my innermost sanctum

the utter irony

i don't believe in getting match-made. or putting my reputation on the line by joining a dating company. it smacks of total desperation.

yet this very evening, i'm going to one massive hooking-up party at one of the local's regulars' apartment. when i first received her text earlier this week inviting me to "a party" that went, "..bring a bottle and some friends..", i thought it was just a party.

so when i got around to ask her what sort yesterday, she replied: "...just a bunch of people lookin to meet others..". of course i was gobsmacked. beyond words.

yeah, fancy the letter b being one of those bunch of people. ok, i didn't really give the invite any consideration during the week.

anyways, i'm passing up watching the Australia vs S. Africa rugby just to network. for my business. so watch this space if anything occurs to the, erm, contrary :D

meh

yet another piece of wee island duh?worthy unnecessary superfluity, i chanced upon this off my business's competitor's site, emphasis mine:

having lived here on this islet all my life, i'm not aware that:
1. there are christian, jewish or buddhist mosques
2. there are hindu, muslim or jewish churches
3. you's get the drift

also, how they could miss out on Taoist and Sikh temples is beyond my comprehension.

now i know why alot of 'em foreigners i spoke to seem to be ill-informed. it's not what they gleaned from guidebooks written by smart-arsed travellers. rather, gormless self-styled wee island ambassadors.

indeed, they have brought sheer stupidity and utter ignorance to new heights. nay, maybe something was lost in translation.

today's toons

* "..if you get caught between the moon and new york city.." is the theme to? you's know that one, folks :D

unreliably reliable

UNRELIABLE FACT OF THE DAY
From the Brains Trust
30 July 2004

CALCULUS
The huge field of mathematics known as Calculus is, in fact, entirely made-up and of no use whatsoever. It came about as the result of a bet between Newton and Leibniz to see who could dupe the most people; its success drove Newton insane, whilst Leibniz faded into obscurity, ashamed at the suffering he had inflicted on generations of pupils. This fact has been pointed out by notable figures including Einstein and Andrew Wiles, but has been hushed-up each time by the Exam Boards, fearing a student uprising.

getting into a right twist

spotted this online advert by a wee island desperate gits get-together thingy match-making set-up, emphasis mine:

i didn't realise that there are unprofessional lawyers out there also. and what the fish is the definition of professional lawyer anyways? is there any clever lurking wee islander out there who cares to enlighten the letter b?

i can therefore assume that there are both:
1. professional and unprofessional bankers?
2. professional and unprofessional architects?
3. professional and unprofessional wotsits?

but of course there are professional and unprofessional whores out there. ie: those who whore full-time and got paid; those who refuse to acknowlege that they are technically whores.

now, i recall seeing an advert put up by a slag that went, "..professional private banker..". let me repeat this, what the fuck? and both advert's happened to be by birds'? besides, is the emphasis, or rather, prefix professional necessary at all? or does the inclusion make the whatever profession seem more poshworthy?

or is it simply a matter of inflating their virtually non-existent ego's?

it's confirmed..

1. i'm a sad git science & tech *wotsit -> have just finished reading me bro's popular science magazine march issue. from cover to cover.
2. i'm a mayonnaise addict, like i must have it on each and every darn thing i consume; except dissolving it in h2o -> hormones playing/wreaking havoc yet again. gaah!

* i know, the appropriate word here is either geek or nerd. but those terms are rather abused and much misused by every pretentious wee island youngling who thinks it's utterly marvellous to call themselves as such.

just because they possess some common piece of technological "wonder" - which everyone has. or could effin' blog - which everyone does. the irony.

today's toons

my reaction towards news of how certain cow-orkers got a raise is exactly same as Alice's.

well, erm, almost.

spotted!!

manager of Research yawning with her gob *WIDE* open.

and this coming from someone who's supposedly an educated "professional". who works in a multinational company, mind.

today's toons

ta 4 é memories

the kiwi lad has left the wee isle early this morning. found out about it after receiving his text message this morning. off to see his mum in melbourne, and then back to school in NZ.

yeah, i'm gonna miss him. in a way. it's not often one comes across a well-mannered and polite young chap these days. innit?

spotted!

nicked off coffdrop's, the death star is for real, people.

cue: darth vader's imperial march tune

brain dead

i'm afraid there would not be any blahing's for the rest of the day and beyond this week, given that:
1. the soon-to-be-launched hongkong broadcast networks are in a complete shambles -> they can't decide if they should launch them on august 15, august 1 or earlier. complete spastic's.

2. that major cricket event happening in Sri Lanka is coming to a close with India facing Sri Lanka in the finals -> which means there are some massive delays to my work today

3. at the same time, i'm in the midst of compiling an analysis of my business's competitors

but do keep yer eyes peeled. something utterly brilliant may come this way.

today's toons

fact

wee island fruit sellers and taxi drivers speak better and grammatically correct english than 'em sales and marketing "professionals".

higher qualifications notwithstanding.

"it's football, not soccer! grrr.."

as some footy fan's would have already known of the exhibition tour in the U S of A by the likes of Celtic, Liverpool, Manyooooooooo, Chelsea and wotsit; i returned home this evening to the telly showing the Celtic vs Chelsea game.

as the commentator was american, i told me bro that - apart from the totally incomprehensible droning's disguised as commentary :D - americans would never be a footy force to reckon with.

how come?
- us, 95% of the blue marble = footy, futbol, le pied de terre wotsit somesuch football
'em = soccer
[including antipodeans, and 'em italians who called it "calcio", that's why the figures]

- us, 98% of the blue marble = goalkeeper
'em = goaltender

- us, yaddablah = half time
'em = intermission

- us, ditto = first / second half
'em = first / second period

- us, ditto = the clock starts from 00:00
'em = the clock starts from 90:00

erm, the USA women soccer team are a force to reckon with, anyhooo.

and the other day, i overheard a yank cow-orker uttering, and i swear my hearing wasn't wonky, "umpire" instead of "ref". i should have given him some stick. but knowing what a complete pain in the derierre he was, i walked away sniggering.

don't get me wrong, my american friends, i'm not winding anyone up. in fact, i understand NHL and sportscenter better whilst watching the telly at the workplace.

and i must say that whenever the odd american or two says "football", or even plays it, i'd never fail to utter, "bless you, son!".

just like that sneaky glancing american lawyer who has a couple of English Premiership posters on the wall of his office. now you's know why i'm so fascinated with him.

boiling blood

just took place about 5 minutes ago. sample the following snippet off a conversation with a cow-orker, pertaining to the usual eleventh-hour commercial bookings requests:

...
the letter b, with steam rising out of her noggin: you all think it's a very simple process to create these features? simply one keystroke and voila?
cow-orker: i didn't say that
the letter b: did i say you say that?
:: pause ::
cow-orker: why don't you go and tell them [sales twats and India office twunts]?
the letter b: YOU go tell them exactly
...

complete spastic bastards. and here i was sat here watching the clock, ready to scramble out of the workplace.

erm..

he's only a fling/ONS. yet i still have got this utterly daft grin plastered on me mug.

:: blinker's glazed ::

a wee wind-up

came across more splutterworthy blog's by wee island youngling's. and as per the usual, i had to reach out for the barfbag a quarterway through.

how come? they come across as:
1. a massive know-all
2. if only *they* suffer alot of hell just to go through school, conscription or life
3. if they own the entire cosmoverse

but really, they are simply a bunch of totally clueless petulant spoilt whingeing hillbillies - in the guise of clever, modern and ambitious twits. to whom life should be handed on a silver platter.

yep, there are loadsa 'em over here at the workplace. especially a couple of them minging fresh-off-school bints working right in my department. who had the effin' gall to complain to the gaffer once that they didn't deserve my constant windings-up.

and then he said this completely incomprehensible gobsmacking piece of tosh, after hauling me in to his office:
"..please accord them the same level of respect as you did me...".

reet. i have no respect for anyone who doesn't draw the line between professionalism and discriminating favouritism towards/overt fraternising with certain whoring minion's.

and i thought respect is earned, not a given?

today's toons

today's toons

unreliably reliable

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

SPROUTS
Brussels Sprouts contain a unique bacterium which tastes awful then after an incubation about 11 months releases a memory erasing drug causing the consumer to forget that he/she didn't like them last Christmas. Severely infected individuals actually believe that they like sprouts and have been known to eat them all on Christmas day.

grumble

here at the workplace, there are loadsa foreign "talents" who:
1. are incredibly overpaid
2. smoke every other hour to get sufficient creative inspiration
3. keep changing their friggin' minds at the eleventh hour

don't get me wrong, i don't envy them. rather, how the fuck they were hired in the first place. and then got tagged, "talent".

oh, and there are twats amongst them who think the sun still sets on the empire; this partly due to the behaviour of some wee island cow-orkers. 'nuff said.

cramming

bought this at Borders. must be a good read, methinks.

and no, i didn't do as much as flipping through it. but bought it all the same as:
1. it was written by a former spy, so it must be brilliant
2. i was in a hurry to meet, erm, someone

so there.

unreliably reliable

UNRELIABLE FACT OF THE DAY
From the Brains Trust
24 July 2004

LEANING TOWER PROBLEM RECTIFIED
For many years it has been impossible to bring the leaning tower of Pisa vertical as it would make it much less interesting and damage the tourist trade, but now a solution has been found. The tower is finally to be righted, and the rest of the city is to be tilted at a 6 degree angle so the Tower still seems to be pleasingly jaunty.

today's toons

confused?

snipped off this week's the economist's whingers' forum letters page, emphasis mine:

erm, Ms Wong, if you take a careful look at those Home Countries flags, only the Welsh have got a dragon on it. a RED winged dragon to boot. to call it a british dragon is akin to implying *all* british subjects are sheepshagger's.

oh btw, methinks you need to get yer eyesight sorted 'cos the dragon certainly looked totally oriental.

nitpicking confused whiner.

it's official

the letter b is a paedophile/cradle snatcher.

shock. horror. GASP!

not going into details as to how and why and what. briefly, latest fling is a 21-year-old kiwi student on holidays here whom i got chatted with right after the NZ vs South Africa rugby yesterday.

but i must clarify that i did not outrageously flirt ::me, flirt?! heh:: with said student. nor was i "provocatively" dressed.

indeed, he was so effin' phwoar!worthy fit, that he even made the kiwi accent sound so sexy.

erm, yeah that's about all folks.

further snooping's

i really have got too much time on me paws.

that fanciable irish chappie who carries a knapsack to work is actually northern irish. and get this, he's been living in asia for a decade. or longer.

now, that explains
1. his fascination with asian - specifically chink - birds regardless of size and shape, minging or otherwise
2. why i couldn't tell where he's originally from at first
3. he has got a thoroughly scottish surname - due to the mass migration from scotland back in whenever?
4. his first degree was from a university in Belfast

and there's a likelihood he's Protestant. and a Loyalist. so, that makes him British then?

unreliably reliable

UNRELIABLE FACT OF THE DAY
From the Brains Trust
23 July 2004

TV WITCHCRAFT
TV is still considered to be a diabolical form of witchcraft in many parts of Eastern Germany. in 2001 twelve people were burnt at the stake for owning a television set.

today's toons

kiddie spat

referencing the current spat between the all-mighty and all-conquering peopre's lepubrik of China and the all-wotever wee isle, today's edition of the daily rag came up with this piece of wotsit:

reet. given that the rag is the mouthpiece of the Legitimate Gangster's, surely the so-called erroneous juxtaposition - whatever that means - was purposely done so to gauge wee islanders' reactions.

or more specifically, to test how patriotic wee islanders are. like if they would display overtly their unquestionning loyalty and ultimate support towards the heir-apparent prime minister. given that:
1. the wee island national day is around the corner
2. his ascension to the throne comes right after the national day
3. huge numbers of wee islanders are walking out of the islet still - who, to the Gangsters' wee mind are a bunch of *traitors* - "duh?" i'd hear you say

what with the threats that China has been firing at the wee isle's direction, that run from the gamut of further investments to postponing/cancelling some ministers' visits here; the silence from wee island investors in china is rather deafening.

i'd rather hear concrete assertive tit-for-tat's from wee islander's than just mere whingeing's posted to the rag's forum page. not that their rants' would not be lost in translation.

i have to emphasise that my not giving any opinion on China's stand in this kiddie quarrel doesn't mean i totally agree with their whining's. especially the bit about the wee isle not taking into consideration the feelings of the 1.3 billion chinks. for the no-brainer fact that the heir-apparent is of chinese descent, they'd expect him to know better. ie: assuming a collective mindset.

with this, i conclude my erm, stand on this daft exchange of petty disagreements between a couple of prats.

at long last

my bro has finally landed a job after six long months of hibernating at home. he was laid off just a month before lunar new year for the fact that his previous company were getting rid of their entire IT operations.

in other words, outsourcing the IT functions to a third-party. daft move that. and oh, don't make me start my rant against outsourcing.

i'm well-chuffed that not only he got employed, he has also finally gotten something he's been seeking for awhile - network security. though he doesn't have quite much hands-on experience in that area, the company are giving him the opportunities to do so.

besides, he's quite well compensated and methinks he deserves it muchly. and i'm saying that not because he's me bro. although i must say he's unwavering in his pursuit and having so much self-belief.

yes, it's a massive relief, regardless.

brave souls

four malaysian muslims renounced their religion, which to them malay's, is tantamount to rejecting their own race.

pardon? repentence classes? serves to affirm my belief that muslims - as opposed to the religion itself - are but a double standard bunch of specimens.

today's toons

racial issues

whilst chatting with the proprietor of the "beauty" shop last evening, the topic on inter-racial marriages cropped up. i avoided giving my two penneth's worth on such issues, knowing what these ethnic chink's are like.

to be fair, not all wee islanders of chinese descent are as bigoted and warped. it's those who assert their racial superiority that raise my ire.

back to the subject of mixed marriages. indeed there are a mighty lot of such unions occuring over here on the wee isle, as statistics - which sane person believes **statistics? - has shown most of which are between *white blokes and wee island chink birds. the situation wasn't any different from the colonial times, really.

but back then, those fellas tend to be either antipodean or british. it was also quite common amongst the three main races to inter-marry, like: chinese-malay, chinese-indian, indian-malay. and then their progeny went on to add other elements to the mix.

anyways, said proprietor lamented about the lack of, and i quote: "us pure chinese" these days, given the "liberal fratenising today's youngsters indulge themselves in". unquote. i wasn't appalled by the chauvinistic nature of the statement per se. although i was nearly wanting to ask her if she had thought of returning to where her grandparents came from. ie: China.

honestly, if any of you's chance upon those PR spin about how integrated, assimilated and accepted wee islanders are of one another; it's nothing but a load of utter bollocks.

furthermore, though i must clarify not all of 'em are as described below:
1. ethnic chink's are selective racists, but would vehemently deny they actually are - yeah, typical hypocrites
2. malay's are latent racists - who rear their ugly heads at a mere slight, real or imagined
3. ethnic indian's worship the ground caucasians walk, only if the latter benefit them muchly - in terms of career prospects and social status

not coincidentally enough, brethrens of categories #1 and #3 display exact same characteristics the blue marble over. yes, it has got something to do with their DNA. very muchly yes. and to the malays, as long as you become one of them - ie: through conversion to islam - you are considered as an honorary member of their community.

so now you's know why i don't discuss racial matters with certain wee islanders. it's like treading on a minefield. nay, my ethnic loyalty would be called into question, more like it.

* bit of a misnomer here. those of mediterranean, hispanic and wotnot origins are categorised as "caucasian" as well. they can't really tell them apart, these wee islanders.

** complete irony here. i scored distinctions for statistics - known in its posher term, "quantitative methods" - in my university course.

today's toons

coercion

the head gaffer emailed us all that she was coerced into taking part in the Workplacewotsit Idol tosh this very afternoon. at 1600 hours WIST.

as she claimed that she can't quite carry a tune, and as such, she'd like us to either:
1. join her in a duet or summat
2. come along to boost her ego lend her our moral support

yeah right. as if i've got nothing better to do, eh. well, as the eventual winner would be rewarded with an iPod, which curry-favouring git wouldn't?

oh yes, me hypocritical gaffer comes to mind. and i'm afraid the whole lot of us lowly slave-labourers would be shepherded into the studio, i'd wager.

larf's

traditional welsh rugby players' greeting: baaa

must be the h2o around 'ere

on my way home this evening on the "train", a bottled-blond laddie who was stood next to me nattered away - on his mobile phone - in an accent that sound faintly scottish.

he was unusually wee i tried hard not to stare at him. lest a couple of lowlife wee island females around me would not hesitate to sharpen their claws to claim him.

i mean, their cringeworthy body language was so effin' obvious.

until his phone rang that i got the chance to satisfy my curiosity. as to where he was originally from. he was prattling on about the UEFA championships. and wishing Patrick Viera wasn't sold to the highest bidder.

anyhooo, i mentioned faintly scottish 'cos he uttered "alright" instead of "alreet" a few times. and then his brogue veered towards the irish variety of scouse and cumbrian. only when he alighted at the same station as i was that i seized the opportunity to query him: "excuse me, i didn't mean to eavesdrop, are ye scouse?"

nay, he's from glasgow - after i asked whereabouts in scotland - and has been here on the wee isle for almost two years. and i told him that his brogue had somehow diluted.

it's either the water around here; or 'em wee islanders that he had to make himself understood.

today's toons

ack!

just found out that 'em both objects of me desire attention knew each other before in hongkong:
1. when the irish chappie was originally hired to work there back in 2000
2. before the american lawyer was hired to work on the wee isle in 2002

not only they knew each other way back then, they played weekend rugby at the same rugby club. and get this, in the same team.

obviously, i had too much time on me paws snoopin' about.

killing two birds

with one stone?

on my daily stat tracking, i came across this googled request: victoria beckham nba finals

i'm not aware that posh plays basketball on the sly.

film

i have to go watch isaac asimov's i, robot which opens here on the wee isle this thursday.

saw the trailer on the telly which featured showdown scenes that were so Matrixy. that one'd wonder if lifeform's in 2035 would actually suspend mid air for a nanosecond before they annihilate their opponents.

i reckon i'd nitpick the film throughout to see how much it has deviated from the novel.

disgraceful

the mighty unruly manners of the mainland chinese at its finest, occured during the Asian Cup opening ceremony:

they just couldn't decide which excuse to bleat, could they? and lame ones at that.

or maybe it was all lost in translation. both ways.

regardless, Mr Velappan shouldn't have vented his spleen on how the whole lot of 'em ought to "...be ashamed of what they saw in the opening ceremony...". 'cos there ain't any exact chinese translation of the word "ashamed".

re-phrasing it to, see emphasis:
"you's china people make me lose face. and now everyone around the blue marble is laughing at us, asians!!!"

works wonders. really.

lost sheep

as i returned from the tuckshop an hour ago or so - buying lunch - i was hit by disorientation as i made my way to my cubefarm. i entered from the reception area, that's why.

and i joked with a kindly colleague - who directed me - that i need a GPS thingy to help me find my location.

of all the colour schemes they chose, it had to be dusky pink.

it's a monday

so that's why they've gone a tad insane in the noggin.

the minute they stepped in to the workplace this morning, them cow-orkers gathered in cliques:
- chattering noisily and pointing at the brand new shiny cubefarm's
- staring wide-eyed at the partial transformation of their surroundings
- whining loudly how they have to wipe their dusty cubefarm's clean
- speculating who the unlucky gits are to be re-farmed

and i thought i'm working with *adults*.

polyglotic

alrighty, a polyglot is a lifeform who:
- speaks several languages
- embraces cultural diversity

reet. so can i also use the term to describe someone ::cough:: who speaks english with a weird melange of accents, then?

really, it can be quite disconcerting whenever i'm asked exactly whereabouts i'm from. i usually return a blank look together with an "erm..." as a reply. 'cos it's a bit of a torture to spew forth the words, "i'm a native 'ere".

i mean, i don't share exact same attributes with 'em 99.9% chavic wee islanders. but that doesn't mean one can take certain elements of the wee isle out of me.

but to be queried:
- "so, you were not born in manchester/glasgow/wherever then?"
- "so, you didn't go to school in new zealand/australia then?"
- "so, you really didn't visit south africa/canada/ireland before then?"

after repeated clarifications, i'm at a complete lost as to what i ought to do next to convince 'em.

tragic, innit, that i couldn't even come up with something utterly brilliant? for someone who relies on her rapier-sharp wit to maintain some semblance of sanity?

today's toons

today's toons

do it the thai way

whilst on my way to the local yesterday walking past the thai embassy, a poster hung outside its walls announcing some food fest or summat.

boy, there was quite a massive crowd at its massive grounds. and i couldn't help it but craning my neck peeking in to see if there were any thai whores milling about. nay, it's rather early for them to solicit for customers, i told meself. and this tourist-baiting event was made out to be a wholesome family affair.

call me xenophobe/racist/un-pc, but my past encounters with 'em harlots in the loo's near to the local is more than suffice to view 'em unfavourably.

how come? they are in a constant state of denial, refusing to accept they are foreigners on the wee isle. 'cos back home, "farang" - thai for "foreigners" - is basically white thrill-seeking laddies and lassies.

or retired holidaying german's seeking out second or third subservient asian wive's. or even boatloads of US navy or marines engaging in debauchery with "ordinary" phuket birds.

honestly, one should hear the awful squawking noise emitted by 'em cunts. comparing notes on their customer's in a mixture of english and thai whilst tarting 'emselves up. oh, and some even went to great lengths to wearing pseudo officewear.

the effin' cheek. when the words "RENT ME" were tatooed clearly on their foreheads.

and it makes one wonder who the fuck the anti-vice squads are flushing out of the prostitution den opposite the local every friday. when i reckon these same whores are here on social visit passes.

but who knows, the Legitimate Gangsters could even be giving them their blessing's.

spotted..

..at the local yesterday whilst watching the antipodean rugby fisticuff's:

1. a ben cohen lookalikey. it was the barnet more like it.
2. fanciable cap-wearing NZ-cheering chappie - who i was eyeballing at for quite a bit - whose whitebread of a sister / girlfriend / bird arrived slightly after kick off.

and then befriended a scottish family of four whose:
1. daughter shared exact same welsh name as i do, ie: rhian.
- i know, a real shocker that. i have a welsh name after all. sorry if you's all got confused. so am i.
2. precocious son went on to tell some canuck bloke what i had told him earlier about canadians being a confused lot - they ain't sure if they should be american or french.
- of course, i reacted by glaring at him and exclaiming: "you treacherous scot!". must be the Campbell in him that's why.

oh yes, the Campbells and the McTavishes - along with the Thomsons and whomever else - belong to the same family/clan/wotsit. tragic, that.

and i found out:
1. this english chap whom i fancy quite a fair bit - and who plays in the part-time footy team sponsored by the local - has got a girlfriend back home in old blighty.
- naturally i was somewhat gutted. but hey, life goes on innit?
2. an ex-fling - in the same footy team as above, also english - whom i thought was avoiding eye contact the last time, was polite enough to say 'hello' to me.
- while i was chatting with another regular, when he actually interrupted us by asking after her. heh, not sure if he was curious if i was one of 'em hard up desperate wee island/asian bint's?

all in all, a good day out. and braincells are surprisingly intact despite the gallons of guinness sloshing about inside my system.

fab blog's

people, check these fab folk out who are my regular readers also:
- to slap the beautiful
- gutrumbles

what they said about birds of same feather, blahyaddablah.

it's a friday

i'm off to a *trolleying session at the local. and if i manage to gather whatever's remaining of my braincells, will return there tomorrow afternoon for the tri-nations, where both australia and new zealand beat the crap off each other.

go, erm, whomever.

*nay, the letter b is too sensible to get trolleyed.

added on

the great demolition renovation to part of the workplace has now begun. contractor's are in the process of knocking down some false walls and cabinets a few cubefarms to the front of me.

how come? the workplace is expanding that's why, in terms of the number of lifeform's. in view of the additional dedicated broadcast networks to be beamed to hongkong.

what with this work in progress, my lung's clogging up with all the dusts and wotnot; in addition to the assorted viruses, bugs and germs that have been making their rounds via the airconditioning system.

bluffed

for what is surely a blow to more inferiority-complexed flat-chested wee island females, the wee island consumers association (Case) fired a volley at beauty salons to stop preying on these gullible inferiority-complexed flat-chested amoeba's..

indeed, alot of these beauty salons sprouted all over the islet rather recently to cash in on this dosh-spinning venture of inflating 'em ameobas' ego.

someone told me once that it is the warped asian - read: chink - "values" that these amoeba's are brainwashed to believe that blokes will never look twice at 'em unless they do something drastic to their physical form's. and dignity.

enlarging their boob's is in fact one of their latest desperate evil plans to land a fella. apart from
- assuming a totally different charming personality - read: faked - to pander to fella's whose brains are somewhere else other than inside their bonce
- playing the nitwit fragile damsel to appeal to the blokes' "protective" nature - whatever that means

really, it's a mighty waste of taxpayers' dosh to send these same amoebas to school in the first place - re: they are supposedly more enlightened than their mother's and gran's and blah. and they are career women. who fall hook, line and sinker to pseudo scientific breakthrough's.

even calling them amoeba's is a mighty insult to that one-celled organism.

today's toons

today's toons

surely not?

coinciding with the workplace's annual dinner and dance thingy, this year's bunch of committee mong's came up with the following brainwave: Workplacewotsit Idol

as in pop idol, american idol, australian idol and somesuch. as if the forthcoming wee island idol ain't suffice. and one should take a peek at the promotional video.

you'd either weep or wring yer hands in despair, i tell ye.

and i thought i'm working with some of the finest foreign "talents" on this side of the cosmoverse all these moons.

quizzed

off the guardian:

Which superhero are you?
You are Bat(wo)man, dark and mysterious, operating outside the rules in a film-noir landscape you know like the back of your hand. You scowl a lot and look great in leather. Colleagues regard you warily. You're not much fun at parties.

crikes

the furtive sneaky glancing american lawyer is actually of welsh descent.

crikey.

what's more, his missus and i share an almost exact same name. and no, it's neither breanagh mc.t nor the letter b.

crikey².

counsellor b

a chat with an ex-coursemate yesterday left me with this warm fuzzy feeling. she had asked for my thoughts if she should accept a job offer as she was in two minds.

i just told her to think about her future and not be affected by deviously envious cow-orkers who were trying their darnest to dissuade her from leaving. in return, she mentioned she felt alot better, and that her self-doubts had been cleared after talking to me.

and this comes as a coincidence as i have lately been toying with the idea of taking a diploma in career counselling. i have had done wee prep talks during my stint as a headhunter. and i must say that 9 out of 10 candidates accepted their job offers.

is this my calling after all, i wonder? apart from becoming a footy mystic meg?

versatility

i'm eyeing these two bags:

1. the little easy bag

2. the leather-trim boat and tote

toons

blimey

objects of my desire attention are standing side by side over there:
1. the irish chappie who carries a knapsack to work
2. the furtive glancing american lawyer

and it's so bleedin' obvious what's going on inside me head now.

*fact: recently discovered both of 'em play rugby on weekend's. oooer.

a goldmine

of information. of the science and tech variety that is. culled off this month's issue of popular science, are the following topics that rightly feed my grey cells:

about time to as loads more newly-evolved mutant airborne viruses are expected these days, as proven by sars.

man programmes bacteria the way he does with computers. the thought could be either kewl or scary. kewl => man manipulating bacteria; scary => man manipulating bacteria. 'nuff said.

good news for those of us who are mighty scared of the dentist. no more fear. hurrah. and dentists will no longer be in business. so?

wars in the future to be waged sci-fi style. expect more incidences of friendly fire from our friends across the pond - which is the norm. or mowing down an entire town of civilians by complete spastic mistake. and then you'd hear them insisting the victims are really infiltrated foreign fighters in disguise. and now they are increasingly looking to science fiction for inspiration. which brings us to the next topic..

wars in the future to be waged sci-fi style. no more utterly logic-defying incidences of friendly fire from our friends across the pond then? let's wait and see.

marketing is pure evil. their clever use of word play has tricked many amoeba's into believing all those "scientific" claims. and this caution comes from a marketing major. ie: yours truly, the letter b. the irony.

the above are but a wee selection of majorly interesting subjects covered. which reminds me to beg me bro to lend me his magazine copy.

toons

wee island idiosyncracies

today's rant: the bizarre "fashion" sense of wee island females. if there's any that is. "fashion" sense, i meant.

1. they do not hesitate to fritter away their dosh on expensive branded rags that fashion "stylists" touted as officewear
- but it's not necessary that they have what it takes to carry the expensive branded rags as recommended by 'em fashion "stylists"

2. and some would have you know that they are some executives working at impressive posh multinational companies
- by wearing expensive branded suits. that come in saccharine-sweet pastel colours
- but some are actually front-desk receptionists. heh

3. and usually their barnet do not go along with the expensive branded rags as recommended by 'em fashion "stylists". or expensive branded saccharine-sweet pastel coloured suits. how come?
- instead of having their crowning glory professionally styled or tying it up; they just want the whole wide world to notice their equally expensively fixed flowing "tresses"
- but if they have it bunched up, it's usually clipped with contraptions suitable only for the bathroom
- they usually have their hair dyed brown, dark red or blonde. being bottled blonde is the way to get noticed by the increasing number of white expat blokes

4. oh, and the shoes! 'nuff said

5. oh, and the bags! 'nuff said

and to hear these same white expat blokes declaring these very same females as gorgeous; makes me wonder if these same white expat blokes were indeed wearing a pair of beer goggles while making passes at the latter.

oh, so ok, beauty lies on the eyes of the beholder. dodgy fashion sense inclusive.

no matter, the eyesore's i have to bear with on my daily commute to and from work. or whilst having a quite nite quaffin' at the local.

have pity on me.

fcuk it

was just told by a colleague that extreme madness and mayhem will once again descend upon me us starting this friday. which is likely to spill over to august.

how come?
1. some majorly important cricket compo involving the entire indian sub-continent => i have to psyche myself to not throttling 'em ignore our india colleagues' overbearing suffocating arrogance. and once again for five long weeks, i'll be sounding like a bollywood extra. but without the song and dance-around-the-mulberry-tree routine.
2. british open golf => major broadcast rescheduling's to be expected in case of some light drizzling's that will surely drown 'em golfer's.

the above "events" are running simultaneously on all my broadcast networks. which means blahin's may be sporadic. or none at all.

splendid, that.

damning

further evidence as to why Tony Blair should be catapulted off no. 10 pronto is the following extract nicked off an article - itself an extract off a book by Robin Cook - on the guardian:

apols for the real lack of incisive in-depth analysis but the article itself is self explanatory. in fact , i've just placed an order on the book which i'm very sure may either not be made available at bookshop's over here. or ridiculously exhorbitantly priced.

ack!

crikey, all these flirting's and stealing glances are getting more frequent. and more furtive.

really, i can't take it any more. something should be done before it gets, erm, worse or out of hand..

stand up and be counted

if you's are fed up with sitemeter - like i do and i've just chucked it away - go to www.statcounter.com.

although it doesn't quite add up to the number of visitor's - what does one expect from freebies anyways? - statcounter display not only your readers' geographical locations - with national flags to boot - but also list:
1. the exact city and region they live
2. who their ISP's are

kewl, that. and no, i'm not paid to do this wee publicity on statcounter's behalf.

invasion

japs enamoured with the wee island cuisine are bringing it to their fellow countrymen's doorsteps. by opening pseudo wee island restaurants.

i'm not quite sure how to react towards this piece of "news". how come?
1. yay! => at least visiting japs will have an idea what to expect when they holiday/work/gallivant/wotsit here
2. reeeeet.. => amoebic wee island hillbillies will take every opportunity to boast to the blue marble how their local food has gone, erm, "international"

and just like any other ethnic cuisines all over the place, there is much tinkering's to the recipes. so what's the big deal, innit?

toons

toons

again?

reet. so michael schumachwotsit won the british grand prix thingy. and i told me bro that he must have had a pact with the devil.

it's a tad ridiculous and logic-defying for a human being to go on winning consecutively, one compo after another. innit?

and no, i've not developed an interest towards F1. though i must say that Jensen Button is a rather fanciable lad.

unreliably reliable

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

WHAM BAM. CAN'T HEAR YOU MAN.
Childhood friends George Michael and Andrew Ridgley did not get together as a band until George met up with Andrew at a Go-Karting track and heard him playing the guitar. Unfortunately it later transpired Andrew was not that good and the noise of the Karts whizzing by disguised this fact causing Michael to believe he could play. The rest is history.

go north, son

south africa may possibly breakaway from the tri-nations league as early as next year if their regional clubs have their way.

reet. so what's left are only australia and new zealand playing amongst themselves to death?

what i can be very sure of though is that the wee island rugby "union" would not even have a cat's chance in being part of the tri-nations. much less becoming a rugby-appreciating "nation".

txted larf's

as sent by a colleague:

Q: why does a dumb blonde always keep an empty bottle in her fridge?
A: in case there are people who want nothing to drink

load of tosh

call me cynical, but i always find corporate get-togethers' - or to use its posher term "team building" - a mighty waste of time. not to mention, a tad superficial.

this morning, i clicked on the email from the head gaffer informing us of one such bond&getintimatewithyerfellowcoworkers bollocks to take place on the third and fourth wednesday of this month.

as if daily interactions of the 'hi' and 'bye' sort are not enough.

and this means:
1. our ever-increasing pile of work will have to be re-scheduled, hence the possibility of working overtime
2. we have to go to some posh hotel venue for this "team building" tosh

so i'm actually employed by the workplace to display niceties, understanding and affection throughout towards amoeba's, complete spastics, chavs and gits who can't comprehend that the cosmoverse doesn't revolve around the broadcasting industry whatsoever?

and these are exact same lifeform's who turn up for work in t-shirts with holes in "strategic" places, dogtags, shorts, or psychadelic-painted jeans, toerings and neon-coloured slippers. to these lot, such "clobber" reflects their utterly clever and original creativity.

but of course it is for lifeform's whose five-seconds-long inspirations are results of having their brains - or whatever's left - filled up with cigarette smoke.

and to think the Slave Labour Relations department are willing to part a crazy amount of dosh for this "gathering" which has been set aside as part of their monkeys staff training budget. when part of this exact same dosh could actually supplement my year-end miserly thirteenth-month bonus.

serves to show the types of priorities they could think up of and where they lie, eh?

there's only one collina

the guardian's recent call to footy fan's for their tribute to the blue marble's favouritest and best-lurved ref resulted in this humorous gallery.

and here's one i nicked off Jack McVicker, captioned "separated at birth":

really, international footy will be a duller game without the likes of collina.

random caledonia facts

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

HAPPY SCOTS

The United Nations 2002 report on Happiness has revealed that the Scots are the happiest people on the planet. This dispels the myth that all Scots have a massive chip on their shoulder.

here's more random facts about things scotland:

McGibraltar by Herr Flick

Of Gibraltar's 134,000 residents, a staggering 132,000 are in fact Scotland football fans stranded there ever since the 1982 World Cup in Spain - and the Gibraltar phonebook has more McTavishes than Glasgow, Edinburgh and Aberdeen combined. Aye.

--------------------------------------------------
Scotch mist by Francis

Previous facts relating to Scotland are saved under Norway, in anticipation of future European realignments.

--------------------------------------------------
Best-Kept Secret by GreyWolf

Scotland has not had a category in Unreliable Facts before today, because Scotland is actually a very, very nice place with a brilliant climate and lovely people. The management of Brains Trust are however trying to keep this a secret to prevent you lot from moving to Scotland and spoiling the place.

oooer it's nessie! and some

saw this bit which thrilled me to bits:

sample these gems:
- Marks and Spencer Trace Satisfied Customer
- Royal Mail Delivers Letter On Time
- Hamster Makes Perfect Pet

erm, how about this:
Welsh Language Catches On - blimey, that's rather tragic. and to think i'm a graduate of the university of wales. life could be so cruel unexpectingly wonderful.

here's more "unexpected headlines", to quote the journo.

toons

*substitute the evil letter b for the walrus, in view of today's whinge

lost and found

as alleged by the complete spastic of a cow-orker earlier that i did not prepare a copy of my network programme schedule, her cow-orker just emailed me to inform that they have indeed found the report.

reet. like said report had actually developed a pair of legs and then found its way to their department. and there's a mighty possibility it had gone for a gallivant before deciding to go to its designated place.

i can't resist being a total bitch by sending that complete spastic a sarcy catty email.

:: furs fly ::

one reason why...

... i do not wish to get too close to 99.9% of wee islanders:

just occured moments ago between a complete spastic of a cow-orker and me, pertaining to a daily telly programme schedule. do note that:
1. i'm not in charge of network I
2. the lower wee island english is left intact to make the reproduction below more colourful

without further ado, here goes:
complete spastic: letter b, you printed two copies of network I, but no network N
letter b: are you sure? i've had done so yesterday
complete spastic: yes, but you printed two copies of network I, but no network N
letter b: i suggest you check with your fellow cow-orkers if they have taken the reports themselves.. oh btw, i'm not the network I person
complete spastic: no i collect the reports yesterday but you printed two copies of network I, but no network N
letter b, whose blood is near boiling point: my dear, why should i print network I when it's not my network?
complete spastic, whose voice is turning into a growl: but you printed two copies of network I, but no network N
letter b: would you prefer if i speak languages other than english?
[...conversation ended abruptly as this daft meaningless conversation turned almost ugly...]

see what i mean? if my blood doesn't boil, i'd *vomit it.

* to vomit blood: a wee island figure of speech, like when complete spastic's around you's frustrate your goodself, you throw up blood. learnt from a brummie mate many many many ::ad infinitum:: moons ago that a black country person exclaimed exact same phrase on a radio call-in programme once.

desperate acts

found it rather difficult to pull a bloke - much less catching his eye - lassies? here are some "pointers" generously tipped by this book:

heh. don't ever believe any of the above bollocks except the, erm, NAH. take it from me, dahlin's, anything you wear will get the fella's attention.

oh, if the blokes still don't notice you, and if you are really desperate; do what wee island/asian female lowest common denominators do: move to the beat of the music on the PA system. or whisper something totally nonsensical into yer girlmates' ears and then giggle like some prepubescents.

not. such behaviour makes you real cheap and desperate. not to mention, disgusting and annoying to other folk around you. also, those blokes who think your action's are so cute/seductive ::barf!!:: need to get their noggins examined.

anyways, the breanagh mc.t's © tried-&-tested foolproof methods:
- see what the fella wears and then make some complimentary remarks
- if the fella's watching the telly, turn to look at the telly for a nanosecond, turn back to look at said chap and then utter: "eh wot, yer watching the tennis/golf/cricket/bowling/synchronised swimming?" with the spock expression. never ever bleat "you have such poor tastes", or you'll suffer the consequences
- if the fella's watching the telly, turn to look at the telly for a nanosecond, turn back to look at said chap and then exclaim: "they are really marvellous aren't they? to think they were nil to 51 earlier.." with a really geniunely excited expression
- discreetly eavesdrop on the conversation between the fella and his mates. and then seize the opportunity when there's a momentary silence, turn to him curiously, "you must be english ain't ye? from the north innit?"

if all else fails, fret not. it's not everyday you get lucky. but the bestest bit of course is to adopt a calm posture and nonchalant expression. and most importantly, be yourself.

you know you get him when the chap throws himself on you. not literally.

quizzed

nicked off the Kaiser's. and i thought my grammar suffers from the abuse dished out by 'em wee island cow-orkers.

You are a GRAMMAR GOD!


If your mission in life is not already to
preserve the English tongue, it should be.
Congratulations and thank you!


How grammatically sound are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

toons

toons

bad hair day

transmission may somewhat disrupted due to the letter b's strugglings with her barnet. which strangely seems to develop a life of its own, refusing to be styled accordingly as per the usual fashion.

henceforth, she may spend loadsa time infront of the mirror in order to tame the barnet. and it's not because she's a vainpot; keeping in mind the horror her, ahem, admirers may express at the sight of her utterly unkempt hair.

however, do keep yer eyes peeled as she may come up with something really fabtastically brilliant to delight yer optical senses.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------
UPDATE: emergency solution found - a wee dollop of hand cream and h2o do wonders to the rather stubborn barnet. apart from the lustre gleaming from every strand.

me foot

i have absolutely no idea how come the upper sole of right foot hurts terribly. i woke up to a pain on sunday which had me convinced it's a sleep-induced injury.

and now as we speak, i'm hobbling about like the hunchback of notre dame.

mangled

as if 97% of wee islanders' mangling of the english language is not insulting enough, i spotted this piece of pseudo spanish while googling for a women's weekend soccer join-up:

DIVA LA FUTBOL

so am i correct to deduce the gaggles of 16 to 25 year-olds are more keen to parade their flash footy clobber than displaying their footy skills? if there is any that is?

also, see the discrimination pertaining to age? as if us above 35's don't know anything about the sport.

arrogant tweety birds.

toons

demo

"all you's actually need is a magic left boot..."

wee island idiosyncracies

heard off the radio that Jonny Wilkinson's officiating the launch of a new Adidas shop at some dodgy shopping mall. between 13:30 and 15:30 WIST.

and the dj's urging all the call-in listeners - not surprisingly kiddies - to go to the dodgy shopping mall to ogle at him. not sure though if said dj has any idea who he actually is, as she sounds rather contrived in the interest she was trying to create.

reet. so expect gormless wee island youngling's to queue up to paw the boy Jonny - and then some - just because he's someone *famous*.

mind, it is part of wee islanders' inexplicable nature to form and even join in a queue even though they are totally clueless as to whatever it is for. apart from going loony over anyone faintly popular.

honest.

toons

they've taught us a thing..

..or three about footy. well done, Greece, for confirming that i should really become a footy pundit. a footy mystic meg, more like it.

oh jonny jonny!

a wee snippet off the "sport" page on the daily rag, pertaining to the england team's charity tour in these parts:

should i make a beeline just to beg for his pawprint? apart from jostling in the queue with 'em utterlycluelessaboutrugbyreally wee island wailing banshee's?

no matter, where's the effin' info when you need it? so typical of 'em wee island journo's. oh, and methinks it's so completely wrong to associate Jonny W. with David "i'm a right confused cunt flop at Euro2004, honest" Beckham.

see what i mean? piccie purloined off the Kaiser's.

good lordy

what has the blue marble become?

so proclaimed the headlines. i'm not going to say anything clever here as it's not for me to make moral judgements on today's youngster's. as you and i very well know are very different from our time.

come to think of it, teenagers don't come any dissimilarly regardless. do they?

toons

would you hire this geezer?

nicked off a message board thingy whilst surfing the net:

This individual seeks an executive position. He will be available next January, and is willing to relocate.

RESUME

GEORGE W. BUSH
1600 Pennsylvania Avenue
Washington, DC 20520

EDUCATION AND EXPERIENCE:

Law Enforcement:
I was arrested in Kennebunkport, Maine, in 1976 for driving under the influence of alcohol. I pled guilty, paid a fine, and had my driver's license suspended for 30 days. My Texas driving record has been "lost" and is not available.

Military:
I joined the Texas Air National Guard and went AWOL. I refused to take a drug test or answer any questions about my drug use. By joining the Texas Air National Guard, I was able to avoid combat duty in Vietnam.

College:
I graduated from Yale University with a low C average. I was a cheerleader.

PAST WORK EXPERIENCE:
I ran for U.S. Congress and lost. I began my career in the oil business in Midland, Texas, in 1975. I bought an oil company, but couldn't find any oil in Texas. The company went bankrupt shortly after I sold all my stock. I bought the Texas Rangers baseball team in a sweetheart deal that took land using taxpayer oney. With the help of my father and our friends in the oil industry (including Enron CEO Ken Lay), I was elected governor of Texas.

ACCOMPLISHMENTS AS GOVERNOR OF TEXAS:

- I changed Texas pollution laws to favor power and oil companies, making Texas the most polluted state in the Union. During my tenure, Houston replaced Los Angeles as the most smog-ridden city in America.

- I cut taxes and bankrupted the Texas treasury to the tune of billions in borrowed money.

- I set the record for the most executions by any governor in American history.

- With the help of my brother, the governor of Florida, and my father's appointments to the Supreme Court, I became President after losing by over 500,000 votes.

ACCOMPLISHMENTS AS PRESIDENT:

- I am the first President in U.S. history to enter office with a criminal record.

- I invaded and occupied two countries at a continuing cost of over one billion dollars per week.

- I spent the U.S. surplus and effectively bankrupted the U.S. Treasury.

- I shattered the record for the largest annual deficit in U.S. history.

- I set an economic record for most private bankruptcies filed in any 12-month period.

- I set the all-time record for most foreclosures in a 12-month period.

- I set the all-time record for the biggest drop in the history of the U.S. stock market. In my first year in office, over 2 million Americans lost their jobs and that trend continues every month.

- I'm proud that the members of my cabinet are the riches of any administration in U.S. history. My "poorest millionaire," Condoleeza Rice, has a Chevron oil tanker named after her.

- I set the record for most campaign fund-raising trips by a U.S. President.

- I am the all-time U.S. and world record-holder for receiving the most corporate campaign donations.

- My largest lifetime campaign contributor, and one of my best friends, Kenneth Lay, presided over the largest corporate bankruptcy fraud in U.S. History; Enron.

- My political party used Enron private jets and corporate attorneys to assure my success with the U.S. Supreme Court during my election decision.

- I have protected my friends at Enron and Halliburton against investigation or prosecution. More time and money was spent investigating the Monica Lewinsky affair than has been spent investigating one of the biggest corporate rip-offs in history.

- I presided over the biggest energy crisis in U.S. history and refused to intervene when corruption involving the oil industry was revealed.

- I presided over the highest gasoline prices in U.S. history.

- I changed the U.S. policy to allow convicted criminals to be awarded government contracts.

- I appointed more convicted criminals to administration than any President in U.S. history.

- I created the Ministry of Homeland Security, the largest bureaucracy in the history of the United States government.

- I've broken more international treaties than any President in U.S. history.

- I am the first President in U.S. history to have the United Nations remove the U.S. from the Human Rights Commission.

- I withdrew the U.S. from the World Court of Law.

- I refused to allow inspector's access to U.S. "prisoners of war" detainees and thereby have refused to abide by the Geneva Convention.

- I am the first President in history to refuse United Nations election inspectors (during the 2002 U.S. election).

- I set the record for fewest numbers of press conferences of any President since the advent of television.

- I set the all-time record for most days on vacation in any one-year period. After taking off the entire month of August, I presided over the worst security failure in U.S. history.

- I garnered the most sympathy ever for the U.S. after the World Trade Center attacks and less than a year later made the U.S. the most hated country in the world, the largest failure of diplomacy in world history.

- I have set the all-time record for most people worldwide to simultaneously protest me in public venues (15 million people), shattering the record for protests against any person in the history of mankind.

- I am the first President in U.S. history to order an unprovoked, pre-emptive attack and the military occupation of a sovereign nation. I did so against the will of the United Nations, the majority of U.S. citizens, and the world community.

- I have cut health care benefits for war veterans and support a cut in duty benefits for active duty troops and their families in wartime.

- In my State of the Union Address, I lied about our reasons for attacking Iraq and then blamed the lies on our British friends.

- I am the first President in history to have a majority of Europeans (71%) view my presidency as the biggest threat to world peace and security.

- I am supporting development of a nuclear "Tactical Bunker Buster," a WMD.

- I have so far failed to fulfill my pledge to bring Osama Bin Laden to justice.

RECORDS AND REFERENCES:

-All records of my tenure as governor of Texas are now in my father's library, sealed and unavailable for public view.

- All records of SEC investigations into my insider trading and my bankrupt companies are sealed in secrecy and unavailable for public view.

- All records or minutes from meetings that I, or my Vice-President, attended regarding public energy policy are sealed in secrecy and unavailable
for public review.

PLEASE CONSIDER MY EXPERIENCE WHEN VOTING IN 2004!

pot, kettle

this particular wee island journo is having a right whinge about the insidiuously evil China women - well 95% at least - who come here by the junkload's, not only to nick our jobs, but the blokes as well.

regardless if both parties are married with families. shocking innit?

in the article, the journo voiced her displeasure - well, rightly so - about how these slag's scheme, manipulate and charm their way to the point of desperation.

makes one wonder if these slags are taking the mickey out of their revered confucian ethic's.

what's rather incomprehensible - to me at least - is that these china slag's assume wee island men are simply fascinated with them just because:
1. they are of purer 100% chinky stock - we all know how racist such folk are
2. they are "conservative" ::pass the sickbag!:: fairer and slimmer in appearance - yeah but when they smile, their blinkers never fail to morph into slits
3. wee island bird's are way too aggressive and westernised for their menfolk's liking - at least said birds earn their own living

i know 'cos i came across one in the lift to my block of flats once, who fawned on and cooed at her wee island paramour. sqawking away in her cringeworthy northern china-accented mandarin. besides, that peasant had got this godawful smirk on her minging mug apart from trying her darnest to draw my attention.

she thought she was clever. not.

so when the lift reached my floor, i stepped out of it snorting rather loudly - in a volume matching hers - in english: "FOREIGNERS". my, how her paramour reacted, by yelling back at me in english if i was looking for trouble. i didn't look back though was sorely tempted to give him the finger.

i wasn't even being abusive by lashing out at that peasant, telling her to take the next slow boat out to whence she came.

however, i'm not sure if the journo herself has been particularly observant that the lowest common denominators amongst wee island females resort to similar tactics to lure, bonk and then permanently snag white blokes. regardless of:
1. age
2. appearance
3. marital status

and the most insulting to my intelligence: rude, paranoid and whiny - well, 95% at least - expat wives/birds tarring each and every wee island woman with the same brush, seeing them as potential homewrecker's.

and these are the very same birds who steadfastly refuse to make the effort to get to know their surrounding's and host's, instead choosing to mingle with their own kind. and thence kidding themselves into believing that the sun still sets on the empire.

don't get me wrong, i'm not complaining. rather, some are deserving to be abandoned by their randy menfolk, to be honest.

the highest order

ta to coffdrop, here's some sacred title you's gonna address me from now onwards..

ArchBishop Out of Their Tree

but i must add i can only use it while officiating in squirreldom.

it's really nothing wrong..

.. calling persons who are short, "vertically-challenged". at least it won't give some folk the excuse to go around turning into pseudo-napoleons. ie: the napoleon complex.

yeah, ever since when i've become so politically-correct, eh.

what the ...?

read this bit off the Chariot's, referencing Will Greenwood's wanting to holiday on this wee isle:

yeah, at least the wee isle is not a nation of sheepshaggers. nor does it rain throughout the whole bloody year. also, 'em tourists are spared from seeing sheep. which can be a tad scary. or too much.

not that there are any grazing on the islet.

oh, and all the street signs here don't come with tongue-trickin' albeit unpronounceable names that start with lll.. and end with ..nnwyn. or ...ddudno. besides taking up the entire space on the signboard, like at least a hundred character long. or summat.

that leek-breathed daffodil-wearing twat should thank his lucky stars he didn't meet nor know me.

grr...

further proof...

... that 99.9% of wee islanders are beyond any forms of redemption.

a blackout struck the entire islet on tuesday evening that lasted between half an hour - where i live - and midnight. i was much looking forward to spending the rest of the evening in an almost complete darkness with only a candle to keep me company. but alas, it was shortlived. the blackout that is.

i had real fun when blackout's were commonplace - and they lasted for hours - back in the mid 70's. besides putting up handshadow plays with my bro, blackout's were perfect excuses for not handing in my school homework on time.

anyways, here are some fine examples of typical wee island behaviour:

specimen#1:

specimen#2:

and this takes the biscuit:

not sure if these spastics realise somehow that terrorists could resort to disrupting resource supplies before they strike the island proper? apart from depending on indonesia for natural gas, much of the water consumed by said twits comes from malaysia.

and there they were complaining rather loudly about inefficiency and such. disgraceful. what's more comical was overhearing some foreign 'talent' of a newscaster uttering this: "...a MASSIVE blackout hit the wee isle last evening..".

heh. massive indeed. for a wee island.

not him surely?

continuing the footy story yet again, stole this piccie off coffdrop..

at least the roonster didn't nick the hubcab. or maybe he did.. OI!

currently cramming..

at long last, got me paws on this book off a second hand bookstore in the neighbourhood. clearly, Bill Bryson is a massive anglophile as i am. bless.

overboard?

ta to coffdrop who mentioned the sorry state that swiss cuckoo is in, his fellow compatriot got himself into deeper shite by urging the swiss to engage in a tit for tat.

how come?

really, the swiss do take themselves a tad too seriously. whingeing cheese.

canada day

it's canada day today. i'm on leave from work, and apparently so are my grey cells.

but strange, i'd rather stay in than go celebrate it with "fellow" canuck's at some dodgy bar at some dodgy place later in the evening. 'cos i know some dodgy female wee islanders would go all sophisticated and pretend as if they know alot about canada. just because they know some dodgy canuck bloke or three.

like last year's for example. i asked some female wee islanders really trivial questions about canada, to which they returned me a glazed stare with the following gem in typical wee island fashion: "you must be joking, i'm WEE ISLANDER you know".

and to further demonstrate their extreme pettiness, they tried to to get back on me by asking what the hell i was doing there. and when i replied i played road hockey with some of the blokes present, they threw eye-daggers at me immediately.

heh. i lurved it when they did 'cos it was a chance for me to add that i did score goals. and they took the word "score" rather literally.

utterly daft cows? you bet.