Bored now.
Feet wet.
Fuck off please.
Ta.
Red Squirrel
Friday, 6 February 2009
Thursday, 5 February 2009
Step away from the internet, ma'am...
I've not complained about work for a while. Mainly because if I did I'd have a RSI from all the typing inside of a week.
The secret saboteur in our team that's trying to get us all sacked? Not worth the typing effort.
The lazy arse contractor who does no work and doesn't try to hide it? I fail to see the point in getting worked up.
The boss that 'works from home' on the off-chance it might rain? I'm rising above it.
I have, however, mentioned the evil witch of a client before. She's still being an evil witch but I'm on unofficial strike after she did something retarded and then blamed me, so thankfully someone else on the team has drawn the short straw this month.
She really is the most insufferable person I've ever met. The fact that she's American is irrelevant - she has a corrosive personality that transcends mere culture. She's also, if I'm honest, not very bright.
She'd raised a request at the end of last year to change a part of the system that we've written for her. This was done, tested and rolled-out several weeks ago.
Last week she tried to use the system as she's been trained to do - for the last year - but got confused and did it very, very wrongly instead. Rather than admit a mistake, she raised an issue with the helpdesk that was (in its entirety):
"YOU SAID YOU'D DONE x. YOU HAVEN'T. YOU LIED!!!!!!"
My colleague, after briefly confirming that the problem was caused by a user with less IQ points than keys to press, decided to reply in kind late last night. He called over to me from his desk:
"Is 'I find it highly offensive to be called a liar by someone too stupid to use the internet' a bit harsh?"
"Er," I replied, "probably. How about 'I do not take kindly to having my integrity questioned when I have done nothing wrong'? I've dealt with her a lot and she'll take what you said badly."
"Good point. I'll go with what you came up with," he said, while typing away.
Imagine my surprise, therefore, on entering the office this morning to read that his reply was:
"I do not take kindly to having my integrity questioned when the problem was your fault. You daft cow."
Thank heavens he took my advice......
Anyway, talking of evil witches, here's a picture of today's snowman that I call:
The secret saboteur in our team that's trying to get us all sacked? Not worth the typing effort.
The lazy arse contractor who does no work and doesn't try to hide it? I fail to see the point in getting worked up.
The boss that 'works from home' on the off-chance it might rain? I'm rising above it.
I have, however, mentioned the evil witch of a client before. She's still being an evil witch but I'm on unofficial strike after she did something retarded and then blamed me, so thankfully someone else on the team has drawn the short straw this month.
She really is the most insufferable person I've ever met. The fact that she's American is irrelevant - she has a corrosive personality that transcends mere culture. She's also, if I'm honest, not very bright.
She'd raised a request at the end of last year to change a part of the system that we've written for her. This was done, tested and rolled-out several weeks ago.
Last week she tried to use the system as she's been trained to do - for the last year - but got confused and did it very, very wrongly instead. Rather than admit a mistake, she raised an issue with the helpdesk that was (in its entirety):
"YOU SAID YOU'D DONE x. YOU HAVEN'T. YOU LIED!!!!!!"
My colleague, after briefly confirming that the problem was caused by a user with less IQ points than keys to press, decided to reply in kind late last night. He called over to me from his desk:
"Is 'I find it highly offensive to be called a liar by someone too stupid to use the internet' a bit harsh?"
"Er," I replied, "probably. How about 'I do not take kindly to having my integrity questioned when I have done nothing wrong'? I've dealt with her a lot and she'll take what you said badly."
"Good point. I'll go with what you came up with," he said, while typing away.
Imagine my surprise, therefore, on entering the office this morning to read that his reply was:
"I do not take kindly to having my integrity questioned when the problem was your fault. You daft cow."
Thank heavens he took my advice......
Anyway, talking of evil witches, here's a picture of today's snowman that I call:
Aaaarrrrgggghhhh!!! I'm melting! Meeeeeelllllllllllltttttiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnnnngggggg.......
Monday, 2 February 2009
Mystery solved!
It turns out that the Bristol Bus story mentioned in my previous post was this:- A bus, that was made in Bristol about 30 years ago, was shipped to Dubai for the filming of an episode of Doctor Who and had a container dropped on it at the docks.
Stirring stuff, I'm sure you'll agree, and definitely a story of such importance that it is the main headline for a city of 500,000 people. My attention is not at all brought back to the fact that Mrs Red Squirrel's unpleasant incident didn't even make the local news in her NY borough.
Compare and contrast *rolls eyes*
Anyway, it snowed today. SNOW! Snooooooooooooooooooooooooowwwww! Snowsnowsnowsnowsnow! It doesn't snow here very often (as you can probably tell). Once every other year it'll snow enough to settle on the ground, and once every five years or so it'll settle overnight - so to have an entire centimetre of snow on the ground right now has reduced most of the city's residents to gibbering simpletons trying to build snowmen and throw a handful of slush at passing walkers.
My snowman rocked.
The reason it doesn't snow very much is because of the gulf stream. Water, freezing in the arctic becomes more salty (and therefore heavier) and sinks to the bottom of the ocean. This motion pulls warm water from the tropics (or specifically the Caribbean) and the resulting current of warm water heading north is called the gulf stream. I have helpfully illustrated this for you below, with the UK represented as a tramp with a begging bowl, the USA as a greedy Omnomnom sucking up the world's resources, the Arctic as a drowned polar bear and Jamaica as a palm tree smoking a spliff*
This is all well and good because as you can see from my highly detailed diagram, the UK should be as cold as the Labrador Coast (which presumably is where the dogs come from). Thanks to the gulf stream however, it's barely cold enough to snow down in the 'knee' bit where Bristol resides.
Unfortunately, as the Arctic ice melts due to global warming then the water doesn't get saltier anymore, and sinks slower or not at all - shutting off the warm water flowing north**
So consider your poor cousins across the Atlantic when the price of gas reaches three cents a cubic metre and you can't leave your Humvee running all night to make it quicker for your 200 yard drive to work the next morning. Consider poor us - because the only two places on the planet due to get colder thanks to global warming are the UK and Norway. Runaway soaring global temperatures and it actually gets *colder*. How unlucky can you get?
Stirring stuff, I'm sure you'll agree, and definitely a story of such importance that it is the main headline for a city of 500,000 people. My attention is not at all brought back to the fact that Mrs Red Squirrel's unpleasant incident didn't even make the local news in her NY borough.
Compare and contrast *rolls eyes*
Anyway, it snowed today. SNOW! Snooooooooooooooooooooooooowwwww! Snowsnowsnowsnowsnow! It doesn't snow here very often (as you can probably tell). Once every other year it'll snow enough to settle on the ground, and once every five years or so it'll settle overnight - so to have an entire centimetre of snow on the ground right now has reduced most of the city's residents to gibbering simpletons trying to build snowmen and throw a handful of slush at passing walkers.
My snowman rocked.
The reason it doesn't snow very much is because of the gulf stream. Water, freezing in the arctic becomes more salty (and therefore heavier) and sinks to the bottom of the ocean. This motion pulls warm water from the tropics (or specifically the Caribbean) and the resulting current of warm water heading north is called the gulf stream. I have helpfully illustrated this for you below, with the UK represented as a tramp with a begging bowl, the USA as a greedy Omnomnom sucking up the world's resources, the Arctic as a drowned polar bear and Jamaica as a palm tree smoking a spliff*
This is all well and good because as you can see from my highly detailed diagram, the UK should be as cold as the Labrador Coast (which presumably is where the dogs come from). Thanks to the gulf stream however, it's barely cold enough to snow down in the 'knee' bit where Bristol resides.
Unfortunately, as the Arctic ice melts due to global warming then the water doesn't get saltier anymore, and sinks slower or not at all - shutting off the warm water flowing north**
So consider your poor cousins across the Atlantic when the price of gas reaches three cents a cubic metre and you can't leave your Humvee running all night to make it quicker for your 200 yard drive to work the next morning. Consider poor us - because the only two places on the planet due to get colder thanks to global warming are the UK and Norway. Runaway soaring global temperatures and it actually gets *colder*. How unlucky can you get?
On the plus side, at least we'd come second in the Winter Olympics.....
*National stereotypes - lazy *and* fun!
**You may have seen the Atlantic Conveyor stop in a film called 'The Day After Tomorrow.' So, yeah, like that but over years and years and without the cold-enough-to-freeze-you-in-seconds weather. And without the tidal waves. And without the gross over-simplification of the plot. And without the stupid Hollywood sentimentality. Seriously - worse film since Armageddon. Don't *ever* get me started on Arma-twatfest-geddon....
Friday, 30 January 2009
Translating the translation page
Evenin' all,
I've been asked to explain a few things to people who aren't English (we forgive most of you) - specifically the following:
1) A Septic = An American
Derived from the cockney rhyming slang 'Septic Tank', meaning 'Yank'.
2) Bubble & Squeak
Bubble & Squeak is (as far as I'm concerned) a Boxing Day meal. It's simply all the leftover cooked vegetables from Christmas Day finely chopped, mixed together and then fried in butter until browned on both sides. It's yum.
According to this it can be had after any roast, but I've only had it on Boxing Day with cold turkey and HP Sauce. I made it for Mrs Red Squirrel when she was over - to my own recipe as I try to avoid eating anything green (so therefore Roast Potatoes, Roast Parsnips, Carrots and Cauliflower). It was well received.
3) HP Sauce
You can stick your 'A1 Steak Sauce' up your arse, because there's a new sauce Daddy in town:
I've been asked to explain a few things to people who aren't English (we forgive most of you) - specifically the following:
1) A Septic = An American
Derived from the cockney rhyming slang 'Septic Tank', meaning 'Yank'.
2) Bubble & Squeak
Bubble & Squeak is (as far as I'm concerned) a Boxing Day meal. It's simply all the leftover cooked vegetables from Christmas Day finely chopped, mixed together and then fried in butter until browned on both sides. It's yum.
According to this it can be had after any roast, but I've only had it on Boxing Day with cold turkey and HP Sauce. I made it for Mrs Red Squirrel when she was over - to my own recipe as I try to avoid eating anything green (so therefore Roast Potatoes, Roast Parsnips, Carrots and Cauliflower). It was well received.
3) HP Sauce
You can stick your 'A1 Steak Sauce' up your arse, because there's a new sauce Daddy in town:
Omnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnom...........
I think that covers everything :)
I'll leave you with the advert/placard for yesterday's edition of the Bristol Evening Post. I don't know about you, but it made me want to find out what the hell it meant too!
Thursday, 29 January 2009
How to speak Bristolian
As most of you will be aware, I live in the lovely provincial city of Bristol. It's far enough away from London that most of the unpleasant idiots there don't come and visit for a day, and just close enough to Wales that the unpleasant London idiots don't resettle here when they discover that their shoe-box apartment in Bermondsey would buy an entire house outside of the capital.
It's a win-win situation.
(The irony here of course being that I'm not from Bristol itself, I just settled here after studying at the University. But I'm not from London, so that's considered acceptable.)
The biggest downside to living here as a non-native is the local accent. When fate was handing out cute, sexy accents it chose to give the world the scotch burr, the gentle irish lilt, the french purr - it most certainly didn't include the Bristolian/West Country accent.
For it has one flaw - you can't help sounding a bit thick.
If Einstein had been from Brizzle (as the locals pronounce it. Seriously) his theory of relativity would have been explained something along the lines of:
"Soooes, like, yer on a train, roight - like to Swindon or somat - wiv yer can ov zider course like an' the fahster the train goes roight, yer get 'eavier and 'eavier. An' the closer yer get to, like, the speed of loight, roight, the more infinoite yer maahs will be. Meanin' that yer'd be going really fahst an' av a ton ov zider t'drink, which would be gert lush innit me babber......."
Or something.
(If you're never heard a Bristolian accent then Sam the hobbit in Lord of the Rings is doing a passable imitation. Just to give you some idea.)
Anyway, within Bristol there are many dialects. I only know a bit about one - which is what this post was supposed to be about before I starting rambling. When I started my first job here I became good friends with one of my colleagues who was a proper local, and through him I joined his circle of friends. They'd all gone to school together and often spoke what seemed to a different language. It took me a while to work it out, but here is a guide to speaking the Montpelier dialect of Bristolian.
The part of Bristol known as Montpelier shares many things in common with the city on the French Mediterranean coast. The sun, sand, beautiful women, flash cars, pristine beaches, jobs, fantastic restaurants, men roaming the streets with clubs with nails in them, casual street violence, bikini-clad hotties, money, derelict buildings, spelling - all are things that the two do not have in common.
In fact, let's ignore the proper Montpellier for now. Though it says a lot about the local area and inhabitants that it's named after it, but they just spelt it wrong.
The Montpelier dialect centres around three central themes - money, women and football. I shall ignore football from this post (first time ever) mainly because I insisted they spoke English to me whenever we talked about it.
So, here we go:
1) The most important qualifier in the Montpelier dialect (or MD as we shall now refer to it as) is 'busters'. It can be added to almost any word or sentence, thusly;
Person A: "I'm skint*"
Person B: "You're skint? I'm skint busters."
'Busters' is a magnifier, but exclusively a negative one. So something that is good, if 'busters' is appended, becomes very bad. In this case the original word is commonly omitted, e.g.;
Person A: "I'm hungry, Maccy Dees?"
Person B: "Busters."
2) A similar term to 'busters' is 'laysions'. It's derived from 'laysions and abrasions', or the less-common 'lesions and abresions'. Both have been shortened over time to 'laysions' or 'abresions' though 'laysions' is more widely used.
If one is making a point then 'laysions and abrasions' can be used as a whole phrase, though this is no longer considered fashionable.
On related phrases, a messy night is normally 'incidents and accidents' and someone who has a problem is regarded as having 'more issues than Mogadishu.'
3) The term for an attractive specimen of the female species is 'skins'. For example;
Person A: "Skins?"
Person B: "Yeah, she's skins alright."
This is a perfect example of where 'busters' can be used as a negative magnifier;
Person A: "Skins?"
Person B: "Skins busters more like."
4) The only term worse (in terms of attractiveness) than 'skins busters' is the frankly magnificent 'tugboat'.
So, pulling those all together, a normal conversation in a pub would be:
Person A: "Skins?"
Person B: "Busters!"
Person C: "Yeah, totally laysions mate."
Person A: "She's not *that* bad"
Person D: "Bad? She's a tugboat."
Person C: "Tugboat busters"
*everyone laughs*
Person A: "From behind she's skins."
Person B: "Well, she's got nice hair."
Person C: "Your round, tugboat lover."
It's a laugh a minute around here.....
*Broke, for those septics out there.
It's a win-win situation.
(The irony here of course being that I'm not from Bristol itself, I just settled here after studying at the University. But I'm not from London, so that's considered acceptable.)
The biggest downside to living here as a non-native is the local accent. When fate was handing out cute, sexy accents it chose to give the world the scotch burr, the gentle irish lilt, the french purr - it most certainly didn't include the Bristolian/West Country accent.
For it has one flaw - you can't help sounding a bit thick.
If Einstein had been from Brizzle (as the locals pronounce it. Seriously) his theory of relativity would have been explained something along the lines of:
"Soooes, like, yer on a train, roight - like to Swindon or somat - wiv yer can ov zider course like an' the fahster the train goes roight, yer get 'eavier and 'eavier. An' the closer yer get to, like, the speed of loight, roight, the more infinoite yer maahs will be. Meanin' that yer'd be going really fahst an' av a ton ov zider t'drink, which would be gert lush innit me babber......."
Or something.
(If you're never heard a Bristolian accent then Sam the hobbit in Lord of the Rings is doing a passable imitation. Just to give you some idea.)
Anyway, within Bristol there are many dialects. I only know a bit about one - which is what this post was supposed to be about before I starting rambling. When I started my first job here I became good friends with one of my colleagues who was a proper local, and through him I joined his circle of friends. They'd all gone to school together and often spoke what seemed to a different language. It took me a while to work it out, but here is a guide to speaking the Montpelier dialect of Bristolian.
The part of Bristol known as Montpelier shares many things in common with the city on the French Mediterranean coast. The sun, sand, beautiful women, flash cars, pristine beaches, jobs, fantastic restaurants, men roaming the streets with clubs with nails in them, casual street violence, bikini-clad hotties, money, derelict buildings, spelling - all are things that the two do not have in common.
In fact, let's ignore the proper Montpellier for now. Though it says a lot about the local area and inhabitants that it's named after it, but they just spelt it wrong.
The Montpelier dialect centres around three central themes - money, women and football. I shall ignore football from this post (first time ever) mainly because I insisted they spoke English to me whenever we talked about it.
So, here we go:
1) The most important qualifier in the Montpelier dialect (or MD as we shall now refer to it as) is 'busters'. It can be added to almost any word or sentence, thusly;
Person A: "I'm skint*"
Person B: "You're skint? I'm skint busters."
'Busters' is a magnifier, but exclusively a negative one. So something that is good, if 'busters' is appended, becomes very bad. In this case the original word is commonly omitted, e.g.;
Person A: "I'm hungry, Maccy Dees?"
Person B: "Busters."
2) A similar term to 'busters' is 'laysions'. It's derived from 'laysions and abrasions', or the less-common 'lesions and abresions'. Both have been shortened over time to 'laysions' or 'abresions' though 'laysions' is more widely used.
If one is making a point then 'laysions and abrasions' can be used as a whole phrase, though this is no longer considered fashionable.
On related phrases, a messy night is normally 'incidents and accidents' and someone who has a problem is regarded as having 'more issues than Mogadishu.'
3) The term for an attractive specimen of the female species is 'skins'. For example;
Person A: "Skins?"
Person B: "Yeah, she's skins alright."
This is a perfect example of where 'busters' can be used as a negative magnifier;
Person A: "Skins?"
Person B: "Skins busters more like."
4) The only term worse (in terms of attractiveness) than 'skins busters' is the frankly magnificent 'tugboat'.
So, pulling those all together, a normal conversation in a pub would be:
Person A: "Skins?"
Person B: "Busters!"
Person C: "Yeah, totally laysions mate."
Person A: "She's not *that* bad"
Person D: "Bad? She's a tugboat."
Person C: "Tugboat busters"
*everyone laughs*
Person A: "From behind she's skins."
Person B: "Well, she's got nice hair."
Person C: "Your round, tugboat lover."
It's a laugh a minute around here.....
*Broke, for those septics out there.
Wednesday, 28 January 2009
*cough* *cough* *cough*
I've been laid low for the last week by some horrible flu-type virus that's sweeping around these here parts.
I say a week - but I had a day off ill, then struggled through the funeral on Friday, then spent two and a half days immobile apart from bouts of coughing, then spent two days at work when really I should've stayed at home and now today I'm 'working from home' with the sort of cough that can be heard halfway down the street.
*cough* *cough*
That's the downside to me not drinking and trying to be healthy - I suddenly start getting ill.
*cough* *cough*
Anyway, this made me laugh:
It's just coming to the end of playtime at a nursery school and the teacher is finishing cleaning the classroom as the first of her charges comes into the room.
"Hi Jenny!," says the teacher, "and what have you been up to at playtime?"
"I was playing in the sandbox with Mike," replies Jenny.
"That's lovely! Tell you what, if you can spell 'sand' for me you can help your self to a sweetie from my desk."
Jenny dutifully spells sand and then gets herself a sweet. The next child entering the room is Mike.
"Hello Mike," says the teacher, "did you do anything fun at playtime?"
"I was playing in the sandbox with Jenny," says Mike.
"Sounds like you two had fun! Say, if you can spell 'box' for me you can help yourself to a sweetie from my desk."
Mike easily spells box and while the teacher isn't looking takes two sweets from the jar. The third child in after playtime is a sad looking Ahmed.
"Hi Ahmed, what did you do at playtime?" asks the teacher.
"I wanted to play in the sandbox, but Jenny and Mike wouldn't let me," replies Ahmed.
"They wouldn't let you! Why, that's racially biased discrimination!" exclaims the teacher, glaring at Jenny and Mike.
She leans in closer to Ahmed and says, "Tell you what, if you can spell 'racially biased discrimination' you can help yourself to a sweetie from my desk."
I say a week - but I had a day off ill, then struggled through the funeral on Friday, then spent two and a half days immobile apart from bouts of coughing, then spent two days at work when really I should've stayed at home and now today I'm 'working from home' with the sort of cough that can be heard halfway down the street.
*cough* *cough*
That's the downside to me not drinking and trying to be healthy - I suddenly start getting ill.
*cough* *cough*
Anyway, this made me laugh:
It's just coming to the end of playtime at a nursery school and the teacher is finishing cleaning the classroom as the first of her charges comes into the room.
"Hi Jenny!," says the teacher, "and what have you been up to at playtime?"
"I was playing in the sandbox with Mike," replies Jenny.
"That's lovely! Tell you what, if you can spell 'sand' for me you can help your self to a sweetie from my desk."
Jenny dutifully spells sand and then gets herself a sweet. The next child entering the room is Mike.
"Hello Mike," says the teacher, "did you do anything fun at playtime?"
"I was playing in the sandbox with Jenny," says Mike.
"Sounds like you two had fun! Say, if you can spell 'box' for me you can help yourself to a sweetie from my desk."
Mike easily spells box and while the teacher isn't looking takes two sweets from the jar. The third child in after playtime is a sad looking Ahmed.
"Hi Ahmed, what did you do at playtime?" asks the teacher.
"I wanted to play in the sandbox, but Jenny and Mike wouldn't let me," replies Ahmed.
"They wouldn't let you! Why, that's racially biased discrimination!" exclaims the teacher, glaring at Jenny and Mike.
She leans in closer to Ahmed and says, "Tell you what, if you can spell 'racially biased discrimination' you can help yourself to a sweetie from my desk."
Thursday, 22 January 2009
Scary
Which is more scary:
a) that my girlfriend was pistol-whipped in a robbery at her workplace by three guys who thought a bakery had a safe (and therefore escaped with less than $20 for ooooooh ten minutes before the cops at the precinct half a block away arrested them) - and has seven stitches in a head wound to show for it.
or
b) that this is considered so common in New York that the incident wasn't even considered worthy of reporting as local news in her borough?
a) that my girlfriend was pistol-whipped in a robbery at her workplace by three guys who thought a bakery had a safe (and therefore escaped with less than $20 for ooooooh ten minutes before the cops at the precinct half a block away arrested them) - and has seven stitches in a head wound to show for it.
or
b) that this is considered so common in New York that the incident wasn't even considered worthy of reporting as local news in her borough?
Wednesday, 14 January 2009
Babelsquirrel
Here's my translation guide to letting Americans know what people are saying when English is spoken in their presence (courtesy of two weeks with Mrs. Red Squirrel).
What is said:
"We need to stop at the petrol station."
What is meant:
"We need to stop for gas, and no you can't smoke on the forecourt without being told off."
What is said:
"Biscuits"
What is meant:
"Cookies"
What is said:
"Ha ha, how many biscuits did you just inhale?"
What is heard:
"You're fat."
What is said:
"So this bridge was designed by the great Isambard Kingdom Brunel who was one of the greatest engineers whom ever lived. In fact he also built the SS Great Western - one of a series of the biggest ships ever made at the time."
What is understood:
"Blah blah blah blah blah biscuits blah blah blah blah."
What is said:
"So this is the oldest pub in Bristol - as you can see it's existed since about the time your continent was discovered."
What is meant:
"No offence like, but your country is the Haley Joel Osment of the world.*"
What is said:
"It's freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeezing."
What is meant:
"We like to moan about the weather here, it gives some meaning to our otherwise empty lives."
What is said:
"Do you want HP sauce with your bubble & squeak?"
What is meant:
"Unbeknownest to you, our relationship is on the line if you say no.**"
What is said:
"No really, it's not embarrassing to take a photo of you on the zebra crossing in Abbey Road while you hold up traffic and wave at the camera."
What is meant:
"At some unspecified point in the future, I shall be cashing this chip in."
*Spectacular success at a young age but really the rest of the world is sitting back and waiting for the hooker-fuelled coke overdose in your teens....
**She said yes, then ate all of mine.
What is said:
"We need to stop at the petrol station."
What is meant:
"We need to stop for gas, and no you can't smoke on the forecourt without being told off."
What is said:
"Biscuits"
What is meant:
"Cookies"
What is said:
"Ha ha, how many biscuits did you just inhale?"
What is heard:
"You're fat."
What is said:
"So this bridge was designed by the great Isambard Kingdom Brunel who was one of the greatest engineers whom ever lived. In fact he also built the SS Great Western - one of a series of the biggest ships ever made at the time."
What is understood:
"Blah blah blah blah blah biscuits blah blah blah blah."
What is said:
"So this is the oldest pub in Bristol - as you can see it's existed since about the time your continent was discovered."
What is meant:
"No offence like, but your country is the Haley Joel Osment of the world.*"
What is said:
"It's freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeezing."
What is meant:
"We like to moan about the weather here, it gives some meaning to our otherwise empty lives."
What is said:
"Do you want HP sauce with your bubble & squeak?"
What is meant:
"Unbeknownest to you, our relationship is on the line if you say no.**"
What is said:
"No really, it's not embarrassing to take a photo of you on the zebra crossing in Abbey Road while you hold up traffic and wave at the camera."
What is meant:
"At some unspecified point in the future, I shall be cashing this chip in."
*Spectacular success at a young age but really the rest of the world is sitting back and waiting for the hooker-fuelled coke overdose in your teens....
**She said yes, then ate all of mine.
Monday, 12 January 2009
Oi!
Seriously like, could you all stop blogging for a week so I can catch up? Every day you're posting almost as many as I can read!
Seems like everyone had a nice Christmas - I'm just about to start the New Year's posts. There'd better be some good stories :-P
I'm struggling to catch up because blog sites are verboten at work. Well, not exactly forbidden but opening one prompts you that 'The site you are trying to open violates company web policy. Are you sure you wish to continue? Yes/No'*
So I'm stuck with catching up at nights and they're busy. Busy, busy, busy.
But as a special treat for my dear internet friends (and my girlfriend who's abandoned blogging just when I wanted to read her thoughts on where I live and her experiences over here *shakes fist* ) here's a frankly excellent picture I took on my phone when we visited Stonehenge at sunset.
* aka 'The Lemming Question'
Seems like everyone had a nice Christmas - I'm just about to start the New Year's posts. There'd better be some good stories :-P
I'm struggling to catch up because blog sites are verboten at work. Well, not exactly forbidden but opening one prompts you that 'The site you are trying to open violates company web policy. Are you sure you wish to continue? Yes/No'*
So I'm stuck with catching up at nights and they're busy. Busy, busy, busy.
But as a special treat for my dear internet friends (and my girlfriend who's abandoned blogging just when I wanted to read her thoughts on where I live and her experiences over here *shakes fist* ) here's a frankly excellent picture I took on my phone when we visited Stonehenge at sunset.
* aka 'The Lemming Question'
Wednesday, 7 January 2009
Good lord..
(Although not in a religious sense - one is a firmly committed agnostic atheist)
...you've all been a busy bunch these last few weeks. 85 posts to catch up on (my blog readership is somewhat limited due to time so I only subscribe to a 'lucky' few)!
Maybe tomorrow :)
Hope you all had a good time for xmas and New Year! I look forward to reading and commenting on your stories in about two weeks probably. Personally, I (we) had a great time.
I say 'great time'. Watching my last grandparent thrash, moan and plead her way through the last three days of her life in a care home wasn't exactly pleasant, but on a positive note at least Mrs. Red Squirrel got to meet all the family. Swings and roundabouts and all that....
Suffice to say my flat is feeling rather empty today and I have to go back to work tomorrow :(
I did however complete my entire year of sobriety and then promptly experienced my first hangover on the 3rd (in my defence that was after hearing that my gran had finally died). I've settled down since then though and even sat and watched my team in a Cup semi-final last night without once even considering opening the beers in the flat. Scary stuff.
Proper post soon. I've just got so much reading to catch up on.... ;-P
...you've all been a busy bunch these last few weeks. 85 posts to catch up on (my blog readership is somewhat limited due to time so I only subscribe to a 'lucky' few)!
Maybe tomorrow :)
Hope you all had a good time for xmas and New Year! I look forward to reading and commenting on your stories in about two weeks probably. Personally, I (we) had a great time.
I say 'great time'. Watching my last grandparent thrash, moan and plead her way through the last three days of her life in a care home wasn't exactly pleasant, but on a positive note at least Mrs. Red Squirrel got to meet all the family. Swings and roundabouts and all that....
Suffice to say my flat is feeling rather empty today and I have to go back to work tomorrow :(
I did however complete my entire year of sobriety and then promptly experienced my first hangover on the 3rd (in my defence that was after hearing that my gran had finally died). I've settled down since then though and even sat and watched my team in a Cup semi-final last night without once even considering opening the beers in the flat. Scary stuff.
Proper post soon. I've just got so much reading to catch up on.... ;-P
Tuesday, 23 December 2008
My creativity has been somewhat diverted this month as I (stupidly as it turned out) agreed to do an Advent Calendar for the football forum I spend some time on. Most of the pictured are in-jokes and fairly unrepeatable anywhere else but basically something like this every day (an understanding of proper football is probably required here):
Why it's lovable wheeler-dealer 'Arry Redknapp from Tottenham Independent Traders. Let's see what the old rogue has to say:
"Top quality players here. Five million each, or three for Twelve mill. Can't say fairer than that can you? Tell you what, see Bentley here, yours for four million. Okay, 3. Two and a half? Not interested? Okay squire - I can see you drive a hard bargain. You might be interested in a job lot of africans I'll be getting in in January? I get 'em in cheap in bulk so could sort you out with three of four. Yeah? Give us your number then and I'll buzz you next month...."
It ended up taking a huge amount of my time.
I realise that's a really lame excuse for not blogging :(
Anyway, Merry Christmas to you all (and a Happy New Year as Mrs. Red Squirrel is flying over to visit for a couple of weeks so I might be rather busy). I'll leave you with a joke I heard last night.
Q: Two scousers in a car with no music playing - who's driving?
A: The Police.
Heh heh.
Friday, 19 December 2008
The people are revolting...
...apparently. Couldn't agree more myself.
Anyway, the reason I mention this is because I pass a particular poster site every day on the way into work. For the last week it has been emblazoned with an advert for what I assumed was yet another perfume ad, but that actually turned out to be for a personal alarm.
Not just any personal alarm - the 'Revolutionary' ila Dusk personal alarm.
I'm intrigued enough to bother looking this up because it's not often something 'Revolutionary' comes along.
I'd define an object as 'Revolutionary' as a great leap forward, a step change in design. My dictionary defines it as 'of, pertaining to, characterized by, or of the nature of a revolution, or a sudden, complete, or marked change' which basically says the same as I said just with a strange comma fetish.
So I wonder what 'Revolutionary' leap forward in personal protection is provided by the ila Dusk? Is it perhaps the abandonment of capital letters in their company name? Does it perform some wondrous new trick?
An alarm of any kind is designed to alert someone to an event - be it a bedside alarm waking you up, a burglar alarm or a car alarm. Does the ila Dusk have a new way of doing this? Noise and light have been done, so maybe it uses telepathy? Or magically texts the Police with 'Hlp. Bng mugd. tb xxx'? Or maybe it even projects 'Mama Mia' onto a nearby surface causing the attacker* to flee or risk his sanity (which would also make solving the crime much simpler - 'Yes, officer, it was the third man on the left. I recognise his inability to hit the high notes in Waterloo')?
Sadly it does none of those things. It screams like a girl, something I feel the girl frantically yanking at the thing in her handbag is probably better qualified to do. Oh, and it comes in different colours to match your shoes.
Something designed to allow women to accessorise? I fail to see what's 'Revolutionary' about that....
*Let's face it, the attacker is 99.9% likely to be a straight man. Unless there was serious dress envy going on.
Anyway, the reason I mention this is because I pass a particular poster site every day on the way into work. For the last week it has been emblazoned with an advert for what I assumed was yet another perfume ad, but that actually turned out to be for a personal alarm.
Not just any personal alarm - the 'Revolutionary' ila Dusk personal alarm.
I'm intrigued enough to bother looking this up because it's not often something 'Revolutionary' comes along.
I'd define an object as 'Revolutionary' as a great leap forward, a step change in design. My dictionary defines it as 'of, pertaining to, characterized by, or of the nature of a revolution, or a sudden, complete, or marked change' which basically says the same as I said just with a strange comma fetish.
So I wonder what 'Revolutionary' leap forward in personal protection is provided by the ila Dusk? Is it perhaps the abandonment of capital letters in their company name? Does it perform some wondrous new trick?
An alarm of any kind is designed to alert someone to an event - be it a bedside alarm waking you up, a burglar alarm or a car alarm. Does the ila Dusk have a new way of doing this? Noise and light have been done, so maybe it uses telepathy? Or magically texts the Police with 'Hlp. Bng mugd. tb xxx'? Or maybe it even projects 'Mama Mia' onto a nearby surface causing the attacker* to flee or risk his sanity (which would also make solving the crime much simpler - 'Yes, officer, it was the third man on the left. I recognise his inability to hit the high notes in Waterloo')?
Sadly it does none of those things. It screams like a girl, something I feel the girl frantically yanking at the thing in her handbag is probably better qualified to do. Oh, and it comes in different colours to match your shoes.
Something designed to allow women to accessorise? I fail to see what's 'Revolutionary' about that....
*Let's face it, the attacker is 99.9% likely to be a straight man. Unless there was serious dress envy going on.
Wednesday, 17 December 2008
According to GenderAnalyzer this blog is 60% female.
Arse. (59%)
Football. (56%)
It's a man's game. (56%)
Look at the top bollocks on that! (55%) Blokes rule
Um, 'fiscal analysis of quarterly financial projections'? (53%) Yay!
Pot Pourri. (57%) Shit!
Football. (54%) Just to be on the safe side
Romance. (65%) Argh!
Football. (62%) Phew
That 'Sex in the City' film wasn't a complete pile of exploitative wank. (100%) Game Over :(
Tuesday, 16 December 2008
Goddamn it...
I really dislike it when something I knew/liked/had/was into to suddenly becomes mainstream.
I'm very much not a mainstream person. At all.
So I was slightly dismayed this week to find that one of my favourite songs of all time - and one that was a little nugget of quality passed around to people you thought would embrace it (their 'Best Of...' album was called 'Best Kept Secrets') - has been chosen as the music for the new Tomb Raider adverts which seems to always be on every time I turn on the TV at the moment.
Sigh.
Here it is anyway - Gorecki by Lamb.
I'm very much not a mainstream person. At all.
So I was slightly dismayed this week to find that one of my favourite songs of all time - and one that was a little nugget of quality passed around to people you thought would embrace it (their 'Best Of...' album was called 'Best Kept Secrets') - has been chosen as the music for the new Tomb Raider adverts which seems to always be on every time I turn on the TV at the moment.
Sigh.
Here it is anyway - Gorecki by Lamb.
Monday, 15 December 2008
Cor, isn't it dark over there?
We just had a blackout.
I say 'we'. In fact, other people just had a blackout. I could just see them having a blackout (that covered half of Bristol apparently) but still had enough power to blog about it.
Suckers, you should live on our side of the street!
Still, my heart went out to them with their little candlelit urchin faces pressed to the window watching me sip a cup of tea from my electric kettle while standing under enough spotlight wattage to cut through mild steel and idly flicking through channels on the TV. Poor, poor people.
I'll go round and lend them a lump of coal later on to keep warm. I'm that kind of thoughtful person..... ;-)
I say 'we'. In fact, other people just had a blackout. I could just see them having a blackout (that covered half of Bristol apparently) but still had enough power to blog about it.
Suckers, you should live on our side of the street!
Still, my heart went out to them with their little candlelit urchin faces pressed to the window watching me sip a cup of tea from my electric kettle while standing under enough spotlight wattage to cut through mild steel and idly flicking through channels on the TV. Poor, poor people.
I'll go round and lend them a lump of coal later on to keep warm. I'm that kind of thoughtful person..... ;-)
Friday, 12 December 2008
It's a cracker...
After a couple of cheeky comments on my last post (weenie, I'm looking at you) I will simply say:
Days taken off ill by Department head with stomach bug : 5
Days taken off ill by Team Leader with stomach bug: 3
Days taken off ill by me with stomach bug: 1
So ner!
H'anyway here's something amusing I just heard on the tellybox;
They say that a woman's work is never done.
That's probably why they're paid less.
*chortle*
Days taken off ill by Department head with stomach bug : 5
Days taken off ill by Team Leader with stomach bug: 3
Days taken off ill by me with stomach bug: 1
So ner!
H'anyway here's something amusing I just heard on the tellybox;
They say that a woman's work is never done.
That's probably why they're paid less.
*chortle*
Thursday, 11 December 2008
Aha!
It appears the reason I was so cold is that I have the deeply unpleasant stomach bug that's swept round our office.
Yuck.
On the plus side, I got paid for being ill. Having been a contractor for 8 years or so I had actually forgotten what it feels like. I'd got used to the nagging guilt that I clearly wasn't that ill and that I couldn't get up and GO AND EARN SOME MONEY. So to feel like I can actually recover from being ill without forcing myself is actually making me feel less ill.
Whatever will they think of next? Paying people when they're on holiday? Paying people to have babies? It's a crazy future ahead of us....
Yuck.
On the plus side, I got paid for being ill. Having been a contractor for 8 years or so I had actually forgotten what it feels like. I'd got used to the nagging guilt that I clearly wasn't that ill and that I couldn't get up and GO AND EARN SOME MONEY. So to feel like I can actually recover from being ill without forcing myself is actually making me feel less ill.
Whatever will they think of next? Paying people when they're on holiday? Paying people to have babies? It's a crazy future ahead of us....
Wednesday, 10 December 2008
Warning: contains moaning
It's fucking freezing outside.
Admittedly I'm inside. With the heating on full blast.
And a fire going.
And wearing two jumpers.
And a scarf.
But it's bloody chilly out. I even saw ice on the way to work today - ICE!!!
Wake me when it's warm again.....
Admittedly I'm inside. With the heating on full blast.
And a fire going.
And wearing two jumpers.
And a scarf.
But it's bloody chilly out. I even saw ice on the way to work today - ICE!!!
Wake me when it's warm again.....
Sunday, 7 December 2008
Time flies when you're a lazy git.
I've been told I've been neglecting this recently, so I'll try and make a big effort next week. No, honest.
As an aside, I have the cleverest cat in the world. Sure, lots of cat owners will say the same thing because their cat can recognise the sound of their car engine, or turn on a light switch, or meow in a way that sounds like words - but that's not what I mean.
I have a cat that's cleverer than most humans.
That's a big claim, but she's cleverer than most humans because she's mastered something that humans can only mimic on sci-fi shows with christmas lights and tinsel. That's right, my cat has mastered the art of matter transference - or teleportation if you will.
She (that is, Pink) can - in the blink of an eye - move from one side of the room to the other without appearing to occupy any space in between. More so, this skill is entirely repeatable. All you need to do is get her in a head lock and try and put anti-flea liquid onto the skin at the back of her neck - and suddenly *poof* she's the other side of the room hissing at you. Another blink of the eye and BANG!!! the cat flap is swinging in the wind and you won't see her for two months (and counting)....
Floyd on the other hand, likes to try and exercise his mind with complex physics. You may be aware of the paradox of Schroedinger's Cat - well Floyd and I have worked long and hard on this one, and it turns out that if you place a cat in a box after you've put some anti-flea liquid onto the skin at the back of his neck, then when you open the box to see if the cat is alive or not you get an effect last seen in the Alien movie franchise as an angry ball of fury will leap at your face and try and bite your hair off.
I can kind of understand their dislike of their new flea treatment. It turns out that pets can build up an immunity to the chemical treatment that is supposed to make their skin taste yucky to the fleas, and this will diminish its potency. Luckily for the world there's a new type that frankly stinks to high heaven. I'm guessing it's abandoned the clever 'skin-altering' technology in favour of just making the fleas leave for somewhere that smells better - the equivalent of taking a dump in a squatter's fridge.
Floyd really didn't like the smell so did a runner for a few hours. When he came bounding back in, his train of thought appeared to be something like:
'Happy, happy, joy, joy, I'm here! Meow! Look, it's me! Meow! What's that smell? Aaargh! It's following me! If I look over my shoulder it's even stronger! Aaaaargh! My nose! It's even worse if I run in a circle! Arrrrrrrrrrrgh! Quick, run away! Run awaaaaaaaayyyyyyyy!'
And then he'd run outside again for a few hours. It was pretty funny the first four times he did it, but got fairly tiresome after that. He even slept in the coal scuttle for three days (presumably to mask the stench) and made little black paw prints on every single surface in my flat.
Though it must be said that he lost of lot of weight whilst running away from his own neck for 24 hours. Maybe they should just market it as a diet treatment for obese pets?
As an aside, I have the cleverest cat in the world. Sure, lots of cat owners will say the same thing because their cat can recognise the sound of their car engine, or turn on a light switch, or meow in a way that sounds like words - but that's not what I mean.
I have a cat that's cleverer than most humans.
That's a big claim, but she's cleverer than most humans because she's mastered something that humans can only mimic on sci-fi shows with christmas lights and tinsel. That's right, my cat has mastered the art of matter transference - or teleportation if you will.
She (that is, Pink) can - in the blink of an eye - move from one side of the room to the other without appearing to occupy any space in between. More so, this skill is entirely repeatable. All you need to do is get her in a head lock and try and put anti-flea liquid onto the skin at the back of her neck - and suddenly *poof* she's the other side of the room hissing at you. Another blink of the eye and BANG!!! the cat flap is swinging in the wind and you won't see her for two months (and counting)....
Floyd on the other hand, likes to try and exercise his mind with complex physics. You may be aware of the paradox of Schroedinger's Cat - well Floyd and I have worked long and hard on this one, and it turns out that if you place a cat in a box after you've put some anti-flea liquid onto the skin at the back of his neck, then when you open the box to see if the cat is alive or not you get an effect last seen in the Alien movie franchise as an angry ball of fury will leap at your face and try and bite your hair off.
I can kind of understand their dislike of their new flea treatment. It turns out that pets can build up an immunity to the chemical treatment that is supposed to make their skin taste yucky to the fleas, and this will diminish its potency. Luckily for the world there's a new type that frankly stinks to high heaven. I'm guessing it's abandoned the clever 'skin-altering' technology in favour of just making the fleas leave for somewhere that smells better - the equivalent of taking a dump in a squatter's fridge.
Floyd really didn't like the smell so did a runner for a few hours. When he came bounding back in, his train of thought appeared to be something like:
'Happy, happy, joy, joy, I'm here! Meow! Look, it's me! Meow! What's that smell? Aaargh! It's following me! If I look over my shoulder it's even stronger! Aaaaargh! My nose! It's even worse if I run in a circle! Arrrrrrrrrrrgh! Quick, run away! Run awaaaaaaaayyyyyyyy!'
And then he'd run outside again for a few hours. It was pretty funny the first four times he did it, but got fairly tiresome after that. He even slept in the coal scuttle for three days (presumably to mask the stench) and made little black paw prints on every single surface in my flat.
Though it must be said that he lost of lot of weight whilst running away from his own neck for 24 hours. Maybe they should just market it as a diet treatment for obese pets?
Wednesday, 3 December 2008
Reasons why the 60s were a pile of arse, part 1
Apparently the 60s were great and basically invented things like love, drugs, playing tag with STDs, music and teflon.
You may have heard this already.
However the 60s were also responsible for many of the world's ills. For example, the 60s decided that this magnificent piece of architecture:
would actually be improved by adding this as the annexe:
You may have heard this already.
However the 60s were also responsible for many of the world's ills. For example, the 60s decided that this magnificent piece of architecture:
would actually be improved by adding this as the annexe:
Excellent work!
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