All entries for November 2005
November 30, 2005
I like to think of my memory as something akin to a notepad. When revising for an exam the other day, I had a terrible realisation. My notepad is full. I've reached the cardboard at the back. Not only that, but I've written all over the bit of card. And wasted a corner of it with a doodle (the doodle is, I think, Quagmire from Family Guy, but its not a very good one and I can't be a 100% on this).
See now the problem is, while I have a mental notepad, I only seem to have a mental biro. Pencil would have been too good in the way of forward planning. So here I am, a full, biro-written notepad. And no mental Tip-Ex. Fortunately, I seem to be scraping through the last year of my degree with a massive wad of post it notes which are slowly taking over all the space inside of my head. Its getting a bit messy.
Now ideally I could tidy it up. Rip out the needless pages. The ones that still have the lyrics to Barbie Girl, a perfectly maintained image of the main exit at Bromley Railway Station, and my seat number for Palace's trip to Wembley for the 1996/7 play off final. Of course, this doesn't work. By even acknowledging their existence, they'll be stuck there for another half a dozen years. And because they've been recently viewed, the notepad will always fall open on one of those pages.
So what do I need to do to readily discover the rules on admissibility for prior inconsistent statements? I can find the page that tells me they exist. I just can't find the page that tells me what they are.
I think, frankly, I need an upgrade. An electronic, cross referenced database. With a junk filter.
Alternatively, I may just be sleep deprived and a little bit excited that I turned 21 a few hours ago. Good night.
November 13, 2005
"Note to self Re: the Fonz..."
A little explanation to my housemates for that random outburst of laughter a moment ago. Reading an article by Simon Jordan (Crystal Palace Chairman) in his fortnightly Observer column (13/11/05):
In my opinion, no owner in their right mind would willingly invite an average agent into his academy, any more than a brothel owner would let a syphilitic nutter into his brothel
"...Mark, you are NOT the Fonz"
November 10, 2005
Writing about web page http://www.qarxis.com/Fainting_Goats
"Blitzkrieg! I'm in the Ardennes, nothing can hurt me in the Ardennes!"
See the above link. I've been replaying the clip and pissing myself laughing for the last 20 minutes. Why the hell does this happen? It must be the greatest cock up mother nature has ever made in terms of a self-defence mechanism.
Quite funny though.
"Mark? You're in the stationary cupboard?"
November 06, 2005
"This was definitely a good idea..."
Everytime I head home, I have to take a good hour and a half journey down the M40. Today, I noticed some very strange things on that trip:
– There is a concept of "car friends". Car friends are other cars who tend to keep up with you for a long period of time. Often a yo-yoing effect is involved. Well today, I made a car enemy. He kept with me alright, but he wouldn't bugger off out of the way and was frankly infuriating in countless indescribable ways. Eventually, he exited at Oxford and I laughed a manic laugh to myself, finally vanquishing my foe.
– Several other motoring delinquents were encountered on the journey. They all either emerged or disappeared at Oxford. I have come to the conclusion that Oxford harbours all kind of evil motorists. I can just imagine them plotting on how best to attach spikes to their wheel hubs.
– A slightly less paranoia driven observation: my windscreen wipers will not wipe in time with any dance bassline on Big Tunes 3 - Disc 2. Fast is too fast, medium is too slow, and slow is just a stupid thing to try and fit to dance music.
So if you see an angry looking fellow steaming up the motorway, looking extra cautious and paranoid around Oxford, and playing incessantly with his windscreen wipers, chances are its me. Or someone equally impatient with motorway-driving.
"...There is no possible way that this wasn't a good idea."
November 03, 2005
"But Officer, she sat on it"....
I've been putting some thought into what to blog lately. I could eternally rant about how woefully inadequate Leamington-based motorists are, but I reckon it'd get boring. Football offered some opportunities, but I'm still sidelined. So following a trip to see Saw 2 the other night, a mass murder-influenced discussion brought up the idea of making a documentary. About students. In the style of a nature programme. David Attenborough style commentary and a leafy twig could provide endless opportunities!
Thing is, I woke up the next morning and contemplated the possible drawbacks. Most notably the risk of someone twatting me round the head for filming them and sarcastically muttering something about their dress sense. That, and the lack of a camera.
So I came up with something new. Inspired by re-watching an old-ish Jimmy Carr DVD, his placing of inappropriate ads inspired me. I'm going to start placing Lonely Hearts ads. Just to guage how desperate people really are. All replies will be posted up here. We'll see just how many people out there really are looking for an "Albino he-she, one leg considerably longer than other, birthmark covering 3.7% of body, allergic to cardboard, seeking similar". Or just how popular an "Half Italian thoroughbred in need of a ride" really is. There's always the classic "Desperate bloke needs shag. Will consider porkers" to consider.
This will not be a purely sex-orientated male venture though. Oh no. I've thought about this. Less women use personals. So, if we put in some fictional women, we can see how desperate the male population is. "27 year old single BBW seeks weedy bloke for interesting social experiment". Etc.
..."Yeah, right. Now get in with the nonces."
November 02, 2005
Writing about web page http://blogs.warwick.ac.uk/chinde/entry/making_evil_monk/
Writing about an entry you don't have permission to view
"You want some do you?..."
Halloween photos are now up and can be found here. Click the link above for the inspiration, making and enjoyment of those wonderful hooded garments.
"TASTE MY STEEL!"