Hello all - I'm writing this entry from my Official Best Mate's house down in Gloucester. Tomorrow I leave for Australia for two weeks and I CAN. NOT. WAIT. I will, of course, be providing a full account of all my exploits down under (*snigger*) upon my return.

 

In order to amuse myself today and stop myself checking that my passport is still in my bag an obsessive amount of times, me and Sarah (aforementioned Official Best Mate) took ourselves off to Alton Towers, whereupon we went on relatively new ride 'Rita, Queen of Speed'. Let me tell you now children, it is LEGENDARY. Because we went in the middle of the week we walked on to pretty much everything straight away and Rita demanded multiple visits. Which, naturally, led to many jokes and puns about riding and going down on Rita. *sigh* I should be ashamed but it's too funny.

 

It is quite an experience going from 0 - 100mph in 2.5 seconds, and when I say experience, I mean it's something which fills me with pure unadulterated fear. I don't know why going that fast should scare me like it did. Maybe I have tachophobia. I know for a fact I have acrophobia. No matter how fast Rita goes, it does not compare to how acutely aware of my own mortality I was while on the cable cars in Alton Towers. Forget Oblivion, I hereby swear never to go on those bad lads ever again. *shudder*

 

Well, I feel that's enough for tonight - being thrown about all day and various speeds and angles has inexplicably made me very tired.  Good night all, I shall catch up with you all when I get back*.

 

 

*Provided I don't get spotted and cast in Neighbours. Which, let's face it, is entirely likely.

So, as I wrote on my previous entry, I resigned from my job. I then made an executive decision not to finish working my notice. They say a change is as good as a rest, and my God, have I had a change. I swtiched from my previous job of account manager to the field of medical science.

 

And when I say medical science, what I actually mean is I work in a factory that makes medicine bottles.

 

Yeah, yeah, I know, it's not a career, blah blah blah, you've got a degree, fishcakes. Thing is, I just needed something to tie me over until I go away and so what better than a bit of factory work? It's physical which makes a nice change, and I don't have to think about it, which makes an ever better change. I also don't have to use a phone AT ALL, which actually makes it one of the best jobs I've ever had.

 

Preparations for my trip to Australia are coming along nicely. I have a list now of things that need to be done, which makes me feel organised, even if I haven't done any of them yet. I keep seeing the tourist advert for Australia on tv and getting far too excited. But not in THAT way.

 

Well, maybe just a little bit.

 

However, I do have a slight situation which needs to be overcome. I don't really like alcohol. I mean I drink it, but it has to be heavily disguised. I only drink vodka, which can easily be put with fruit juice or lemonade so you can't taste it. And while I'm sure I can get vodka over in Ausralia, it's a bit of a girly drink.

 

Though obviously, will not be telling that to any Russians in the immediate future.

 

So I'm (unsuccessfully) trying to make myself like other things at the moment. Lager I can sort of drink but it makes me pull this slightly disgusted face, which is not a good look. So I've either got to find something else to drink, or keep ploughing on with beer for the next four weeks until I just learn to love it.

 

I've had a bit of Guiness before, which I actually didn't hate, but I couldn't decide whether that's just because I'd just been drinking Reef and so couldn't taste it properly (yeah, alright, I drink Reef - I'm gay, it's allowed). So I think I'm going to have to go out one night and have a pint of Guiness. See if I can drink that.

 

I'll let you know how I get on.

Last week I watched a film called Hedwig and the Angry Inch. I don't think I can tell you just how fantastic this film is. I can not stop watching it. It's sort of similar to Rocky Horror, but at the same time not like it at all. The whole film is out and out genius from start to finish. If you only ever watch one more film, it should be Hedwig.

 

In other news, I resigned from my job last week and I'm going to Australia at the beginning of May.

 

But that's nothing compared to just how fantastic Hedwig is.

 

 

 

 

So, interesting thing happened to me this morning - I caught fire. I was lighting a hob on the oven, and as the gas lit, so too did my dressing gown.  I waved my arm up and down and the flames went out, which was fine. Then I noticed my back was on fire. Thankfully the words 'Stop. Drop. Roll.' came in to my head and after thrashing about on the floor for a few moments I managed to put them all out.

 

My housemate thinks that this is the funniest thing that has ever happened in the history of the world. Even though I came away from the incident unscathed - I find it slightly less amusing.

 

I skived work this morning (I was planning to do this even before I set myself alight, that was pretty much the nail in the coffin). Just couldn't face it. I'm seriously considering just dropping everything and wandering the Earth. Leave me a message if you think I should go. I am also welcoming inspired ways I could get myself fired or quit.

 

Sorry about the lack of writing since Christmas.

 

Bareback Mountain is severely overrated. That's not to say it's particularly bad, but it's not nearly as good as people have been making out. I personally thought Jarhead was much better.

 

 

Hello children.

 

Just wanted to share a couple of things with you.

 

Firstly, I have just found Spider-man reviewing crayons, and I think it's brilliant.

 

Secondly, time waster of the week would be this site. If your place of work is anything like mine - this week there is absolutely nothing to do. Which is great, for about half an hour. Then you get bored. Here's your solution. Recommended by former housemate Ryan and his girlfriend Jenny (hello to you both), they pointed me towards a game called Grow Cube. Instructions are kept to a minimum - so don't look at me for hints. Just play about with it - you'll get there in the end. There are three Grow Cube games to do and a special mini one for Christmas.

 

However, once you've finished all of those, you've then got to try the Tontie game on the same site. An incredibly simple concept (hit the monsters with a hammer as and when they appear) the game starts off easily enough and gets very hard very quickly. It is also highly addictive. Which is why I like it so much.

 

And that's about it for now, haven't really been up to much else, been too busy playing Tontie.

 

Just wanted to wish you all a Merry Christmas. I'll see you in the new year, when I'll be talking a lot about Brokeback Mountain. Yes.

 

You know you can still get those tiny cans of Coke? Ever noticed how there's more in than you think there is? You open it, have about three gulps and think that's going to be the end of it. 

 

Ten minutes later you suddenly realise you are still drinking that same can of Coke. You fool! You've been lulled into a false sense of security by it's cuteness.

 

I was pointing this out to my long suffering housemate Steven who was quick to liken this phenomenon to a Tardis. Looks small on the outisde, but inside it's a lot bigger than you'd think it would be.

 

Because of this, I am now referring to tiny cans of Coke as Tardis Coke.

 

I suggest you do the same.

 

By the way - Tardis Coke can also be used to prove my theory that anything mini tastes better than it's normal sized counterpart. Yes.

Further to my earlier entry, I went to see Franz Ferdinand last night.

 

Now, it is absolutely no secret that I fancy Alex Kapronos, lead singer of Franz. I freely admit to it whenever the opportunity presents itself.

 

And in the middle of this truly amazing concert, singing my heart out, a thought wanders across my mind.

 

I'm standing there in a crowd of God knows how many people, staring up at one of my idols. And it's weird. This guy is mere feet away from me and has no idea who I am or the effect he has on me.

 

Doesn't that make you think?

 

I'm not trying to be particularly profound or deep, I just find it faintly bizarre. You can affect people you don't even know without realising it. I'm not even convinced you have to be famous to do it.

 

Alex smiled at me last night during the concert. Try and dissuade me all you like that he was smling at the guy next to me or whatever, but I know what happened.

 

Thing is, I had an absolutely hideous day at work today and at the end of it all, I just thought of Alex smiling down at me, and that cheered me up.

 

It's cool.

 

Enough.

In a few moments time I shall be leaving for an afternoon of drinking. This is to enhance this evening's occasion which is me going to see Franz Ferdinand at the Metro Radio arena in Newcastle.

 

I just thought I'd come and wish you all a very happy Franz Ferdinand Day :o)

 

 

So, we all know 24 is amazing.

 

And if you don't - sort it out.

 

Meanwhile, I have made a discovery. 

 

There is one thing better than 24 - and that is watching a series with someone who has never seen it before.

 

Last winter, in January, my ex-housemate Ryan (and, it turns out, avid reader of my blog) was getting increasingly excited about the fact that the new series of 24 was soon going to be airing on Sky One. He was, then, faintly appalled to learn that I not seen any 24. EVER. It was just one of those things where I'd missed the first series (I was kinda absent that day) so I didn't bother to watch it when it came on again. You know what it's like.

 

I forget exactly how it happened, but somehow the challenge was banded about that I couldn't watch all three previous seasons before the fourth one started. Gladly forgetting the fact I had exams going on at the time I sat down to get on with some hardcore 24 watching and, I'm pleased to say, I got through them all in time to see what Mr Bauer got up to on the fourth worst day of his life.

 

Anyway, the point is, Ryan took great delight in wandering through the living room occasionally, seeing where I was up to and laughing when I was completely thrown by one of the many plot twists.

 

I am now experiencing a similar delight since I have taken it upon myself to educate Steven in the ways of 24. Watching him trying to second guess what is coming, formulating theories and generally being way off base is so entertaining I can't really put it into words. You must try it.

 

By the way Ryan, I remain firm in my belief that Nina is a complete legend. I love her.

 

It is also with great joy that I can point you all in this direction towards a teaser for series 5. Don't worry, it contains absolutely no spoilers (unless you haven't seen the end of series 4) just lots of explosions.

 

Oh my God, it looks awesome.

 

Didn't think you could get milk from a penguin? Think again...

 

 

Hallowe'en. An excuse to get dressed up. Fantastic. Not that I normally need an excuse, but it usually helps. Now, I've always wanted to get dressed up as a Ghostbuster, but I'm usually too skint to do it. This year however, I've got a loan from the bank so I finally got the chance to realise my dream.

 

Deciding to make it a team effort with my housemate and general partner in crime; Steven, we went all out on making some truly amazing costumes. Boiler suits, logos, proton packs, boots, guns that shot silly string - we were there. What really aided the final effect was that by putting on a pair of glasses Steven actually became Egon Spengler. Scary. I made an executive decision to be Peter Venkman since sarcasm is generally regarded to be my super power.

 

And so we took to the streets of Newcastle, saluting those that recognised us and shooting at those who mocked (People really weren't expecting our guns to work, which made for some comedy moments).

 

Then a strange thing started to happen.

 

Whenever we were greeted by groups of women, at least one of them would say 'Which one of you is Venkman?!' at which point I would warily raise my hand. It seems that there are a fair few ladies out there who have a thing for the legend that is Bill Murray. Fair enough, you might think - but the weird thing is this attraction gets passed on to you if you happen to be dressed up like him. God knows how many women I had my photo taken with that night.

 

Conversely, all the lads thought Egon was cool and would exclaim something along the lines of 'Spengler! Excellent!'

 

What with Steven being straight and me being "of the dark side" - by the end of the night we couldn't help but wish we could swap characters...

 

So, the other night, I dreamt I got in a fight with some charvas. They were setting off fireworks underneath cars so I went outside to challenge them on it - and promptly got beaten to a bloody pulp. Which was fine, since it was a dream.

 

Or was it?

 

When I woke up I felt a pain in my elbow. Confusion quickly turned to alarm when I realised it was bleeding fairly heavily. 'What the deuce?' I thought in a voice not unlike Stewie from Family Guy. How could I get hurt in a dream? That is just not possible. I got out of bed and quickly looked around for an explanation as to how I could have injured myself in this way. Could I have lashed out and hit something in the night? Not really, the wound that had somehow been inflicted upon me looked a lot like a deep scratch. I then noticed the corkscrew that had been left next to my bed after an impromptu drinking binge that had happened a few nights previously. Had I some how grabbed it in the middle of the night and decided to take a chunk out of my arm? No, it was too blunt for that. Fast running out of plausible explanations I wondered what the hell had actually happened. I returned  once again to the scene of the crime and looked in my bed. And there it was. The culprit. Lying right next to a small pool of blood was a tiny shard of glass. In the aforementioned drinking binge, me and my housemate Steven had broken a glass. We thought we'd got up all the pieces but obviously not. I'd somehow got it into bed with me and lacerated my arm on it. Considering the size of the piece of glass compared with the amount of blood freely coming out of my arm, I was quite amazed. But also relieved to find that I wasn't being attacked in my dreams.

 

And even more relieved to find I'd only cut my elbow...

 

Hello there faithful few who read my blog, how the devil are you?

 

I just found something which I thought was incredibly amusing. You know how they've found a tenth planet in our solar system? Well officially it's called 2003 UB313, but the scientists decided to name it Xena. Presumably this generation of astronomers aren't all that up on Roman gods.

 

Anyway, it turns out that Xena has a moon all of it's own. And what has it been named? Gabrielle. Yes, it now appears that new discoveries are named after fictional lesbian characters.

 

I eagerly await the discovery of a Willow comet and a Tara supernova. Genius.

 

 

Click here.

 

Go on, do it.

 

I dunno, you don't go into work for three weeks and suddenly you don't have a job anymore! What the hell is wrong with people these days?

 

 

So, Monday morning, I went off to my doctor to get the all clear on my hand so I could go back to work. 'Yeah, seems fine' he said 'if you want to go back then you can'. A part of me was faintly gutted by this because, well, who wants to go back to work when they've been off for a fortnight? But the rest of me was glad I could start earning some money again and go back to having a life. Or something like it.

 

That night, I couldn't get to sleep because I had a really bad stomach ache. Typical I thought - first day back and I'm going to be knackered. After a while I looked at my watch and realised I'd been kept awake by this pain for about three and a half hours - so I went off and necked a load of pills (I don't know what they were. I just found them lying about). This did the trick and I finally got to sleep.

 

I woke up the next morning feeling rough as. My stomach ache was still there but I was now going hot and cold and the pain had also moved to my kidneys, which I didn't think was a particularly good sign. Hoping the agency I worked for had a sense of humour, I phoned in sick and went back to sleep.

 

I woke up again around 12ish and was now feeling worse. I decided to go online and check my symptoms on the NHS Direct website. You type in what's wrong and they tell you how long you have to live. Something like that anyway. So off I went - clicked on the abdominal pain thing. Then there was a list. Do you have any of the following? blah blah blah... feeling sick? - Yup, got that one, so I clicked on it. The next screen came up. Call 999 it said. Oh great.

 

I then phoned NHS Direct, because I wasn't convinced I was an emergency. I spoke to a nurse who said although she couldn't diagnose over the phone she thought I might have a kidney infection and I should phone my GP. Which I did and he said he wanted me to come in so he could examine me.

 

So I dragged my sorry arse out of bed and went down to see my doctor (which seemed like the longest journey in the world) who then proceeded to take the piss. Literally. He wanted to check whether I had a kidney infection and whether I was diabetic or not. Turns out I had neither of these and I have in fact got a virus. He sent me home with some nice strong painkillers and told me to drink lots of fluid. He also told me it's going to take me about 7-10 days to get over this. And even then it might come back.

 

So I've gone from not being able to go to work but essentially feeling fine, to not being able to go to work and feeling awful.

 

Superb.

So, it transpires that I will get some sick pay after all. 'Hoorah', I thought to myself.

 

But then I was told how much I'll be getting.

 

Turns out I'll be on 13 quid a day. Once you take tax off, that will just about buy me a KitKat.

 

Has anyone seen my piss lying about the place? Because I think someone's taken it.

 

I have a very boring and repetitive job. Though while it is both boring and repetitive it is actually quite a laugh since the people I work with are mint.

 

However, the problem is that because it's repetitive I've now actually got a repetitive strain injury (see posh word for it above). According to the doctor I saw today it's fairly serious and I've got to rest my right hand for 2 weeks. He's put me on the sick.

 

Which would be fine if:

a) I thought I was going to get paid for all this time off

b) I could do anything to pass the time (can't play the guitar, computer - I'm typing this left handed and it is taking FOREV-ER.)

and c) I didn't have to endure poor jokes about me masturbating too much.

 

On a completely different subject, I'd like to say congratulations to my old housemate Ryan on finishing the Great North Run. Unfortunately I wasn't there to cheer him on in person since I had a raging migraine (I'm just falling apart at the moment). Consequently I also missed Susan Sarandon, though probably would have missed her even if I had been there, since rumour has it she was in fancy dress.

 

Most disturbing find of the week (which again was discovered by Steven) is this website. The cartoons on this site are seriously disturbing and messed up. I mean really. I'm being serious. View if you dare 'Salad Fingers' (there are 6 episodes of this) and most alarming of all 'Milkman'. Don't say you weren't warned.

 

Also, the fact that I scoffed a pack of mince pies this week officially means it's nearly Christmas. Tinsel on standby.

 

 

One night, I was watching Thelma and Louise with a friend and I started to expound my theory that Susan Sarandon is in everything. I mean she is, isn't she? I'm not saying this is a bad thing, not at all in fact, I happen to think Ms Sarandon is pretty cool. So when I was in a bar in Paris the other night and she came and sat next to me, I had to tell her that she was a complete legend. She thanked me for saying so and then I left her to get on with her drink. I didn't want to appear like some crazy stalker or anything.

 

The morning after this encounter, I realised that it had, in fact, been a dream. But, this only lends weight to my theory that Susan Sarandon really is in everything. Even in my dreams.

 

In fact, rumour has it that SS will be appearing at the Great North Run, which is happening this weekend in Newcastle. I shall be there to cheer on my old housemate Ryan - who, as far as I'm aware, has done absolutely no training. Yeah, good luck with that mate.

 

In other news, Old Mr Johnson had troubles of his own. He had a yellow cat, that wouldn't leave his home. And in my house, we love that cat. What the hell am I on about? Well I am in fact referring to a cartoon called The Cat Came Back, which you may remember seeing on tv. I think the BBC used to show it sometimes to fill space between programmes. It is by far and away one of the funniest things you are ever likely to see. My housemate Steven managed to get hold of it and we just cannot stop watching it. As another of my housemates Nick put it:The Cat is key.

 

If you remember The Cat, please leave a comment. It is legendary.

 

So. It's been a while since I last wrote on here. Why? Dunno. A number of reasons. Does it really matter? Look at my face. Am I bothered?

 

Anyway, so there have been a few revelations in my life this week. Firstly - it has been pointed out to me by one of my new housemates (Steven) that I look a bit like Martin Freeman.

 

Secondly, it may sound obvious - but if you stay up all night at the weekend, then you get more weekend. Obviously you have to be slightly hardcore to handle it, and it does involve staying awake for about 36 hours - but you do get to dedicate more time to your BRAND NEW FAVOURITE THING which is...

 

The Amstrad 464. Hands up if you had one when you were a kid? I can't even begin to imagine how many hours I spent playing on mine, but it was absolutely amazing. So, you can imagine my utter delight when my housemate (the aforementioned Steven) casually mentioned that he'd got an Amstrad emulator. Now, I knew these things existed because I'd used one before. But it wasn't very good and last time I checked they didn't run on XP. Not any more my friend - the all new Caprice32 is absolutely spot on. It was this that led to staying up all night last weekend - an event which is now only being referred to as AmFest 2005. You all need to go away and download Ghostbusters right now. Oh yes.

 

Are you still here?