my innermost sanctum

fab tunes

from the golden oldies radio station, came these:
- elvis presley's "suspicious minds"
- neil young's "heart of gold"

they no longer write such kewl tunes anymore these days. eh?

why i "like" my job even though it's utter bollocks

as some of you's already know, i work with one of the regional sport broadcasters. and as such i get to come across "famous" sport personalities once in awhile.

like, ian rush, joe royle, mick "mankind" foley, and a few others who i wasn't aware of but was told they were anyhoo.

during the ruggers world cup last year, all blacks' shane howarth was a studio guest throughout the campaign. and once, i had the privilege to be in the same lift as he was after work. of course, i hyperventilated. given that shane howarth's a bit of a cutie, which female doesn't, i ask you?

anyways, guess wot? lee sharpe was walking into the warpaint/presenters' dressing room earlier this afternoon while i was yakking away with a colleague. and then he smiled, uttering, "hi". to me.

i didn't recognise him but was already drooling all over awestruck all the same. so i asked my workmate if he was a newly-hired presenter. to which she replied he might be a studio guest. no matter, he's dishy, i said in return.

only when i parked myself inside my cube farm moments later that it struck me said dishy blokey was lee sharpe. he has turned bottled blond that's why i didn't quite place him at first.

i just couldn't concentrate the work at hand. in fact i'm plotting how i could go up to him and ask for his pawprint without making it too obvious. 'cos an unwritten clause in the company's policy stated that we are expected to behave at all times regardless.

i quite liked him when he was at manyoooo many many moons ago. so it'd be a great shame if i don't have any proof to show my mates - or whomever's interested to hear - that i have indeed met a sorta-favourite player of the footy club i've had been supporting since i was twelve.

yawned off

i've been yawning my noggin off since stepping in to the office this morning. not sure if it's the *stale air inside here or the gloomy weather outside that's upsetting my system.

the last time i went to the local was the monday past. maybe that's the reason why.

ie: severe lack of guinness in the bloodstream may affect sense of orientation.

* stale air - there are about 200 odd specimens inhaling/exhaling same breatheable air at this workplace. just imagine how many viruses and bugs that cannot be seen by the naked eye floating around me. frightening thought there, innit?

toons

collapsed

another "major" catastrophe struck the wee isle moments ago. this time a work-in-progress building site saw one dead and twenty eight injured. all assumed to be foreign construction workers.

i must add that's the official word; as an ex-coursemate has just emailed, saying it was yet another tube/subway station along a planned route called the Circle Line. it's not a rumour as she works near to the accident site.

only just last tuesday a portion of a highway collapsed due to wobbly retaining walls at a Circle Line tube station. four workers lost their lives, fifteen others a harrowing escape. miraclously, there wasn't any vehicle travelling on the highway at time of the disaster.

anyways, overheard some wag commented life here is interesting after all; as there ain't any natural disasters like earthquakes, tornadoes, typhoons and such like befallen on the wee isle.

touch wood.

grrr...

yet another amoeba from the taiwan office emailed to each and everyone on the addy list the following email attachment:

amongst the specimens co-existing under this roof are:
- folk from the western hemisphere
- our india offices
- other expatriate asians of non-chinese background
- other wee island races

as per the usual practise, i replied her my standard "Not everyone here is Chinese, nor reads Chinese. Thanks." statement.

and no, not a word of apology from that slag. if she doesn't comprehend the above sentence, i wonder how the fuck she got employed by an american MNC in the first place.

------------------------------------------------------
update: further proof that certain chinks possess a completely different neuromap from the rest of the blue marble: the kaiser vented his spleen about another slag wishing she was as thin as a sudanese bairn who was on the verge of death.

frankly, it is the ultimatest crime against humanity to allow that slag to breed.

why that chicken crossed the road

a blah which was first posted on blogspot moons ago. recycled for yer reading pleasure. enjoy.

-------------------------------------------
why that chicken crossed the effin' road

there are too many johnny foreigner's at the club that's why. so said chicken - henceforth known as "our lad" - decided to bunk off and ply his trade at their bitterest rivals. who happen to be just across the road.

chances of becoming *the* top scorer are very high and likelier as competition isn't as tough. unlike at his previous club, where the gaffer had signed on too many french, italian, czech, spanish, and even australian chickens.

plus the odd brazilian with whatever's left of his samba magic. oh, and there's also an american goalie chicken. as a result, our lad was left to warm the bench towards the end of last season. which chicken would not be pissed i ask you?

truth be told that most of them chickens at the club across the road are nearing their retirement days. therefore making it a dad's army kinda place. what to do, the gaffer himself is an old geezer who is a former England (fowl division) manager to be exact.

that explains why the international team were utter tosh during the supposed golden years of english (fowl) footy. in fact they still are, as evidenced by their utterly appalling FIFA (la division poulet) world standing.

but surely there's a glimmer of hope for our lad you'd say. to inject some fresh young legs and ideas at his new club. what with his fine footy skills still intact, he is full of confidence, has loads of enthusiasm, and has fire in his belly.

but be forewarned though. our lad is no spring chicken. although he is unusually wee. he broke his wings and legs - and nearly lost his comb - before in an absolutely unsightly violent derby clash two seasons ago. it took him nearly three quarters of the season to get back to full fitness. actually, he still walks with a slight limping. in addition to an off-tangent crooked comb.

no matter, that club across the road needs new blood urgently. and most importantly, they are all local chickens. some of which have served the club faithfully for many many many :: ad infinitum :: moons.

notwithstanding, here's to more glorious years to our lad at the club across the road then.

finito.

original chicken yarn © breanagh mctavish 2003.

wimped out

a kiwi sheep, which had a mighty aversion to shearing, was finally caught and then shorn. 'live' on national telly.

and all this while, it was hiding in caves escaping detection for six long years.

i didn't know there are wimps amongst sheep as well.

pride

the daily telegraph held a poll asking readers if there was a need for a bank holiday on 23 April. to think that certain quarters of the population whinged that they were prevented to celebrate it (?!); or were "...embarrassed by displays of patriotism..." to quote a reader; it is, quite frankly, astonishing.

is it because of britain's past as a perceived cocked-up colonial masters that may explain such apologetic mindset and behaviour? or the fear of a massive backlash from unforgiving ex-colonised people?

admittedly, there were atrocities commited against natives of certain territories. due to greed. but the french, belgians, spaniards and dutch fared much worse and were rather inept.

what is wrong with indulging in a wee flag waving then? or be proud of the fact that your legacies are alive in far-flung places?

or the fact that there are many many many :: ad infinitum :: more anglophiles than francophones and summat combined residing on this planet? as evidenced by the reach of coverage by the bbc world service.

ok, so most of their listeners are from africa.

if st paddy's day is celebrated the blue-marble over - even by specimens who are unaware of ireland's existence - why not st george's?

i'm sure anglophiles would be more than glad to do their bit in promoting the feast day. not to the extent of crass commercialism though, i reckon.

personally, i am looking forward to the day that i could switch my nationality and warble "god save the queen" openly and loudly. not that i didn't do so in the past, but only during sporting events. in the company of my mates.

i feared being walloped by wee-minded inferiority-complexed wee islanders, you see.

what's keeping me? issues like britain being overrun by amoebic muslim extremists - the irony is most are british-born! - and certain asylum seeking ingrates. 'cos i do not wish to be lumped together with them. oh, and clueless incompetent politicians who went to war just because.

btw, does one have to be white or anglo-saxon to be qualified as english?

contest

as aussie Simon and missus are expecting their third sprog in august, he's come up with name-the-ubul contest whereby the ultimate winner - whose suggestion(s) matches their shortlist exactly, letter for letter - stands to win a car. i think.

to convince ye further, here's what i've purloined off, erm, Simon's:

There's a great site I read every day, called Simon World. If more people read this site, there'd be world peace and an end to poverty. Simon's an interesting (and somewhat modest) guy. His wife, Mrs M, is pregnant with his third child. And he's running a contest to choose the baby's name as a way of ducking the parental hassle duty of coming up with baby names. I think he mentioned something about winning a car if you get the winning entry. Note I said I think. While you're there, he also is running a vote on the sex and timing of the birth. And you should sign his Guest Map too - you'll be in good company.

Lastly you should also read Simon World daily. It will make you a better person, more attractive to the opposite (or same if that's your thing) sex, smarter and has been known to increase height and improve senses of humour. Really.

go on, do yer bit, people :D

signed

nicked off Shaky's, a no-brainer magic. whatever you write will appear on the cardboard thingy.

some of my creations:
1. gesture
2. sick
3. stunt
4. sponsored
5. email

some girlie crap

i'm so effin' knackered today - it has got nothing to do with any hangover whatsoever - that i completely forgot to put on some mascara. which is a daily ritual.

breanagh mc.t's definition of mascara:
some warpaint thingy that ensures eyelashes stay curled - and appear longer - for as long as possible. available in myriad of colours, it aids the wearer in attracting fellas' attention when she flutters eyelashes.

unreliably reliable

UNRELIABLE FACT OF THE DAY
From the Brains Trust
26 April 2004

DRIVING DISABILITY
The Government has announced formal recognition of a new driving disability badge. The current “Orange Badge” will continue to be issued to people with physical disabilities allowing them easy access to shops and other public buildings.

The new badge is for people with a driving disability due the influence of non-prescription medicine, a totally wicked sound system, pursuing police cars or a basic lack of perception.

“The Base Ball Cap” will be worn by all such drivers as an indicator to other road users that extra caution should be applied their vicinity. In cases where the Base Ball cap is being worn incorrectly, e.g. backwards, road users are advised to give the driver a wide berth or get off the road.

a bit late, this

i know this blah is a tad late given that my brain cells have somewhat gone MIA the past few days. ta to aussie Simon and Pixy Misa for the reminder, i reckon i should mention ANZAC Day which was a couple of days ago.

not that my fair share of mates, flings acquaintances and colleagues are antipodean. rather, my wee tribute and appreciation to the soldiers who fought the japs on the wee isle during WWII. and the thousands more POW's, women and children inclusive, interned at Changi Prison.

it is a mighty insult that the Legitimate Gangsters were planning to demolish the entire prison making way for "redevelopment", if not for the australian government's timely intervention.

massive wankers. i meant the Legitimate Gangsters.

blasphemy

within a space of 15 minutes, two gagworthy/cringeworthy remakes of my fave tunes were given airtime which they didn't deserve:
- thompson twins' "hold me now" by some male copycats
- crowded house's "don't dream it's over" by some female copycat

what's with pop"stars" these days, eh?

overheard

some english blokey of a colleague turned up for work with noggin shaven clean. which yours truly chanced upon whilst at the office pantry yesterday.

and then some female cow-orker - employed as paralegal or somesuch, of wee island origin - saw said english blokey just this morning, proceeded to screech the following:

it's bleedin' effin' obvious he had a new haircut there, you #%!@. besides, that line doesn't even qualify as a friendly opening.

really, i don't understand my own species whatsoever at times.

toons

relieved

my mum was discharged from the hospital last friday afternoon and is currently on the mend.

the surgery went well but it took her two hours to recover before wheeling back to her ward. apparently she was in terrifying pain that the morphine given to her was twice the recommended dosage.

that, coupled with the anaesthesia contributed to her breathing difficulties the minute she woke up. moreover, as it was her first time, she threw up each time after food was consumed. it was the combined effects of anaesthesia and morphine that upset her system. or so the nurses said.

anyways, the past week has been rather traumatic, to me, mentally at least. it doesn't help that i have a phobia of hospitals. oddly, i didn't waver nor buckle under stress when my mum had a terrible time coping with the wearing off anaesthestic effects.

i had to put up a strong front for everyone else in the family. i can't afford to be wimpy, squirmy et al. ok, i'm not wimpy, squirmy et al to begin with.

on the bright side, i learnt quite a fair bit, from the nurses, about those contraptions used to measure her blood pressure, and oxygen level in the blood stream. and somesuch. i chatted with the other four patients in my mum's room, one of whom asked me to pray for her before her surgery.

oh and there was another patient, about my mum's age, whom i befriended whilst taking a break at the rest area.

and the nurses - many of whom are from china, the philippines and wee island student - were superb. i can't say the same about the doctor's though. a sarcy comment i uttered about how one would inevitably come across sub-standard doctors in public hospitals, made one who attended my mum to speak to me much nicely and explain at length afterwards.

it turned out said doctor was one of the four surgeons that operated on my mum. oops.

anyways, i'm looking forward to 18:00 hours WIST - which is about an hour and a half to go. i sorely need a quiet time of my own at the local.

unreliably reliable

UNRELIABLE FACT OF THE DAY
From the Brains Trust
22 April 2004

THE WALLACE MONUMENT
The Wallace Monument in Stirling is being humourously brought up to date. The success of the movie Braveheart has brought the tourists flooding in. The British Film Council has decided to ride on the back of this by promoting other UK Film Heroes. A 40m statue of Gromit is being built beside Wallace.

reviewed

i don't usually recommend blogs i chanced upon elsewhere - meaning: at other bloggers' - or who happened to drop by here via google or somewhere else.

the reason is i had so many stuff to yak about that it slipped my mind. honest.

really.

anyways, with this 'new' beginning at mu.nu, i'll make a point to share with you's brilliant fabtastic non-mu.nu journaler's. kicking off this week's:
1. chase me ladies, i'm in the cavalry
2. we don't like you
3. canadian DOS prompt

go say hello, people.

* NB: i'd only recommend those whose contents and style are similar to, AHEM, mine.

scouted

the next time you's chance upon a cockroach at home, the workplace, the pub, or the public bog, beware. it may be a recce roach deployed by the defense department.

calm down, it may not be not spying on us humans. although of what effin' business of said defense wotsit :: as opposed to ministry of defence :: to invade our privacy is nothing short of outrageous.

ok, back to the topic proper, said defense wotsit are wanting to turn the pests into "... stealthy environmental sentinels to detect chemical or biological agents..".

reet. for rest of the deviously mindboggling scheme, 'ere.

another hatchday

stolen, without permission, from lawn greengrass, it's wills shakespeare's bday this weekend.

of dragons and erm..

i know this is a tad late. but what the heck, it's better late than never. innit? given that i'm a shameless anglophile and blah.

ta muchly to both coffdrop and giles for the reminder.

happy st george's day to one and all.

new order

the recent news about the discovery of a second image on the turin shroud is actually that of mel gibson's.

it was alleged that the thespian used the shroud as a face towel although his followers vehemently denied, instead accusing us of sacrileging would have us believed otherwise.

".. Derek of Braveheart, formerly known as Derek Gadd, dressed in a kilt, tam o'shanter and with his face painted blue claimed that he had experienced his own miracles since following "Saint Mel."...

'I wake up on Easter Sunday and within minutes I have these strange holy markings of Mel on my face and hands,' explained Mr Gadd adopting the strong Australian accent favoured by followers.

'They're brown and taste of chocolate and stay there for most of the day but have disappeared by the Monday. I also frequently experience a religious tummy ache. It truly is a sign of Mel's suffering'.."

i, rest assuredly, am not one of them.

eh?

the following is from a mailing list thingy sent by a dodgy bar, which used to be a purely comedy club. emphasis mine:

"... FOOTBALL SPECIAL - In association with Premier Events and Media - Spend an evening in the company of Manchester United and England legend Lee Sharpe.

Find out the real story behind the man they called "the new George Best". The Girls, the Parties and what's Fergie really like?

This is your chance to ask the questions. Monday 26 April, doors open at 7pm. Only $30 includes buffet and 1 beer.."

like as if he's in the same stratosphere as Eric Cantona.

one thing for sure is, fairweather fans, groupies and slags will definitely make a beeline to drool over Sharpey. i wager the last category of specimen's do not have an absolute idea as to who he actually is.

btw, i'm not aware that beer is countable.

alert

bloggin' may take a backseat this week as the following will be taking place:
- me pen-mate of many many many :: ad infinitum :: moons, Ian, is comin to town tomorrow
- me mum's impending surgery this wednesday morning, to remove some wee stones in her gall bladder
- i may take the day off work this friday to spend the day at the local keep an eye on me mum as she may be discharged the day before
- as well as settling some errands and who knows, having a pint at the local after which
- continue tweaking and tinkering this blog beyond utter recognition

the last bit's a tad exaggerating. fret not, people, keep yer eyes peeled on the texted blah's thingy as i will update intermittently.

comin' up next..

toons

unreliably reliable

UNRELIABLE FACT OF THE DAY
From the Brains Trust
17 April 2004

KING GEORGE III
Before they knew George III was mad, he managed to push a law through Parliament making it illegal to make any laws in the UK ever again. Thus every single law passed since then is not an actual law, and it is a conspiracy by the government that allows the imprisonment and fining of people who break any of these 'non-laws'. Among them are compulsory education up to sixteen, women's right to vote, and anything to do with cars. Thus if you are ever given a speeding fine, you can object as speeding is not actually against the law.

'fessed up

my curiosity got the better of me so i surfed into the news of the world and, lo and behold, this caught me eye:

"BECKHAM CONFESSES"

the headline hollered. regardless if this piece of "news" is true or otherwise, the following off the brains trust sums up becks' state of intellect best:

New type of intelligence classified

Howard Gardner has been forced to add "footballing intelligence" to his multiple intelligences theory, in order to explain the disparity between David Beckham's brilliance on the pitch and the other choices he makes.

and if he bloody well knew he'd be in massive shite if he's found out, why the heck did he engage in it then?

i asked one blokey whom i, erm, uhm.. AHEM whose fiancee ::shock, horror, gasp!:: was in sweden, but he was posted to work here back then:

me: right, so yer now overcome by guilt, blah yadda, but why the fuck did you embark on it in the first place?
twerp: ...

but of course, which person would reveal as to why apart from the usual bollocks? i was annoyed at first but knew very well what i got myself into.

what can i do? play the scorned and emotionally-injured woman? and then get called "manipulative", or "revengeful"; or worse, "mentally unstable"?

nay, instead of wallowing in self-pity, i got on with life and treated this episode as yet another chapter.

the best bit was, said twerp called on me when he was about to leave the wee isle for good as his contract had expired. and to this day, i only have the nice bits to remember by.

bon anniversaire

it was exactly twelve moons ago this day that i decided to start a blog. for a lark. who's to know that i'm still at it, after exactly twelve moons later.

i was completely clueless as to what to blah about. although the idea of fame and popularity in the blogosphere was too much to resist. yeah as if i'm that desperate to become well-known.

nay, blogging - or to use a much posher ::snooty, snooty:: and lesser-known word, journaling - is therapeutic. its is also an outlet to upkeep my (high - ahem) standard of written english when it is deteriorating all around me.

i must admit the english i use over here could be a tad confusing to some of you's. simply put, i'm fascinated with the english language and its variations. such that at times, i find myself using slang words. and writing in the style of certain regional dialects.

although i must say that i don't usually speak the way i write, in my daily communications with wee islanders. it's a different story altogether when i'm at the local, where i feel right comfortable with words or terms frequently used over here.

but the guinness has got nothing to do with it.

also, my love of writing, and putting my thoughts down is one factor that ensures this site is running. nay, it's the core of wee but loyal fans regular readership that ensures the existence of this site.

of which i am utterly grateful.

wot to do?

nothing clever to blah at the moment and apologies for the silence. was preoccupied tweaking the scripts to this blog, apart from the load of tosh emitted from the gaffer lately.

here's a recycled post off my blogspot thingy, a larf with a wee island slant. note the asterisk thingy which is a recent addendum.

there was a rumour once many many moons ago that ethnic indians were bypassed for selection to the wee island footy squad.

the reason? whenever corners were to be taken, these chaps would inevitably open a corner shop.

* when asked to verify the above, the spokesman of the wee island football association spluttered: ".. that is of course a very vicious lie which does more harm than good to our already fragile inter-racial relations..."

before Ms Chow Ah Lian - or Ahlian Chow as known to the rest of the blue marble - could continue her rhetoric of how the Legitimate Gangsters are continuing their efforts to dish out freebie citizenship to third-rate foreign footballers - read: BRAZILIAN and SERBIAN - to displace the natives; this reporter decided to take matters into his own paws by interviewing said ethnic indian players...

:: please note that conversation is in the rather unique wee island spoken english style, varying between the not-very-posh and peasant-class standards ::

busybody reporter: so how, is it true or not?
indian player: true or not as to?
busybody reporter: that you'd open a corner shop every time you take a corner?
indian player: it's in our blood, what to do?
another indian player who is clearly offended: eh, it's like the chinese, everywhere they go they open a takeaway
busybody reporter: hmm.. you have a point there. but how come everywhere i turn i always see malays playing football?
yet another indian player obviously sidetracking: no idea. but the malays also like to sit at the void deck (ie: ground floor of block of flats) playing guitar what

this interview, sadly didn't even see the light of day. how come? a gag order was imposed upon the daily rag. 'nuff said.

* disclaimer: these bits are but a figment of Breanagh McT's imagination. although it is true that brazilian and serbian footy players who can't even make it to their respective national teams ply their trade over here. it is true also that malay fellas are usually found at void decks strumming guitars.

no matter, this piece is copyrighted stuff.

toons

conspiracy?

sample the following gem, off the IHT:

"...Observers of human comedy have tried for centuries to explain how so many people can be so ignorant yet manage to feed themselves and reproduce..."

a fine example being 99.999% of wee islanders. of all colours, orientations and educational "qualifications". ::cough, splutter::

ok, a wee sidetrack there. the journo of this article was actually pointing out today's sad state of affairs - via a survey held in the UK - whereby today's youths are not only a collective herd of ignoramuses. but also apathetic, defective, feckless and anal-retentive.

sample these bits:

"...A new British survey commissioned by Blenheim Palace reveals that 10 percent of the 2,000 people questioned thought Adolf Hitler was a fictional character. He never lived. He never ran He never blitzed London. He never invaded Russia or created the Holocaust..."

i'm appalled. but if these same 10 percent of the 2,000 people were asked who's the Page 3 Model of the day, i'm very sure they would be spot on.

i must clarify though there are geezers out there who are apathetic, defective, feckless and anal-retentive as well. like those working over here at the workplace. who seem to be inhabitants of another planet. or exist in a parallel cosmoverse.

makes me wonder if there is some massive conspiracy breeding program going on which i'm not aware of; as the number of apathetic, defective, feckless and anal-retentive thingies is growing. rather rapidly.

looking from a different angle though, if not for this herd of apathetic, defective, feckless and anal-retentive thingies, there won't be enough material for me to blah/rant/waffle/whinge about.

innit?

unreliably reliable

UNRELIABLE FACT OF THE DAY
From the Brains Trust
15 April 2004

ERROL FLYNN
Following the death of movie star Errol Flynn, the international fencing association elected to make swinging from the chandeliers a legal move in his honour.

brain dead

a no-brainer piece of "conversation" with a canuck of spanish origin as i was about to leave the local last evening, said thingy is labelled "cretin" henceforth:

opening scene: ... intro.. blah.. "how d'ya know we are canadian".. ::because one of you's was pointing out the canuck fiver exhibit, you @#$%::... blah.. YAWN..

cretin: how much spanish do you know?
me: un poco ::"a little". but i was sorta fibbin'::
cretin: oh that's very good, like how much? ::said cretin was trying his luck but he had better beware::
me: ::clenching my canines:: oh like como esta, blah ::which at this point said cretin was parroting me and grinning like an imbecile:: see what i mean?
cretin: haha, that means you need a spanish boyfriend so that you can practise speaking spanish
me: ::nearly wanting to punch the living daylights out of him, but looked at his mate who was sat beside him:: eh, he's flirting with me, ain't he?
cretin: ...

closing scene: ... "your leaving now?" ::becareful there, twat:: ... blah... taking leave...

is it totally necessary to acquire a spanish boyfriend so that i could brush up on my español with? puhleease.

honestly, it's a crime to let loose such amoeba's without any form of supervision.

tuned

more kewl tunes whilst on my way to work in a cab earlier today:

africa - toto
do you know your way to san jose? - dionne warwick
rhythm of the falling rain - the cascades

rhythm of the fallblah used to be my secondary school class anthem. we even warbled it - usually the first few lines - in between classes while waiting for the subject teacher to arrive.

we just lurved to warble. we all were.

toons

blimey

mills and boon (m&b) - publisher of inane romance stories which generations of women all over the blue marble are willing to part their dosh for - have gone jap. ie: manga comic format.

shock, horror.

nothing wrong with that, as i didn't add the "gasp!" bit there.

m&b's decision to turn comicy has got nothing to do with going local in their bid to win new fans. rather, it's the "...growing unwillingness among the younger generation to tackle novels..."

that's today's sad state of affairs for you.

i haven't asked me mum her opinion on the manga m&b as she is once their huge fan many many many :: ad infinitum :: moons ago. such that she went great lengths to purchase new titles by post. via air mail.

the cover illustrations were more than pukeworthy enough to turn a squirt of eight off, apart from utterly unrealistic "happy-ever-after" stories. but the following manga drawing takes the biscuit:

to quote the journo, reference above piccy, emphasis mine:

"..while the hero's chiselled jaw might attract a British romance fan, the heroine presents quite a different prospect. Her enormous eyes, dwarfing a mouth and nose of doll-like proportions, are like two shiny acid-green pools. The effect, to Western eyes, is a little more scary than seductive..."

my sentiments exactly.

tuned

kewl tunes which i've been warbling to for the past hour or so, off the golden oldies radio station:

faithfully - journey
better be home soon - crowded house
the winner takes it all - abba
leaving on a jet plane - john denver
cherish - kool and the gang
when i look into your eyes - firehouse
your're my world - helen reddy

and some others that slipped me mind at this time of typing. may i add that i simply lurve helen reddy's vocals.

toons

piccie of the day

nicked off shutterline, taken by Terry Cervi. this piccie is posted here not because of my weakness for westie's.

unreliably reliable

UNRELIABLE FACT OF THE DAY
From the Brains Trust
8 April 2004

ICELAND - MORE THAN JUST A RUBBISH FOOTBALL TEAM
Most countries can claim to have a national flag, a nation anthem, a national culinary dish, or a national day, but few countries can claim to have a national number - that is, except for Iceland. Ever since Iceland was settled by Scotsmen and Danes in 1712, Iceland has been inextricably linked with the number 15.

unreliably reliable

UNRELIABLE FACT OF THE DAY
From the Brains Trust
9 April 2004

COLOURS
In Greenland, natural selection within the Nordic settlers has produced a population who are unable to distinguish between the colours green and brown, but are able to discriminate white from white.

slagged

i have never had a good opinion of models. IM not so HO, their social ranking in the food chain is just right above that of amoeba.

but to associate them with the likes of the amoeba is a right insult to that single-celled microbe. i mean, the latter is a living organism. whereas models - along with trolley dolly's, pop"stars", aspirant wannabe's, groupies, and the like - don't use much of their brains to see them through their miserable lives.

or there is a need to. nay, what passes for brains to these lifeform's is vacuum actually.

simply put, they are but a mighty waste of space. not to mention, taking up whatever's left of breatheable air.

the latest example of an attention-seeking slag is one that's just come out of the woodwork declaring herself as Beckham's another mistress. the slag in question is a malaysian-born model who got into the fray by telling the blue marble that she had a tryst with him whilst the latter visited the wee isle in the summer of 2001. on manyooooo's annual far east pilgrimage

whether this story is true or otherwise, it doesn't stop me from going, "eh?" when reading this baffling bit:

".. Her close friend and representative, Australian lawyer Michael Brereton, said: 'Sarah has thought long and hard before telling her story... Beckham is an idol to millions. His fans should know the truth.'.."

if he is a third-rate footballer, no one gives a shite as to how many birds he shagged behind his missus' back. but just because he's "an idol to millions." certainly not to me.

oh sorry, idol to millions of asian manyoooo fans.

all i can say is this Sarah person is really desperately seeking her 15 minutes of fame. regardless, allowing this thing - and her ilk - to trample the earth is the ultimatest crime against humanity.

one last word, and i can't help it here. this Sarah thing is bleh lookin'.

quizzed

nicked off annika's.

congratulations. you are the kiss my ass happy
bunny. You don't care about anyone or anything.
You must be so proud


which happy bunny are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

wav-ed

this tune's been in my head for days since i first heard it last weekend over at the wee island seven's.

no thanks to this lone piper who first came on when scotland were dreadful, trailing behind korea 0 - 7. and when he was in the middle of it, scotland scored their first try. and went on to wallop the asians 31 to 7.

heh. this is truly a fine example of bagpipes as instruments of incitement. okay, they are one of my favourite musical instruments. except that i don't play them.

also included on the sidebar is another fave, scotland the brave. which was the signature tune of the once-upon wee island policewomen bagpipers.

i said once-upon 'cos there ain't any successors to these fine musicians who were a fixture of national day parades of years gone by. they were but one of the british legacies left that the wee island legitimate gangsters are more than keen to erase completely. wankers.

go trad

as the olympics in athens is just around the corner, greek authorities promise the blue marble that the fete will be reverted back to the traditional ways.

for example:
- precision timing using sundial
- athletes taking part in certain events must go stark naked - ooooer
- rowing competition to be "..held in a small puddle in downtown Athens.."
- marathon on "...a specially shortened Olympic bridleway.."

i'm one for the good old days.

a belated thank you..

.. to you's luvverly fellow Munuvians for your welcome. and a special mention to Emma who had the honour of being my very first guest.

briefly, i'm a refugee from Blogger which as some of you's know, can be wonky at times.

if yer curious, you can take a peek at my old blog. and ta for dropping by this site.

at last?

spent the entire day - ok, since 12:00 hours WIST thereabouts and it's now 19:50 WIST - tinkering the main template and css thingy.

and it has seen four transformations so far: jade green/brown combo; purple and navy blue; black/white combo with red/green fonts.

and this final one, black/white with gold/purple fonts. i'm mighty chuffed with it so far. and no, the colour yellow or gold or summat is not my favouritest.

i must admit that some tips were stolen without permission off Mandarin Design.

in the meanwhile...

site's under construction. colour scheme may change. font size may also change. yer patience is much appreciated.

age is partly the reason why it will take me a wee bit to understand the ways of the MT scripting thingy.

wee is but an understatement.

oh, and the two Simon's are vying to be Sim1. oh dear. i'd thought of differentiating 'em both by their initials. since their family names also start with the letter M, they'd be henceforth known as the aussie Simon and the mancunian Simon.

so there :D

quizzed

nicked off Pixy's.

:: how jedi are you? ::

yooohoo..

ta muchly to Pixy M for the set-up and welcome message. and Simon of Simon World for the recommendations also.

there are two regular Simon's, that's why the clarifications :) maybe i should call 'em the aussie Simon and the mancunian Simon.

nay, Sim1 and Sim2 sounds much kewler.

will blah something clever soon. but firstly, i'll get a hang of manoeuvring round MT, and then import some of the scripts over. and then.. postings.

so coming up next...

The Canary

Ogden Nash

The song of canaries
Never varies,
And when they're molting
They're pretty revolting.