House of Cheese

2003-12-13T10:23:00.000Z

Two things :

1. Enetation are poo now for some reason. I think I need to "donate" to their service, or find something else. Any suggestions?

2. Hello to Birdman who browsed his way on in probably following on from a comment in Pinky's or ScaryDuck's blogs. Hail and thanks for the comments. I do have to say though I did go off to have a bit of a shufty at his site where I found this link and the following amused me no end...

"Police told Mustapha Hulusi, 30, from London, that they suspected he was in possession of a map of Brussels, and that they might use anti-terrorism legislation to imprison him without trial."

Suspected possession of a map?

Dear God NO! The bastards!

What is the future for the map criminals?

Intent to SUPPLY maps?

Blokes doing midnight runs into Mexico to trade off a bootload of maps for 60 kilos of smack?

Or is it going to be two hardened map users, crouching round a small camp fire warming their hands through their fingerless gloves, parka's pulled tight abouth their necks and all you can hear is the following :

"What've you got Jonesy?"
"It's an ordinance survey map of the Pennines."
"Ooooh cushty! I'll trade you for a street map of Dieppe."
"Sure, I haven't had a good Dieppe in a while."
"What's the scale? 1 to 50! Wow! Bonus! This is the good shit."

{Up walks a scraggly looking youth clutching an ornate globe}

"Aww shit Jonesy, Williams has got himself the hard stuff!"

PCheese Out. ::

2003-12-12T18:53:00.000Z

Does anyone even come here any more?

Have I slacked so much and far too often neglected my blog that I'm now ignored cause I couldn't
keep it up. (Blogging I mean).

Or are my comments just fuXX0red?

Does anyone out there still care?

PITY ME!!!

Or at the very least give me a job.

I'm feeling melancholy.

And drunk.

And for some reason I'm writing tiny little bits of text but spacing them out a lot so it'll seem like I'm saying lots of interesting stuff.

Bugger.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-12-12T13:09:00.000Z

Jobs for Cheese : Part 1

Just by way of an explanation. This is not jobs that a cheese could do or that cheese could somehow be used in but possible career choices for me (aka Cheese). On the other hand though a suitably aged and hardened wedge of cheese could probably be used as a door stopper and some fairly liquified cheese could be used to coat a nasty gritty road then left to freeze to make it great for sliding down and going wheeee....

Ahem.

So, there's a lot of stuff on the market jobwise at the moment. I've not really looked at much although I already have my two "utterly dire, if all else fails, help I need cash and I'll do just about anything to get it" fallback jobs.

I could work at Tesco. Ugh, can't believe I've thought about this but seriously, how challenging can it be to stack shelves? Tesco is literally a five minute walk from my house so travel isn't an issue. Obviously self respect isn't an issue either. All I need to be able to do as far as I can make out is stand, crouch, lift and place. I also need to able to read, follow instructions and be willing to suffer such tremendously vapid questions as Tesco's customers can come up with. Questions like "how much are these?", "where are the tofu sticks", "are there any more jars of olives out back?". Dullsville. I'm certainly not thinking about this as a "career" and I think to deem it such would be an insult to proper careers everywhere. So if EVERYTHING else fails (and I do mean everything) I can fall back on this. Provided I can shut my brain off for eight hours a day and put up with being regarded as a menial scroat.

Name	Preference	Qualified?	Est. Pay	Enjoyment
TESCO	0	9	1	1

Pro's
local, possibility of nicking razor blades, easy.

Con's
embarressing, soul destroying, not tremendously well paid, pretty shit, dull, man do I NOT want to do this.

OR

I could be a prison officer. I'd have to pass a mental aptitude test (hmmm), a fitness test (ulp!) and a logic/question/maths/intelligence type test (piece of piss). But the pay is surprisingly high, possibly due to the risk of being violently assaulted on a daily basis by inmates. I'd also get to call myself a Screw and if I particularly excelled at my job I reckon I could get away with printing a T-shirt advertising me as "Britain's Best Screw". That would be nice. Also you can go in for lots of training with regards to becoming a Guv'nor and earning the wonga moolah.

I'm actually quite intrigued by this but : It's not something I've ever done before; It's not something I have any idea of how to do; I'm not sure if I could calm an irate inmate (hee) down by talking to them as opposed to resorting to twatting them with a stick; It's possibly dangerous; It's a career. I don't think you could treat becoming a prison officer as "something you can do for a bit" so it's not a stop-gap job, it's a career. I'd see having to donate at least a few years to this if I were to do it and to be fair, I don't really want to. I want to stay in the IT sector and prisons probably aren't the way to go. Still, if I'd taken the position as shelf-spacker at Tesco to tide me over then failed to get anything else, this'd be my number one choice.

Name	Preference	Qualified?	Est. Pay	Enjoyment
SCREW	3	7	3	3

Pro's
stable (there will always be criminals), regarded as a good profession (ala Police/Fire/etc), you might get to hit people.

Con's
some shitty shift work, long term (though possibly this is a pro depending on your view), possibility of violent buggery.

So there's the end of part one. More, obviously, to follow.

Tata for now peeps, wish me luck.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-12-11T19:01:00.000Z

Well. I came back. Then went away again.

I'll tell you why...

And I quote :

This is to confirm your one months notice of redundancy as discussed earlier today... ...it is with great sadness that we have to lose you... ...the contribution you make to the company and positive working atmosphere will be missed.

All I can say is "bugger".

I'm putting a nice, cheerful brave face on it but basically I'm not looking forward to having to find another job and all that. It's a shame as I really liked my job. And I think I was pretty good at it. I won awards for it and stuff!

But for now the commencement of drowning in Jim Beam will have to suffice for working.

Any pity greatfully received. Or blowjobs. They always cheer me up.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-12-03T21:55:00.000Z

What a week it's been for...

...my poor little DVD player.

I was off work on Monday with some sort of miscellaneous illness. I thought it was a cold cause I was Schnuffly all day Sunday and my sister was abed with something similar but it turned into a general sort of headachy malaise that didn't really turn into anything. Tuesday I was utterly fine but Wednesday it was kind of back again. I think I've got what could technically be described as "The Meurgh". Just that general feeling of poopiness which doesn't accompany anything else. Still, Monday I would have been (more) useless (than normal) so I stayed in bed till 1pm. Nice.

The rest of the day was spent watching films, as had been much of the rest of the weekend and most of the previous week. So far I've watched about a zillion (alright 12) films in the space of the last seven days. And not just films, oh no.

In no specific order, but with comments, here are the cinematic masterpieces which have been keeping me entertained.

Taxi
An absolutely brilliant film despite the fact that it's in French. Lot's of souped up car chase chicanery with heavily modded Peugeots and mopeds. It sounds very odd but the humour in it is just fantastic. Did I mention that it's in French? Surreal. Directed by Luc Besson (the bloke who did The Fifth Element and Leon).

Taxi 2
More of the same from Frog boy Luc but with the cars being even more heavily tricked out. The "hero" of the piece just so happens to have added bloody wings to his car which makes it all a bit more farcical but it's still damn good. Some excellent driving stunts and the like throughout the whole film, all the better for realising that they're REAL car chases and not dodgy OH'llywood special effects.

Pirates of the Caribbean
If you haven't seen this then I chastise you, I chastise you greatly. Go buy it / rent it / steal it / whatever right now. Johnny Depp as Jack Sparrow is superb and mostly steals the film, but the best bits are still the good old fashioned sword fights. And the pirates themselves. And Kiera Knightly's heaving bosom. And the script. It just rocks. "But why has the rum gone?"

Lord of The Rings - The Two Towers - Extended Edition
Um, Helm's Deep. Ents. Hobbits. 'Nuff said. The extended scenes add loads to the film too, especially the post-battle kill count between Gimli and Legolas.

Father Ted - Series 1
I never saw much of the first series but I'm glad I bought it on DVD. It's pretty damn good still, despite the fact that it's a few years old now.

Spaced - Series 1
Same goes for Spaced. I never saw an episode before I bought both seasons on DVD a few months back, and now I keep re-watching my favourite episodes and when I can't be bothered to do that I just watch the best bits. You know, I can't remember what it's like to have to fast forward through a damn video to find the best bits. And I'm glad. The A-team dance mix club scene has to be my favourite.

Spaced - Series 2
Yeah, series two kinda follows on from Series one. Did you not get that? Best bit is the male telepathy scene. Women get synchronised menstruation, blokes get a mental bonding apropos make-believe gun battles. Quality nice.

Terminator 3
You know, the "bad" terminators in T1 and T2 were both pretty scary. The girly in the third film, whilst hot, just isn't scary. At all. But Arnie in Elton John shades just rocks.

Deathwatch
A mediocre flick. The main benefit of watching it is that it stars Andy Serkis. He's the chap who plays Gollum in The Lord of The Rings films. Oh yeah, and there's evil barbed wire and some sort of devil cum German fellow. Interestingly, not only does Serkis prance about in a motion capture suit for LoTR he also does the Gollum voice. Naturally. Though it hurts his throat to buggery so they had to keep him lubed up with a drink concocted from honey and lemon amongst other things. They called it Gollum Juice. Great things DVD extras, huh?

Porn
Well, where would a weeks viewing be without a hearty helping of hard lesbian f*cking and miscellaneous hints at plot. Porn films should just get rid of the plot premise altogether and just go straight for the lesbians. Every time. Also (sorry girls) there should be no men in porn. You're happily watching two young (30ish) women dressed as schoolgirls lying on a bed rubbing each other when in saunters some walking hard on. Suddenly you're in testosterone country and you have to watch very carefully to avoid glimpses of burly man cock. Or squint at the screen and turn the sound off, then you can pretend he's a woman with a strap on. Sometimes that works.

That's about it for my week really. Other than that there hasn't been a lot happening, I think I've reverted to hibernation mode for the winter. Maybe my party-hearty lifestyle will pick up again in the new year. Hopefully.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-12-02T22:37:00.000Z

Call me Mr Feeble.

Yeah I know, my online diary seems to have gone the way of the dildo and completely disappeared up something unspeakable. It's like the little leather bound diary that someone gives you that you start off writing but fall ever so slightly behind in...

December 31st - A brand new diary. Huzzah. Thanks to Mater and Pater for this delectable Christmas Present. May the next year present me bountiful musings which I am certain to record in this journal as a source for future reminiscence.

January 1st - It is soon to be twilight and I am writing this entry by candle light. I have partaken in many a Hootenanny since Christmas and over the New Year but now am successfully recovered. Unfortunately this involved induced vomiting and an analgesic or two but I am much better for it.

June 17th - Uncle Albuquerque’s birthday. Cat died.

December 13th - Bugger.

Ahem. Anyway...

There are reasons and they are bountiful. They're also embarrassing so the lest said the better.

What's that? Oh, I hear hounding. Very well. Blogspot. Can't fault 'em. Lovely bunch of pseudo-people. Unless you forget your password. You see, I installed a lovely, helpful "Windows (TM) Security Update" on my machine and it got rid of all my little remembered password thingies without which I am nought but a lump of manflesh. having never actually typed my password IN to blogspot since January-ish I was scuppered. Scuppered a kipper as it were. Now, in normal circumstances you would simply click one of those little "remind me of my password at my eMail address please" buttons only *SHOCK" more disaster. My eMail account that I had subscribed with chadcobra@ntl[ITDOESNTDAMNWELLWORKSOSODYOURSPAM]world.com - had died a horrible death. Much like the guy in the wood chipper in Fargo. My new eMail, which is significantly different (by including a . between the chad and the cobra I outwitted those buggers at NTL) is so significantly different that I don't get my old eMail sent to it. This you would expect due to the old one being shut down due to excessive amounts on unsolicited bollocks. Or Spam as it's lovingly called. (To go off on a tangent why is it called Spam? I remember reading a book years ago called Wilkes The Wizard and the SPAM which stood for Sensible People Against Magic but I doubt that had anything to do with it but Spam is such a friendly name and actual unsolicited eMail is such a colossal pain in the arse what's the point in giving it a Fluffy name? Umm, sorry Fluff.) Ah, I think I just got it. Spam. Spam Javelin = Cock. Cock up bum = pain in arse. Unsolicited eMail = pain in arse. Gotcha.

Err, where was I? Oh yes, so to cut incredibly long story short - I've only just been able to log back in by finding (through pure fluke) an old account details eMail I'd forwarded to myself at work. So you see, I've not been slacking. Not tremendously. Alright, I have. I could've sorted this out weeks ago but I've had nothing too interesting to say which I haven't been able to post on other peoples comments. And I've been working (outside of work time) on a couple of projects which may or may not be looming in the imminent future for willing victims, err, participants. So in short (shorter than the short version above anyway : I'm crap.)

Ah… That’s me spent for now! There’ll be more to follow at some point in the near future, I promise this time. Really.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-10-24T00:10:00.000Z

Some things...

1) We still have no heating. So I'm fecking freezing. I'm also still not sleeping hence my having my PC on at 1am because I can't get to sleep just by lying down and closing my eyes. It's bloody annoying.

2) Kill Bill is absolutely awesome. There have been loads of bad reviews and a few people have had comments ranging from "too slow" and "too much gore" to just "shite". I thought it was fantastic stuff. Great camera work, several homages to classic martial arts films and to top it all off, Uma Thurman, Lucy Liu and Daryl Hannah looking as attractive as a trough full of maltesers. (Mmm maltesers.)

3) Steam - the new and amazing wonderful auto-update tool for online gaming - is shite. Just utter, utter shite.

4) I just put a bin bag outside and in the half light of night time I spotted what I thought was a rather large worm. Pity it wasn't. I'd have preferred a worm. As opposed to it being the tail of a bloody great rat pissing about in our garden. Damn living in the countryside sometimes. Filthy bloody great rats. Bleurgh.

5) I'm now going to bed to dream of ladies with swords, cartoon violence and fairies. There's always fairies.

Nighty night.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-10-22T22:20:00.000Z

Lo peoples,

Sorry to those of you who have been pining for me. I've been away. My machine at home has been in a constant state of being completely and utterly screwed so I'm having all sorts of network difficulties and miscellaneous crap that I can't sort out cause I have the networking knowledge of a small bowl of dried fruit. Possibly damsons.

This and the fact that we've got no bloody central heating coupled with this extreme inability I have at the moment to be able to get to sleep at nights is creating somewhat of a freakish nightmare situation for me. One where spiders crawl out of my ears and eat my eyeballs for instance.

So, for those I normally speak to on Messenger, well, umm, sorry! I still love ya, it's just I don't do the chatty thing at work and my home connection, is as I said, borked. And those who've been waiting for a posting on here... Well, it's difficult to work up the will to sit in front of a monitor and concentrate when you're shivering despite being wrapped in two quilts.

This may of course all be something to do with my "not drinking" stint which is making me ratty and irritable which is not a frame of mind I like to be in. I'm pretty horrible to be around at the moment, as ably demonstrated this weekend when I became "perturbed" after an argument with my little sister and put my fist through my parent's bedroom door. Entirely by accident, I meant to punch the wall. So as you can gather "not a happy place".

Sometime soon it'll all be back to normal and I'll be cheery again. I hope. But when you need to chat the most the universe conspires against you and takes a massive shit in your handbag. Or something.

Incidentally I think I might try and start a band. I have no musical talent and can't sing in tone so it'll have to be a rock band. But I've got the name sorted, it came to me just now... I think it's rather good. "Possibly Damsons". It just... smells like a band, you know?

Maybe you don't. Maybe I'm a very disturbed little boy.

Look out for my double A-side flooding the shops soon.

Track 1 - Spiders Ate My Eyeballs
Track 2 - Shit In A Handbag

It's got legs. :)

PCheese Out. ::

2003-10-06T22:34:00.000Z

Heh.

Sorry for the lack of activity folks but I've got absolutely no excuse. Now if that makes sense I'll be very surprised. Since getting back from London I've pretty much resumed the pattern I was living before which is that I've been doing absolutely nothing of interest. Seriously.

Well, every weekend has been busy and hectic what with Stag Doo's, Weddings, Birthday Parties and dual sets of Paintball. The latest paintball sesh was on Saturday and it was pretty damn good. And yet painful. So currently I am suffering from a cut to my head from an extreme close range shot. And a bruised nad. And a sore nipple. Paintball is fantastic. :D

But that's the most interesting thing that's happened. Rivveting stuff eh?

On a complete aside : never, ever under any circumstances rent or purchase the film "Men In White". It promises a parody of Men In Black which I thought could be quite amusing. Little did I know that the film was made by the people who make Power Rangers and is about Intergalactic Binmen. If ever you manage to watch the film to the end without vomiting or turning the TV off in disgust I'll shower you with praise and you will have earned my utmost respect. Respect that is somehow tainted with revulsion. Knowing what you've been doing. Eeuw.

Right, I'm off to bed to dream of Pikeys, thieves and simulated warfare.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-09-17T19:35:00.000Z

Four days in London.

I'm back.

But that's not all. I'm back in Ipswich after a fantastic break away from reality in that big old smoky polyp of a city, London. It was an "interesting" four days, which I will now recount to you.

Around a month ago my little sister informed me she had bought two tickets to the premiere of The Italian Job at the Empire in Leicester Square. If I wanted to accompany her all I had to do was organise the hotel and train tickets. Easy. Only around the same time there were rumblings coming from the direction of PP that there could possibly be the possible possibility of a meet in that London around the same time.

So I set to work. Alty and Ricky were planning some sort of meet, so I hijacked it. I extended my stay in London for a couple of days before the premiere and made sure everyone knew what I was up to. And so it was off to London on Saturday for a "blog" meet. My first. And probably not my last, but that depends on the rest of this tale doesn't it?

So, things started off well. I got on the bus with my huge bag full of clothes heading off to the train station to meet PT. A young, and rather attractive, girl got on the bus and sat in the seat opposite me. We'll call her Elsa. We smiled at each other. Or rather she smiled and I grinned like a buffoon. I think I may have been excited and over stimulated. But I digress.

Warning : From this point on normality leaves the building as the weekend descends into drug use, debauchery and surrealism.

So, an old lady got on the bus and, despite the plethora of empty seats demanded that I move my hulking great duffle bag so she could sit next to me. She then got off the bus four stops down the road. A journey of approximately three minutes. I was confused. She was replaced by a Mexican looking gentleman in his mid forties who got on and sat directly behind Elsa so diagonally behind me. He reeked. He absolutely stank... Of mothballs. It was incredibly odd, I hadn't smelled mothballs in years. I'm not even sure where you can buy them nowadays. But it smelt like he'd just come out of a fifteen year coma and just taken his clothes out of storage and put them on. Elsa and I exchanged worried looks for the best part of ten minutes due to the fact we were both becoming increasingly worried. Me by the freak behind her, her probably because a huge dude in a leather coat (me) kept looking at her in an odd way and gesturing with his eyebrows to the guy behind her. Finally the passenger de resistance go on and sat down next to Elsa. Now, this wasn't too odd because the bus was getting pretty full by this point, but he was by far and away the weirdest guy ever. He mumbled under his breath. He twitched. And the best thing about him? Every time he saw "something" he would yelp and then cross himself. The full "spectacles, testicles, wallet and watch" routine at random intervals for the rest of the journey.

Right, I really should have asked if you were sitting comfortably because so far I've recounted the first hour of the first day and there's a hell of a lot more to come. I'll continue...

Arriving at the station I stood about like a lemon for 15 minutes waiting for Sam to arrive. She arrived. We stood about like lemons for a further 20 minutes waiting for the train to arrive. It arrived. We got on the train. (This is thrilling stuff isn't it?)

Unfortunately due to my not booking a ticket for Sam in advance she had only managed to get one for the train an hour after mine departed but we got on the early one anyway. The bloke even checked her ticket but didn't say a word so that was nice. One less thing to be nervous about. Again with the weirdness here as the woman opposite us in our little cluster of seats kept closing her eyes and muttering incomprehensibly. Was this to be a day of random mutterers? No. As it turns out this was the last mutterer of the day, though not the last weirdo.

We got off the train at Liverpool Street where it was McDonalds time and then I was accosted by a very large black man demanding in fairly poor English to know where I had bought my shirt. "You large man too, eh? You buy large shirt, eh? Where you get that then, eh? I want one too, eh?". I informed him as politely as possible that I'd picked it up in a shop in Colchester (actually it came from TK Max in Ipswich but I couldn't remember that). He asked me where abouts in London that was... Hmmm. Difficult to explain the concept of a shop in another county to a man who doesn’t speak that much English. I think he went away a little pissed off. Never mind though. Sam and I did our tube ride across London pretty smartish and stopped only briefly so I could give a young lady busker at the bottom of the Piccadilly Station escalators a quid for doing a surprisingly good rendition of Elton John's Crocodile Rock.

We then went to the hotel. The Regents Palace was where we stayed, not an amazingly attractive hotel. Though it was aided by the fact that it was a) really easy to find and b) had a nice Irish bar underneath it. Unfortunately our attempts to check in were hampered by the German lady behind the desk who was trying to charge me for the room. A room which I'd already paid £78 for. It was ever so slightly worrying because that was almost all the money I had on me and if I'd had to pay for the room again I'd have not been getting very drunk at all. As it was the manager came and sorted us out seeing as how we'd paid online but the poor lass behind the counter hadn't a clue. Not her fault though.

So, room 8073. The only room without a door number on. Great. Well, there probably was a door number originally only some helpful sod had nicked it so it had been written on to the door itself in biro. Room 8073, the setting for one of the greatest stories ever told. Probably. We dumped our stuff in the room and decided to wait for the others to arrive in the bar. Of course on getting out of the room and shutting the door I realised that two of the three key cards we had been given had fallen out of my pocket somewhere and the third one we had wasn't letting us back into the room to check. We strained futilely at the door for around 5 minutes before it eventually gave way and let us back into the room where I picked up the two keys that I'd dropped and we THEN went off to the bar. Hurrah.

We left the bar for a while to loiter by the Piccadilly fountain thing. (It's a fountain, in Piccadilly, that's as much as I know - OK?) Whilst there I was accosted by yet another loon, this time it was some old woman who put a bit of "lucky heather" in my pocket and then demanded paper money. I said I hadn't got any but she kept trying. Then she said "money isn't your problem love, confidence is your problem". Laugh? I nearly shat. So, I gave her 2 quid for her "lucky heather" which, as it transpired, was a bit of tree and some red crepe paper in tin foil. I don't think it was very lucky. We ran away from the scary lady back to the bar. Three beers later (at £2 a pint I wasn't wasting any time) and a little nervous chatting and a sort of "CooooEEEEE" noise began to reverberate around the bar. It was them, they were here. Sam's nervousness took hold, poor girl, and she sort of slowly swivelled on her seat at the incoming hoard (well, three can be a hoard if I say so) with a look known traditionally as bunny-in-headlights-ness. Which belied the fact that she wasn't nervous at all really, she just looked it. I, on the other hand, was very cool. "Hello" I said.

Now, I'd been furiously planning some sort of witty greeting such as looking severely disappointed and just going "Oh" or just screaming at the top of my lungs until every glass in the bar exploded ala "Run Lola Run". As it was a severely laid back "hello" was all they got. So, introductions were made. Sam was dressed pretty much as Sam always dresses, that is to say - her trousers had a hole in and she was wearing a vest top thing. Alty was looking slightly worried as if she were concerned that I was going to try and eat her. I have no idea how she normally dresses but today’s ensemble was very much along the theme of "black goes with everything - especially more black". My kinda style. Clive looked sweet enough to package into small tubes and sell to be sucked down by hungry children through liquorice straws, and just the tiniest bit nervous as well. Ricky on the other hand needed a double take, at first I thought that a random busker had followed them in from the street. It was the green lycra cycling gloves that did it. I have to say my first impression of Ricky was wrong. My brain immediately said "uh-oh, I knew there'd be a weird one". But as it was he was actually rather normal. On a scale of one to ten based on the normality levels of my friends where one is passable in society and ten is the guy who dresses up as Hitler in a tutu at fancy dress parties. He was around a four. I think that equates to "able to have a conversation with him without spontaneously combusting and yet still able to come up with topics to discuss that normal people would overhear and go 'hunh???' or possibly 'eek!'".

So after we'd all arrived (that just happened - weren't you paying attention?) we sat and had a few drinks. I think by the time Scoot and her man turned up I'd had around seven pints and was already well on my way to getting a reputation.

Alty and Ricky decided it was about time they check into the hotel and Sam took Clive up to show her the room leaving yours truly (being a lazy bastard) sat in the bar with Scoot and Chris. We chatted about a variety of things such as who the hell I was and why I was there being as they were expecting it to be a Lycos meet and I'd been into Lycos all of about twice. I also drank more beer.

After everyone returned, and a couple more drinks, we decided to move on to a restaurant for some food. S&C knew of a nice Italian in (Soho? I think. I don't know London) which we had to walk to. Yes, we walked. I can't believe they made me do that. And to top it all off we walked in a group of what I would consider a staggered pace. You see, S&C both live in London and have learned by now how to successfully navigate their way through the crowds of tourists who clutter the streets like some sort of mad foreign litter. So of course, they stormed off ahead. I was fairly close behind due to my ability to see over the tops of the crowds so enabling me to follow Scoot's bright orange top and the natural anti-buoyancy of small people not hindering my process as they just bounce off me. Right behind me in comet tail fashion were Clive, Sam and Alty. Though Alty did occasionally drift off to rescue a thoroughly miscellaneous Ricky from wandering down the middle of the street or abusing parked cars.

Before anyone complains about the use of the phrase "Thoroughly Miscellaneous" as descriptive of a person I thought long and hard about this and the phrase actually suits Ricky down to a tee. I think anyway. If he doesn't like it I'll change it. Heh.

So where were we? Ah yes, our little convoy of bloggishness finally wound it's way to this little Italian restaurant where we were greeted by the waiter and by the aroma of really good food. (It said hello). Food was ordered, food was eaten. Someone who shall remain nameless finished off three other peoples meals. . We discovered that there was a large party downstairs for someone’s wedding. We found out it was a wedding as when Clive and I went downstairs to investigate (with the pretence of using the facilities) I stopped to ask a group of the most pissed looking people. I then convinced them to tell anyone from our group who came down that it was a Bah Mitzvah so I could win a bit. Despite lacking one of the main reasons to hold a Bah Mitzvah (a 12 year old boy) they agreed. Anyone going down the stairs from that point was greeted with a hearty cheer. I even convinced one or two of them to shout "Oy Vey" but think it may have been lost on our lot.

So, we ate the food, we paid for the food, we left. We wandered the streets of London looking for a decent pub that wasn't too packed. Along the way we encountered seven thousand tourists, four English people and a drunk man surrounded by the police who appeared to be alternating between sleeping in the street and trying to climb into his own shoe. We pointed for a while. We left. We ended up sitting on the pavement outside some little corner pub next to a club called The Sunset Strip. I had a lengthy chat with the bouncer of The Sunset Strip, a decent chap called Les, who informed me that the way to a woman’s nether regions was several large bean bags coated in velour or silk. I vowed to try it as he swore blind that what all women really want is a damned hard seeing to whilst in the strangest position possible. Sounded like good advice to me. I made Clive one of my "special" drinks (consisting of a Red Smirnoff Ice with a double shot of Blue Aftershock in - something I will never again purchase in a city as expensive as London.) She wolfed it down. Impressive. This is the drink that blows women’s clothes off.

We decided to wander back to the hotel and enroute I stopped stock still in the street bewitched by the flickering lights of a 24 hour Sainsbury’s. Upon imparting an idea of such creative genius I felt I should have a light bulb floating over my head, we went in to buy booze. And snacks. Then off back to the hotel room.

We didn't get lost on the way back either despite the only two people who knew the area (Scoot and Chris) having buggered off home after the pub. In fact, the only detour we had, apart from the Sainsbury’s (inspired I say) was to a pile of rubbish a hundred yards from the hotel where we sat down for a rest on a knackered old leather sofa (well, half a leather sofa) and Ricky stole a six foot length of cardboard packing tube for the purposes of playing with it.

Off up to the hotel room it was to get very merry. A large portion of what follows is fairly blurry due to aforementioned drinking and forthcoming substance intake. I shall list the occurrences as I remember them and if I've missed anything I'm sure I shall be informed. Let's see. Umm. Right. Ricky was drunk and decided it would be fun to climb out of our eighth storey window and stand on the tiny little ledge outside whilst people desperately tried to entice him back inside with promises and generous mugfulls of wine. I ended up hiding in the cupboard for a short amount of time though for what purpose I'm still uncertain. I also managed to try and help Sam fly by getting off the bed abruptly and rocketing her skyward, then unfortunately floorward. She didn't bounce too much but found it amusing anyway. There was alcohol involved. There was a nice amount of adult tobacco involved. Heh. We took turns making Aborigine-style didgeridoo noises (or I may have been the only one to do this) through the cardboard tube before realising that it was probably covered in rat wee. Actually, honestly, I realised this about 10 minutes ago when the memory came back to me but never mind. Heh. If I don't blog again for a long period of time it's either because nothing interesting is happening or I've got Lyme’s disease. Your call. Umm, yes. There was a general consternation as we tried to get it so that we could listen to music and ended up sharing one personal stereo between three of us. There was also a brief episode where my little game park game thing was used to play all of the five tunes stored on it. One of which is an Alvin and the Chipmunks version of "I Want Candy" and another being the Happy Tree Friends theme tune. It was mildly disturbing.

Eventually Alty and Ricky got bored / tired / horny / all of the above and went down to their room leaving me in the pleasurable company of two drunk sexy ladies. We chatted about bugger all for a while before hitting the sack only I hit mine fairly hard. I was snoring within five minutes to be awakened to the squelchy sounds of my young companions rutting like bunnies. Now, being the Gentleman that I am I pretended to be asleep whilst watching. No. Sorry. I actually got up and went over to the windowsill, cracked open a Stella and had a fag. I wasn't about to perv that much. Except I did. But only a little. Still, my brain was telling me not to be naughty and to concentrate on other things for the duration except it being five in the morning, dark as sin and my brain having been addled with too much alcohol it was incredibly difficult to concentrate on anything much. Turning the telly on was helpful but apparently Richard Whiteleys voice is a bit of a buzz kill so Countdown had to go. Shame really, I got a seven letter word when the other contestants only got six. So I sat in silence and tried not to be tempted to have a Barclays while they finished violating each other and went to sleep. After another cigarette or two I removed the pillow I'd been using to precariously "hide my interest" and went to bed. Ashamed at having managed to remain the only straight man in history to share a room with two delectable female rutterers and not join in with a tremendous leap and cry of "WAHAY!" I'm not gay by the way, to anyone thinking "What an idiot!!!! He must be gay!!!!" which is what everyone has said so far. Sob!

Ah well, by way of what I think was some form of apology for interrupting my much needed beauty sleep I was presented with a Burger King breakfast. Very nice it was too. I got up and washed then tidied the room ready for handing the key cards back in. I went and saw off Alty, Ricky, Sam and Clive and it was sad to see everyone go. Especially seeing as how I had three and a half hours to wait before my sister turned up and the bars were all closed (it was 10:30am on a Sunday after all). As it was I decided to wander down to the Empire to see if there was any word about our premiere tickets. You see, my sister had received an answering machine message telling us that there was a problem with our seats. I went down there and the lovely lady on reception informed me not to worry, that one of the seats was broken and that there were always spares in the event of this sort of thing. I chatted to her for a while and mentioned how I had nothing to do for several hours so she let me know of a "spare ticket" she had floating around for the last ever showing of the last ever copy of the original 70mm film of "Where Eagles Dare". So I graciously accepted and went to watch it. It had Danish subtitles. It's quite surreal to watch a film in English and keep glancing at the subtitles to find that you can't actually understand them. But it was a quality film nonetheless. Of course I'd seen it before but never at the cinema - that was way before my time.

The film finished and I returned to the hotel bar, witnessing the amazing prowess of the Guardian Angels at work. Some idiotic little scroat decided to steal a ladies purse right in front of a hotel where there were no less than FIVE huge bastard guardian angels talking to a couple of the bouncers. One of these dudes leaped into action pouncing on the hapless criminal and planting him firmly on the floor. Sadly three of his mates decided they weren't having this and tried to go for the Angel whereby his mates joined in. It was carnage. Two of them put one foot each on the guy on the floors back, the other three chased the other idiots away. Then the police turned up so I left. Show over.

I ambled merrily back to the hotel and met up with my sister. That's about it for tales of interest for that day I'm afraid. We sat in the hotel bar and listened to the really good live band that were playing. Nothing else weird or surreal or interesting happened. Ooh, except that the table got invaded by German students over in London on holiday who were all from near where we used to live. And the possible exception that the two blokes that made up this band were doing Avril Livigne, Britney Spears and Mungo Jerry covers.

So, the next day was Premiere day. Woo Hoo! Pretty much the early part of the day was spent panicking about what to wear and trying to find some new trousers for my sister. She also arranged to meet two of her friends, Kevin and Craig, after the show. We got all tarted up with me in my all black shirt and trousers with my big-ass, matrix-stylee, leather coat and went off to the Empire. It was superb. We got to wait in a little fenced in area watching some insane people doing wheelies and handbrake turns in minis. They were really good, and one of them was a woman so it only goes to show.

Eventually they let us into the cinema and we waltzed in right behind Quentin Crisp who does that Top Gear show or something (Like I know! I ain't got a telly.)

Whilst we were in there we found that, due to the broken seat fiasco, we had been moved. We had been moved to the row right in front of Mark Wahlberg and Charlize Theron. We also saw, while we were in there, in the reception area and in no specific order... the entire crew who do MTV Cribs and TRL, Linford Christie, Chris Eubank in a little funny bowler hat, Jay Kay, Abs from 5ive, Mel from Big Brother 1, Nell McAndrew, Paul Ross, Lisa Scott Lee and the everyone from Fame Academy.

So that was that. We couldn't get into the after show party no matter how much we wheedled and whined. So we met with my sisters friends. My sisters gay friends. And we went to a club. A gay club. Now, I'm not too fussed about whatever people want to get up to, but taking a 6foot4 man to a gay bar when he's wearing an ankle length leather coat is not wise. I pulled. SEVEN TIMES!!! I didn't want to. There was only one occasion of someone groping me and then I gave him a very stern "EurghGerroff!" Men were just finding me attractive. Which being that I'm straight was a disappointment for them, slightly. One of them actually said I must have women flocking round me. I responded "Hah!"

So, I got through the night by getting very drunk. Very, very drunk. But not too drunk. Then we went back to the hotel. Then we went home.

That's about it I'm afraid... But if I think of anything I missed out I'll add it later.

G'night y'all!

PCheese Out. ::

2003-09-05T14:58:00.000Z

Could it be that soon, I mean very soon, I'll have something worthwhile to blog about? Possibly! In fact, probably! I'm off to my uncle's wedding for the weekend so there's going to be lots of drinking, partying and general merriment. There's bound to be a massive family argument as well, generally about something daft.

Oh yeah, and bridesmaids. now all I have to do is hope that there are young ladies of...

a) eligable age and
b) satisfactory attractiveness

...for me to gawk at for the duration. Hell, anythings better than actually paying attention to the vows and mouthing along to hymns.

And to those of you who know who you are.... EIGHT DAYS!!!! Soon! Soon! You're all gonna get Cheesified. :P

Tarra for the weekend.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-09-02T22:18:00.000Z

Well, I wanted to wait for something really excellent and amusing to blog about to break my 100th post. I failed miserably. I haven't updated this thing for sodding ages cause I've been a variety of things including ill, busy, working and so jaded with PCs I'd have sooner sat for a week in a bucket of sick than actually got home and used one of them...

There's a whole lot of shit flying around at the moment on this ol' interweb thing and it's chafing my nuts it really is. I actually almost went apopleptic with rage earlier today which is ridiculous really. I shouldn't be so impetuous sometimes.

Ah well bugger it, I hope the whole thing sorts itself out soon. Seriously I do.

As for me, not much has changed since last I blogged. I'm more sober now, definitely more tired, a little more worldy wise and a lot happier too.

Seems things might be going my way for a change... Ahh...

Anyway - that's not something I feel like sharing with you all cause it ain't in any way funny or entertaining and it's all about me, baby, yeah!

Well, for now I'm off to bed, but you never know when I'm gonna come back and start again. It may be sooner than you think, eh?

Love and hugs to all!

PCheese Out. ::

2003-08-18T22:46:00.000Z

Lo all. There's a very long explanation due... Apologies due... etc...

Suffice to say, I've been a bit busy, a lot hectic, muchly peeved with life in general and am now, as always, thoroughly knackered.

I sold my weekend camping ticket for V to PT. (I nearly cried) I was looking at the prospect of working the weekend. I worked my effing bollocks of on Thursday and Friday in order to get finished that which should have been done a long time ago. I didn't have to work the weekend. I managed to acquire a ticket for Saturday, a lift there and back and a sudden resumed faith in life. I realised I hadn't mailed Pinky my phone number (what an arse!) I eMailed Pinky my phone number (too late as it turns out - double arse) I went to V anyway. Coldplay - despite the fact that I don't really like them except for clocks - rocked pretty well. Foo Fighters were good - especially if you were loud enough to be down the front and spent 10 minutes rocking with a tiny little PT sat on your shoulders. Echo and the Bunnymen were fucking sublime. I was hammered by that point and so was thoroughly enjoying myself. Ash were amazing, which surprised me. The main band i wanted to see on Saturday, Lemon Jelly, I missed because I was too pissed to find the right stage. I watched 10 minutes of Feeder instead. They kicked arse too. The Bacardi tent became my home away from home with it's manic bongo players / hyped up DJs and general sweaty merriment. I spilled chocolate down myself off a waffle from waffle. I was wearing my white Scaryduck Tshirt. I bought a new t-shirt. The largest i could find. It was skin tight. And black. It was 32 degrees. I melted. I bought a stupid festival hat to stop my freshly shaved head from crisping up completely. I drank more. We went home. I spent Sunday groaning. I'm much better now thanks - had a lovely early night and was up chipper this morning. The above didn't neccessarily happen in the order I just described and I can't be bothered to edit - it's too late.

And that was that.

I've been away from my PC for quite a while now. There are reasons. I'll explain them all in time. Promise.

For now though, I'm off to bed. Work tomorrow, and I don't need to screw anything else up.

Bugger.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-08-09T23:20:00.000Z

Ladies and gentlemen,

This is a very, very drunk, I mean - beyond MSN flirting drunk, PCheese.

I just had to post to let you know a few things....

1) It's very difficult to do this whilst unbelievably pissed.

2) Picnics are nice but unfortunately don't lead to fellatio.

3) If you get up early in the morning do not mistake King of Shaves shaving gel for Colgate 2 in 1 toothpaste / mouthwash. It tastes bad...

4) Don't attempt to blog whilst so utterly wankered you spend 25 minutes typing one short post.

I'm off to bed, hic, g'night.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-08-04T21:04:00.000Z

I'd just like to clarify something, Terminator 3 is rather good. That's pretty much it. It's full of cheesy Arnie one liners that make you want to groan, the action is hotter than a hot thing and the new Terminatrix is like a bitch on heat that I'd definitely want to, erm, douse. Oh yes.

I went with Waffle, PT and a couple of others and we all enjoyed it. Nobody came out saying it was shit anyway. I loved it personally, even if the number on the side of the plane does change completely between two shots. See what a nerderific womble I can be!

The best part though came afterwards when Waffle and I, whilst walking to the station to catch a ride home, were almost knocked flat by a couple of wankers in a Gary'ed up motor. It was pathetic. We decided to try and emulate them sans car. it was an interesting experiment that really didn't work too well. Still, next time you might see us revving up beside you in the high street, me laying down the bassline while Waffle fills in the treble and pretends to drive the nonexistant car. Just the pair of us walking side by side pretending to be larging it to our massive tunes. It's a novelty... We reckon we'd need four to get the best tunes... And just for effect we could cruise around (walking in a four square) and pretend to wind the windows down to catch tha honeyz...

I'm so sorry.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-08-03T19:30:00.000Z

Blargh....

I'm feeling much healthier now which is a surprise really as I managed to polish off a litre and a half of Pimms last night. No sore throat any more but a wanker of a hangover. I'm going to really have to make an effort not to drink so much. It's ridiculous. I drank enough to get five people pissed I reckon. Plus I may have been indecent. I can't really remember, but I'm pretty sure I wasn't too shy about my opinions about a certain young lady... Inhibition disappears when I've had a few (few! heh!) and seeing as how I'm not normally that inhibited you can begin to imagine what a drunk me is like. Thing is, I'm much nicer when I'm sober, just not as horny. So this is me - giving up.

Honest.

I'll do it this time...

(Maybe if I wait till after V festival?)

(I need a drink.)

PCheese Out. ::

2003-08-01T16:58:00.000Z

Hello.

This is PCheese.

Contrary to popular belief I am alive. I'm recovering from a brush with, whilst not exactly death, definitely one of his friends. Possibly Pestilence. I'm currently recovering from a bout of "Red Throat" which I'm informed is a respiratory illness. So I'm on antibiotics, Pholcodine Linctus (yummy and addictive) and something called Voltarol Retard which is some sort of muscle relaxant. It's all pretty heavy stuff so I've been a bit "out of it" as it were.

Plus, I've been off and about on site so much that getting home has involved me walking in the door and whiling away my troubles by blowing lots of shit up in numerous games. I'd have loved to come on and chat a while about stuff but my mind has been so deadened that I just haven't been able. The only night I did get online I managed to chat a load of rubbish on MSN with a few delectable ladies. I attempted some crass and drunken attempts at convincing them to cyber me all the way to blissness. I failed too! Maybe sober cybering is the way to go.

Oh yes, congrats to Pinky on completing her Blogathon. I went to the site to donate my £20 but got an error on the completion page so I hit refresh and it did the same thing again. Either I've donated £40 which I'm not too fussed about (but I'd rather I hadn't) or I've donated nothing. Either way I'll check again in a few days (once I've had my bank statement) and see if I can sort it out. Well done woman!

As for this weekend I'm going to stay away from the machine as much as possible (maybe) in order to see if I can manage a full weeks PC Detox. Seeing as how I work with the buggers there's little chance of avoiding them completely but maybe I can escape for just a short while.

Anyone else ever think about giving it all up and becoming a brickie?

I'm also gonna be avoiding the alca-ma-hol this weekend as I'm still on drugs and whatnot. That'll be fun. Sober and feeling ill. Great. So one last thing, they say you can't drink whilst on certain medication... Does the same go for getting totally caned?

If I'm alive I'll let you know next week.

TTFN.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-07-22T22:13:00.000Z

I'm in again peeps, albeit briefly, to share a little something with you.

I'm a plonker. Really. If ever you find yourself drunk and entertaining a room full of people, one of whom is a fifteen month old child, it is very funny to stick a small plastic egg to your forehead using the suction created by the area where the yolk is. It is NOT funny, however, to find out the following morning that you have a sodding great purple bruise smack in the middle of your forehead. In fact, it's a bit of a bugger. Especially when you have to spend the next few days on site visiting customers looking like you've been hickeyed by a head fetishist.

{sigh}

On a plus note, my writers block is slowly fading (I think) and hopefully I'll be back on here soon large as life and twice as ugly.

In the meantime, why not entertain yourself trying to guess who this photo is of?

PCheese Out. ::

2003-07-17T13:23:00.000Z

Hello all.

I thought I'd best pop in and explain my lengthy absence. It's not my fault. Except it is. Utterly.

I'm going to blame the weather though, it makes people crazy.

Essentially I'm finding very little time for my PC at the moment, preferring instead to do things like sit in the park and drink refreshing alcoholic beverages. I'm also working on site at customers quite a bit so by the time I get home from seven hours of staring at code the last thing I want to do is be creative, witty and interesting.

Service will resume as normal at some point in the future and if you catch me on MSN I'm often fairly chatty so you can get your PCheese fix there if need be.

Oh yes, the Harry Potter porn is nearly finished. It's now called "Hairy Putter and the Gobbler of Fire" and I'll post it up here, in it's entirety, when it's finished.

A word of warning though, it's not meant to be serious - it's meant to be funny. This means if you get turnd on by it, you're a freak. So there!

See you all real soon.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-07-07T18:12:00.000Z

Hello all.

Well, I've been promising them for a while, so here they are :

So Cute : : But was it really worth forty quid?
Argh Evil!!! : : 'At's no a rabbit, look at the bones!!!
Wuvvums : : He wuvs his big wabbit, yes he does, yes he does!
Waffle Batter : : "I can't believe it's not butter!" It's not, it's waffle spooge.

When I get round to it I'll add them to the images section as well, but that'll be one of those "Ooh, I've remembered it far too late for it to be relevant" things that I do so frequently.

I'm going to be doing a lot of random stuff this month, none of which are going to be expensive, but it will be random, so hopefully there'll be something interesting to read about.

First off the bat is my forthcoming short story project. More than likely it's going to be pornographic but that's only because I've thought of a wonderful title and theme.

So, coming to this blog soon, I present to you : Harry Potter Fan Fiction Porn.

I'm going to call it "Hairy Putter and the Vulva of the Phoebes". Admit it, you're all keen aren't you?

PCheese Out. ::

2003-07-04T23:53:00.000Z

Hmm, it's been a long ass day... A very long day... I've only just got home and, to be honest, I'm just the teeniest tiniest bit knackered.

So I'm going to bed. To sleep perchance to dream?

I'm sure I'll be all bubbly again soon. :P

G'night.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-07-03T23:55:00.000Z

Well, that's it. The fantasy is over. I'm not dating Jody. I'm not pissed off though, it's not too terrible... We're gonna stay friends. Which is nice. But not as nice as it could have been, but sometimes these things aren't meant to be...

Anyone fancy a roll in the hay?

Well, good night all...

PCheese Out. ::

2003-07-02T23:38:00.000Z

Great big buggery bollocks. I brought the camera home, got a bit snap happy, produced some veritable masterpieces of photographic art and then I realised I'd left the bloody link cable at work. {sigh} Sometimes I feel like such a doofus it's untrue. Still, I have just spent the best part of four hours messing about with flash, but more on that tomorrow. Once I've had a good nights kip.

For now I'll leave you with this URL and the calming knowledge that you're safe from big fluffy rabbits and sweaty half naked bald men for at least one more day.

www.thingsmygirlfriendandihavearguedabout.com/

PCheese Out. ::

2003-07-01T20:51:00.000Z

Oh happy day! It's back! I'm back. Everything is back. After nine days of duffness blogger have finally managed to tweak whatever it was that needed tweaking and now I can edit again.

That's right kiddos, I haven't died or got bored with this malarkey and wandered off. I haven't been abducted or had my hands surgically removed. Nothing untoward has happened other than every time I've tried to log in to Blogger for the last week and a bit I've received this message "Hi, we're currently updating you to a new version of blogger. This should be fixed in a few hours time. Sorry for any inconvenience."

It's a tad misleading that message as when I see the words "a few hours" I don't automatically assume "nine days". Oh well.

I did have a massive load of bollocks to spout this past week but now I've kind of just "ploomphed" everything out of my brain and I'm struggled to hold coherent sentences together. I'm even making up words like "ploomphed".

Well, what did I have to discuss? Ah yes, a few bits and pieces...

Spaced

I watched this excellent comedy program for the first time over the weekend, then promptly bought both the first and second series on DVD and watched them all. It appealed to me on so many levels I can't believe I missed it first time round. If anyone hasn't seen it I urge them to get out there and pick up at least the first season on DVD. It's only a tenner from HMV and the first season is worth it alone for the A-Team mega dance mix at the end of episode six. Of course, having seen the series I thought I'd check the website to see if there was another one due out at any time in the future and ended up applying to be a zombie extra in the forthcoming movie Shaun of the Dead. Here's hoping, eh? "Next February... Shuffling his way to a screen near you... CHEESE!"

Needles

"There is no bloody way in hell you are sticking a needle in me." So said the voice of reason (aka me) aged eight years old. I don't like needles. They are my phobia. As I've said before I have an aversion to lightning and electricity in general and I'm not too fond of spiders, wasps or dogs, but they're not phobias. Lightning I still like of like so long as I'm not on my own (or on top of a hill wearing copper boots and holding a golf club), spiders get squished, wasps get beaten to death with copies of FHM and dogs get a stern "looking at". Needles though, are by far and away, horrible. At eight years old it took two orderlies, a nurse and my mother to pin me to the bed whilst the doctor gave me an injection. But the poor man had to first of all deal with my throwing chairs at him and screaming abuse. It was fairly tepid abuse being that I was only eight but it was abuse none-the-less. When the orderlies were eventually called in and had managed to prise me from my steel like grasp on the leg of the operating table and I had stopped trying to bite and kick them one of them remarked that he'd never seen anyone so scared of needles. I feel quite proud about that. I even managed to skive three days off school when people were having their BCGs done so I wouldn't have to let some frumpy cow stick a bit of metal in my arm. It's all a big thing with me. Needles I no like!!! There's a surreal addendum to this little phobic tale. I have a tattoo and a pierced ears. This means I have willingly allowed someone to stick a needle in me. In the case of the tattoo - repeatedly. That just makes no sense...

Shopping

I went shopping on Saturday and purchased a random variety of crap. New additions to my house include : Coupling Seasons 1 and 2, Dawn of the Dead (directors cut), a Schwarzenegger box set containing (as far as I can work out) one good film, a three foot long / two foot tall Monty Python White Rabbit of Death (with resplendent pointy teeth), a knife with the word "CHEESE" carved into the blade and lots and lots of Pimms. It's all the weather. it's definitely Pimms weather.

Ill

I spent all day yesterday lying on the floor of the living room trying to get rid of a really evil bastard of a migraine. It wasn't a hangover. I'd gotten drunk on Friday (but not into a terrible state - I still managed to accept only a chicken burger from the kebab shop, won £21 on the fruity in there and managed to get the bus home safely) and had my hangover on Saturday. It wasn't that bad but I'd mixed my alcohol by having a glass of champagne on top of beer on top of Pimms on top of Vodka so I felt pretty nasty. But that went away fairly rapidly on Saturday and that evening I went to a barbecue. Sunday I spent mostly reading Harry Potter and watching Spaced. Monday my brain melted. You see, I never used to get migraines and now they're turning up fairly frequently. I'm quite concerned. I'm going to book an appointment at the doctors to see if I've got a malfunctioning head. As it is I've been warned off anything that contains caffeine. I'm not going to be able to give up coffee. Not in the least. Maybe I should get my eyes tested. You know, heavy monitor use and I already have glasses, maybe I need new bins? So anyway, yesterday was spent sobbing into a pillow. What a manly thing to do, eh?

Pr0n

I've spoken to Ickle Miss Floof quite a lot recently and most of the above has come to the fore of my mind through grandiose discussions with her. One little subject that I'm not going to go into much detail over is her strange inquisitiveness into my sexual proclivities. Albeit, she wanted to know quite a few sordid details of what I had gotten up to as a dirty little whoremonger... So I told her. Without embellishing or downright exaggeration. And very little fibbage... I think she was shocked... One day I may start to regale you all with my tales of perversion and insights into my filthy, filthy mind. But until then...

PCheese Out. ::

2003-06-19T22:07:00.000Z

Ladles and jellyspoons. It is my pride, my pleasure, nay my priviledge, to bring you "a day in the life of Fluffy". A morality tale detailing the trials and tribulations of a tiny little woman from way down South who really ought to remember the skill of some people with their Alt-PrintScreen keys.

Enjoy!

This is Ms Fluffy.

Sometimes she is a nice, charming, well behaved young socialite.

Other times she's naughty and deserves a ticking off!

Sometimes she's so naughty she ought to get a smacked bottom.

But unfortunately she really seems to enjoy this.

Sometimes she forgets herself and uses her webcam to check her teeth for bits of food.

Other time she likes to worship the devil, in an offhand kinda way.

But mostly she likes to smile...

Although occasionally she does just stare at her breasts.

(And if I were a woman, I would too!)

P.S. Sorry Floof - Don't hurt me!

PCheese Out. ::

2003-06-16T16:14:00.000Z

Well that was an exhausting weekend!

I have good excuses for my lack of blogging. I promise.

Thursday night was supposed to be a few quiet drinks with Jody which turned into about seven pints each and even involved a "walk" to the pizza shop which resulted in us stopping at another pub then going back to the first. Very dedicated of us. Then the poor girl got locked out of her house and nobody was able to let her in.

I did the man thing and offered to smack the door in but she declined politely. Which is a surprise really cause normally I just mash my way through doors locked or not. I felt awfully guilty anyway (despite it not being my fault) and would have tried to cheer her up in the usual was except we couldn't get in to make any tea.

Ahhh, then Friday was odd as well. I came home as Jody was having a girls night in and I was bushed but then she texted me to invite me over... So over I went... And wasted I got...

Unfortunately we were so involved with chatting that I lost track of about four hours and missed my last bus home. So I got to stay over... But before you start leering - I was a gentleman. I didn't even try to climb on... That's just rude.

Anyhow, Saturday was spent cradling a hangover (with a wonga fry up to help) and then I went out to Ali's house for a BBQ. There was too much food. Even for me. So we got pissed and sat in the back garden until the small hours talking about all sorts of nonsense.

Sunday was, again, a day for recovering. And today has been a day of normal daily work stuff. Except tonight I'm off out for a meal with my folks and sister to celebrate her 21st. I got her a laptop. The spoilt git.

And to top it all off Ms Fluffy has generously invited me over to stay at her new virtual residence which will be appearing online soon. So I'll be posting lots of irrelevant stuff over there now too. Maybe. All I have to think of a name / tagline for my site over there.

I was thinking of one of the following :

"Blue Juice - When Smurfs Meet Hammers"
"Twisted Beans - Normality is so Passé"
"Inflatable Jelly - Beats Eating Fish"

Any suggestions?

PCheese Out. ::

2003-06-11T18:50:00.000Z

Ah 'tis good to be back!

I've had a day on site today so I've been out and about surrounded by pretty ladies. It's been beautifully sunny and now I'm sat here with a lovely cold Hoegaarden. Bliss.

Except for one tiny thing, I'm in pain. I've hurt my hand.

I went to do one of those things which you think "this is going to make me look so cool" and which inevitably make you look like a chump. There are a bunch of lads on the field playing cricket, all in proper cricket gear as well so they're decked out in lots of sweat inducing arran jumpers. The guy batting, a particularly chubby fellow thwacked the ball across the field straight at me. So I went to catch it. I failed miserably. It hit my hand and bounced off onto the floor much to the amusement of just about everyone in the immediate vicinity.

I never have been able to catch.

It still hurts. Looks like I'm not getting any loving tonight. :oP

TTFN.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-06-10T18:15:00.000Z

Wales

I'm baa-ack.

Yes, I know, you're all thrilled to see me. Despite the fact that you can't actually see me. But you get what I'm on about.

Wales. It's, erm, how best to put this is a polite way, Wales is very, very, dull. Admittedly standing on the top of Snowdon with 90 mile an hour winds trying to blow you over the edge of a cliff is exhilarating, but it's no pyjama-party with playboy pin-ups.

For starters, there's the lack of entertainment. There were four TV channels into the house, as is pretty much standard anywhere in the UK that doesn't get wanky, wanky channel 5, except their BBC 4 is broadcast primarily in Welsh. It's scary watching The Bill in Welsh, a language predominantly in need of several thousand vowels and a severe pronunciation rethink. It's disturbing to watch anything at all in Welsh, not least of all was the open learning program I watched early one morning where they had that little bubble in the corner of the screen where people do sign language. The little sign language bubble on normal television is fine, I see it's place and understand why it's occasionally there. In fact, I think it should be there for more programs as :

a) The deaf should get to enjoy television as much as the next person and bollocks to anyone who says otherwise.

b) It's often remarkably funny to see which hand gestures are linked to which phrases.

c) As I'm never going to actively pursue a course in BSL then it's possibly one of the very few ways I'll learn to communicate with deaf people. Despite the fact that my vocabulary will be limited to "Coming up, the weather" and "Pat, Pat, what have you done to me Pat?"

But I think that having a woman in a bubble at the corner of your screen desperately trying to perform sign language over the top of some Welshman jabbering on in his vowel-less phlegm aided tirade of nonsense is just cruel. Seriously. The woman was gesticulating so wildly it looked as if there were a swarm of invisible bees in her little bubble with her and she'd been smeared with very succulent jam. I couldn't help but laugh until I had tears rolling down my face.

My parents now think I'm insane seeing as how they caught me on the verge of pissing myself laughing over a man being interviewed about the rising level of vandalism in Betws-y-Coed.

Also, the (admittedly luxurious) cottage we were staying in, despite having such mod coms as electricity and running water, was four miles from the nearest pub. Downhill all the way. This is akin to putting a bottle of 140 proof alcohol on a shelf just out of reach of a screaming alcoholic on the reform. They could probably get to it easily enough if they tried hard enough but would seriously regret it once they did. You see, the thing about a four mile walk downhill to a pub is that after numerous beers, you have a four mile trek back uphill to your bed. And that is never a good thing. So I avoided hitting the pub too often by buying copious amounts of lager and Jack and staying at the cottage watching DVDs.

Now, onto a stereotype, Wales is absolutely, totally and no word of a lie, overrun with sheep. They're everywhere. Wandering the roads, staggering drunkenly around the mountain tops and even crammed into little nooks and crannies you wouldn't think a sheep would fit. Tiny path between two shops? Sheep. The space between the shed and the wall at the bottom of the garden? Sheep. The glove box of a 1983 Ford Anglia? Sheep. They're every-bloody-where. No wonder the rumours persist about the Welsh - four miles to the pub, no entertainment (and seemingly no totty for miles), and bucket loads of sheep. Battalions of sheep. Oodles of sheep. Did I mention the sheep?

All in all it was quite an enjoyable holiday. There were the usual family disagreements which grated on everyone, the traditional horrific accident (my aunt went cart wheeling whilst drunk and broke her wrist), the standard mind-numbing boredom that could only be washed away with drink and the terror at finding out I'd have to share a room with "relatives".

Actually, the sharing a room thing wasn't so bad for me but my poor sister had to put up with my snoring. And that was bad.

A note about snoring

Waffle is deaf in one ear. This is both a good and bad thing. It's obviously a bad thing for him in that he can only hear in mono but he doesn't let it bother him too much. So long as he sits left of centre in the cinema he's happy. So long as he's not in the noisiest shithole club in the world in which you're trying to hold an interesting conversation it's fine. But it does have its benefits. I can't readily think of anything except this though. He can't hear me snore.

Obviously, he can hear me snore, just not at the full volume at which others do. This is probably one of the few reasons I am still permitted to live with him. I snore like a madman going at a field full of donkeys with a chainsaw. It's like an opera singer being tortured with a spatula in a two-tone echo canyon. It's like seventy thousand combs wrapped with tissue paper in a wind tunnel. It's... pretty bad.

My sister had to put up with this for a week, no mean feat which she managed through sheer dint of wearing headphones and her minidisk on full volume coupled with the occasional wandering over to my bed to hit me with a stick.

Finally.

If any of you were of an enquiring mind, my date a couple of Fridays ago went very well. I was nervous as hell which for me is unusual. I'm normally fairly confident and this time I was bricking it. This is the equivalent of a deep-sea diver being afraid to go near a puddle. My confidence left me in a big stinky, sweaty moment of terror. But a billion thanks go out to Ms Fluffy who helped calm me down by letting me vent my nervousness. So yes, it went well, we got drunk and I ended up missing my bus as we sat round her house talking till gone four am.

And yes, I got a second date, and that went well too. Now I'm going to have to see about setting up a third. Hmm, what to do for a third date? I'm sure I'll think of something.

Peace y'all.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-05-30T15:47:00.000Z

Well, haven't I been a busy bee? Err, not that any of you would know really, but I have! Promise!

Anyway, I've had today off to do a multitude of things in preparation for buggering off to Wales for a week at 7am tomorrow. All the washing has been done, all my clothes to take are packed and ironed, CDs full of entertaining music (suitable for family listening) have been burned, nipples have been tweaked, books have been purchased, arrangements have been made, fish have been fried and donkeys have been punched.

Now all that remains is for me to sort myself out for tonight and my lovely evening out... I hope it goes well, for some reason I'm nervous as shit. Not normal for me... Maybe I actually really "like" this one instead of just "fancying" her. Maybe. We shall see. If I can manage it I'll let you all know how it went before I'm off tomorrow. If I can't - have a fantastic week and a bit... And please take advantage of the linky/commenty things below. I've made them special so you can request things of me. I expect I may have a lot to do when I get back.

See you in a week! If the sheep haven't eaten me....

Standard Comments ::
Pr0n Requests ::
Holiday Greetings ::

PCheese Out.

2003-05-27T21:46:00.000Z

Hello All.

Please excuse the shortness of this blog but I'm sodding knackered so I'm heading off to bed in about five minutes time (pretty much once I've typed this.)

I just have a few things that need to be said :

1) I've not spent all evening doing nothing, I've been writing porn. At the request of Miss Fluffy. She wanted some porn. She's got it. I hope she likes. :)
2) If sending lewd messages to someone on MSN make sure you have got the right window otherwise you could end up saying the wrong thing to the wrong person...
3) I have a date on Friday with the elusive Jody.
4) Friday will be my last bloggage for about a week as I'm off on holiday to Wales. Wish me luck.
5) I have a sore pee pee.

So that's all I have to say for now, if Fluffy approves my porn (and allows me to) I'll probably post it, or at least an excerpt, up here for you to enjoy while I'm away.

TTFN.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-05-26T17:36:00.000Z

Wow. Oh holy wow. I am in so much pain.

Today was paintball day. I got shot in the willy. I have a large black bruise on my willy. It's a shame really - I was hoping to go out tonight with Jody. Jody, by the way folks, is a rather lovely young lady who accosted me on Friday night. I know her a little bit as she's friends with my mate Jordan, and I like her rather a lot so that's good too. Still, I don't know if I can manage it now seeing as how I have to :

a) Repair my shoes - which are muddied up to buggery.

b) Rest my poor, poor willy.

I can barely walk, let alone spend any amount of time in the company of a lady I'm attracted to. Imagine the pain that would cause. So now I'm going to sit and look at numerous unattractive things and try not to get turned on by anything at all. So no blog reading today, eh folks...

Here we go...

PCheese Out. ::

2003-05-23T17:42:00.000Z

The Matrix Reloaded.

It's rather good.

Go see it. Watch Trinity's arse for 2 hours. Avoid laughing at the dialogue in places where it's meant to be serious, go "ooh" at some of the lovely fight scenes, point and laugh at the very, very large man who turned up in full "Neo" outfit. That is all. Stay right till the end of the credits for a sneak peak of the third film.

Now I'm off to imbibe hearty amounts of alcohol at great expense to my sanity and possible deftness of thought and let's see if I can't pull myself a hot young filly. Otherwise I'm going to be reduced to semi-cybering Briggy and using my special words. Words like "engorged", "thrusting", "liberated his purple prisoner from it's denim stronghold" and "spooge".

I like words.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-05-21T19:24:00.000Z

A further addendum thingy people and this one should warrant at least an 'ooooo' from several of you. Waffle now has his own blog. Go enjoy it here.

That's it y'all.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-05-21T18:09:00.000Z

The state of my mind.

I'm not a normal person. This much you really should know by now. I'm odd. This has never been much of a bother to me really and most people seem to find it entertaining but there is the occasional one who just automatically assumes I'm a twat. I have friends from various walks of life ranging from successful business types to scabby students to unemployable loafers to random bloggers to old college buddies who are now just getting on with the mundanity of fulfilling their lives with work and beer.

At the moment I feel oddly close to the bloggers. What I think endears me to the blog community as a general rule is the fact that people are sharing their thoughts, feelings and pretty much entire lives with the world. And most of them, I guess, are honest. Admittedly it's strange as technically anyone who writes a blog could, in theory, be anyone at all. Anyone. People say "I'm a nubile 17 year old nymphomaniac with my own brewery" whereas they're more likely to be "I'm a 37 year old lard smothered pipe fitter from Harrogate".

There was going to be a point to all of this but I kind of got sidetracked by that image of the nubile nymphomaniac. Where was I going? Ah yes. I've decided to be completely open and honest today about the state of my brain. It's not that I'm frequently dishonest you understand, far from it, why bother to lie when the people you're talking to are incisive enough to work out loads about you from the way you write? No, I just wanted to share the state of my mind with you all. And what better way to do that, I think, than just spouting some drivel at you.

Firstly, how do I feel?

At this moment in time, I'm fairly content. I'm not looking forward to having to do the dishes in a minute but these things need to be done so all's fair in love and war. As for my inner peace? Well, I'm not overly concerned with going out on the pull - I'll just wait for things to happen in that area, I don't have any tremendous worries of any kind, I'm quite happy with the way the day has gone and I'm generally satisfied with life.

What am I looking forward to?

V Festival. Obviously. And Matrix 2. And Pirates of the Caribbean. And The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. And Terminator 3. A lot of my life seems to revolve around films. Films, and the occasional terrible punctuation and grammar. I'm also looking forward to a paintball on Bank Holiday Monday and my family holiday the week after.

Music

Somebody once said that music was the window to the soul. Possibly. I think someone once said something like that but I'm paraphrasing so don't hold me to it. Anyway for those who do think that this may hold some truth then here's what I'm currently listening to.

Bring me to Life - Evanescence
Bother - Stone Sour
No Good Advice - Girls Aloud
Needles - Seether
Getaway - The Music
Clocks - Coldplay
The whole of Linkin Parks second album.

There is a possibility that Waffle may be getting pissed off with me listening to these songs over and over in the evenings but I'll tire of them eventually, probably before he explodes.

Wuv

Right now, I don't think I'm in love with anyone. I'm attracted to several people. Many people in fact. Some in a strong "I want you" vibe but others in an odd "I'd like to protect you and keep you safe" sort of way. It's strange, I feel all "big brotherly" to quite a few people at the moment.

Well, that's about it really for my revealing insight into my psyche, if there is such a thing. What do you think?

PCheese Out. ::

2003-05-20T17:21:00.000Z

Well, my strange prolapse (not the right word I know but it sounds good) on Friday night passed nice and quick. I don't know why but for some reason, for about three hours, I felt like the most miserable bastard on Earth. When I wasn't, not really. Still, I'm a much chirpier chappie now.

I'm still looking forward to the Matrix Reloaded on Thursday. Oh yes. And now I'm getting a tad overexcited waiting for the V festival. It's in bloody August and I'm already buzzing like a buzzing thing. The prospect of wining and dining our little Pinky is too much for me. Well, when I say wining and dining it'll be more like beering and burgering (note thats BURGERing not BUGGERing) but you get the picture.

Oh the reason for my funk? Unsure really. Lots of things, none of which I can identify. The reason for my coming out of the funk. Well, that's complicated. It could be the truly excellent party I attended on Saturday night. It was my mate Danny's, who is also the DJ at Sonic Flower and Kalaidoscope, birthday party. An 80's themed night of debauchery. Everyone dressed up! We had resident Madonnas, Adam Ants, a Stormtrooper, an Indiana Jones, a couple of New Romantics, two guys in replandant shell suits and a Superman. The music was fantastic, the company superb and for some reason a lovely young lass called Amy decided to sit on my lap and bounce for two hours. Fully clothed mind so not quite the "loving" I was hoping for but it was quality bouncy contact none the less.

So maybe that's cheered me up. I quite liked her but she's my mate Glenns new thang so I've lucked out there. Still, there's always the rebound isn't there. :)

Right, I'm off to run some games for my mates boys. If I can keep my mind from going "V! V! V! V! V! V! V!" for long enough.

Oh yes, and PurpleTentacles aversion to sex toys may be something to do with the fact that I encouraged Waffle to get her a rampant rabbit for her 16th birthday. No wonder she's scared. :)

PCheese Out. ::

2003-05-16T16:35:00.000Z

Ahem,

what the hell is wrong with me?

I'm having a metaphysical nightmare. Why am I here? What am I supposed to be doing? Why can't I get fucking motivated?

Something in my life is deeply wrong, I don't know what it is but I'm not happy about it. I'm unsettled at work, I can't decide what I want to do socially, everything is messed up. I'm not like this. I'm never like this. I'm always a happy fellow, a cheeerful chappy, a nice bloke to be around. So why at the moment do I feel like I've had someone stand in dogshit and smear it through the hallway of my life? Nothing seems to ease my mind. I don't feel rejected or anything. Far from it, I've had to decide tonight which clique I should be with - for I've been invited out by two groups. But that's not a dilemma. I have a weeks holiday coming up, which I'm looking forward to. I have the premiere of the Matrix Reloaded, which albeit quite pathetic as a "goal" in life is something I'm looking forward to. I have V2003 whereby I get to meet the luscious Pinky and ply her with drinks. Maybe that'll be the occassion to forget my woes. BUT I DON'T HAVE ANY WOES!!!

I'm so screwed - so lets go through the list :

I enjoy my job and get along with the people I work with. I get paid plenty to keep me in Beer and CDs.
I like all my friends (that sounds weird, would they be friends if I didn't like them?) and don't have issues with any of them.
I... I... oh I see... I'm single.

That's it. I ain't getting the loving.

I can't believe I've let myself bitch and moan at myself in my brain all week when all I really need is to pull. And there are people out there with it so much more worse than me. People who I would feel pity for if I didn't deem pity to be an insulting, derogatory emotion. You know what? I'm gonna post this up so you can all see what a retard I can be some times. I think typing it out was like a therapy for me, it's made me feel better about myself. Or maybe that's the beer.

Maybe. But of course - offers of hard, violent, animalistic loving readily welcomed. Briggy? ;o)

PCheese Out. ::

2003-05-14T21:09:00.000Z

By now I hope the people who visit here and actually read the stuff I stick up would know that I'm a fairly jovial fellow. Not that I'm trying to encourage the stereotype of the "jolly fat man" you understand but I am just that, jolly.

But there are still certain tiny groups of people, minorities if you will, that I'd like to see ritualistically shaved and fed to ravenous hippies. Before you start shouting at me, this isn't a racial thing, it's a "people I don't like" thing. Specifically, but not entirely limited to :

Politicians
Wide Boys
Dog owners who don't clean up after their dogs
The people who make slimfast
Bus drivers

Despite the possible rantings I could go off about all of the above I'm only going to say a little about bus drivers. I can accept that sometimes they'll be late. I'm fully prepared to wait for a bus. I really hate it though, when they leave early. If the bus is meant to leave at 8 o'clock it should leave at 8 o'clock, not 7:58. Bastards. Also, if you see someone who you have regularly picked up for numerous journeys into town, stood at a bus stop waiting - pretty much obviously for a bus - it is considered very gittish to drive past and wave.

So that's why I hate bus drivers.

Guess what happened to me this morning?

PCheese Out. ::

2003-05-12T22:05:00.000Z

T-Minus, Erm, Loads of time...

Majorly weird update now people. French bloke arrived, went out for dinner, coughed for three hours, calmed himself down, came back again, started coughing again. What does this mean? He's allergic to something in the house. We've just cleaned out and cleaned down the whole bloody house. Upwards of SEVENTY bags of rubbish have gone out of this place including comics, magazines, papers, bills, foliage fromt he garden and random crap that was filling the house and now he won't be staying here after all. He's allergic to the house, or to the Raid insect killer, or to me and Waffle, or to clean places in general. I don't know.

All I can say is this : I'm glad we have a nice clean house but was it worth all the strain and effort of getting it all done in a week for a bloke who can't handle breathing in the UK?

Hmm.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-05-12T18:22:00.000Z

T-minus Zero Seconds. We have lift off.

That's it. The waiting is over. French bloke turns up today. I still don't even know what his name is yet alone what he looks like as I got home late and he's already out with his new boss being fed and watered. Ho hum. I'll have to let you know what he's like later on. I'm expecting the worst so hopefully I'll be pleasantly surprised.

In unrelated news the universe had a pop at me today. A house just round the corner all but burnt to the ground a couple of months ago and this morning the builders finally arrived to take it all apart properly. Except I think they may be builders of the, well, "Old Western" persuasion as one of them nearly clonked me with a 12ft bit of scaffold. It missed my head by about a foot and bongled noisily to the ground. That doesn't sound too close but it really is when it's you that's just nearly had your brain impaled.

For those not in the know by the way, the word bongle is an onomatopoeic expression for the noise made when a large metal object hits against something solid. It goes "bongle-bongle-bongle-clang-clang-tink". "Clang" and "tink" should be words you're comfortable with so I won't explain them.

Finally, despite the efforts of monkeys with scaffolding, my brain is working overtime tonight for some reason. I've been trying to find a reason behind why I blog, and write, and compose, and do poetry and all this sort of mental scripting. The BBC reckon it's because I'm a linguistic thinker. I reckon it's because I'm crap at art and can't play an instrument so the creativity has to come out somewhere. What not find out what type of thinker you are. Try here and let me know!

PCheese Out. ::

2003-05-11T17:52:00.000Z

Now, I don't normally post too much at weekends seeing as how I'm frightfully popular and never in. Ahem. But today I thought I'd drop a little message on here for all those of you who are about and online.

I've finally (after three or four weeks of doing bugger all) updated PurpleTentacles website and added a commenting system. Go there now and say hi and let her know how much you love the site. Go on, do!

I've also spent a large portion of the weekend cleaning the house (still - it was rather dirty) and now it's almost ready for French Bloke to move in. Almost. We've just got to box up and hide a few more ancient towels and curtains and things and then hoover his room. So very close now that I decided I'd earned a break. Which I've just spent typing this.

Ho hum. Back to work.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-05-08T18:03:00.000Z

For the sake of poor poor Miss Fluffys brain I have posted the answers to the quizzy thing below. They're in that special Inviso-text thing so just drag your mouse across 'em to read 'em.

Oh, and I don't know how many quizzes you've done people but saying "Ooh, I know that and can't remember" doesn't count as a correct answer. In no way. This means you Ms Fluffy. I still love ya though. Hee hee!

Easy

1. The Big Lebowski
2. Men In Black
3. Star Wars
4. Goodfellas
5. Birdget Jones Diary
6. The Princess Bride
7. Terminator 2
8. Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Arc
9. Four Weddings and a Funeral
10. Trainspotting
11. It's a Wonderful Life
12. Robin Hood Prince Of Thieves
13. Full Metal Jacket
14. Saving Private Ryan
15. Silence of the Lambs
16. Meet The Parents
17. Robocop
18. Psycho
19. Superman 2
20. Back to the Future
21. The Godfather
22. Ghostbusters
23. Pretty Woman
24. Splash
25. The Full Monty
26. Sleepless In Seattle
27. M*A*S*H
28. Dirty Dancing
29. Casablanca
30. Monty Python And The Holy Grail

Medium

1. Snatch
2. To Have And Have Not
3. Billy Elliot
4. Donnie Darko
5. Fargo
6. Blade Runner
7. Ferris Buellers Day Off
8. Towering Inferno
9. Aliens
10. ET
11. Austin Powers
12. Twelve Monkeys
13. The Empire Strikes Back
14. Die Hard
15. The Usual Suspects
16. The Breakfast Club
17. Scent of a Woman
18. The Sure Thing
19. Good Will Hunting
20. The Lost Boys
21. Thelma and Louise
22. The Wrath of Khan
23. Withnail and I
24. Dr Strangelove
25. High Fidelity
26. Unforgiven
27. Goldeneye
28. Starship Troopers
29. Clueless
30. Annie Hall

Hard

1. Event Horizon
2. The Rock
3. Another 48 Hours
4. The Last Boyscout
5. The Truth About Cats And Dogs
6. The Birdcage
7. Under Siege
8. Beverly Hills Cop 2
9. Sliding Doors
10. The Shawshank Redemption
11. From Dusk Till Dawn
12. Terminal Velocity
13. Tank Girl
14. Predator
15. Desperado
16. Groundhog Day
17. Mallrats
18. Rocky
19. The Crow
20. Weird Science
21. Interview with the vampire
22. Army of Darkness
23. City of Angels
24. Bad Boys
25. Pump up the Volume
26. Lawrence of Arabia
27. Coming to America
28. Parenthood
29. Patch Adams
30. The Fisher King

That's all of them people. I can almost hear the groans of people going "Awwww, I bloody knew that!"

Oh yes, and it's commenty section number 69! Whoopee! Now, where's my string.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-05-07T23:17:00.000Z

WARNING

This blog has been temporarily off-lined due to the intrinsic nature of the blog owners brain. He is monged out to buggery and can't think of anything worthwhile to write about. Actually, that is a lie, there's plenty to write about he's just having difficulty finding the time what with house cleaning and all that malarkey.

Normal bloggage will resume in a number of hours equal to a number he may decide to make up or may not. 21 hours, there we go, will that do you?

In the mean time please amuse yourself with this piece of string.

Thank you.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-05-06T19:44:00.000Z

My fellow bloggers and, erm, blogettes (?) unite! Rejoice for the day has come when I've lifted the Empire Movie Quotes quiz and posted it on here for all to have a go at. There's no fancy code or owt but you can either eMail me your answers or use the commenty thing to guess and I'll correct / confirm where applicable. So go ahead, blow yourself away! And be aware - I got 78 out of 90 when I did this test, and four of the ones I got wrong were in the easy category. If you can best me I'll be a) most upset and b) assume you cheated and used google. Try it without google for a change! Go on! Have a go!

Easy (But only if you've seen the films right?)

1. "This is not 'Nam, this is bowling. There are rules."
2. "It just be raining black people in New York."
3. "You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. We must be cautious."
4. "As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be a gangster."
5. "I realize that when I met you at the turkey curry buffet, I was unforgivably rude, and wearing a reindeer jumper."
6. "My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die!"
7. "I need your clothes, your boots and your motorcycle."
8. "Snakes. Why'd it have to be snakes?"
9. "You know, there's nothing more off-putting at a wedding than a priest with an enormous erection."
10. "We called him Mother Superior on account of the length of his habit."
11. "You want the moon? Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down."
12. "Cancel the kitchen scraps for lepers and orphans, no more merciful beheadings… and call off Christmas!"
13. "Me so horny, me love you long time!"
14. "What's the sense in risking the eight of us to save one guy?"
15. "I do wish we could chat longer but I'm having an old friend for dinner."
16. "You can milk anything with nipples."
17. "Please put down your weapon. You have twenty seconds to comply."
18. "We all go a little mad sometimes. Haven't you?"
19. "Kneel before Zod!"
20. "I guess you guys aren't ready for that yet. But your kids are gonna love it."
21. "A man who doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man."
22. "Let's show this prehistoric bitch how we do things downtown."
23. "Listen, I appreciate this whole seduction scene you got going… but let me give you a tip. I'm a sure thing."
24. "All my life I've been waiting for someone and when I find her… she's a fish."
25. "Anti-wrinkle cream there may be, but anti-fat-bastard cream there is not."
26. "That's your problem! You don't want to be in love, you want to be in love in a movie."
27. "Frank, my lips are hot. Kiss my hot lips."
28. "I carried a watermelon."
29. "I've often speculated on why you don't return to America. Did you abscond with the church funds? Did you run off with a senator's wife? I like to think you killed a man. It's the romantic in me."
30. "Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!"

Sort of Average

1. "Who is gonna mug two black fellas, holding pistols, sat in a car that’s worth less than your shirt."
2. "I'm hard to get, Steve. All you have to do is ask me."
3. "You're a disgrace to them gloves, your father and the traditions of this boxing hall!"
4. "He asked me to forcibly insert the lifeline exercise card into my anus!"
5. "I guess that was your accomplice in the wood chipper?"
6. "It's too bad she won't live. But then again, who does?"
7. "There is an intruder - male, caucasian, possibly armed, certainly weird - in my kitchen."
8. "It's a fire. All fires are bad."
9. "A day in the marine corps is like a day on a farm. Every meal's a banquet. Every paycheque a fortune. Every formation a parade. I love the corps!"
10. "How do you explain school to a higher intelligence?"
11. "There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum. It's breathtaking, I suggest you try it."
12. "You dumb assholes, I'm a mental patient, I'm supposed to act out!"
13. "Captain, being held by you isn't quite enough to get me excited."
14. "I'm Agent Johnson, this is Special Agent Johnson. No relation."
15. "Oswald was a fag."
16. "Does Barry Manilow know that you raid his wardrobe?"
17. "If I were the man I was five years ago I'd take a flame-thrower to this place."
18. "How would you like to have a sexual encounter so intense it could conceivably change your political views?"
19. "We’ll see you Monday, when we talk about Freud. Why he did enough cocaine to kill a small horse."
20. "They're only noodles, Michael."
21. "Well, we're not in the middle of nowhere, but we can see it from here."
22. "I'll chase him 'round the moons of Nibia and 'round the Antares Maelstrom and 'round perdition's flames before I give him up!"
23. "Don't threaten me with a dead fish!"
24. "You can't fight in here, this is the war room!"
25. "We're no longer called Sonic Death Monkey. We're on the verge of being called Kathleen Turner Overdrive, however this evening we are Barry Jive and the Uptown Five."
26. "All right, I'm comin' out. Any man I see out there, I'm gonna kill him. Any sumbitch takes a shot at me, I'm not only gonna kill him, I'm gonna kill his wife. All his friends. Burn his damn house down!"
27. "What, no small talk? No chit-chat? You know, that's the trouble with the world today. No one takes the time to do a really sinister interrogation anymore."
28. "Naked force has resolved more issues throughout history than any other factor. The contrary opinion, that violence never solves anything, is wishful thinking at its worst."
29. "I feel like such a heifer. I had two bowls of Special K, three pieces of turkey bacon, a handful of popcorn, four peanut butter M&M's and, like, five pieces of licorice."
30. "A relationship, I think... is like a shark. You know? It has to constantly move forward or it dies. And I think what we've got on our hands is a dead shark."

Mega Wonga Hard

1. "Hell is only a word. The reality is much, much worse."
2. "How in the name of Zeus' butthole, did you get out of your cell?"
3. "If shit was worth something, poor people would be born with no assholes."
4. "You're trying the save the life of the man who ruined your career, and avenge the death of the guy that fucked your wife."
5. "My regime? The regime from which the radicals are trying to get free? Are we selling face cream or staging a coup?"
6. "You're going to the cemetery with your toothbrush. How Egyptian."
7. "He's in a gunfight right now. I'm gonna have to take a message."
8. "My name is Johnny Wish… Wishbone. Johnny Wishbone and I am a psychic from the Island of St. Croix."
9. "Never joke about a woman's hair, clothes or menstrual cycle."
10. "What is your malfunction, you fat barrel of monkey spunk?"
11. "It's been one long goddamn hot miserable shit-ass fuckin' day every inch of the way."
12. "I'm much more than a walking penis, I'm a flying penis!"
13. "I'm gonna hit you so hard, your children will be born bruised!"
14. "This stuff will make you a God-damned sexual Tyrannosaurus, just like me!"
15. "Bless me Father, for I have just killed quite a few men."
16. "Case Western High! Ned Ryerson! I did the whistling belly-button trick at the high school talent show."
17. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned for Sega."
18. "Sports make you grunt and smell. Stay in school, use your brains. Be a thinker, not a stinker."
19. "Mother is the name for God on the lips and hearts of all children."
20. "Do you realise it's snowing in my room, Goddammit!"
21. "Your body's dying. Pay no attention."
22. "Good... Bad... I'm the guy with the gun."
23. "Never date a guy who knows more about your vagina than you do."
24. "Hello? We're your new neighbours. Don't be alarmed, we're negroes."
25. "You see, no one wants to hear it, but the terrible secret is that being young is sometimes less fun than being dead."
26. "I can't make out whether you're bloody bad-mannered or just half-witted."
27. "Now let's see if you can defend yourself, you sweat from a baboon's balls."
28. "I wouldn't live with you if the world were flooded with piss and you lived in a tree."
29. "We could head on down to the maternity ward. You know those chicks put out."
30. "There are three things in this world that you need. Respect for all kinds of life, a nice bowel movement on a regular basis, and a navy blazer."

That's all folks, start guessing!

PCheese Out. ::

2003-05-05T20:21:00.000Z

Heh heh, apparently I'm a sexual sadist...

You are Elizabeth Bathtory. (The bloodcountess)
Legend tells us that you, this very rich,
beautiful and high born woman tortured and
murdered some 650 young women and bathed in
their warm blood to keep yourself beautiful.
In some stories, it is said you have drank thier
blood as well. You were a sexual sadist on a
grand scale.
Ah vanity is your downfall. For shame!

Which Imfamous criminal are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

On another, and completely random note, I've spent the last two days doing non stop house cleaning. Our living room is now actually habitable and the dining room and kitchen are now actually places where you could prepare or eat food without it going green in a matter of seconds. (Food going green isn't a problem, obviously, if it's lettuce or cucumber of funky tomato sauce but it is an issue if you're trying for steak, chicken or chocolate.)

Now there's just the teeny tiny mess that is the spare room - soon to be Frog Central, the bathroom - which is mostly clean but needs a bit of a sparkle added and my own room - which has got all the crap that was lying around the living room in it.

I'm also absolutely bloomin knackered.

Someday soon I may be back to form. Someday.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-05-02T16:02:00.000Z

Hello All!

I'm numptied up and no mistake. I've installed Visual InterDev at home and now Blogger, amongst other things, doesn't seem to work. It gives me a VBScript error and refuses point blank to publish my blogs. That, as you can imagine, is a bugger. I've also been out on site the last two days so mailing stuff to my work account so I could post it from the machine here hasn't done me much good either. So here, in utterly non-concise form, are the last few days' blogs. I could go through and edit the code to get the dates right but I can't be arsed so you'll have to make do with one mahoosive post. Enjoy!

Tuesday (supposedly)

Well, today was a day much like any other, except for not a lot. So in the grand tradition of having little else to post about, I'm going to reminisce. Let me take you back, way back, to the year 1996 and Reading Festival.

I was 18 and back then I was kinda thin too. This was also to be my first festival. It should be known that I absolutely adore going to a field in the middle of nowhere, sleeping in a tent in the pissing rain and mud for four days and getting totally wasted. The music kinda makes up for it.

The first day was superb, we got the bus down to London and from there to Reading. The bus station in London was superb and had a brand new announcement system which is where we heard the immortal "Bing-bong... Due to pigeons... Bing-bong". We never did find out what was due to pigeons but there you go. Anyway, we arrived at Reading and it was nice, dry and beautifully sunny, for about three minutes. The heavens opened and torrential rain made it rather soggy rather quickly. After setting up my tent in a small stream about three miles from the stages about four of us decided to walk the few miles into town to buy beer. Muggins here ended up fetching a pallet of beer each for two of the girls that we'd gone with so I had to carry 72 cans of beer nearly four miles. 72 cans of beer is surprisingly heavy so the walk obviously took about 2 hours (and six beers). By the time we got back though the rain had stopped and it was looking pretty special. That first night there were no bands playing so we had to make do with getting pissed, running round the campsite and shouting abuse at weirdoes. I must point out at this point that I had my hair spiked about two inches long, dyed red and shaved into three strips so it went hair_bald_hair_bald_hair across my head. I was also wearing jeans and a denim waistcoat that had various rubbish scrawled on it in black marker. Wonderful timeless comments such as "Skin Up", "Suck My Chuddies" and "Burn Your Pants". Surprisingly over the course of the weekend we got quite a few people to burn their pants. :)

So, the second day dawned and we got ready for fun. Several beers and warm up bands later we were in the dance tent leaping around like loons screaming "Lager, Lager, Lager" at Underworld. Then on to the comedy tent where Greg Proops insulted me for wearing a funny hat. It was sheer class. I had a massive jesters hat on and he picked me out of the crowd. It was a defining moment. It was :

"You know, I love these crazy British festivals, you could go up to anyone and insult them and they'd just be like 'yeah, whatever'. I mean, look at this massive Jester guy, you could walk right up in his face and say 'F*ck You' and he'd just say 'Don't f*ck me, let's have a dance!" (Proceeds to do a merry little jig on stage.)

And at the end of the performance he said "I gotta get a photo of that guy" and took a photo of me. I'm famous. Woo me!

Anyway, that evening, after the headlining bands who I can't remember seeing (I was a little bit wasted) my friend Robin and I decided we weren't done partying and so started dancing outside a clothes shop that was playing some pretty damn good house music. Soon enough there were about twenty people large-ing it old skool. Some bloke even came up to us and said "You started this didn't you, you are the almighty Lords of The Dance!" and a load of people were all cheering us on. That was possibly the best day of my life.

The following day was indescribable. Except it was. More binging, more dancing and then more music. Again none of whom I can remember. There was a superb incident though that involved me falling down in the mud and then just lying there too happy to get up. I was absolutely covered in mud and soaked through and to boot my tent had leaked because a fellow called Broadie had fallen on it and my sleeping bag and all my clothes were now sat sodden in an inch of water (which the protective waterproof sheet under the tent actually kept in for me, which was nice.)

Then onwards to the last day, where we watched Terrorvision followed by Rage Against The Machine followed by The Prodigy. Possibly the best line up of artists ever to grace a stage anywhere. My friend Sarah lost her watch in the massive throng of people (more commonly known as a mosh pit) near the stage during RATMs session and asked me to find it. I declined politely as me getting on my hands and knees in a sea of people to find her watch would have been about as wise a move as smearing my testicles in jam and dipping them in a wasp nest.

The weekend kind of ended there, except for the biggest party in the world ever (part 2) that night. It started with manic people running into the chain link fences around the site and me sitting next to one of these fences and thinking "that buggers gonna fall on me" so I pulled it out of it's concrete moorings and threw it down. This obviously appealed to the mob mentality as crys of "yeah, anarchy!" resounded across the camp site and all the fences were torn down. We built a cage out of fence panels and trapped about six mad ravers in there then proceeded to hoist a portaloo onto the top of it, collapse the cage, then set fire to the portaloo and dance round it chanting "burn the witch!".

Then we went home, but not before I had to eat a dry pot noodle as we'd run out of all other foodstuffs and money. It was, nasty.

That was Reading '96 and I'd do it again at the drop of an oversized jesters hat. Maybe V2003 this year eh?

Wednesday (Well, Friday really now ain't it?)

Today I became a model! It was fan-dabby-bloomin-dozy! I'm out on site at a customers who make sportswear and they have a new range in designer shirts and stuff. They've no one really in the office of a suitable size to try on half of the stuff they've got so I was volunteered. I got to try on a couple of shirts and prance about like a numpty holding my arms at funny angles. I didn't get to try the cheeky look though, the one where you hunch forward with one hand on your bum and a look of mock surprise on your face as you hold a finger to your mouth. Maybe tomorrow they'll let me try that one.

I also had to take my top off in front of one of the girls there who I'm rather into (I think she's married though so arse) but she didn't shy away or vomit or anything so you never know!

Anyway, look out for my massive face plastered on billboards around the country soon. that'll cause some pile-ups.

Thursday (Technically yesterday but who cares right?)

Okay people, I want you to go have a look here. And I want lots of scrummy "ahhh" comments about the pictures of ickle Caitlin. I'm going to be her cool uncle Lurch when she grows up so I'd better not hear anything nasty. Except possibly about the picture from January where it looks like Alex is about to eat her. :)

Also, during a conversation the other day involving a really, really easy question I happened to comment "Ooh, that's a tough one, like which of these is the real word : HELLO or FNGSQUTZBLE?" Obviously my (totally non-malicious) sarcasm was unappreciated, as my mate Justine has registered the domain and stuck a totally random site up there. It's getting filled with junk as I type! Go have a look at the definitions for the word fngsqutzble here if you dare.

Oh, and it looks like my modelling career isn't going to take off, no more trying on clothes for me today. Maybe someone out there needs me to model a belly-bra or something. Hey, I could be the new Stanna Stairlift Spokesperson! (Ahem, R.I.P Dame Thora Hird)

Last but not least, HAPPY BIRTHDAY PINKY!!! Take note, you're only as old as the man you feel - wanna feel 25? ;)

I know it's a little contrived to wish a happy birthday but I sincerely do, I can only hope that this year for you will be better than any other and remember - 31 isn't old. (If you're a tree.) Ooh, I'm evil. Luv ya girly!

Present!

Well, that's three days worth of cack. I hope you enjoy it all and it's not too much of a pain in the arse to read. I'm gonna leave it as one big comments section in the vague hope I'll get loads of witty retorts from you people.

Tata for now!

PCheese Out. ::

2003-04-28T22:09:00.000Z

Today I was reading with interest an article on non-subjective humour and the lack thereof. It seems a unified rule that no humour can exist without offending someone. All jokes which are inherently funny, will probably offend someone. Of course I tried desperately to think of a joke that wouldn't offend anyone at all and was left a bit stumped. Take for example the classic chicken joke, a joke which I have never found amusing, even when I was about three.

Q: Why did the chicken cross the road.
A: To get to the other side.

It seems to me that this joke couldn't invoke displeasure with anyone. I was wrong. Apparently this could be hurtful or insensitive to chickens, road builders, people who enjoy seeing chickens as free creatures who belong in the wild and think roads shouldn't exist or even someone who has recently lost a chicken to a road-traffic accident. And dyslexics. People could be offended by the fact that they can't spell the word 'chicken' or possibly 'road'. How about blind people who the joke would upset due to the fact that they've never seen a chicken or a road and therefore this joke is obviously a cruel barbed jape at their expense. Or poor people, who the joke is ridiculing by insinuating that there are chickens freely ranging but they cannot catch them for food as the road represents a viable hazard. Or maybe even mutes who could be upset by their inability to re-tell the joke without the use of inflections in their voice. Or how about foreigners who might be incensed that the joke is being told in a language that is not their mother tongue. Or even complete, raving, psycho, loony nutters to whom the line "to get to the other side" translates directly in their addled brains as "because you touch yourself at night, kill the kitties now!"

Comedy, it's a fickle thing.

As a final note I'd like to say to one and all, spending over £400 over the course of one weekend is bad. very bad. Unless it counts as food shopping, clothes shopping, DVD shopping and beer drinking...

PCheese Out. ::

2003-04-26T01:46:00.000Z

Just a small one people. It's very late and I'm incredibly pissed. I've just had to retype that sentence five times!

It was Stuarts birthday tonight so I've got very, very drunk and I'm chatting away like balls on heat!

But I'm chatting in my head and my typing skills are at nothing so I'm gonna go to bed and type interesting things tomorrow.

But one thing before I go, four people on the bus bet £20 each that I couldn't eat a take-away container full of chilli peppers before the guy who bought them (by accident) got off the bus. I did. They were lush and quite easy to eat. I made £80 and got my bus fare back from the driver (for not puking). I love weekends. :)

G'Night.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-04-23T17:24:00.000Z

Hello peeps!

This one is going to be fairly brief as I'm busying myself being creative. I got bored last night and was piddling about with Paint Shop Pro and Dreamweaver and started to make a nice new site design for purple tentacle. I hope she appreciates the new design although I'm not going to try and pressure her to use it or anything. She's a bloomin artist though so I hope she'll recognise the skills. :)

I've had quite a pleasant day, I've sorted out lots of bits and pieces at work and now I'm off to browse the local letting agency websites to see if there is somewhere I can go live. You see, when I moved in here it was originally supposed to be for 3 months. That was almost 18 months ago. Now, while I'm quite happy where I am - it's a nice place, in a nice area and I've got Waffle for company - it seems that may be about to change. It appears we have a random French man coming to stay with us. I've no idea a) where he is going to stay as we technically only have two bedrooms and a cupboard b) how long he's going to stay or c) whether I can cope with a random stranger moving in. A random French stranger.

I'm not xenophobic or anything like that but the dude's French and I just have an innate dislike for them for some reason.

I shall speak with Waffle about it tonight and confirm at some point in the future... We shall see what happens, eh?

PCheese Out. ::

2003-04-22T20:42:00.000Z

Ah well, Easter is over with and I'm back in front of this infernal machine. At this moment in time I'm kinda proud of myself and kinda disappointed as well. I didn't scoff a single bit of chocolate over the long weekend. Not a smidgen. Nothing. Not even the tiniest, flakiest, crumbliest chocolate. Not even a shard of the resultant offspring from an Easter Bunny dry-humping a Spring Chicken. I'm quite happy with this, but damn, do I miss chocolate...

The weekend was a great success.

And, heh heh, guess what? I contracted something.

Thorpe Ness, which is neither in Scotland nor part of Thorpe Park, was superb. For those not in the know, Thorpe Ness is a sort of day-out place where there's a few pubs/restaurants and a beach and a sodding
great lake where you can do lots of rowing... We hired a rowing boat and four kayaks and spent two hours piddling about on the lake. And I think every single one of us came down with a sniffle. Not a full blown cold,
just a sniffle. Craig tried surfing his kayak. A process which seemed to involve running from the shore, jumping into his kayak and then falling into the brownest, shittiest part of the lake he could find. It was rather amusing to watch and I have a avi file of the most successful attempt. Unfortunately it's about 3meg in size so once I work out where I can host the bugger I'll post it up but until then you'll have to wait...

I'm also sat here typing this in no small amount of pain. Significantly less pain than a couple of others who I "tackled" whilst playing American Football. poor old waffle got a shoulder barge to the side and went sprawling, as did my ickle friend Kalten. You see, a thundering 20 stone man colliding at high speed with a tiny little thin person who has the ball can have very few consequences. So I apologise now for the near breaking of limbs which occured. If it's at all justified I did fall over the football later on and end up going arse over tit myself. Hence the pain I'm in... I have a wounded knee. Just like in the history books.

Aside from "surfing the ness" and the "football incidents" very little else of interest happened over the weekend. Except that I found out that Jennifer Love Hewitt was in Sister Act II : Back In The Habit. So tehre you go, I learnt something new.

All in all, great fun. I'm going to stop now before the mad tangents get any more control over my typing and go get some sleep. 14 hours over three days just isn't enough.

Sleepy PCheese Out. ::

2003-04-18T08:50:00.000Z

Goooooooooodddddd Mooooooorrrrrninngggggg Internet.

Hello! Last night hosted play to a celebratory interlude as we relished in the four days of heathen abandonment to come. Of which today is the first. For the benefit of any Americans, and other animals, we plucky Brits have an extra two days to tack on to this weekend in order to go out, be merry, and remember the day our Lord, erm, did something involving chocolates and bunnies. I'm not up on Religion really, and I don't know much about the rest of the world so if I'm sat here explaining to poor Americans about our wonderful four day weekend and they get a six day weekend or something you'll have to let me know.

Anyway, I'm actually out of my bed before 11am on a day when I don't have to go to work so I must be up to something. And I am. We're all off to Thorpe Ness to go boating. We tend to row around in ever increasing circles shouting stuff at each other until we get bored or so far away from the others we can't hear them any more. Then we go home. Except today it looks like there's going to be a BBQ, a random game of anything-goes American football, a walk along the beach, a general towelling off and then maybe later we'll all do something crazy...

...Or maybe by that point we'll all be so knackered it'll be time for snoozies!

I'll deliver a full report of how many times my boat capsized and I had to wade ashore through 3 feet of muck tomorrow. If I make it without contracting something...

PCheese Out. ::

2003-04-16T18:19:00.000Z

Have you ever felt so utterly stupid that you've decided to share it with the whole world just so that somebody else might pipe up and say "hey, don't worry - we've all been there" in an effort to make yourself feel less like a loon and possibly redeem yourself? Guess what I'm about to do...

I had Monday and Tuesday off due to the ferocious migraine pains racking my brain, the poor few beer soaked brain cells remaining banding together in their misery like a plethora of hopeless addicts at an alcoholics anonymous meeting... I couldn't use my PC, I couldn't watch telly, I couldn't read a book, the slightest noise felt like a thousand pianos had been shoved over a cliff and into my mind. I had terrible thoughts running around my head... What if it's a tumour? What if my brain has finally given up the ghost and this is all I'm going to be able to do from now on : sit in a dark room and sob quietly? What if I'm turning into a cabbage?...

Well, I've just worked out why I had bad, bad headaches. And I feel like a complete gimp.

If you are engaged in a fight to the death with an army of ants and decide to promote your conflict to a state of biological warfare (i.e. you go buy some Raid spray and Nippon powder) be sure to :

a) not mix the two.
b) not inhale a damned large amount of the stuff.
c) read the labels that say things like "for external use only" or "use in a well ventilated area" or "toxic : do not inhale" on the stuff you are spraying liberal amounts of in your bedroom.

I'm a numpty twat.

So go on, please, share with me your stories of self plight. Regale me with tales of how you too have basked in your own stupidity. Just for Heaven's sake somebody let me know that I'm not as stupid as I'm feeling right now.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-04-15T18:56:00.000Z

Hello all.

Just in case anyone was worrying, which I'll assume you all were seeing as you love me so much, I'm just here to assure you I'm not dead.

I've not been well though. I thought I was over this whole "indeterminable illness" thing but, as it transpires, I'm just not a well person. Not healthy, not fit, not nothing. I expect it's something to do with spending nearly my entire waking life in front of a PC monitor either working or playing or whatever. But then, it's what I do, what else is there? I'd like to be able to go out and do something else, something, exciting that requires very little effort. But there isn't anything.

So, during this, my second day of consecutive random migraine-ness I am just putting this one up to say "hey, don't forget me, and don't make any loud noises".

Oh yes, and my ongoing turf war with the ants has stepped up a notch and I've now taken to killing them with my bare hands, breaking their tiny necks. Little sods.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-04-09T20:12:00.000Z

Little Black Bastards!!!

Don't worry, I haven't gone horrendously racist on you, I'm still a nice boy. Obviously not a nice boy but you know, just me. No the little black bastards I am, in fact, referring to, are ants.

I hate them. It's not a phobia or anything I just don't like finding them on me or anywhere near me. So of course when I wake up at 7am and peer myopically at the alarm clock only to see a tiny non-cute version of flick scuttling across the dressing table at high speed towards my face. I panic. I squashed it. Ants have followed me for years, they're everywhere I go. One place I lived they invaded the kitchen through the water outlet under the sink and I sat in the kitchen for three hours killing the blighters. A slipper in one hand and a huge bottle of Nippon in the other. I even put a sauce pan on my head and pretended to be their ant enemy general.

Now they've started creeping into my bedroom. I could feel them on me, even though I knew they weren't. I may have to check into a clinic ("The Betty Ford Centre - Because There May Not Be Bugs On You")

I hate them. But not that much. On my scale of 1 to 10 for things I detest they rate about a three. A one would be something like "the sound not syncing up for a few seconds when I'm watching a film", an eight might get you "being stung by a wasp" whereas the big ten you're looking at something like "being repeatedly stabbed in the knees with a biro while I'm forced to listen to Rap music and people flick lit matches into my pubes".

So now you know.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-04-08T21:50:00.000Z

Ladies and Gentlemen, two things have I to say tonight.

Firstly, go here. I don't care how old you are or if you've got to download flash to get it or whatever just go here. It's the best thing I've ever seen on the internet. EVER!

Secondly, I received an eMail from a random fella called Kieran O'Neill who suggested I go take a look here. I have no idea who this chap is or if he came across me (by blogness maybe?) but however he did, I salute him. For he suggested I may be interested in his site, and interested I was. HolyLemon is superb and if I get round to it, it'll be added to my links.

That's all for now as I'm off to order the Happy Tree Friends DVD...

Good night all, and if you can still manage them, sweet dreams...

PCheese Out. ::

2003-04-07T18:19:00.000Z

Hurray, hurrah and huzzip for my mate Lorcaran who's only gone and fixed the whole internet!!!

Well, okay, he's fixed my machine at least. And now that I have access to the internet again I find I have very little to say. Except that I'm never betting on the Grand National again. Ever.

My horse got off to a good start. The starting pistol went and my horse sort of looked at the camera, wobbled a bit and fell over gently. I think it was doped up on horse tranquilisers or something. Anyway, the poor nag I backed is now seventy tins of dog food and some glue. As if that wasn't a bad enough thing to happen on Saturday I watched the race on TV during one of the most saddening football matches I've ever witnessed. Ipswich lost to Forrest 4-3. it was tragic. A 2-0 lead for Ipswich was cruelly snatched away by Forrest with 3 goals in 5 minutes. the bastards.

And then to round off the weekend, the Grand prix was less of a race and more of a "survival of the wettest" competition. Everyone crashed! Alonso came third but couldn't take the podium because he was in bloody hospital. It was the oddest thing I've ever witnessed.

So, all in all a bit of a cack weekend. I'm off to catch up with the dozen or so blogs I frequent, reply to all my eMails offering me things other than an improved sex life or vast penis, and download some porn.

See you all real soon, and here's hoping the week gets better, eh?

PCheese Out. ::

2003-04-03T21:24:00.000Z

It seems the world has gone crazy. It's alright, I'm not going to ramble on about the state of affairs of the country or government or war or any bollocks like that. Well, maybe a little bit about the war.

But only this wonderful bit of news. And it's labelled "part one" in my little bag of evidence that indicates the world is going to end up in a comfy long sleeved jacket and singing at the walls in a rubber room.

The Moroccan government has donated 2000 trained monkeys to the US war effort. Their job if to find and unearth land mines. Unfortunately their tiny little monkey brains have been affected by the hot, hot sun and they've gone into heat. Monkey bitch heat. Yes instead of doing their jobs and carefully seeking out naughty Arab explosives the dirty little bleeders are rutting each other like crazy. Quality Nice!

The evidence labelled "part two" in my little bag is not a crazy world relevance at all really, just a crazy, crazy boss. For lunch today we went the Beagle, a quality pub that does rather excellent food. Now, the toilets at work are being refurbished so we're reduced to a porta-loo at the moment. We have been offered the use of the ladies bathroom but it smells funny, kind of, clean. So we're crapperless. Thusly Alex decided to go for a rather hefty shite at the pub. He wandered off into the toilet and performed his functions as usual, and I went in to said toilet for a piss. In there, seeing one toilet cubicle occupied and not having seen Alex come out I put managed to deduce that he was still "busy". Clever me. He'd been in there a while so I enquired as to his current state, had he, in fact, fallen in? Was he out of paper? Would he like me to feed individual sheets under the door? The resultant giggling answer was "no". I finished my wee and went to wash my hands as another gentlemen entered to use the lavatorial facilities. I, of course, stopped talking. Alex unfortunately didn't and, thinking I was still the only other person in there, flushed the toilet and exclaimed loudly "get down there, you bastard". It's lucky the other chap was already at the urinal else I think he may have pissed himself.

Err, actually, my little bag of evidence is now empty. But still, it's a mad, mad, mad, mad , mad world. 'Cause I say so.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-04-01T16:28:00.000Z

It's April First. Traditionally considered a day of "fools". I actually didn't manage to do anything this year which was a real pain in the arse as I love practical jokes. Provided they're being done by me on other people and not being done to me. Then I hate them.

I'm wondering if it was an April Fools bug put in by the bastards who manufactured my alarm clock that prevented it from going off this morning and resulted in my waking up seventy seconds or so before my friend picked me up for work. You've never seen a man move so fast. I was out of bed in half a second and brushing me teeth and putting my socks on before five seconds had passed. Just a quick aside, it is insanely difficult to put on a sock and brush ones teeth simultaneously, hence the reason I have toothpaste on my right sock.

My previous April Fools Days have involved some elaborate japes. None too harmful or malicious but still funny. To me anyway. The problem is that if you're going to perform anything in the manner of a "fool" you have to do it before midday otherwise it either becomes un-funny or bad luck or something. Karmically I think I'm screwed anyway after buying my sister a jar of baby apple sauce at the weekend. (See the whole - broken jaw / face wired up episode of posts if you don't understand). But if anyone needs evidence of my naughty karma level as to how one day the scale will swing the other way and I'll end up on the receiving end of a number 82 bus these are some of the past haughtiness’s...

I turned my mums jigsaw puzzle upside down. Not so the picture was facing the other way, that would have been lame, but so the brown cardboardy side of the puzzle was face up. It took me an hour to do as it was a five thousand piece jigsaw but it was worth it. Very worth it. Mum was less than amused.

I clingfilmed the entire corridor whilst living with my parents. I got up a couple of hours early and duct taped several layers of clingfilm over my parents and my sisters doors and then set off the fire alarm. My dad and sister emerged rapidly from their rooms into an invisible wall of plastic. Their faces went all "scrungy" as they pushed into the clingfilm and then they bounced back into their rooms. Oh how I chortled.

Erm, oh yes, we poured about a gallon of green dye into the common washing machine at the boarding house of our school. I didn't board but we got to school early enough to sneak in and turn every PE kit into a sort of tie-dyed greenish mush. It was fantastic.

That's about it really. Apart from the slightly more juvenile antics of setting fire to dog poop in bags on peoples doorsteps or selotaping fireworks to things. (Notably a rat, a car exhaust and a small shrine (the rat exploded and rained bits everywhere, the car exhaust had a hole blown in it and the shrine caught fire and we laughed as the little effigy of Jesus burned on his cross.))

There is every possibility I'm going to hell for that one. At least it'll be warm.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-03-31T22:25:00.000Z

It's going to be a busy week. Very busy. I have a lot of work to do and only a tiny little regular week to do it in. Actually, it's not so bad, then it's footy at the weekend. But that's it for the week. Unless something desperately exciting happens it's going to be a dull blog week.

Ooh, except for a couple of things. Firstly, I have no idea what this is but my penchant for drawing stick men getting killed by stuff (which started at school) has not gone away and now people are doing it on the web. I've seen loads of stick fighty kung fu fellas but this one had me smiling, even if it was because it was garbling Russian at me.

Secondly, I have just ordered a GamePark32 arcade machine. They're like gameboys but a zillion times better because you can get emulators to play Snes, Amiga, arcade and even old PC games. Don't expect to see me about much after I a) get the thing delivered and b) work out from the Korean manual how to work the bloody thing.

Right, that's it for todays activities really. Tomorrow night we have our first ever clan match where we get to go online and kill people as a team. It's going to be interesting because we've never done it before and we're likely to spend a large portion of the evening grumbling about how shit we are. If you're in the least bit interested I'll let you all know how it went. Or I could just stop typing. And go to bed.

Good night world! Be nice to me.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-03-30T20:52:00.000Z

I really don't have much to post this weekend, not a lot has happened. So here are some random brain farts that I feel I need to post due to complete lack of anything for the last couple of days...

1) On Thursday evening as I was waiting to be picked up to go shopping an old man stopped his bike right in front of where I was stood. He got off it and stood there, right in front of me, about a foot away, grunting and hocking up really horrible phlegm which he then proceeded to gob all over the floor. Then he got on his bike and cycled off up the hill. It was horrible. So much so I was tempted to pick up a dried dead frog that was near my feet and throw it at him as he cycled off. But I couldn't bring myself to touch it.

2) The new Linkin Park album is rather superb. I have a fairly eclectic taste in music and my CD collection is so utterly random that the only order I'm able to put it in, apart from the standard dull alphabetic, is the "that's where I put it last method". Which is probably why I can never find a CD when I want to listen to it and frequently find them in odd places like in bag under the desk in my room where old socks go to die.

3) Never buy an album if you've heard only the one song from it. I purchased the Stone Sour album, which I think has the guy in it that sang with Chad Kroeger from Nickelback on the Spiderman song, based on a track I heard on MTV called Bother. It's a really good song full of feeling, the rest of the album is mainly shouting and swearing a lot. I quite like the album but it was a shock when I put it on for the first time... In the car with my mum.

4) Always put the clocks forward in Spring, otherwise people get rather upset when you arrange to meet them and turn up TWO hours late.

5) Err, there was no five. This is a ruse to make it look like I had more to say. Oh wait, I did. Does anyone know anything to do, except ritualistically bugger sheep, when on a weeks holiday in Northern Wales. That's where I'm headed at the end oif May. Woo Hoo.

6) Thursday night I said I'd write something exciting and nude etc. I lied. I couldn't think of nowt.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-03-27T17:31:00.000Z

My apathetic attitude of Tuesday has kinda gone. No, I haven't managed to go out and shoot my bolt down some young vixens gullet. (Vixen meaning attractive girl as opposed to female fox - I'm not that desparate.) It's just kind of, passed. Still nothing much exciting is happening. I can't think of anything remotely interesting to write about, with the possible exception of animal sex which is now stuck in my brain.

Ooh, there is something actually. My little sister had turned into a Buffy fan. She's borrowing the first six seasons from me so she can catch up on all that's happened but she got so desperate waiting for series three (which I had lent to a friend) that she sent my mum out to buy it. It's really a great show and it's on tonight. New episode and all that. Yay!

So, whilst I'm about to go off shopping with Merie and then have something vast and yet healthy for tea and then watch Buffy and Angel and then get the bus home, I'll still try and think of something more exciting for you all for when I get in. Something with partial nudity, vulgra language and occassional refernces to drugs I think. For now though, I'll leave you with this breaking news :

CNN/Reuters: News reports have filtered out early this morning that US forces have swooped on an Iraqi Primary School and detained teacher Mohammed Al-Hazar. Sources indicate that, when arrested, Al-Hazar was in possession of a ruler, a protractor, a set square and a calculator. US President George W Bush argued that this was clear and overwhelming evidence that Iraq indeed possessed weapons of maths instruction.

{groan}

Oops, I forgot, two tiny things :

1) Pinky, I may have a way to sort your curvy thing out so if you haven't already done it I'll have a bash at that tomorrow. It'll make it look less curvy and more "many stright lines" though.
2) This post represents my 50th consecutive post with working comments. Go me! Party!

PCheese Out. ::

2003-03-25T21:54:00.000Z

I'm pissed off. There's no great reason it's just that nothing has really gone right today. Work was, in and of itself, fine. We even went out and had a nice lunch. It's just that after work, well, I couldn't be bothered to do anything. Nothing at all. Absolutely squat. Nothing went to plan, nothing went as I intended. Even the simplest of things like trying to play aginst a mate online doesn't work. I think we managed about 8 seconds of game play in total. So in short :

I CAN'T BE ARSED.

Hence the shortness of blog.
Hence the grumpiness of me.
Hence I think I'm just gonna go to bed.

Hence the over use of the word "Hence".

I don't even know what it really means. Hence.

Aww bugger it. What I need is to give some delectable young lady a damn hard seeing to over a period of about seven hours whilst I titilate her fancies with combined senses of pleasure and pain featuring an aftermath of ice cream. Any takers?

Horny Bastard Out. ::

2003-03-24T18:16:00.000Z

I'm trying desperately to think of things to write about which don't involve men on a beach in a far away country throwing things at each other at great velocity and personal risk but I'm having difficulty.

Actually, that's a bit of a fib, I'm not actually devoting too much brain power to the war in Iraq and will probably post very little about it from now on, unless something amusing or horrifying happens, where I'll probably write something just in different styles. Anyway, this is to be my last comment type thing on Gulf II : The Idiot Son's Revenge as I really can't expect anyone else to share my views or even find coherent reasoning behind them. But this has to be said.

Excuse me, err, hello? If I could interrupt your staccato of machine gun fire for one second. Thank you. Right, are you or are you not the United States of America? Yes? Good. Now, what the hell are you doing? Right, those guys that look like Iraqis? You see them, the ones over there shooting at you? That's them, yes, very good. Now THEY ARE YOUR ENEMY! Heaven knows why they're your enemy but they are so anyway. Did you understand that? Right? So why are you basically turning around and shooting the man next to you? Oh he was shooting too was he? Uhuh? And he scared you with the big noise? Awww. But did you in fact notice that he also was shooting at the enemy? You remember? The ones over there (does big "over there" gesture with hands). {sigh}

Yes, once again, in the tradition of imbeciles everywhere, the good old "US of A" army have begun shooting in every possible direction in the vague hope of hitting something significant. So far they've managed to :

shoot a British Tornado out of the sky with a patriot missile
mow down several of their own men
assassinate an ITN reporter
attack Iran and Kuwait by mistake.
blow up Syria
poison the entire worlds supply of pot noodles
nuke the moon

Alright, some of those are exaggerated, but some are entirely true. My condolences of course go out to the families of those who died but these aren't war victims, they're casualties of ineptitude.

Right, that's my war stuff over and done with, I'll try to refrain from mentioning it again. Instead I'll confess to something a little naughty.

I went out on Saturday night to celebrate the first quarter of a century of my life. I did this by inviting out all my friends and getting so unbelievably drunk I'm heartily surprised I made it home. But I did something naughty. Ever so slightly wicked. But I assure you it was an accident.

I went to the burger van after the club closed. Now, those of you who pay attention may have noticed that I'm on a diet but for those of you who hadn't; I am on a diet. I went to a burger van, whilst on a diet. (Notice how I'm handily ignoring the gallons of lager, Jack Daniels and miscellaneous alcopops imbibed.) But still coherent enough to speak to the man in the burger van and still self aware enough to remember my diet I asked for a chicken burger, slightly less than a million calories but so much better than the king bacon double cheese to which I normally succumb. He had to get it out of his little freezer thing and cook it from scratch. Unfortunately before it was ready I had to run away as I saw the bus coming. I apologised profusely, probably more than was necessary as I think I may have been offering to sacrifice my firstborn to appease his wrath which wasn't actually evident at all. In fact, he seemed perfectly happy to let me run off and not at all miffed that I'd got him cooking something for which I wasn't going to eat and invariably wasn't going to pay for.

So run off I did. I got on the bus, I flopped into my seat and decided to sleep all the way home. But not before realising that I'd run off from the very polite purveyor of greasy goods with a large tube of burger sauce with which I had been idly playing whilst waiting for my food. I felt so ashamed I left it on the bus.

So if you happen to be riding a Super Route 66 bus between Ipswich and Martlesham in the not too distant future and spot a large tube of miscellaneous brown goo, please return it to the burger van man and tell him I'm sorry.

Oh, and just for those of you who desperately need to know, I managed to tell a large group of my friends that I'm into men (which is so very untrue), I poured a drink inside my mates fiancees boot, I fell over at least once, I insulted a bouncer whose fists were larger than my head (and lived) and I didn't get laid. In fact, I didn't get anywhere remotely near anything except drunk, stupid and exhausted.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-03-22T16:15:00.000Z

Hello all, I'm frightfully busy preparing for my mahoosive night ont he town to celebrate my aging. It's all rush as I pace and drink and pace some more and eagerly anticipate the rockfest tonight should be and then pace a bit more and drink again and then get bored incredibly rapidly because I can't devote my attention to anything for more than 8 seconds.

And now the Grease 2 soundtrack has come on my mp3 list so I'm gonna get up and jiggle about for a bit.

But in the mean time I'd appreciate your views on this, it's for the club I'm going to tonight. I said I'd do it for the DJ as a favour as :

Of course, I can't link anything as lycos is down till the 29th which is just ARSE but I've already typed it now so I'm going to post it anyway. Link will appear in a week or so.

a) I like doing logos and basic site designs and
b) I thought I might end up getting numerous free drinks.

Is it OK? Or is it poo?

I'm too buzzy in my head to work out.

Plus you can't see it so if everyone just says it's great I'll probably calm down.

Whoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoe!!!

PCheese Out. ::

2003-03-20T17:08:00.000Z

Right. Today I am a new man. I am aged to perfection. I've decided that 25 will be a good year. Please?

Apart from that decision, nothing really of note to report. Seriously. Buffy and Angel are on tonight which ain't gonna come soon enough. I'm all geared up for Saturday night and the mass partying schedule is laid out before me but none of it starts till the weekend so until then I'm just eagerly poised, rubbing my hands with expectant glee.

Now that I've said that all I can think is that "Expectant Glee" would be a superb name for a lotion of some kind. I can see it now, the busy mom (Sorry, Mom has to be Americanised due to all lotion commercials being either done in an American happy family style or a mountain stream hair flicking extravaganza.) Where was I, yes, okay. The busy mom hurries back from work, all tired and flustered, she cooks dinner for the kids and they squabble a lot and then she heads to the bathroom and pulls out her "Expectant Glee" sitting back in the bath, bubbles a plenty, the slightest hint of succulent flesh and then the voice over. Every day Mary faces the same chores and troubles, now she can forget about her worries while she rubs her hands with "Expectant Glee".

This may be the symptom of a diseased mind.

We're also all at war now so put your little party hat on and blow a streamer cause George and Tony have got their toys out of the box and they're not putting them away until they've set fire to the curtains and scared the shit out of the cat. Bastards.

Oh yes, as a highly satirical and deeply involving joke I did an image for b3ta last night (yes, I spent my birthday tallyplopping, doodling, drinking and messing about) I did a little skit of the three ronnies. Here it is, hope you like it...

Wasn't that special, now for something else.

"The devil wants to f*ck me in the back of his car" is the best lyric ever, it's from the song "That's What I Get" by Nine Inch Nails back in the day when music was 'done proper'. I can't really think of any other lyrics that even come close except for maybe one. And that's China Drum's "Can't Stop These Things" which has the profound line "I've held my eyes wide open but it's very hard to see, the slimy hidden dangers unless you've got ESP". That line just appeals to me. I bloody love it.

Thanks all for your birthday wishes; sorry to be so young on all of you but if it helps I do have the body of a 40 year old. I keep it in a box under my bed and use it for spare parts and ritualistic buggery.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-03-19T20:01:00.000Z

Righty ho all, I'd love to stay here and blog all evening, actually, I'm surprised to find I really don't find the prospect of that too horrendous. But anyway, I'd like to stay, but I ain't gonna. No. I'm going to go out and get a little squiffy, then I'm gonna come in and fall asleep.

Yay for birthdays.

Oh, and my little sister is a diamond. She bought me a genuine leather wallet with the words Bad Mother F*cker on the side. That's so damn cool it's untrue.

My parents got me a really cool shirt with space invaders all over it, a nice burgundy (favourite colour) fleece and my full length leather coat. Damn I'm a sexy mofo.

Anyway, gotta go get wasted.

Toodles.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-03-19T11:59:00.000Z

IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!!!

Woo Yip Yay Woo!!!

Today I am 25. A quarter of a century old. A third of the way through my predicted natural life span.

More later, if I can manage. Hee hee hee...

PCheese Out. ::

2003-03-18T21:10:00.000Z

I'm afraid it going to have to be very quick one tonight as I desperately need to go back to my room where the radio is so I can listen to the commentary on the Ipswich match. We're winning 2-1 aginst Reading at the moment so I'm quite chuffed. I'm not actually a colossal football fan but I like to follow England when we're having brief winning stints in whatever competition it is we're getting knocked out of, and I like to follow Ipswich, because I live there. It's not a sin to live in Ipswich, just to be proud of that fact.

Besides, I need a beer. I've only just got in, it's been a long day and it's my birthday tomorrow. I'll be a quarter of a century old. {sigh} Maybe I have to start behaving like an adult now?

Piss-bum-willy-flaps to that!

Oh well...

PCheese Out. ::

2003-03-17T22:13:00.000Z

Oh yes, there's a new image on the images page too. For those of you just can't get enough of me... It's me at a teeny tiny twenty stone and wearing blatant advertising for ScaryDuck at the same time.

Also, though she's probably never gonna see this page (unless I start telling my family about this blog, whereby I'd have to stop swearing) I'd like to say get well soon to my ickle sis who's in hospital at the moment with a face like a melon. She's been in to go under the knife and had her jaw broken and a centimeter of bone carved out of it. She's also had titanium plates put in to hold it together. Quite a bloody scary operation but she's OK. Here's to my brave little sis, and consider this an apology for the gifts.

Q : What do you get the girl who's just had her jaw broken and metal plates put in her head?
A : Some fridge magnets and a jaw breaker.

There is a slight possibility that I'm an evil bastard.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-03-17T20:39:00.000Z

A Notice.

In the event of war breaking out I may have to resort to using this blog as a testament to the human race and hopefully the disk I back it up to will be found in billions of years by archaeologists who will stand around saying "I wonder what it is" and "A series of small walls".

Actually, the notice is this, after long arduous months of work, well, half an hour, there are now two new bits : the About Me page is up and running and the eMail me link works now too. Rejoice!

On with the blog...

I'm thinking of writing a book. Then, I'm pretty much always thinking of writing a book. I've started writing several but never got very far. The last one was set in a futuristic society with cannibals, bikers and a mystic group of 12 "ancient" men and women named after signs of the zodiac (well, the zodiac were named after them) who tore people apart with psychic powers. It was pretty gruesome stuff but by all accounts it was rather good. I was quite proud of it and most people who read it said they liked it. I even got so far as sending four chapters (and the premise for the rest of the story) of it to a publishing house who said they'd actually be interested if I were to finish it. Thing is, that was five years ago and since then I've proceeded to do exactly squat to it. Absolutely diddly-bo-diddly-squat. Feck all.

One of these days I might finish it, or at the very least, attempt to finish it. But then, today I had the idea of doing a crime thriller novel based on a serial killer who uses an Internet chatroom to choose his victims.

I couldn't think of much of a plot beyond that but I'm sure I will. I can usually come up with a whole story before I get bored with it and do something else instead.

I've sat and planned it out in my head, while I sit here with my low fat oven chips, and strangely enough there is a common theme to both this novel and the one I started five years ago. The opening chapter of both would involve someone getting stabbed in the eye. I really do think I might be disturbed. Seriously. The only difference is the victim in the first one is a cannibalistic biker who sharpens his teeth to eat his "meals" but gets a throwing knife judicially applied to his brain by the hero, and the victim in the second one is a 40-something divorcee whose disgruntled ex-husband stabs her with a kitchen knife and then does himself in.

So, there you have it. Anybody want to pick up a half finished book and write it for me? You don't need any prior qualifications, you just need a sick, warped, twisted mentality that you disguise fairly well with a thin patina of humour and joviality.

You can include lesbians if you want.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-03-16T01:43:00.000Z

Now, you don't normally get posts at the weekend cause I'm too busy getting lagered up but this weekend is a little different. For this weekend I am gracing you with several utterly incoherent points of random cheesiness which should make you all feel warm inside. Please note, despite the fact that this is gonna get posted at about half one in the morning on Sunday I shall refer to Saturday (yesterday) as today. it makes it easier on my fragile little mind.

So without further ado, no more ado at all, not even the slightest little hint of ado, possibly even ado free I give you, with no ado mind you, todays post.

A nightmare.

I had a dream last night. It sacred the beJesus out of me and it's possibly the most surreal dream I've had in a while. I was walking up the Hovis street, you know? Really steep hill, cobbled road, the dirt covered faces of likable little scamps peeking out from over garden gates and from behind bins, the Hovis street - from the advert? Anyway, there I was walking up this hill, nice and gentle when I hear the strains of something. Wagner's Ride of the Valkyries. The helicopter music from Apocalypse Now if that helps. So there in the background is Wagner playing away and me walking up this hill. The music is reaching it's crescendo when at that very moment an old lady on a motor scooter appears at the top of the hill. And the music launches into the massive charge / onslaught bit as hundreds and hundreds of old grannies crest the hill and thunder past me at about seven miles per hour all jeering at me and saying things like "young man!" and "oooh, ain't it cold Gertrude?" This lasted for about twenty minutes before I woke up in a cold sweat with a terrible fear of grannies on scooters. {shudder}

A vision.

A girl got on the bus today as it was wending it's merry way into town. She was a beautiful sight to behold on this brilliant Spring morning, long reddish blonde hair and deliciously pert, err, pert bits. it was almost worth staying on the bus a little longer so we could follow her around town making baby cow eyes and possibly mooing at her. If she reads this (hmm - a slim chance perhaps?) please marry me for I am very rich and will shower you with presents and affection... And jizz.

A pain like no other.

Being the great and sunny day that it was I made my way to the park with a few friends and a couple of my mates kids to play a mock game of American Football. Not knowing any of the rules didn't help. Adam turning up wearing his suit trousers could have been overlooked. Having the mimiature pigskin thrust violently into my crotch by a bald little sadist-in-the-making I could have done without. Having to spend the rest of the day with a sodding great brown muddy stain on my trousers was the worst. It looked like I'd soiled myself. Oh yes, the pain bit I mentioned above, no other pain comes close. Not even childbirth. At least with childbirth you get drugs. No drugs available for football-in-nads. All you can do in that event is curl up into a foetal position shivering around your own private little localised universe of pain. At this point, crying is acceptable.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-03-14T19:00:00.000Z

You know, it's about damn time I did something more with this blog thing. I think I ought to actually work out how to get people to come here and read what I do. I mean, the traffic from other blog sites is fairly minimal (but much appreciated) and the comments by fellow blogees and my mates are always welcomed. But I want a bigger audience. I want random comments from total strangers. I want people to tell me what's good, what's shit and how much they love me / hate me / want to beat me with a stick with a nail in.

So come on, someone out there with slightly more knowledge of the blog scene / website yahoo search engine registering thing must be able to tell me what to do. I'll even put my eMail here so you don't have to bore people who read the comments section!

Now that my little whiney thing is done, I can move on. After the seriousness (ha!) of yesterday I have a new topic for today, Fun With Electricity! Yeah, go kids it's great stuff. In no particular order you will find out about "the time I was struck by lightning", "the time I nearly killed myself doing DIY" and "my old teacher who blew himself up". Alright, so in that actual order it is, but you know what I mean.

"The time I was struck by lightning"

I was about 14 when it happened, and living in Germany. Towards the end of the Summer there we used to get the most beautiful displays of lightning as the Autumn storms rolled in. I have, and probably always will, adored lightning. It's the beauty and sheer power of nature that draws me to it. Unfortunately one time, it was drawn to me. It was late one evening and I was sat at my window watching the storm all around me (well, all around outside anyway... you know what, I'm sure you get the picture) Anyway, I was sat watching the forks coming down, poetic in their rending of the air when one hit the tower block. This wasn't uncommon but what was different his time was that it was a humungous blast, not a piddly little dribble of power. Now the copper lightning rod doohicky runs down the side of the building to the Earth so that every time the building gets struck everyone didn't lose their TV aerials. This copper rod ran down about a foot away from my window. And of course, being that we lived on the top floor, that's where the lightning struck. Pow. It arced across to my window. Zoom. It arced across to me. Wheeeee Splat. As the whole window turned white before my eyes I screamed and jumped back, with a little extra help from our friend Mr Fecking-Great-Bolt-Of-Lightning, I hit the wall at the opposite end of my room, hair on end and indeed smoking, winded, stunned and feeling incredibly lucky to be alive. It was the biggest thrill I've ever had. And I've had sex, drugs and rock and roll! I'm not intending to let it happen again anytime soon of course. Cause it sodding blinded me for three days and now I still can't see right without glasses. But still, not many people can say they've been struck by lightning and even though it wasn't actually direct - I think this qualifies as pretty damn close.

"The time I nearly killed myself doing DIY"

This wouldn't be embarrassing except I was about 20 at the time. I was painting my room a delicate shade of turquoise and decided that the white light switch needed painting too as it looked minging. I turned the light off and unscrewed the light switch, took it away, painted it in luminous yellow paint and went to put it back on. Of course, I accidentally touched the two wires behind the light fitting with my screwdriver while reconnecting it and formed a circuit. That stung. I had to go down to my parents, smouldering head for the second time in my life, and explain why I'd just shorted out the entire house. Whoops!

Helpful Note 1 : In retrospect it was stupid to assume that turning the light off would make the electricity go away but I knew nothing about electricity, DIY or anything technical so you can't blame me really.
Helpful Note 2 : If you enjoy going out for an occasional tipple (and coming home pissed out of your tree) paint all the light switches in your house with luminous paint. It makes turning the lights on really, really easy and saves you fumbling about prodding the wall randomly. Also, it's fun for kids.

"My old teacher who blew himself up"

The title of this one really does explain it all. I had a physics and chemistry teacher at school, Mr Price was his name (I think) and he was actually pretty cool. You know, for a teacher. Anyway, one day we got to experience first hand the Van De Graf generator. If you don't know it's essentially a big metal ball which you plug in and it generates static electricity which you can then touch and go "ooh". As our school was in Germany and this brand new Van De Graf machine had just been sent over from good old Blighty it had the wrong plug on. Mr Price, after uttering those sacred words, "Don't try this at home", cut off the plug and jammed the exposed wires into the plug socket. We could tell why we weren't meant to copy him as there was an almighty bang and a suddenly retreating teacher. Running and hopping backwards shouting a string of expletives some of which I'd never heard before. This same teacher later in the year was showing us the highly reactive properties of certain metals and blew up about twenty Petri dishes. Of course we nicked a jar full of the stuff and proceeded to blow out a cistern or two by chucking it down the bogs but that was the only time we copied him. Never with the stupid things, just the destructive ones. Nowadays it leaves me wondering how he's escaped becoming a Darwin for so long.

Well, that's about it for my experiences with electricity. I'd been meaning to do those for a while but you know how it is with, well, effort sometimes. Still to come though are : more stuff about school, more stuff about me, more stuff about stuff. All will discussed here sooner or later...

Thanks for watching and stay tuned kiddies!

PCheese Out. ::

2003-03-13T17:13:00.000Z

WARNING - SCATHING POLITICAL CURRENT AFFAIRS THINGY OPINION IMMINENT

So, if Saddam wants to avert war with the UK he needs to go on public television and say to the world "Yes I have bombs" whereby the US will say "We knew it!" and blow the living shit out of his country.

But if he doesn't show his face on TV then the UK will send in their troops, and the US will join us out of solidarity or brotherhood or some such crap.

There really aren't many ways to avoid going to war anymore.

I don't know what I would do if I were in his shoes, except possibly to say something along the lines of "My Word, these shoes are tight, this man has tiny feet".

Personally though I'm not sure who he'd rather fight, the Brits or the Yanks.

I mean, we plucky Brits tend to do well in wartime seeing as we seem far too keen on repeatedly going to war. The SAS are the best of the best when it comes to special forces and having grown up around the military pretty much my entire life I've seen a lot of what these guys can do and it's quite impressive.

I recall a story about a British pilot being shot down during the Gulf War ("part one" as it will soon have to be called) and crash landing in the middle of the desert. He had been flying low level recon and was shot down by a SAM - he bailed out just in time and managed to get to a little oasis where he proceeded to hide. All pilots are equipped with transmitters so that they can be found if they're shot down but he hadn't enabled his as he was too close to enemy forces. Still, after half an hour of landing a bush sidled up to him and offered him a mobile phone so he could call his missus. The SAS at work there. Tee Hee!

In a similar event a Yank pilot bailed out at 2,000 feet when some Iraqi grunt fired an Irish built heatseeker missile at him. The max range on these missiles is about 1,500 feet but the guy bailed out anyway and left his plane to crash. He activated his beacon before he even hit the ground and was promptly picked up by an Iraqi patrol and taken as a POW. What a doof.

Also, the Brits have a stunningly vast array of talent in their armies (mainly gleaned from football hooliganism) but not a lot of technical support. Their staple field issue SA-80 rifle doesn't actually work if it's too hot, too cold or has sand in it. Or if it's a Thursday. On the other hand the US have technogizmos up the wazoo which they delight in testing (on their own troops) and deploying heavily in any given conflict, on innocent civilians and , yep you guessed it, their own troops.

So, by this time next week we'll be at war. Probably. I shall just have to go get drunk and try and sleep through it.

RANDOM SPOUTING OF BOLLOCKS ENDS - APOLOGIES - NORMAL UTTER SHITE WILL RESUME FORTHWITH

Yeah, sorry for that peeps. The funny will return soon. For now though, you'll have to settle for the "mildly perturbed at the idea of going to war whilst at the same time strangely keen to watch tonights BuffGel marathon." If that's OK with you?

PCheese Out. ::

2003-03-12T21:01:00.000Z

Got a little link off Ms Fluffy and tested my self esteem. I must be full of myself or something cause I got 73 out of 100.

And what does that score mean?
"According to this test, you have a reasonably high level of self-esteem. There is, however, still some room for improvement."

But apparently I should pay six dollars for the full report version because I only got 25 out of 100 on the self-image section. Well, duh! have you seen me?

Some people, eh?

PCheese Out. ::

2003-03-12T18:22:00.000Z

Right so, first things first, apparently I have to be extra funny for Briggy, even though he said not to. That means it's all going to kick off soon with just page after page with nothing but tales of ritual shame at the hands of my peers alternating with several instances of the delicious word mango. I'm quite happy to find that I'm amusing someone in the world. I think I've found my idiom. You see, lots of people tell me I should go for it and get up on stage. To which my response is generally something along the lines of "I'll stand up in front of a crowd of judgemental people when you nail by bollocks to a cross and threaten me with power tools." But on the internet I’m anonymous, except for the fact that from this site you can work out where I live, what my real name is, where I work and what I look like so I think I may be screwed...

Also, PurpleTentacle assures me she is a sexy girlie, but then on her blog she states that a good thing to have in her mouth would be "a tongue belonging to an attractive woman". Now either "she" is, in fact, a "he" and I'm not at all concerned but a little confused or "she" is really a "she" and not a "shim" or anything like that. Which means my little site has far further reaching audiences than I thought possible and my pages are about to start bursting with lesbonic glee. Which I am rather looking forward to, not least because I imagine it would be a beautiful if decidedly squelchy thing.

Speaking of lesbianism though, am I the only person to be thoroughly enticed by the prospect of Kylie and Danii smearing each other with Tomato and Basil Philadelphia Light and scooping globules of it off each other and eating it with Ryvitas? Oh the porn fantasies of the terminally dieting, how slightly less than sinful they seem.

Right, now that I have returned from the brink of, ahem, "re-decorating" my keyboard I have a couple of random bits of information for you all.

Firstly, Quorn synthetic wafer thin turkey tastes bugger all like turkey and slightly more like used cat litter marinated in tramp piss.

Secondly, layering several slices of the wretched stuff across your face and saying "Hello Clarisse" is quite amusing to the other people in your building but is slightly frowned upon by the directors of the other companies. Apparently it's wasting their employees time. And it's especially unfunny when they are showing a new client round the building and you're stood in the kitchen shouting "Put the lotion if the fecking basket!".

Thirdly, getting a friend in another company into trouble is not advised. One of the poor lasses here has been sat all day signing off letters to clients from her director. She was obviously bored shitless, so I dared her to sign one from "Jeff the Haddock". So she did. I sincerely hope it doesn't get spotted at the other end, or at the very
least that they've got a sense of humour. I wouldn't want to get her fired after all.

Finally, "Jeff" is the best comedy name around. It just sounds funny. I've never met a real life Jeff but someday I think I'd like to. "Keith" draws a close second. When my sister phoned me the other day and I informed her I had a "mouthful of quiche" she thought I said "Keith". Hilarity ensued.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-03-11T18:51:00.000Z

Wow, you see, I post erratically for a couple of weeks and then you get two blogs in one day, when you're hot you're hot! I'd just like to say to all and sundry, thanks for all the comments and whatnot. It kinda makes me feel like I'm doing this for a reason and not just to be my own little online journal thing, so in no specific order :

Pinky : You one sexy lady! And your mind is like an errupting volcano of randomness.

Fluffy : My fellow acolyte of the church of BuffGel, you're really gonna like the next few episodes... You sexy lady too!

Briggy : You're not normal and that's a great quality. Good work fella! You probably not sexy lady...

Waffle : Start reading again you bastard, you're my quality control. You definitely not sexy lady.

PurpleTentacle : Who the hell are you? You may not even be a real person so who's to judge if you're sexy or not. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt though.

Busty Wench : I know who you are! Aha! You one sexy lady who look extra sexy in a corset. Naughty.

And that's quite enough of that. I'm off to cook myself something low in fat and, more than likely, low in flavour or taste too.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-03-11T17:51:00.000Z

Well, as some of you may know, which is none of you actually, I do role-play. If you don't know what that is then I think you're better off and you ought to stop reading now, if you do then I either pity you or admire you for admitting it. Every Tuesday, well, except the last two weeks cause I've been ill, I run a role-play session for a couple of my mates kids and their friends. They get to pretend to run around as an elf or a cleric and twat the living shit out of things that I pretend to be. It's not a dressing up thing or anything, it's a mental challenge, or something like that.

Anyway, today I was reprimanded by said kids for not turning up tonight. I would do, only I don't want to give them my cold and I'm sure their parents don't want it either. So tonight I am resigned to sitting at home and playing online games. Oh no!

Anyway, in the light of the current global situation I thought I should let everyone know about this little beauty. You may have seen it before, you may not, either way it's still quite impressive, and it just goes to prove that somebody who works on google has a sense of humour.

Simply enough, go to google.co.uk and type in "French Military Victories" in the box and then hit "I'm feeling lucky". See what it says, and remember, bollocks to the French!

As a final aside, I'm absolutely gagging for it. So any ladies out there who need a damn good seeing to send me a self-addressed envelope with a nudie pic and I'll completely fail to get in contact with you. I might violate the pictures though. :)

And just so you know, for the first time in two years, I'm a svelte 19 stone 12 lbs so yay me! And only eight days till my 25th birthday. You never know, I may be able to pull by then!

PCheese Out. ::

2003-03-10T18:51:00.000Z

It's sods law. That's what it is. No sooner do I recover from my intensely masculine and adult sounding "tummy bug" than I get lumbered with something almost as bad. I have a cold. A sodding cold. This makes me more than just a little upset. It seems the lovely little cold germs, who I always imagined as looking like hairy balls of jelly with Jim Carrey’s face, decided to attack me in my weakened state and infect me with their nose dribble inducer. Bastards.

So my posts have become erratic once again. And again. And again. I'm so bad at this at the moment. I assure you that eventually my brain will come back to it's usual state of readiness and I'll be able to find something interesting to write about. Probably. For now though, I'll leave you with the tale of "the reddest man I ever did see".

It was on Saturday. There was a girl on the bus who had an ailment. Some sort of Palsey or something. This isn't the funny part obviously, I'm not about to start taking the piss out of disabled people. Anyway, there was this girl, sat at the front of the bus with her, err, carer (?) and she was quite happily chatting away. I was sat near the back as I was heading into town to go shopping. Behind me was a bloke and his 4 or 5 year old son. They were playing I-Spy. Several successful rounds followed where the boy spied things ranging from B-Bus to C-Car until he got to S. "Hmm," says his father, "is it seats?". "No!" says the little boy, "It's Spaz!" At which I had to hide my face for laughing at the innocent and utter wrongness of this and the father went an unearthly shade of purplish red. I thought he was going to explode. Poor guy.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-03-05T21:14:00.000Z

You may have noticed a slightly more sporadic approach than usual to my blogging this past week. Sporadic, like, not at all. I've been horrendously ill and subsequently haven't felt much like sitting in front of my PC trying to be vaguely entertaining in an obsequious manner. It's most unfair. I get really pissed off with myself when I get ill, I usually see it as my own stupid fault for leading such an unhealthy lifestyle, but when I'm dieting and exercising and trying to change all that and I still get ill? Well, that just plain sucks balls.

The most annoying thing though, and this takes the cheese from my cheese-topped bap leaving me with a regular old bap which is no good to anyone, is that I can't even get a grown up illness. No. I get what even the doctor referred to as "a tummy bug". Feck me! I mean, a tummy bug! I'm 25 in two weeks time, I'll have been around on this crazy planet for a quarter of a century and I come down with a tummy bug? Couldn't I get gastroenteritis or an irritable bowel like proper grown-ups? Not that I really want them you understand but it's just that I hate trying to explain why I've got to have time off when all I've got is something you're supposed to have a day off with when you're five.

So, in the vague hope of helping the world, I've decided to compile a brief list of things you should never have to take the day off with, let alone suffer with for the best part of a week.

1) A tummy bug. Obviously. It's so much better to say "I got the shits" than "I have a tummy bug".

2) A hangover. It is never wise to have a day off due to excessive drinking the night before. You shouldn't be out drinking on a "school night" anyway. It's much better to lead with "I'm as rough as a badgers minge, boss" and not mention the seventeen pints the previous night.

3) The flu. Never claim time off with the flu, unless you're going for the whole hog and trying for a weeks prolonged absence. The flu for a day or two is just rubbish, it's not the flu, it's a mild sniffle coupled with the overwhelming desire to stay in bed eating crappy food and watching porn.

4) A migraine. I never used to get migraines and now get them very infrequently. For those of you who do actually suffer you'll know that a headache is not a migraine. A skull pounding shit-storm of pain is a migraine, a headache is an orgasm by comparison. If you're going to try and take time off with a migraine make sure you include the grunted message of "nuh comin in" and express your desire to die in a corner somewhere smothered with pillows.

5) Food poisoning. Eating a particularly large curry and blarting the scalding hot remnants out through a razor blade lined hole that used to be your arse does not constitute food poisoning. Food poisoning is eating a fish supper that’s 8 years past it's sell by date, it's drinking milk that could be used to fill holes in the road. People die from food poisoning! Don't try this one unless you really have managed to accidentally eat your own faeces and are subsequently vomiting from every orifice.

6) Death. Death kind of negates the reason for having time off, the reason being of course : to recover and not spread your disease amongst your co-workers. Besides, there's no way you can phone up and take the day off for being dead so don't even contemplate it.

7) STDs. Yes, that's it. Phone up and tell your boss that you're sorry you can't go in but you've got Chlamydia. See how long it is before that little fact has made it's way onto all your colleagues desks, an eMail to every client and the national press.

8) A genuine reason. There's no point, everyone will assume you just fancied an extra long weekend or a mid week skive so it's kind of irrelevant. And unless you've actually lost a limb you ain't gonna be able to prove it anyway.

So you see, I'm not an expert at having time off. I'd rather not do it at all if truth be told, I get so bored at home on my own being that I normally don't fancy doing anything when I'm home alone. Maybe if I had some sort of missus to look after me when I'm feeling pokey then I'd be more inclined to appreciate my out-of-office down time, but as it is all I've got to look after me is, well, porn and crisps.

That'll do donkey, that'll do.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-02-26T19:52:00.000Z

Lessons of the world in which I live...

1) Never leave MSN messenger logged in on your bosses laptop where he can change your personal details so that you have a Kids account of which he makes himself the parent. Also you may end up talking to people while your screen name is "Cher" or "Horny Bitch" or something similar.

2) Never, ever, upon missing your train by approximately seven seconds due to not being able to get to it due to the throng of people getting off it, shout a very rude word quite loudly. It rhymed with "bunt" and it caused about twenty or so people to look at me with a mixture of fear, disgust and one or two sympathising "I've been there looks".

3) Never, on any occasion, have the same name as someone on the FBI's ten most wanted list. This, despite the fact that you look nothing like him, will get you banged up in some foreign slop house for three weeks with nothing to do except point out the major differences between yourself and the twenty-years-your-junior felon.

4) Never tell an office full of women you are dieting, because they take it upon themselves to make you an honorary woman. I'm now going to three hen nights, an Anne Summers party and a birthing class.

5) 40 minutes is a long time to wait for a train in the pissing cold, especially when there toilets are closed and you really need a wee. I mean really. I went out of the station and went tiddle in the car park. I'm a bad man.

That, pretty much, is what life has tought me today. I hope it doesn't have anything else to teach me. I'm too tired. :(

G'night all!

PCheese Out. ::

2003-02-24T22:16:00.000Z

I've spent the entire weekend doing absolutely nothing except playing games. Oh, and working too. Oh yes, and a little bit of binge drinking. It's all good.

Unfortunately all of the above doesn't lead to very interesting blogging so I've really had nothing much to say. It's a tragedy - true. Instead tonight I thought I'd write a little bit about my first ever ghostly experience. Why? Because it just popped into my head. So here we go...

I used to live in Germany. I'm not now, nor have I ever been, German, but I can speak it a little and read it enough to get by. That's irrelevant. The fact that I lived in Germany isn't. I actually lived in a tiny little town called Weeze which is near Goch which is near Koln. None of that is really relevant either. Anyway, before I go off on a totally random tangent, I used to live near a large forested area called Boar woods. More often than not it was closed off due to some strange hairy pig disease or whatnot but sometimes you could follow one of the bike tracks through and it was quite an enjoyable, albeit quite scary, walk.

This one time (at band camp?) my friend Daniel and I were exploring the woods when we found an old world war two bunker of some description. It was squat and dark and, inviting. We went in. There was broken crockery everywhere and the place was littered with, err, well, litter. As we were walking through we noticed a block of stone in the ceiling that had red lichen growing on it, unlike most of the rest which was yellow or green. Daniel was in front of me and we were heading in when I was violently thrown to the side and banged against the wall. Daniel span round and screamed (in a mannish fashion) as the red lichened block fell out of the ceiling with no pre-amble, right where I had been standing. To this day Danny swore he saw the figure of a man in a grey uniform standing in the entrance to the bunker. And when I stood up I had two large, red welts on my side that looked scarily like handprints.

All I know is that we both ran like buggery and never went back. But I'm ever grateful to the ghost in the grey uniform, if he existed - or even if he never was.

Ooooooooooooooooooohhhhhhhh....

PCheese Out. ::

2003-02-20T19:36:00.000Z

Why is it that whenever I have to get up early I cannot get to sleep? I had to get up at 6am this morning in order to catch a train that would deposit me ungracefully in the wilderness that is Essex. So of course, going to bed at 11pm was sensible. Falling asleep at roughly 2am was unfortunate though. So I've had four hours sleep, a three hour combined return bus and train journey and eight hours of work in a little office on my own covering for someone who's off on holiday. It's a great life. Really.

Actually it was quite a fun journey this morning. First of all I was accosted by a couple of random studenty looking people who gave me a flyer for "The Rail Passengers Council and Committees" which was basically a questionnaire that said "Don't you think the rail services are crap?" "You don't?" "What's wrong with you?". Of course there was a plus side to this, it was wrapped in bubble wrap so I spent a deliciously immature five minutes popping bubbles. I'm sure you used to be able to do something to bubble wrap that meant when you pushed one bubble another would inflate but I can't remember how. Shame.

Then on the train itself I was targeted by, not one, but two loonies. The first was relatively easy to deal with. A hippyish girl of about 18 offered me some vodka from a coke bottle and asked if I had any pills. I said no. Because I hadn't. Maybe she mistook me for someone who'd just been to a colossal outdoor rave somewhere in Norfolk or some sort of travelling apothecary... Anyway, the disappointment etched on her pretty face she buggered off to harass someone else.

The second loon was a tougher nut to crack. It was a Mormon. {shudder} This old geezer sat down opposite me on the train, innocently enough he strikes up a conversation about football. Fairly innocent really. Except after about ten minutes of chatting about nothing he says "well what I really wanted to talk to you about was this" and handed me some sort of leaflet thing. I didn't read it. I told him I wasn't really interested but thank you and then sat there for the remainder of the journey drawing little moustaches on all the pictures in the pamphlet. I'll just check, but I may be evil.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-02-19T23:08:00.000Z

Once in a while I feel compelled to spout entirely random bits of information and share things with people they'd really not know about. Today is one of those days...

The randomness of me. (With a mainly musical theme) (excluding the bit about the turd)

There was a turd in Trap One of the toilets here in the office yesterday. Nobody owned up to it. Which is odd because blokes are normally quite proud of their faecal achievements. Savouring in the "guffy smell" of their own farts and proclaiming things like, "phew boys, don't go in there, I just shat my ring out" is a kind of competitive standard for guys. Well this bugger wasn't about to be claimed. Nor was it going to go quietly into the night. It stayed. Limiting male toilet traffic to Trap Two only. Cause nobody wants to poo on top of someone else’s poo... The thing was huge! It could have been taken to Iraq and shown to Hans Blix as proof of Saddam having WMDs. It needed sealing in concrete and dumping at the bottom of the North sea. The damn thing nearly needed exorcising just to get rid of it. I was so traumatised that nobody would claim this mammoth log that i just couldn't bring myself to blog last night. (That and I was busy making lasagne.) Anyway, this morning, strangely, it was gone. Where did it go? Who stole the Lord of all Poos? The cleaners must be a lot braver than I thought. Poor sods, having to deal with that... that... thing.

Sara Cox is a useless piece of minge. She's alright to look at sometimes (in very poor disco lighting) but she's such a dense Northern celeb arse kisser that I can't stand to listen to Radio 1 in the mornings.

SGR FM (local radio) isn't much better at that time of the day either being mainly populated by suspiciously cheerful people phoning in to guess "ironing board" or "someone shovelling gravel" for the mystery noise competition. (While it's clearly a guillotine.)

The first song that came on my randomised mp3 playlist this morning was REM with Its The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)

The word "mango" amuses me. As does the word "flange" but for entirely different reasons.

When my friend Popey was a great deal younger he savagely beaten in a night club brawl whilst Simple Minds "Don't You Forget About Me" was playing. He still cringes when it gets to the "La... La-la-la-laaaaaa" bit near the end which is when he blacked out while they were booting him in the head.

All day long I've been singing strange snippets of songs like "Flesh is burning, neh-neh-neh-neh-neh-neh", "All the duck's are swimming in the water, fal-de-ral-de-ral-da" and "Rainbow Brite, see her shining bright" and this scares my co-workers.

Apparently if you spend one night in Bangkok the world becomes your oyster.

Ricky Gervais is actually quite a talented musician. Whilst "Free love freeway" made very little sense it was still quite catchy.

I wish I'd been old enough to appreciate the 80's. Instead I have to make do with listening to Toyah, Aha and Duran Duran all day.

Avril Lavigne's album is surprisingly good listening. As are the new albums by The Calling, Theory of a Deadman, Audioslave, Vanessa Carlton, The Stone Roses (Best Of) and Puddle of Mudd.

Mango.

And that's my random drivel over for the day. Now I'm off to exercise a lot so I can get into a good enough shape (anything other than my current shape (pear)) to warrant Pinky taking me out for numerous beers.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-02-17T19:06:00.000Z

Strangerer and strangerer... Today I happened to catch a snippet of some random discussion or other on Radio Four. It was, well, different. They were discussing the Governments' plans to start utilising an untapped well of experience to combat the current shortage of trained medical professionals, namely that of refugees. Now, I hold nothing in particular against refugees. I'd prefer it if they'd bugger off somewhere else due to the fact that our soft little PM seems intent on giving them more money than he gives our own needy but that's hardly their fault. A lot of these people are fleeing from situations where we've got a sticky finger in the pie anyway.

But what got me was this. There was a brief interview with a woman who, though I have no idea where she came from, sounded very nice and spoke much better English than I can speak any other language. (Except perhaps bollocks, I'm fairly fluent in that.) She had also got nineteen years of nursing experience behind her. Nineteen years. That's a lot of nursing experience. Only, she can't become a nurse in this country because she failed the English examination. But she's a fully qualified nurse of nineteen years and she can speak good English. So she's not too good with tenses and transative verbs. Who is nowadays? Most of the younger kids I see while out and about tend to speak in some form of universal grunting that only they can understand so what's the problem if this lady says "whom" instead of "who"? I don't know what the entire messed up country of ours is coming too. We used to be an Empire, and now we're refusing to take on much needed staff because the doctors are afraid that when they ask for "10 mills of Morphine stat" they're going to be handed a bicycle pump and three aubergines.

You know what, scratch everything I just said, I'd be a little worried if a nurse were bandying about aubergines in the operating theater too.

PCheese... almost... Out.

Just one last thing, I'm now 20 stone and 8 pounds. Yay me! Since the 12th of january, when I started dieting and co-incidentally, this blog I was 23 stone and 2 pounds. I'm nearly not quite so fat as once I was. Dance for me!!!

PCheese Out. ::

2003-02-14T17:56:00.000Z

It's that time of year again. Everywhere I turn there are brightly coloured cards and decorations gaudily displaying veritable vomit inducing buckets of vile putrescence that stands in place of Hallmark's descriptions of Love. It's sad. The main reason I'm sad of course, is that I've been single for approximately 24 of the St Valentines days I have seen upon this Earth. And being that I'm 24 you can guess what percentage that is. I have had relationships, quite a few in fact, but I've always been single at VD. (Err?) Ah well, at least I had my own mesage to send to someone this year, and I got one in return. Even if it was to and from Alison, my best friend on the planet and general babe.

Alison is a quandry for me, I absolutely love her to bits and she's the most amazing woman I know yet I know in my head that nothing is ever going to happen cause we're such good friends. And I kind of don't want anything to happen. Except when I'm drunk and horny. Anyway, I just got in from work and found a lovely little red envelope awaiting me. It has a teddy and a ladybird on. I'm not sure how ladybirds fit into the whole "Love" equation but I'm pretty sure it's a very sweet Ladybird.

The message inside read : (blue bits are written, normal colour is the printy stuff)

To Paul,
Today is a day for remembering you
Because you're so special all year through
On Valentine's Day With Love
And you know it.
Love + Hugs Always
Love ?

It actually gives me a warm feeling inside to know that, ahem, "someone" has seen fit to go out and spend money on deforestation in order to make me feel a bit better about myself. And If possible I love her even more for it.

I don't know why she signs with a question mark though, I've been able to recognise her handwriting for several years now. :)

Thanks Ali, you're one in a billion trillion gazillion.

My response, by the way, was a handily scripted text message, all my own work. Whaddya think?

I would compare you to a rose,
except a rose is thorny.
A rose can oft inspire love,
but you just make me horny.

It was supposed to be funny instead of cheesy. I quite like it. But then, I'm PCheese, so what more do you need?

PCheese Out. ::

2003-02-13T22:58:00.000Z

390,000! Three hundred and ninety thousand people, That's how many complete wallies put down their religion on last years census as "Jedi" and I'm one of them. You see back when the census was just beginning some bright spark noticed that they had included a question about religion for the first time. So a spam mail was created, lo, like heavenly multipart meat products. I got this eMail, as did many others who I know, which claimed that if enough people (10,000 I think) submitted Jedi as a religion then the Government would have to adopt it as an actual religion. Unfortunately this was a tiny bit of a fib. but still the overwhelming number of people who put Jedi must be pretty proud of themselves for messing with a Government census. Tee bloody hee!

I must justify my reasoning behind putting Jedi before I get lumped with the reputation of being a sad Star Wars fan. I don't actually like Star Wars that much, not the old ones, definitely not the new ones. I abhor Star Trek with a fiery passion. I'm not really big on SciFi at all, my favourite SciFi film is Aliens which is more horror than SciFi. I do love Buffy and Angel though. And Farscape is damn cool too. But they're not, well, nerdy.

The only reason I put jedi was because I had nothing better to put, but that was then and this is now. Next time it comes round I might put Wicca. For those that don't know Wicca is actually the religion, or system of beliefs if you prefer, practised by modern day witches. It's intriguing. I've looked over a few books of Wiccan Lore and they seem to be quite interesting whilst holding true tenets of belief that I quite agree with. So I'll look into it a bit more and keep you posted but you never know, next time you come back I might have become an Earth Mother.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-02-12T18:18:00.000Z

If you happen to live in the UK and are planning a holiday abroad in the near future I have some advice for you. Don't.

You see, unless you've been living in a media blacked-out hole for the past few weeks you will know by now that the so called "terrorist threat" has been increasing daily. Now Heathrow airport is surrounded by serious looking military police with serious looking guns and serious looking tanks. Serious. The fact that five minutes down the road you could climb on the roof of a hotel and pop a stinger into the fuselage of an aircraft screaming 50 feet over your head is neither here nor there. The airport itself is being guarded and any traffic to or from there is being carefully monitored. Of course, when they say carefully monitored they mean that they're stopping every vehicle and asking the occupants "'scuse us but are you carrying any missiles?" and if they say no they're rectally probing them anyway. Not very secure really.

{sigh}

It's a tremendous shame that it's all come to this. I can't be arsed to side on the politics, I don't like the idea of a chimp with a big red button being in charge of one of the most powerful nations in the world and I don't like the fact that our current government is more intent on wedging it's head firmly up Mr George Bush Jnrs arse than actually sorting out their own country. Maybe I should emigrate to, err, oh well, no where is safe.

So, in light of all things to do in this possible situation, I've compiled a small list of fun things to do during the so-called "terror siege" on the UK.

Sellotape several hot-dogs and a couple of bits of broken watch to a t-shirt and walk into a bank shouting "Jihad!"

Go abroad on holiday and when asked by customs if you packed your bags yourself reply "No. A small, bearded, Arab gentleman did it for me."

Phone a friend from a payphone and mention the words "Hezbollah", "Explosion", "Oil", "Downing Street" and "Infidel" several times. Then sit back and see how long it takes the SAS to arrive and tear gas their house.

Take audio clips from every Presidential Speech about the "crisis" and make Mr Bush sound like he's saying rude things his about dad.

Err, that's pretty much me out of ideas. None of those are actually fun anyway (unless you really enjoy being shot, arrested or rectally probed by large men with marigolds on). At least it's nice to know there's one good thing the government have done to help prevent an attack on London. Any suicide car bombers will have to pay a fiver's worth of congestion charges just to get into the bloody city now!

PCheese Out. ::

2003-02-10T21:32:00.000Z

Well, the good news is that this bugger is back up and running. I've had no end of problems with it this weekend from not being able to publish to having my comments system shout SQL errors at me. It's been a 'mare. The bad news is that I've just been to see Final Destination 2 and it scared the living shit out of me. I don't normally get weirded out over films but both the Final Des films have done me noggin in. It's the whole "Death is stalking you rap" that whigs me out. Big time.

Anyway, it's rather good, if you like that sort of thing, so I recommend you go see it. Just not at the UGC in Ipswich cause it now costs £5.80 for a ticket. I really should invest in one of those monthly pass things only I can never be bothered to go get one. One day I might.

Waffle is out at the ballet tonight, apparently because he's cultured. I'm pretty sure that's not the reason but we won't go into that. (Hejustlikeswatchingmenintightspranceaboutlikewalliesthrustingtheirmightypackagesabouttheplace)

Erm, yes. That's about it really. I spent my entire Sunday feeling very woeful and completely unable to deal with reality due to the pounding headache incurred the night before. The worst thing is, I can't actually remember what I got up to on Saturday night suffice to say I got home okay as I was awoken at 2pm the following day by my mum coming round and hammering on the door. I live 20 miles from where my parents do so she was a mighty bit miffed that she'd driven round to wake me up and then I wasn't fit to travel back to my folks place for Sunday dinner. I love my mum's Sunday Roasts so you can imagine how messed up I was to miss one of those. I had a low-fat chinese rib sandwich instead. Yummy.

Right, I'm off to bed probably to dream about eggs with womens faces, wells, bricks and cattle mutilations. But before I do, I'm going to go download the new Terry Tate : Office Linebacker video from Reebok. They're superb. Really!

PCheese Out. ::

2003-02-08T16:34:00.000Z

I've decided to make today a kind of link fest as it's just one of those things I feel like doing. Today, don't marvel at the non-events of my life although I am going to chat a little before my linkies...

Yesterday there was a distinct lack of blog due to the fact that straight after work I went round to Craig and Merie's house to cook a chinese meal. Chinese for six. It was beautiful. I got to inflict my diet on everyone but they didn't even notice. The menu was thus :

Baked red peppers stuffed with sweet chillis, shallots and spring onions.
Chicken & green pepper in black bean sauce.
Salted noodles.
Chilli fried egg rice.

It was absolutely gorgeous if I do say so myself. Nobody else seemed to complain either. Except Waffle, who didn't like the rice too much - a little spicy for him.

Then on to today, which has to be quite possibly the strangest shopping trip I've ever been on. My usual Saturday excursions usually result with me coming home with a new CD or two, a couple of DVDs or videos and maybe a game. Some rare times I get a new Tshirt. Today I returned home with a shower curtain, four glasses with penguins on, a pack of wine gums and a new coat. £400 worth of ankle length black leather. I'm like a fat-neo. But damn do I like my new coat. Damn! Hell yeah!

Ah well, have a few links....

Feed the nine mouthed baby. Scary as hell. Really.

You've probably all been to rathergood, but my buddy Kalten pointed out last night something I hadn't seen before, this. I really want to watch this when I'm "floaty light" cause I reckon it would be a brain-fart. I introduce him to weebl in exchange. A fair trade. I also got sent this yesterday in my Friday Thing. It rocks, in a disco way.

I'm gonna put this one up as, even though it's through b3ta, I think it's worthy of attention... go MING!

That's all kiddies!

Enjoy!

PCheese Out. ::

2003-02-06T13:12:00.002Z

Pinky has just put something up about Sexual Starsigns or some such thing. Now, I don't normally do these sort of things but I had a go, to see what it said, it gave me this...

Your Sex Sign is Aquarius!

You're a 22nd century lover - without any rules or hangups.
You're a typical "trysexual"... well versed in the bedroom and curious about everything you haven't tried.
You give everyone you run into the most exotic sex ever.

What's *Your* Sex Sign?

Which is ironic really, as I'm a Pisces. But it's fairly close. And ladies do say I have magic hands. Must be because I'm a well hung lesbian. (I have thick fingers).

PCheese Out. ::

2003-02-05T23:58:00.000Z

I said I'd be back. I didn't lie! I also said I'd have something interesting to say. I lied.

I've spent pretty much the entire evening doing absolutely bugger all. There, and you see how productive my life can be.

Actually, in amongst other things, I've been scouring the net looking for a birthday present for my dad. He's 50 this year and we're having a massive party, but I'm pretty clueless on the gift ideas. Alright, so his brithday's not until June but if I keep putting it off like I did Christmas I'll not end up buying him anything until Christmas Eve which will be far too late and besides which, I should be out buying Christmas presents not extremely belated birthday gifts. {sigh}

One of these days I shall sort my head out. Until that time, I shall continue to litter this blog with nonsense and semi-clad photos of myself doing strange things. Just like every other page on the internet.

I'll try to be entertaining tomorrow. But I will be watching Buffy and Angel first.

Oh yes, and Jam Boy, if you happen to stop by here, leave me a message or something. I mean fancy phoning me up for the first time in the month becuase you're stuck on a pub quiz. And fancy not knowing that the answer to the question "What's it all about, life, the universe and everything?" is 42. I'm dissappointed in you Senor!

PCheese Out. ::

2003-02-05T19:02:00.000Z

There seems to be a little controversy flying about that I am, in fact, schizophrenic. This just isn't true. I really do have a housemate called D or Waffle to those of you whose pages he graces with his outlandish comments and mock curses. And to prove it, I've stolen his soul with an infernal picture box and placed it up here for you all to see.

Anyway, I'm gonna go have my dinner and relax after an incredibly long day. More interesting things later on. Promise.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-02-04T22:31:00.000Z

It's now Tuesday. I realised this after waking up this morning and looking at the clock and seeing that it was 7:05am. That can only happen on a Tuesday. I wake up half an hour early for no apparent reason only on Tuesdays. I hate Tuesdays. They're too near to being a Monday for comfort and they're nowhere near being 4:55pm on a Friday. The best time of the week.

And I realise also that this humble wee blog has been bare since Saturday. One in the morning on Saturday. That's terrible. It's the equivalent of writing "Dear Diary, this will be a journal of all my thoughts and hopes and dreams over the coming year" on January 3rd and then the next entry is 23rd June - "Aunty Maud's birthday". I do have reasons though. You see, for some inexplicable reason I stayed up until 3am on Saturday morning messing about on Lycos Chat. Which was great fun.

The following night I went out round a mates house and played silly buggers, a game at which I excel. Sunday night I went to bed nice and early cause I was knackered and, let's face it, I had sat on my arse all day doing absolutely nothing which makes for interesting reading. Then yesterday I had to go out to a customers site, I can't say who as that would be some sort of naughtiness in the business world (I think) but suffice to say it was a bit of a 'mergency and I had to jump in a taxi to get there.

There were two reasons for the taxi:

1) The train would have taken too long.

2) I can't drive.

Just to clarify, that is correct, I'm a 24 year old man who cannot drive. It's not that I've been banned or anything. I've not taken and failed the test several times. I've NEVER actually taken the test. And why? Because I'm shit. I've had numerous lessons (about 50 hours I think) and yet still am unable to grasp the concept that things in the car react differently to different amounts of pressure. Like stamping on the accelerator makes you go faster (like a kangaroo) and stamping on the brake leaves an interesting pattern of dribble on the windscreen where the instructors face has mushed into it.

So anyway, I got a taxi. A taxi that was driven by a mad old Cantonese woman who I'm pretty sure at one point had been a mail order bride. She was charming and quite lovely in a "hardly speaking English" kind of way, it's just that the English she did speak came out so rapidly itprobablysoundedlikethiswouldifitwerereadaloud. She was also only three foot tall. She also wore a massive hat. It was black. And massive. And I'm sure I was a better driver than her. She kept driving down the middle of the dual carriageway. Both in the fast and slow lane. This scared me. When she admitted she only knew the way for the first 8 miles of our 34 mile journey and I was her first ever long distance customer I was a little tense. When she braked so hard to avoid disappearing up the arse of a stationary truck that my breakfast resurfaced I was, well, less than amused. Especially seeing as I had to swallow it rather than get it on my suit. Do you realise just how nasty that is?

We eventually got where we were going safely, albeit with my nerves shot to buggery. And the fare came to 36 quid. I gave her two twenties and let her keep the change, after all, she hadn't got a clue about the way back and was probably going to have to use it to start her new life.

So if you happen to be out and about and see a tiny strange woman in a massive hat asking jabbering incessantly about "Heeeepsich", give her a nudge my way.

Cheers.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-02-01T01:01:00.000Z

It's one o' clock in the morning. It's approximately seven hours since I arrived home from work. And I have done precisely nothing. Squat. Zip. Zilch. Nada. And I've loved every minute of it. It's been Bliss doing absolutely feck all. It's nice and warm and that's all I care about at this moment. I think I'm going to have a beer. (One beer can't harm me). And then I'm going to go to bed.

And dream of things.

When I was a child I had a recurring dream that I still remember to this day, and it still scares me. I used to dream that I was walking around a lovely medieval kingdom with towering white castles and picturesque little villages. I would go to explore one of these castles for no reason that I can remember and in it was a little girl. She had a massively deep, booming voice and would chase me throwing huge rocks at me. I would flee into the forest where I found a cute little cottage. In which lived a colossal giant who would speak to me in a little girls voice and be really nice to me. I would run away from him. I still don't know what scared me more, the little girl with the giant voice who was mean, or the giant with the little girls voice who was nice. Every time I woke up from the dream I was always running away from both of them.

Anyone good with these things? I haven't a bloody clue what that means.

While I'm at it, one final little story. Completely true of course.

I was about eight years old and was in bed drifting off to sleep when I heard it. {skrit-skrit-skrit}
I sat bolt up in bed. There was a scratching noise coming from the wardrobe. (closet or whatever)
I sat and listened for about a minute and heard nothing more so I lay down again. {skrit-skrit-skrit}
Seriously wigging now I jumped out of bed and ran down the stairs screaming incoherently about a monster in the cupboard.
My parents took me back upstairs and put me back in bed. They stood and waited for about five minutes. No noise.
They said I was dreaming it and went back downstairs.
I lay there in the near-black trying to get to sleep, trying not to think of fanged, clawed beasties. {skrit-skrit-skrit}
This time I was at the bottom of the stairs before my sheets had hit the floor.
"Mum, Dad - THERE'S SOMETHING IN THE CUPBOARD!!!!"
Again I was taken upstairs. My dad goes over near the cupboard.
He stops...

...{skrit-skrit-skrit}...

My Mum actually looked scared at this point, I was terrified but a little triumphant that I had been right.
My Dad... Opened... The... Door...

And the next door neighbours sodding cat jumped onto his face and tried to claw out his eyes. The little bastard.

Since that day I've, not so much disliked, but never trusted cats. They're too shifty.

I'll leave you with that.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-01-31T18:42:00.000Z

It took me quite a while to decide what to put up here today. You see, I'm suffering from exhaustion. Not the medical serious-conditiony type where you collapse and wheeze like a fat man after running a marathon, but the fake and self inflicted variety of exhaustion.

I've been poking about on Lycos chat. In the philosophy lounge to be exact. It's hectic. Muchos hectic. It's hard to keep track of. Like an invisible thing. I imagine I'll get used to it if I keep going back enough times but at the moment I'm still technically some sort of n00b. Still, everyone made me feel more then welcome! Especially the likes of Pinky, Fluffy, Herc and more...

Speaking of Pinky. She's a strange one. But I think I might want to eat her with jelly cause she's scrummy. And I'll stop that now before I turn into some sort of crazy net stalker person. It was for RESEARCH damn it!

And now I'm off to watch the new weebl (kudos to Scaryduck for reminding me) and then I'm going to cook myself something hopefully both filling and appetising whilst being approximately seven calories. (I had a big lunch today.)

Then I'll come back. And type some more shite. For your enjoyment.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-01-30T23:21:00.000Z

As an addendum (whatever that actually means) I have a couple of random brain farts to throw out.

1) I sometimes use big words. This would be perfectly satisfactory to most people only I sometimes use big words in the wrong place. Case in point, addendum. Is that right? Is that wrong? Am I being odd? I don't know. You see, not only do I over-punctuate and frequently spout what MSWord likes to call "sentence fragments", I also type in utter crap. Though I do like to think I make it readable.

2) I went on Lycos chat last night. Until 11pm last night I was a Lycos virgin. (Speaking of virginity, is it possible that virginity, standard virginity, can grow back if you don't "exercise" it too much?) I couldn't seem to work out what the hell I was doing, although some lovely chap called The Captain seemed to be very helpful and kept promoting me. I think I'm now Godlike or something. Or maybe I'm passenger level 4. Whatever that means. Weird. Anyway, I got totally lost in approximately seven seconds, was propositioned by three horny young men from Leeds and found that I could say /hi to the lift. Someone will have to help me.

3) I used variations on the word virgin too many times in the above paragraph.

4) Whoever played Gwen Raiden aka "The Lightning Lass" from tonights episode of Angel was absolute sex on a stick. AND she was in leather or PVC or rubber of some sort. Can we all say yum? I know I did. Yummmmmmmmmm.....

5) I have procured, alright begged until I was allowed to borrow, a digital camera from Tim at work. So expect lots of pictures of irrelevant shit like the garden covered in snow, the tree covered in snow and just about every other bloody thing in the local vicinity... covered in snow. Possibly some off centre, slightly blurry photos of my beautiful self as well of course.

6) I've run out of rice cakes.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-01-30T23:19:00.000Z

Snow.

A lot of people seem to like snow just a little too much. I don't get it. It's basically just cold rain. A huge proportion of the population seem to relish in conversational bliss when bemoaning the British weather patterns. That is, a lot of folk like to bitch about the rain.

Snow.

Kids seem to love snow. They'll go out dressed like little padded Michelin kids and play in it. A strange phenomenon. But adults do exactly the same. An even stranger phenomenon. Grown men (and indeed women) will quite happily go outside to scoop handfuls of the sodding stuff into their red-raw, chapped, misshapen claws and squeeze it into veritable ice bullets. Ammunition against a common foe... ...Anyone else with a snowball. There must have been a time when I actually liked snow, I just can't remember when. Sod it.

Snow.

It's a complete bastard. You see, whilst I'd be the first to admit I'm not the most mature person, I fail to see the fun in hurling cold lumps of mush at each other. This is probably because I'm rather large and fairly slow. I make an excellent target. I think that's why I'm sat typing this with my stiff misshapen claws and welts all over me. Along with the general discomfort of something slowly defrosting in my underwear.

Snow.

It's just a little after 11pm. I spent the evening in Televisual bliss around my friend Meries house watching Buffy and Angel (I had to leg it at 10pm to get on the bus so Scrubs will have to wait until I can watch the tape tomorrow). As I don't have a TV at home, let alone Sky, I've arranged a pretty good deal. I go to Craig and Meries - keep Merie company (as Craig's working out of Stansted during the week at the moment) - I cook a nice meal - and I get to stay and watch Buff-Gel. Beautiful. It's not really an arrangement as I'm sure I'd be allowed round to watch if I didn't cook. But I like to cook so that's a good thing.

Anyway.

It's just a little after 11pm. There's three inches of snow on the ground outside. Not three square inches because that would be a tiny amount, just a giant, fluffy, fecking freezing blanket of three inch deep frozen skypiss. Great. Tomorrow I'm sure to be lambasted for being late and sumarily given a white wash. Ho hum. (Note to all people what does not know... A white wash is where you are pinned down and snow is stuffed into every available orifice of your jacket, thus filling your lovely warm protective gear with 'orrible slush. It's not nice.)

Snow.

You can keep it.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-01-29T21:36:00.000Z

Oh. One final thing. Lycos can go feck themselves. The "links" and "images" pages appears to be smothered in tasteless advertising shite of the ninth degree. I will start paying for hosting somewhere soon. I promise. Until then, err, you can handle it right? There's no pop-ups. It's just, well, shit.

Anyone know a good, cheap, service provider?

PCheese Out. ::

2003-01-29T21:33:00.000Z

Ooh, ooh. I forgot. One last thing...

The beautiful b3ta hath given me a new word, and ye shall go forth and use this word with reckless abandon. The word is a God unto itself. The word is BUMFLAKES.

Laugh? I nearly shat.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-01-29T21:30:00.000Z

As you may, or may not, have noticed. I have finally pulled my finger out of my arse and done something with this site. Not much though. It now has a bunch of links, which somebody somewhere might find interesting if they have little else to do. (These links may also give pleasure to people if they find their own page linked - it's a nice, warm community feeling.) It also has an images section. As you can probably gather if you take a look at the images page : it was hastily put together, it's not very good at all and the only thing there is destined to do nothing but scare children. Kind of like the Living Body exhibit at the Millenium Dome. Utter toss that was.

PCheese Out. ::

2003-01-29T18:40:00.000Z

Apologies to all, I meant to post this last night! Typed it out, saved it and plum forgot to load the damn thing up to this so called interweb. Also, my comments system is about as reliable as an ancient condom that you found down the back of the dresser when you were searching desperately so you could get your end away. Sorry if you tried to post and couldn't. Sorry! Anyway, here we go :

This is going to be a very disjointed post as I have three days worth of gumph to fit into a single blog post. I could space it out but this way people might think my life is full of interesting things.

I went to visit a couple of friends of mine at the weekend - Craig and Merie. They're possibly the most hospitable people in the world. Their house is your house. Mee Cassa Ey Soo Casa (Damn I'm good at foreign lingo). Soon though, somebody else's house will be their house, as they're thinking of moving to a colossal five bedroom-er. They're not married and have no kids, although Craig has a brilliant little girl called Caitlin who comes to visit sometimes, but they're still contemplating getting a huge FIVE bedroom house. I'll say that one last time. FIVE! The worst bit is, it's almost my dream house. It's just superb : large, spacious, nicely planned and tastefully decorated. There's only a couple of things wrong with it.

1) It's about three times what I could afford on a mortgage on my own.

2) It's not going to be mine.

I think my life is destined to be spent looking at pretty things I can't afford.

On the plus side though I got to play with Caitlin for a couple of hours. I love kids (even to the extent of becoming a registered child minder and studying early human development at school (I wanted to be a teacher (Where did that go wrong? (How many brackets do you think I can manage?)))) I can see what Ben is on about half the time though. Two hours with a sprog and my energy for the day was gone. In no particular order I was made to :

Make a Sylvanian family mouse knock on, and then fall through, a door in a play house. Several hundred times.

Run away from a particularly large weed in the garden.

Fight a particularly large weed in the garden.

Eat a particularly large weed in the garden. (That can't be healthy)

Bounce a lot. (I think this was the tiring bit)

Caitlin is four years old and she almost totally exhausted me in two hours. I dread to think what'll happen when (if) I have kids. Especially if I get the five boys I want for my own five-a-side football team.

Ah well, on to more cheerful things.

It seems that Pinky is in a bit of a quandary over her sex life. This is a terrible shame, or would be if I had a sex life to feel superior about, but I don't. This year I shall be sending a Valentines card to Ms Jenna Jameson c/o Vivid Video... or my right hand. At least it seems that Pinky has an interesting sex life, with roles and parts to play. Master and slave.

The closest I've ever come to being the master is when I managed to get an Ex to make me a cup of coffee afterwards. Although I did once get away with watching almost all of 'Maximum Overdrive' during a session. Don't ask why I was watching that (she definitely wasn't - she was facing the wrong way) it wasn't for stimulation or anything, it was just on.

One day I'll have to try some of this so-called experimentation. The most extreme thing I've done so far is have sex in a tree. It wasn't a lot of fun. We nearly fell out twice.

PCheese Out. ::