What’s your favorite movie quote of all time?
Sponsored by The Official AVATAR Community on TypePad. See AVATAR in theaters December 18, 2009.
http://gawker.com/5412825/the-mounting-evidence-that-avatar-will-suck-part-2-an-eyewitness-account
The Stasi Party continue their relentless assault on the British way of life. Take a holiday snap of a public building in London and you risk being banged up under the catch all Section 44 – you know the anti-terrorism legislation they brought in, that was only going to be used in emergencies...................
Here's our brave boys leaping into action
Come Spring 2010 the electorate are going to have the unedifying choice between Brown’s police state and Cameron’s workhouse.
What's your guilty television pleasure?
My television is innocent until proven otherwise.
I just wrote a paragraph about how rubbish I am at blogging, but it was so rubbish that I deleted it.
You'll thank me when you're older.
I choose the man who, in a nearly empty carriage, came and took the seat next to me. I was so enraged by this clear breach of the unwritten rules of carriage seating (everybody knows you always take the position diagonally opposite first. Everybody!) that I had to pretend to get off at Putney just so I could move to another seat.
Now I'm going to have to make myself some toast just to calm myself down.
Senate Foreign Relations Committee has reported on Bush’s failure to get bin Laden. In 2001, US forces had bin Laden cornered in the Tora Bora mountains of Afghanistan. They could have captured or killed him there. Instead, Bush rejected requests to send in more troops and bin Laden slipped across the border into Pakistan.
The Bush administration couldn’t have made it any easier if they’d chartered a plane for him.
Well, I supposed you can’t fight a War on Terror without an enemy
I have decided to fall off the wagon. It's time to blog.
About what? What have you got to say?
I don't know. I'm a bit rusty, in truth. Perhaps I should go to the Vox front page to inspire me. It should always be the first port of call for the pick of the bunch (where mixed metaphors and squared clichés collide!)...
So what do we have?
A half-white, half-yellow train! Yay! I fucking love half-white, half-yellow trains! I have no idea what the commentator is slurring, because he's being drowned out by a half-white, half-yellow train! Which is outstanding, because I cannot get enough of half-white, half-yellow trains. I was promised a 'Holiday Ham Toss', but this exceeded my expectations and then some.
Wait! There's more excitement - the lead story:
"Sometimes you need to prepare Thanksgiving Dinner on the day before the day. Like if your daughter won't eat turkey, and you have to cook a ham!"
[culture is good]!
Oh no! I've left it too long! I'll never fit in now; now that I know that whatever I blog about how frequently I wipe beneath my draining board; how my plants are doing pretty well, but still I worry how they might be slightly underwatered, and that the central heating can't be doing them much good; how I find it hard sometimes to remember if this is the fortnight when they take away the recycling bags, or if it's the next; how the road had quite a lot of spray last time I went driving; I will never be beige enough to feel part of the Vox family.
Or maybe I got there without realising it. Perhaps I'll sink back into the wallpaper for another six months. Keep your eyes peeled for transport and recipe updates next summer.
What was your favorite class in high school? (And no, lunch doesn't count.)
Lunch class? Pah.
How about smoking behind the newsagents across the road class?
Or bunking off and going to Drummonds class?
Or maybe those free periods either side of lunch when my friend would drive us to the Dome on the Kings Road and I'd drink gin and tonics before returning to my A Level English Literature class?
Lunch class, schmunch class.
is having some sort of crisis and refusing to work, so I thought I'd just come along here and see how we're all doing. Hey you guys! How are you? I am fine thank you.
So, stuff that is happening, firstly and most excitingly we are pretty much moved in to our new place. It is odd what you will put up with when you are renting, certainly when you are renting in London. The new place is like some sort of magical fabulous dream. Here are some of the things that I can't actually believe about it:
The hot tap runs hot.
The cold tap runs cold.
The taps all turn in an intuitive direction (three years I lived in the old place and I still got soaked everytime I turned the kitchen tap on.)
The lights all work.
The outside light works.
There are curtains! In each room!
There is no 'knack' to opening the front door. Or any of the doors, for that matter.
There are pictures on the wall. Hideous pictures, but they are steadily being replaced by our own pictures.
The shower works.
The clicker on the oven works.
The light in the oven works.
The radiators all work.
There is an airing cupboard.
There are window boxes and a teeny teeny raised bed by the front door.
There are stairs. STAIRS!! To the two double bedrooms. TWO BEDROOMS!
Other stuff that is happening:
Oscar is still not well, I think he really is asthmatic and won't grow out of it, but the docs still don't want to say when he is so small. Thinking of taking him to a proper asthma drop in clinic.
I have wasted a hell of a lot of money on myself this month (a hell of a lot) and now I am in a stress about money. But I guess as long as I don't buy anything at all for the next couple of months it'll even up.
I am doing stuff at work that is really interesting and in fact quite good fun but... BUT... I am only a Grade Three and this is going way out of my payscale. But how else would I get the experience? And they did mention it in the interview and I did say it was okay. And anyway I'm not going to stick at this forever. And I'm enjoying myself. So why am I moaning? I don't know! I'm not really moaning. I'm more saying 'look how clever and trusted I am.' I think. I am really really unconfident at work for some weird reason. Oh well. i am just generally feeling a bit uncertain of my own abilities at the moment.
The Daily Mail is Brigadoon for crypto-fascists, a place where the local time is always 1950. But there must be anxious scenes in the bunker this weekend as it dawns on them that the UK is no longer populated by racist homophobic bigot like themselves.
Jan Moir’s hate spewing rant against Stephen Gately has been rightfully pilloried across the internet. The Press Complaints Commission have had record complaints and companies have asked for their ads to be withdrawn from the web page. This Facebook page lists their contact details, if you want to point out to companies that you’re not prepared to buy their products if they continue to fund bigotry.
The Daily Mail is increasing looking like the embarrassing elderly relative at a family function.
Damian Hirst’s paintings are not just bad, they are deliciously bad. These hesitant little daubs are a towering edifice of talentless tat. They’re canvasses only a mother could love. This is the Emperor shouting his nakedness to any who would listen.
The characteristically grandiose title ‘No Love Lost, Blue Paintings’ (Hirst modestly slipping himself between Picasso and Bacon) could be replaced with a simpler and more apposite ‘Why?’. Anyone who still thinks Hirst has talent (beyond self promotion) will view these and reconsider his entire output.
