barnacle

I thought I had put my mother's Christmas present in the cupboard, but as it turns out I had left it on the floor and she came in and trod on it.

It seems to have survived intact though.

The BBC weather page appears to be broken and says 'none' in every field.

The weather outside is aimlessly stabbing at types of day without ever managing to be one for more than five minutes together.

Were I suspicious, I would suspish that the two were linked.

I seem to have accidentally ordered two copies of Kitchen Stories from play.com - they've so far not turned up anyway, but when they do, would anyone be interested in buying one for, oh, £6 (I paid £7.99)? To save wasting postage on returning one. It's a lovely film, very daft and gently funny. Won't hurt the brain.

Item: Realisation that moving a chest of drawers becomes vastly easier if you take the drawers out first.

Item: Discovery of favourite hat, lost for a week, hidden by cunning expedient of being in full view but upside-down.

So, this morning I came downstairs at a ridiculous hour owing to slightly overdoing it on the wine at an arty wossname last night and made myself greasy morning-after breakfast. As I sat down to consume said slow suicide on a plate, I looked out of the window and noticed this:



In case you can't tell, the little man in the dress lying on his face is a laughing buddha. Not that anyone in my house is a buddhist, but he's cheery. Anyway, he lives in the flowerpot (in this case, 'flowerpot' means 'old lab sink full of ivy'. Although I think there are usually some daffodils in it in spring). Normally he is vertical.

That thing next to him, as you probably can tell, is, um... a cross. Made of sticks.

The only explanation I can see for this having occurred is that Betel, a replace-your-drugs-with-Jesus sort of a group who do gardening, came to our house on wednesday to chop down our apple trees. Either that or someone came up the garden to burgle the place and had a fit of uncontrollable piety all over the patio.

When I finished laughing hysterically, which took a while, I wondered if I ought to be offended. Mostly I'm just amused. GOOD CHRIST A GRAVEN IDOL, SAVE THIS HEATHEN FAMILY LORD. I might have to write them a snotty letter, though, before my atheist xp start to dwindle.

Wenches! Be celebratin' talk like a pirate day in style!

In a survey conducted on the website of eminent retail superstoreshop Curry's, our dedicated team of statistical persons found one single mobile phone with mp3-player capacity. It costs £89.99 (in the interests of general harmony, I am of course assuming you obtained your overpriced phone by exchange of currency for goods, and not by mugging a dear white-haired old granny*).

The cheapest available pair of heaphones costs £4.99.

In fact, were you to go to Argos, you could get some for the thoroughly bargainous price of £1.99 (our survey began in Argos, but their phone-feature-search thing doesn't seem to work).

All this said, FUCKING BUY SOME, YOU HORRIBLE OVERGROWN CHILD.

P.S. You can't sing. No, honestly.


*A technophilic one, obviously.

(now with cat's bottom free gratis for nothing)

Your genteel host has a mobile again. Well, she has her mother's old one, which is about the size of her head and ugly to boot, but does work. Same number as before. Hooray for communication.

( On names in Harry Potter. Barely a spoiler, but you know. )

Watching the surface of half a cup of coke under strobe lights? Hours of wholesome fun.

The place where I spend most time during the day. Oh dear.

(From neevel)

Ask for a photo (actually, more fun: a photo or a drawing) of something in my house, or anywhere else I'm likely to be. You know you want to.

As i went out one rather dark and chilly october evening, tra-la, I spied a fair maid and this she did cry: ANAL SEX! WOOOOOOOOOO!

Singing too-ra-lilly etc.

My picture hostess is changing domains, so they won't be visible for a little while, until I get round to moving them all and changing links and such. If you're really desperate to see anything (no, I can't think why either), just ask.

Very soothing.

Repeat after me, brother mine: the KETTLE must BOIL, or the TEA will be SCUMMY and DISGUSTING.

Were I a cynical sort of person, I might suggest that the only thing which changes as you move through the education system is that the coffee gets more expensive. SIXTY DAMNED PENCE.

I feel like making a mix CD. Anyone want one?

Not sure how I feel about this. Oh well. A bit new, at least.



(Dude)