into the mind of a genius. he doodles!
just like the letter b. when she gets mindnumbingly bored during greycell-debilitating meetings.
read off a blog - off a blog, off another one, off.. you's get the drift - that some sod who's just married to an indonesian slag is already facing the prospect of being made bankrupt by his in-laws.
due to the perception that whites are megarich, the poor sod is now expected to support them by handing over a monthly sum to them. apart from the probablity of buying them stuff on demand.
:: chortle, snigger ::
if this twit thinks his missus loves him for what he is, he'd better think again. it's a well-known fact that these slags have no qualms of hooking up with and living off other perceived richer blokes.
regardless if said slags are married and have sprogs.
got himself in deep shite the depth of six feet, hasn't he? must be the out-of-this-bluemarble bonking's with the missus that *screwed up his judgement, methinks.
* pun intended
an advanced notice to you's that there will be intermittent blah's - or none whatsoever - this forthcoming week. reasons being:
1. moi will be deluged with work in view of the chinese new year holidays
2. moi will be on leave later in the week
however, do keep yer eyes peeled. i may come up with something utterly brilliant.
the daily rag decides to insult wee island birds' dignity - do most of 'em really have a shred of it left? - or more specifically, my intelligence yet again:
an article on how a thousand nubile submissive vietnamese birds hankering after a vastly horizontally-challenged wee island sore loser [with an inferiority complex the size of his girth]. and his blissful matrimony with the chosen one.
i suspect the thousand bit is a bit of an exaggeration. anyhooo, if said loser possesses some personality, there will be hoardes of native birds after him regardless? sample the following barfworthy self-pitying snippet:
'Too fat. No money. No car. But mostly because I'm too fat,' he said. 'They will never stand the humiliation of going out with me and being stared at.'
well, you could always embark on a fit and trim programme, couldn't you? duh.
besides, what is the rag implying with this piece of bollocks? another veiled attack at native birds for their penchant for "wealthier" and "fit" white blokes?
or that vietnamese birds is indeed the flavour of the decade on this islet?
we all may soon be presented with a new kiwi national flag if a group of campaigners are successful with their bid to scrap the current one.
reasons being:
1. the present flag resembles australia's - i just can't tell them apart to be honest
2. the kiwi's are wanting to cut off links with the mother country - the union jack bit ".. projects the anachronistic image of a subservient British colony.."
3. and others which are not quite clear
amongst the six designs submitted, this appears to be the most popular:
indeed many folk around the blue marble will more easily associate the above with new zealand. after all, ain't their sportsmen have had this motif on their jersey's all along?
what with the latest "calamity" that struck thailand - the capsized speedboat - the authorities over there are at it again.
fretting and wringing their paws at the presumed drop in tourist's visiting the country that may affect their economy greatly.
since their birds are now all over the blue marble either selling themselves or working as factory hand's in english town's; surely the government could make them contribute a certain percentage of their wages to the coffers?
and i thought my hearing is failing me. c'mon, you's aussies, save the strine!
last evening:
1. as per the usual, a bunch of wee island mong's disturbed the peace with their obnoxiously loud yakking's - i wished i had a shot gun in hand so that.. you's get the idea
2. an equally obnoxiously dodgy yank in a horrendous cream suit wolf-whistling at a female server for the bill - he ought to be removed from the gene pool
3. one of the regular's who i hardly spoke to before decided to say hello - he once asked me why i threatened to harm - with a glass ashtray - his fellow chauvinistic south african; to which i told him to sod off
4. the local wasn't crowded so i ought to be cheerful, innit?
oh, and here are some piccies taken at the local's birthday on january 15th. go spot the letter b and her mates, then.
is it just me or does any of you's out there also think that those greying strands in yer barnet are pure evil?
i say this 'cos:
1. those of your natural colour shed when you do your daily combing/washing ritual
2. 'em evil grey strands stick out prominently off yer bonce such that whomever your speaking to notice 'em
3. numbers of said evil grey strands seem to increase by the day
it's not that i can't deal with what is part of the natural aging process. rather, i seem to freak out each time i spy a greying strand whilst peering into the mirror.
aarrggghhh!!!!!
i admit i'm a tad image-conscious. but wot to do when i live in a shite place that holds image above all else?
st george's day is but about three months away. and i have done some commemorative necklaces and bracelet - okay, only three - in red and white. but of course.
one of which has enough bling that rivals a chavscum's 9 carat gold crap.
so bring on the theme party!
the letter b's braincells. last seen at the workplace aka the MadHouse on the monday, january 24 2005.
probable reasons for loss:
1. the minus zero celsius temperature that's only fit for machines
2. the mere sight of the supremely idiotic gaffer
3. 'em fickle-minded feckless producer's - both stateside and over 'ere - who can't really decide when to start 'live' programs
thus, the letter b would be utterly grateful to the finder who returns her scattered braincells whole. reward will be a pint of guinness at the local.
ta muchly.
it just struck me, after a more careful look at the wee island yank association's website, that the folk staying here is so community-minded. which i can't praise enough of.
they have, amongst other things:
1. an employment resource that's open to all nationalities
2. a voluntary outreach programme
3. a hospitality programme that anyone regardless of nationality can host visiting american servicemen and women.
the last ranging from home-stay, showing them around the islet, to having a game of golf. and as you's have guessed it, i begged them to put my name on the register. so that i can have a pint and a laugh with visiting serviceperson's at the local.
it's really refreshing hearing stories off one of the blue marble's bestest navy and airforce personnel. and i just can't wait to welcome them.
reading this piece makes me more homesick of london.
i didn't like it at first when i spent the first week of my month-long UK trip. especially central london where herds of annoyingly clueless tourist's clog up the traffic and the tube. and anywhere else where the Queen might appear.
but upon my return there to catch the flight home later in the week; exploring other parts of the city and speaking to various folk, i fell in lurve with london.
it may sound strange but ever since then, i've had always felt more at home over there than here. probably its cosmopolitan nature, and that people there generally minding their own business.
---------------------------------------------------
ADDENDUM: how the hell i missed this bit is beyond me. london makes you feel like yer at the centre of the cosmoverse. where:
1. lifeform's from every nook and corner of the blue marble converge there to live out their dream
2. you get to hear strange tongues that arouses yer curiosity - mine, at least
3. it dictates the fashion statement of the season - erm, ok there's paris, new york and milan
4. the weird, the feckless, the stoned, the pervert, the homeless, the filty rich, the .. you's get the drift ... is at every turn
5. the river thames runs its course
6. the sacred homes of footy, rugby, cricket and tennis are - except badminton
7. if yer lucky, you may catch a glimpse of the Queen waving from the balcony of the palace. not
8. you may ring for a pirate taxi in a hurry to go to the airport - you clot, you
9. erm, this list is getting ridiculously long, innit?
not sure if it's a coincidence as last evening at the la pack du grande bretagne's pub night, i had this wee chat with a chap about his bristolian dialect and phrases.
and then of all things, dialects and accents dominated this week's the northerner. the bit that split my sides is the following:
...The BBC's website reports that researchers from Middlesex University have found that ducks have different accents. Cockney ducks make a rough sound so that their friends can hear them above the noise of traffic. Cornish ducks quack more softly, using a relaxed sound..
reet. one burning question i'd like to ask the boffin's is if rhyming slang - or more appropriately, rhyming quack - exists amongst the cockney fowl.
and i must add that said chap mentioned in passing that his wee island wifey not only couldn't understand a word of his dialect; but assumed he and his fellow bristolians were talking behind her back when they returned to old blighty for the hols.
i was almost wanting to exclaim, "just so typical of 'em natives, eh?" refering to her unfounded paranoia especially. instead i struggled quite hard to blurt, "well, i suppose it'll take her time to learn it" given that tact is not my strongest point.
to which he replied, "no, not even in ten years."
i should have been honest. innit?
today's a public holiday, the hari raya haji. or what muslims outside this islet would call, eid-al-adha.
a sad time of reflection certainly for folk in aceh.
in view of st george's day, the la pack du grande bretagne are coming up with a chav's theme night. blimey.
no, they ain't gonna expect me to be fitted in burberry and dripping with enough bling-bling to lit the darkest alley.
perish the thought of the letter b transforming into a gormless chavette.
:: shudder ::
last evening was spent watching the telly, gaping at these magnificient warplanes. courtesy of the discovery channel.
beautiful, aren't they?
i so envy 'em pilots for their good fortune in flying 'em.
...a new habitat.
i'm keeping track on huygens' progress on titan. to see if the satellite is a letter-b-friendly place.
honestly, with so much pollution of all sorts going on around us; and the ridiculous rate 'em mong's are breeding, i think it's a marvellous idea to emigrate there.
apols for the silence lately, folks. no real excuses except:
1. i skived off work on the friday by fibbing a sickie - i didn't wish to attend the department's dinner later that evening
2. my room's air conditioning unit went wonky - spent 150 quid to get it repaired
3. my home pc was trojaned - ta muchly to me bro who helped me disinfect 'em
4. the local's birthday took place on the saturday but the rest of the evening was spoilt by the presence of 'em lowest of the lowest common denominator chavette scum - invited by friends of friends who i must make it clear that i don't wish to see said lowest of the lowest common denominator chavette scum in the future
4a. to clarify, it was me who invited at least ten or more mates who all turned up. so i think i have every right to ban any ill-mannered ill-bred wee island scum i barely know. who don't even acknowledge our presence whatsoever with a polite nod instead plonking their fat arses and yakking *loudly* in their godawful chink-accented engRish amongst themselves
4b. these are the same exact cunts who assume that marriage to white blokes would raise their social standing by several notches - and that other white folk *should* fawn on and compliment them to no end.
5. finally i got round to do some telemarketing for the business
erm, that's about all for now. but do keep yer eyes peeled. i may come up with something utterly brilliant.
27 january marks the 60th anniversary of the holocaust. in view of this, here are some of the auschwitz-birkenau survivors' recollections.
it is this unspeakable horror which i came across whilst in primary school that sparked my interest in things jewish and israeli.
was sent this by a friend. thought i had read this somewhere but without the scottish bit.
16 Reasons why you should be proud to be Scottish...
1. Only in Scotland...can a pizza get to your house before an ambulance.
2. Only in Scotland...do supermarkets make sick people walk to the back of the store to get there prescriptions while healthy people can buy cigarettes at the front.
3. Only in Scotland...do people order double cheeseburgers, large fries, and a diet Irn Bru.
4. Only in Scotland...do banks leave both doors open and chain the pens to the counters.
5. Only in Scotland...do we leave cars worth thousands of pounds in the drive and keep our junk & lawnmowers in the garage.
6. Three Scots die each year testing if a 9v battery works on their tongue.
7. 142 Scots were injured in 1999 by not removing all pins from new shirts.
8. 58 Scots are injured each year by using sharp knifes as screwdrivers.
9. 31 Scots have died since 1996 by watering Christmas trees while the fairy lights were on.
10. 19 Scots have died in the last 3 years believing that all Christmas decorations were made of chocolate.
11. Scottish hospitals reported 4 broken arms last year after cracker pulling accidents.
12. 101 people since 1999 have had to have broken parts of plastic toys pulled out of the soles of their feet.
13. 19 Scots have had serious burns in 2000 trying on a new jumpers with a lit cigarette in their mouths.
14. A massive 543 Scots were admitted into A & E in the last two years after opening beer bottles with their teeth.
15. 5 Scots were injured last year in accidents involving out of control scalextric cars.
16. And finally ........In 2000 80 Scots cracked there skulls........................... while throwing up into the toilet.
after 17 - yes i counted 'em, how pathetic - days of dark skies, chilly winds and lashing rain; sunshine and a brilliant blue sky greeted wee islanders at day break today.
though i must add that it was too much of a coincidence that gloomy weather descended upon the islet just days after that disaster.
* upon seeing the sun, the first thing that came to me head was the beatles' tune of the same name.
if this is not an effin' insult to my intelligence, i don't know what is.
witness this piece of utter tosh by the workplace's posh-lookin' newsletter. headlined "the people behind the passion", with the following words:
... the key to a successful company is its people and at The Madhouse, we've assembled the best in the business to help us stay ahead of the game.. blahyaddablah...
a massive picture of 'em sales twats was prominently displayed in full glory. so, please excuse me whilst i proceed to mutilate said piccie by drawing horns, fangs, frightwigs and summat.
the possibility of the space probe huygen's coming across alien life on one of Saturn's satellites is nigh.
oooh, this sounds absolutely exciting.
pick-up line:
yer barnet is giving me the :: he suddenly drops his volume :: wotsit.
indeed, i was so taken aback by the above that i agreed to enter in a relationship with the ex. then and there.
i'm so looking forward to this committee meeting later today at the local's sister pub.
mainly to shamelessly ogle at 'em chappies know more new folk for weekend quaffin's.
time: lunch
location: the cubefarm
food: mcdonald's chicken foldover
as i was squeezing the damn chilli sauce out of the packet thingy on the chicken wotsit, out it went to the pc monitor, on the keyboard, and then on the floor.
how it missed my clobber is something totally unexplainable. no matter, it sure is a close shave, i tell ye.
pick-up line, to me at least. rather, one of the ultimate's:
i'd really lurve to play chess with you some day...
oooooer. but alas, i have yet been hit on by such.
found via the shakester, an account of an expat's life gone horribly awry in hongkong. which is rife, infidelity is, over 'ere on the wee isle also. and elsewhere in asia, may i add.
i'm not going to start something sarcy given that i'm no angel meself.
the entire - well, almost - wee isle went silent at 18:00 hours WIST last evening, in memory of the tsunami - here we go again! - victims.
i know it's a good idea and so forth and such. but how come i get the sick feeling that whomever came up with it were a bunch of copycat's? which raises the question if most of those attendee's were there just because their mates/neighbours/partners/moggy told them to do so?
an acquaintance of mine lost a pair of niece's, and she would have been swept away if the palm tree she clung to snap. a couple had a close shave whilst holidaying in langkawi. but that doesn't mean i had to follow suit with the so-called observance.
however, fingers and toes crossed, i hope the swedish embassy would ring me soon with some news of my ex-fling and his missus.
it warms the cockles of my heart reading fair-minded arab/ muslim support for israel.
ta to Rachel Ann for the link.
a fine photographic collection that tells stories of northern folk.
oh, and look at those flat cap's.
makes maximum impact?
1. shout the lung's out
2. scream the larynx out
i know, the mind boggles.
methinks the gaffer's 23-year-old slapper-faced slitty-eyed mistress is in massive heat today. akin to a bitch - as in female dog. the way she cackles, it sounds as if she's trying hard to get a fuck from the attention of 'em males 'ere at the workplace.
further proof: she wears a ridiculously 2 x smaller outfit today. to begin with, she looks like an effin' whale.
on second thoughts, to describe her as such is an utter insult to those mammals.
like as if i have had not enough. an email from the head gaffer to all of us minionic slave's in the department:
Hi guys,
After the tsunami we are all of course looking for ways to help. We as a company can make a difference.
If you have any ideas shoot them through.
Thanks.
name deleted to protect the letter b's real identity - yeah, as if!
please excuse me whilst i step out of this building to shout my lungs out.
now i know full well why she's quite a bitch.
it's now 16:32:xx WIST. indeed, i'm sat here inside the cubefarm clock-watching. till 18:00:00 WIST so that i can make a dash out of this madhouse.
this evening's the monthly massive canuck tank-up, that's why.
in thinking the round-the-clock tsunami disaster news is a tad too much on the senses. and that it's nature's revenge after all, blahyaddablah.
a bestest mate texted me this morning saying she has had enough of it. in addition to the following, and i quote:
"humans created so much mess around them, so what's the grief?"
exactly.
a daily reader of this wonderful blog which i was completely unaware of until today: hkmac's
blame it on the cocked up stats thingy. anyhooo, go say hello, folks.
some english-language murdering spastic googled its way here looking for, emphasis mine:
tsunami wavin at sri lanka
for goodness sake, can you all english-as-non-first-language mong's learn some basics of the language? they are not that difficult to grasp, really.
not to mention, insulting the very people who are mourning their losses in and around sri lanka.
wankin' twat.
was struggling hard to hold my sides together whilst perusing this about the lives and times of the Home Office cat. where there were four actually all named Peter/Peta.
sample the following fine bureaucratic load of tosh:
Peter III, a third black moggy, was appointed and after a number of years he began to attract wider publicity, appearing in 1958 on the BBC programme Tonight.
The file released under the new Act yesterday includes Peter's fan mail from around the world, including letters and offers of presents from Australia, turned down on the grounds that "since Peter is an established civil servant he cannot be allowed to receive gifts".
Efforts to make him a higher-grade civil servant would be "most embarrassing", a mandarin wrote.
The animal's antecedents are, to say the least, questionable and I doubt whether even a short birth certificate could be produced.
"There have been no regular annual reports on his conduct, although no adverse comment has been made on the strong suspicion that he courts publicity and actually revels in it.
"Moreover, there may be a security risk, in as much as though there is some evidence that he has been doctored, there is none whatever that he has been vetted."
ta to the freedom of information act that allowed previously secret files to be released for public scrutiny.
nothing makes me blood boil more than:
1. 'em so-called foreign "talents" - who are usually lowlife scum back home - making a right nuisance of themselves whingeing just about anything and everything about the wee island way of life
2. antipodean's calling the english "whingeing pom's"
3. 99.99% of 'em expats poking fun at the wee island lingo by exaggerating the way the native's speak
of course i take issue when some git of an expat whined about how a taxi driver started yakking about the weather, especially its implying the latter was a total clueless amoeba with regards to the islet's climate.
believe me, i was nearly wanting to tell it to fuck off to whence it came if it's problems adjusting to conditions on the islet. or in more polite language, for its being culturally unsavvy. as well as reminding it that the english are *not* the cosmoverse's most massive whingers.
but common sense and decency stopped me from doing so. after all, i'm (pseudo) english :D
of round-the-clock news of the tsunami catastrophe?
1. at every turn of the head, i catch bulletins off the bbc world on the telly here at the workplace
2. at every web visit to my fave news sites, tickers running of updates
3. blog's going on and on about it
4. and then i received a well-meaning email from an aussie mate
i know there's so much human suffering as it is, but i'm totally *fed up* of having my senses bombarded by headlines ad nauseum.
and then there are those who go around proclaiming the tragedy is an act of god; and some christians lamenting how god could inflict such pain on us. i'd like to believe that nature's wreaking its revenge on us humankind for the unspeakable harm and destruction done towards it. for yonk's.
beyond utter comprehension, that? good. that'd shut some gob's up.
c'mon people, please put things in perspective. don't let those horrific pictures of crying children, parents grieving their losses, items that lost their owner's and suchlike prevent us from getting on with our lives.
just as long as we don't take our loved ones - and above all, life - for granted, eh?
was up reading the following lately which explains why i was rather silent methinks worth a peep at:
1. the policeman's blog - ta to bbc news
2. random act's of reality - ditto
3. isreallycool - ta to Rachel Ann
so, go say hello, folks.
being the 12th day of crimbo today, i beseech ye's to take a last peek at the crimbo specials link - which is to your left, on the column over there - before i take it down.
ta muchly.
it seems that i have a thing for lawyers. given that a childhood ambition of mine was to become one. and 3 out of 4 fella's i fancy - or used to - happened to be north american. whilst the other is the workplace's english lawyer with a welsh name.
pathetic isn't it, that i keep track of how many exactly.
must add that i had stints at a couple of law firm's, temping with the intellectual property and litigation departments as legal secretary.
this is not right, see emphasis:
The Lake District National Park is to axe the free guided walks carried out by over 100 volunteer rangers because they attract only "middle-aged, middle-class white people".
The scenic walks, which introduce thousands of tourists to the fells each year, are being scrapped as part of a three-year plan to bring more ethnic minorities, inner-city children and the disabled to the area.
to be honest, are minorities and inner-city types really interested? i can vouch for this 'cos throughout my stay at the lakes, the only folk i encountered whilst walking up the fells were middle-class white.
seriously, it's not in the genetic makeup of the average minority to appreciate nature - let me emphasise the average bit, and i'm assuming asian. most are just more keen to make shedloads of dosh and some making a right nuisance of 'emselves.
and btw, how are the disabled going to make their way round the fells?
moi. purloined without permission off barista.
is it a virtue or sheer foolhardiness to be considerate towards other people's feelings?
one tough question, that. innit? especially so when you have to take *your* own feelings into account. i mean, the probablity of being taken advantage of is quite rather high.
so that's probably why it's so difficult for me to be in relationships. come to think of it, i should get rid of this paranoia quickly or i'd have a hard time dealing with my fellow beings.
but it's easier said than done, innit?
.. to be brit. ok, so technically i'm not, but what the hell.
i'm staggered by the generosity of the british public who donated £50 million as of today. more donors are expected to do their bit in days to come. even the Queen also dug into her coffers to help the victims.
so, if anyone reads this, regardless the sum please help your fellow beings who are needing care and support at this time of suffering. here's a list of charities you could check out, ta muchly to weenie.
the end of last year saw me joining this and this.
so i expect my social calendar to be crammed this year and beyond.
after reading the bit about the missing 3,500 swedes, i realised that an ex-fling and his wife might be holidaying in phuket at this time of year.
a shame i misplaced his email addy otherwise i would have written to him. other news about my mates: a couple residing in krabi were here on the wee isle when the tragic event occured. whilst another's son was backpacking on the other side of thailand who could have been on phi phi island as he loves scuba diving.
the latter was so traumatised by the news that he took the next flight out to join his parents here. but recovered quickly enough to wind me up on several things as per the usual last evening.
and it was really nice of another mate - who returned home to new york for crimbo - to text me hoping that everyone i know is safe and well.
hopefully the rest of the folk i know of are kept safe also.
i'm breaking tradition by making a resolution for this year. which is putting in the extra effort to find a husband.
the letter b domesticated? it seems so mighty impossible.
...and i spotted some kilted scotsman twirling about with some wee island bird at the local in the wee hours of the morning.
had a blast with a few mate's and theirs whom i shall not go on about except to put this on record that 'em chinks with slitty eyes just look plain evil. probably they didn't ask to be born this way, but can i help it but think they just look plain evil?
the most terrifying bit has gotta be when they start to cackle and that's when their slits meld into their mugs. me, nasty? it's a fact, wot.
later, got chatted with - not up - my favouritest 'live' band about british history starting from the roman conquest. but not before the lead warbler remarked that i have a different barnet from the one he saw the last time.
i wonder who's the fan here.
anyhooo, happy new year to all of you's out there and have a good one.