NEW PIC OF ME!

Short, stupid post

Well, I can't be bothered to blog (as ever). Even though there have been exciting events in my life, I'm merely posting today's entry to leave you with a few items to consider.

The first is a quote by someone I had previously respected. It is of course, Maha (an easy deduction to make, seeing as I only respect about three people in the world and one of them is Dennis Bergkamp, obviously). Lovely girl, a little too left wing for my liking (having said that, she likes skinning babies, which to me can only make her great) but all in all I thought she was intelligent, fun etc. I comment on her today because she finally said something so incredibly stupid that I can't help but mock her:

"don't diss a cultural hub like france, douchebag"

She also kicked me for the comment (she is very kick-happy) but I couldn't help but laugh. Cultural? France? Pssshhh. The only reason she thinks it's cultural is because America doesn't have a culture of its own (excl. the McDonalds lifestyle and the Chasing Youths With Guns phenomenon). There are plenty more cultural places in the world, all of them a million times more fascinating than France. Here are some ideas for those of you who have been misled into thinking France has culture:

1. Malaysia. This is Angie's homeland. She calls it the Mother country even though she was born and raised in Hackney (as all greats are). A portion of stir-fried noodles costs about 10p. Clean, white, fine-sand beaches. Buddhist temples. Hindu temples. Mosques. Lots of temples in fact. Lots of big hills to climb (Becca would do well there). This place is so multi-ethnic and so full of culture it makes Tower Hamlets seem like a White Trash suburb.

2. Malawi. Somewhere I myself have been and thoroughly recommend as a real eye-opener. You don't get the full extent of the rich/poor divide in the world unless you go to a place like this. This teaches you lessons you can never learn from a TV programme or from a speech. Live in a mud hut, bathe in dirty water, feed a starving child. Then go and lounge in your 5-star hotel room and browse your 346 channels on Sky TV. Can France change your perception of the world like this? No.

3. Australia. First things first, they make shit beer. But don't be put off by the piss-water. Australia is one of the few places in the world large enough to have vast, modern cities and then wild bushland less than a mile away from the centre of town. Sydney is home to the world's most famous opera house (and if you don't count opera as culture, you can just fuck off. Go on, stop reading now, philistine.) the Olympic village and the great big mofo that is the outback.

So there you have it. Three places more cultural than France off the top of my head, excluding the greatest place in the world (Hackney). I would've written a lot more, but I couldn't be bothered to list what is so great about all of them, because if you don't know, you are uneducated and not worthy of the visual feast that is my blog. Places better than France include Tanzania, South Africa, GERMANY (in its awesomeness in every way - history, architecture, language, natural spas etc) India, Russia, China, Japan, BRAZIL (had to do a case study on it for Geography GCSE and it sounds so utterly amazing that I will be unfulfilled if I die before seeing it), Uruguay, Nicaragua (the politics and history is fascinating), Spain, (Ethan now lists the rest of the countries of the world, in no particular order, as long as France is last).

Another thing I had to comment on today, was a link, which, unfortunately, Maha posted. Unfortunate because I used to respect this woman so much, but now she seems like a crazy old lady with a cat obsession. I'm now incredibly disillusioned. It's like being 14 all over again. This is the Earth-shattering link:

http://catsinsinks.com/

I wish I could tell you the name of the site is misleading and that it's actually a very funny, exciting link, but it's really not. 'What it says on the tin' should apply to Ronseal, not this link.

As an extension to the above, (she seems to be on a cat trip, perhaps her cat put something in her drink?) she also gave us this link, which is a novel idea but the cat wears an expression which can only mean "I hate you, you bastard, and the second I get out of this box I'm going to maul your face".

http://www.robotcombat.com/video/elvis_hi.mov

That is all, agent Mulder.

Yes, someone here has Paint Shop Pro

Can you guess who?

Yet again, I've been inspired by Sly, but this time, it was cos the tube map she chose was too fucking big. So, I cut out all the boring bits and highlighted all the bits everyone should know, even if you never intend to travel by the London Underground.

This is the best place in the world:

This is at the end of the Piccadilly line and was simply too funny not to include:

This is why I always travel from Stansted airport:

This is a tube station dedicated to my hair:

Tottenham really is crap, and I'm not just saying that cos Tottenham Hotspur are Arsenal's rivals.

And this picture here just proves that the London Underground is the largest tube network in the world. Suck on that, New York.

Edinburgh Quotes

Again, I find myself too lazy to write a proper blog entry, so here are some random quotes from my recent trip to Edinburgh.

Ethan: Are we nearly there yet?
Angie: No.
Ethan: Are we nearly there yet?
Angie: No.
Ethan: Are we nearly there yet?
Silence.
Ethan: Are we nearly there yet?
Prolonged silence.
Ethan: Will you sleep with me?

Ethan: Stop jogging the table, Cally!
Five seconds later.
Ethan: Stop jogging the table, Cally!
Five seconds later.
Ethan: Stop jogging the table, Cally!
Cally: Ethan, stop being a prat or I'll tell Angie about the text you sent Becca.
Ethan abruptly shuts up.
Cally: Oh my God! There was actually a text?

Ethan: We come to the fucking capital of Scotland and you want to climb fucking hills three days out of four? Why go for the grassy ones? The whole of this fucking city is one big fucking hill, at least we could see some landmarks while we climb fucking hills!
Becca: Are you done?
Ethan: No.
Pause.
Becca: You were done, weren't you?
Ethan: ...no.
Becca: Yeah you were.
Ethan: No, I was going to swear more.
Becca: Go o-
Ethan: FUCK SHIT ARSE CUNT WHORE ANAL SLUT PUSSY TWAT!

Angie: I'm never travelling with you again.
Ethan: We're going to Prague on the fifth.
Pause.
Angie: FUCK.

Angie: Why do I put up with you?
William: Cos you love me.
Angie: Fuck you.
William: Not in public, love!

Patrick: Scotland is the native home of the Ugly Tree. This gene pool mings. This is Uggobrough. The men are fat and ugly. The women are skinny and ugly. I want to go back to beautiful England!

Ethan stops a stranger.
Ethan: Excuse me ma'am. Did you eat all the pies?

Angie: Am I fat?
Becca: Pssh. No.
Angie: No really, am I fat?
Becca: No you're not.
Angie: You're not bullshitting me?
Becca: You're very slim.
Angie: Are you sure?
William: No. She's lying. You could do with losing a few pounds.
Angie: I knew it!
William: Then why did you ask?

Ethan: One.
Ethan: Two.
Ethan: Three.
Ethan: Four.
This continues...
Ethan: Sixty-seven.
Angie: STOP IT! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU COUNTING FOR?
William: Told you she could only stand you for one minute.

Patrick: I think Becca would like this handbag.It goes with those boots she got.
Ethan: Bent.
William: Gay.

Becca: I haven't got the Half Blood Prince.
Ethan: I'll lend it to you.
Becca: No, that's ok.
Ethan: No, it's alright.
Becca: No, I mean I don't want to read it.
Ethan: I'll read it to you.
Becca: I don't want to hear the story.
Ethan: Yes you do.
Becca: No I don't.
Ethan: Yes you do.
Becca: No I don't.
Ethan: Yes you do.
Becca: Why should I read it?
Ethan: Cos I'll follow you around, quoting it, until you read it. Til your dying day.
Pause.
Becca: Give me the book.
Ethan: I'll test you on it.

After a play about Audrey Hepburn's anorexia.
William: Well that put me in a good mood.
Becca: What?
William: A good mood to slash my wrists in.

William: Do you reckon that mother over there will mind if I skin her child to shut it up?

Ethan finally finds some fit birds.
Ethan: And while I was there, I climbed Mount Kilamanjaro. I mean, I couldn't well leave it. How often are you in that part of the world?
Girl1: Wow.
Girl2: You must be so fit!
Ethan grins.
Angie catches up with Ethan and slings her arms around his neck.
Angie: Oh, there you are honey! I think it's time we get going now. I'm sure the babysitter doesn't want to stay too late, and little Joey will be missing his daddy!
Ethan: I hate you.

PICTURES!

I've been thinking. As dangerous a concept as this is, I think you should give me a chance.

Ysee, I was browsing Sly's blog when I pondered just how lazy she must be for 'wtf picture day'. Really, she doesn't write anything, yet gets away with it. With this in mind, today's post will be assembled entirely of pictures.

Here is me at work:



Here's me in casual wear:



And here is a picture of me from my recent trip to Edinburgh:




Why yes, I am a natural red!

Sly, animals and other filthy things

I'd like to start today's blog with a quote from Sly:

Demon? Isnt your middle name Damien? Hahaha *points at you and laughs*. Is that why you hide away on the net, so people cannnot see the 666 imprinted across thine forehead? Lol @ children trauma.

~Slythergenic

The odd thing is, I don't remember telling Sly my middle name, thus one can only conclude that she is in love with me to the unhealthy level of stalking me. The first step to recovery is stopping the googling, Sly.

Today, I discovered the true extent to which animals are inferior to humans. Having said this though, humans are animals too - and fairly stupid ones too - so I reckon we should just observe that all mammals are stupid. Vive la fish.

Anyway, we have five dogs (the more observant of you might notice there are more dogs than people in my house, in which case I throw a dog snack at you and applaud you for your athletic leap into the air to retrieve it. Good puppy.) and more often than not, if you feed them all together, they'll start fighting over food. Dogs are stupid to the extent that they can't make the simple deduction that five bowls of food = one bowl each. To get around this problem, I tend to feed two of the dogs in my room, one in the hall, one in the kitchen and one in the dining room. Today, it was getting to about eight in the evening, when I realised that, as I sat down to devour my dinner of chicken and vegetables, the dogs were eyeing my food hungriliy - they hadn't been fed yet. So I, with my conscience the size of the Grand Canyon, I put my meal on my desk in my room and went back downstairs to prep their food and feed them.

So, as normal, I put two of the dogs' bowls in my room and left them in there, set down another bowl of food in the hall for #3, fed another in the kitchen and the last in the dining room. When the dogs downstairs were done, I washed their bowls, left some biscuits out and put out some fresh water. Then I went back upstairs to get the first two dogs out of my room. Imagine my surprise when I enter my room to find my dinner gone, and a bowl of dogfood left near my desk to replace my meal.

:c| <-- that's me not looking impressed.

As if that weren't enough, I didn't think the dog food looked particularly appetising, so I scooped my pet rat, Ron, off his shelf and began filling his bowl with dog food (rats live in sewers, they're not fussy eaters). At this point, the dogs seemed to get a bit defensive about their food and proptly ate it out of Ron's bowl. Where is the logic?? Well, both Ron and I settled for our staple diet - Coco Pops.

Other filthy things:

• My mind
  
• Sly's mind
  
• Most people's minds
  
• Darren's flat
  
• All of Darren's exes
  
• ... Darren
  
• The underside of my car
  
• My really old but v comfortable Nikes that I love to death
  
• Everyone Sly fancies other than me
  
• Hippies
  
• My neighbours who happen to be French but that's not why I'm calling them filthy, honest.
  
• Paedophiles
  
• Mike. Oh wait, I already said 'paedohiles'.

For Andreea's benefit, I'm adding a filthy joke, cos I'd rather she be happy than have to deal with her hissy fit.

The newly born sperm was receiving instructions in conception from the instructor. "As soon as you hear the siren, run for the tunnel and swim in a straight line until you get to the entrance of a damp cavern. At the end of the cavern you will find a red, sticky ball which is the egg. Address it and say, 'I'm a Sperm.' She will answer, 'I'm an Egg.' From that moment on you will work together to create the embryo. Do you understand?"

The sperm nodded affirmatively.

Two days later, the sperm is taking a nap when he hears the siren. He wakes immediately and runs to the tunnel. A multitude of sperm swim behind him. He knows he has to arrive first. When he nears the entrance to the cavern, he looks back and sees that he is far ahead of the other sperm. He is able to swim at a slower pace but does approach the red, sticky ball. When, at last, he reaches the red, sticky ball, he smiles and says, "Hi, I'm a sperm!"

The red sticky ball smiles and says, "Hi, I'm a tonsil."