete happy due to being a mentalist after midnight, but I'd appreciate if the critical could just bugger off and leave me to my thoughts. They're not written for you, they're written for me and occasionally partially for the people that are nice and don't just sneer in the background. I'm not very happy and I write utter drivel just cause it's in my head.

For the record, some people are very nice and I'm sorry for being a tit. I'll grow up one day, or get a job, or something.

være knotten

I am having a moment. It looks like Russia, but less hairy.

some words:

cohort
stalker
mushroom
Mark E Smith and the Mitford sisters
Christmas
ineptitude
email
Gastolph the Intrepid
pizza
page 10
snip
rarr

And that, I think it safe to say, pretty much sums it up.

O happy day

I am having a suspiciously Good Day today, all is not right in the world.

I have lovely friends and am a twonk for thinking otherwise, and I got shedloads of stuff in the mail. And I took a picture of a suspiciously phallic mushroom.

it doesn't take much.

I'm in the huff at the absence of comments though. Me. Me. Me. Me. Notice me. More than that.

no, that doesn't take much either.

Well, I'm going to go and read a shiny new book or four...

Repetition

Every time I see the notice "Heavy Plant Crossing" I imagine a cartoon I saw once upon a long time ago of a giant plant crossing the road.

Like this:














except I picture a giant rubber plant.

Another thing I do, every single time, is to think of Titanic when I fill the ice cube tray with water. You know the thing, the compartments filling and spilling into the next one, like an ice cube tray. It's a banal fact, but I think it every time, and worse I think "I think this every time" every time as well.

Is this it? Is my brain full? Can I forever more only rethink old thoughts? Can I not get rid of some of the useless stuff - like do I really need to remember every phone number, car number plate and postcode I have ever had?

Bla

You'd think by the age of 17, sorry, 33, getting confused again, I would have mastered the art of communication and indeed, how to write.

NB I don't mean "how to be a successful writer", I mean "how to construct sentences that convey the intended meaning".

Nay.

I never say what I mean to say (did I say cold? I meant green) and when I go to write something that should be simple, nothing comes to mind. Blankety blank (is that still on? do they give away a Blankety Blank debit card and pin?). I'm TRYING to write about one of my favourite ever albums. Difficult? No. Anything there? Also no. I should maybe try writing about something else altogether and commenting in brackets on the album, for that seems to work for me.

Talking to people is hard. Yes, it is. When I aim for "nice", I achieve "poking nose in". For "helpful", I manage "patronising", and for "advising" I produce "unrelated personal life story".

When I grow up, I'm going to be able to write like this (yes, him again, he always manages to depress me by being both grown up and able to immediately activate the "I'm jumping up and down, look at me" module) or this or this. Meantime I'm going to find some teenagers to hang out with so I appear sophisticated and worldly wise. Ugh. No, I'm not, that's a complete lie. I shall continue on my quest to have no teenagers that aren't related to me in my life at all ever. I am not going to shut up till I get some sense/social skills (I'm sure I used to have some?). No, I am going to blunder on as before.

This counts as pointless. Pointless I can do for hours. Dammit.

Self indulgent unintelligible muttering

I don't know what to do with myself today, despite the millions of things I should be doing, so I'm settling for staring at the computer mindlessly.

Jings, I do actually seem to be mindless. How can this have happened? I had one yesterday, or maybe it was the day before. What is your mind anyway, is it the same as your brain?

We'll see what Wiki says...

Mind collectively refers to the aspects of intellect and consciousness manifested as combinations of thought, perception, memory, emotion, will and imagination; mind is the stream of consciousness. It includes all of the brain's conscious processes. This denotation sometimes includes, in certain contexts, the working of the human unconscious or the conscious thoughts of animals. "Mind" is often used to refer especially to the thought processes of reason.

Well, there we go, and everyone knows that if Wiki says so, then it must be true.

So, do I have a mind?

Intellect. No, that's definitely gone.
Consciousness. Well, I'm awake. Not entirely sure if I am aware.
Combinations of thought:
Perception. Nope. None of that.
Memory. Ha! Ha! Like I know where my keys are.
Emotion. Ah, I have this one. Unfortunately it's set to random:

Situation: sad
Emotion: excited

Situation: joyful
Emotion: annoyed

I am going to go and see if I can perceive some intellectual things and then remember them. If anyone asks what I'm doing, I shall inform them I am perceiving. Then I shall laugh at them and go to sleep.

shock revelation

This is a waste of my time.


Yes, I know.

Silence with potatoes

Last night I sent an email to one of my heroes. He sent a thoroughly nice reply, but I released the talk mechanism in return. The one that thinks it knows about everything, the one that doesn't know when to shut up. So it is time for a spot of culinary intervention.

Necessity stew

Ingredients:
1 medium sized idiot that needs to learn when to shut up
1 modem
1 mobile phone
1 landline phone
3 shallots, finely chopped
1 chilli, finely chopped
2 potatoes, cubed
4 tablespoons of olive oil
300ml water

Preheat oven to 230' C. Heat the olive oil in a wide frying pan and add the shallots. Fry over a gentle heat before adding the mobile phone. Heat until the phone breaks. Add the potatoes and water and bring to the boil. Break the modem and landline phone into little pieces and lay in a casserole dish, pouring over the mobile and potato mixture when boiling and cover with foil. Cook in the hot oven for approximately 2 days or until the idiot is cured.

This dish is best served in the autumn when idiots are best to be pruned of all communicative devices.