my innermost sanctum

how come

bloke's [ok, 99.8%] seem to ogle - and then some - at waitresses? regardless restaurant's, dodgy bar's, cafeterias, pub's and planes?

is it because of:
1. their uniform's? that usually consist of wee skirts
2. their havin to make ends meet? and hence their sob stories
3. their hard luck? and hence their sob stories
4. their lowly servitude status that inflates the bloke's ego?

reference #4 above, as a fella occupies a rather important [and usually equates with power] position, the dumber [assumption's at work 'ere] and younger the bird is, the more attractive she is? never mind if physically she resembles the back of a bus?

and vice versa definitely, given said fella would tip said bint generously? also, isn't it time *waitresses be wiped out off the face of the earth replaced by robot's?

after all, we are livin in the 21st century, innit?

*case in point:
one of the local's manager's who married a former wee island waitress - ie: his ex-staff. and i had the misfortune of meetin her the other day when she had to tell everyone about her mere 3-year residence in DubRin - before returnin here to find work ::snigger::. oh, and the reminder's/boasts about
(a) her being the manager's wifey
(b) her acquired iLish citizenship
(c) her "intelligent" but "beautiful" half-breed sprog - who i bet looks more chinky than half-breed

honestly, it's an utter crime against humanity to allow such lowly scum to get this far in life.

now i know

what's a cataract, and what's glaucoma. wot a clot i've had been all this while.

i have to say i was gobsmacked to find out - via pamphlet's courtesy of the wee island national eye centre - there are so many other eye-related diseases that i dread growin old.

was at said eye centre accompanyin me mum for her latest checkup on her cataracts this mornin. and to see so many lifeform's - young and old - with a myriad of blinker problem's, it's really scary.

and that there's a family history of cataract's [on the maternal side of the family and it seemed to hit the females so far] to boot. to say i'm despairin is an understatement.

how much?

is that doggy in the window?

was with the mum passin through the pet shop at the neighbourhood shoppin mall. whilst at lunch. that i had to stop and stare at the pup's on sale.

and today they had got a pair of westie's. one of which looked quite rather disconsolate that it broke my heart.

confused bird?

i may be a bird myself, but there are many an occasion that most of my fellow bird's left me perplexed/aghast/gobsmacked [see? i meself am confused] by their, erm, logic.

or a severe lack of. without further ado, sample the followin:

and the reason for her whinge?

reet. so posin for a lad's mag in a bikini isn't objectification whatsoever? if you ain't exactly chuffed with havin to wear wee skirts at the workplace, luv, go work elsewhere.

btw, it might had been the way she portrayed herself whilst wearin that "offensive" piece of garment that led her ex-employer to molest her. also, with a gaffer named Con wotsit, that sure is a hint to not even touch him with a barge pole.

duh.

note to self

never ever attempt to buy a tall/grande/wotsit worth of green tea frappuccino the next time i'm at this place.

it simply doesn't taste right. especially with whipped cream.

yummy yum yum. i meant the whipped cream.

should we i?

jig whoop with joy the next time i hear of news about an amoeba disguised as a journo

- or in this case, a self-confessed *geek - were to get kidnapped [*abducted* in yank speak] and then havin its head lopped? 'live' via satellite link/a website near ye with a viewership of xxx.xx million blue marble-wide?

they should bloody well know the danger's of enterin a lawless and hostile territory where disgruntled tribal types would kidnap [*abduct* in yank speak] any non-iraqi indiscriminately. hiding behind the name of islam.

and what is said amoeba tryin to prove by being there?

".. by demonstratin and imparting my knowledge of the latest truly wow!worthy technology...blah yadda tosh... and introducin democracy [nb: the one and only true "democracy"] to the poor thing's people of Eye-Rack [ie: iraq] who have had been livin in the dark ages unspeakable fear durin the regime of that gangster..".

of course the above statement is fictitious, made up by none other than yers truly. still, you's get the drift. regardless, such amoebae are usually idealistic to the point of delusional. who ought to be removed forcibly from the human race methinks.

ta to hkmac's for the link.

* does anyone else notice or is it just me that the word "geek" has been much misused by unqualified mong's these days?

today's lesson

how to spot a right loser.

you know, that cute bloke whom you've had been eyein all along was right there seatin beside ye. and you thought your lucky star was shinin rather brightly as you both were chattin, seemingly sharin not a few thing's in common.

including guinness.

and there you were frettin: "..i just can't believe it...i'd better not say the wrong/daftest thing's.. erm, does he notice this new lipstick i'm wearin... oh dear, i'm feeling f-a-i-n-t..."

and then of all thing's, he blurted: "..i simply don't know how to chat bird's up..".

ack.

worse still if he blurted thrice. at every 5 or 10 minute interval.

double ack.

so, never ever attempt to ask this mong his number 'cos he will never ring ye. even if you've already given yours. when asked to. 'cos such loser's are only interested to bonk the brain's - if there's any - out of in birds who are exactly like them. ie: losers in every aspect of life.

i know of one such *lifeform; and i couldn't stop guffawin at his latest choice of bird whilst at the local three saturday's ago. in all fairness, i must say that 'em both are a match made in heaven.

if there is such a place, to begin with.

* i nearly spluttered out the guinness when that amoeba said those exact word's. twat.

today's toons

30 years on

it is this war that brought huge numbers of boat people to the wee isle, who assumed they could seek refuge 'ere. but as the islet could ill afford to do so - one of which is the myriad of social problems that would inevitably arise - they were housed instead in a temporary camp. and hoping to resettle in first world countries.

but of course there were spates of incident's inside the camp, like riots and suicides. and general annoyance towards the islet's total inacceptance to accomodate 'em. they didn't realise of course the islet was a third world country back then [erm, still is now, judgin by the ape mentality]. apart from its pitifully *wee* size.

besides, the fact that many of 'em troops descended upon the wee isle for their R&R throughout the war; i wonder if a third cousin got to know her ex-husband, a US Marine, at one of those seedy bar's.

feast yer eyes

on this and this. linked with kind permission from sparx.

and i thought i'm the only lifeform left who refuses to give in to the dark side - ie digital photography. and it doesn't help matters when wee islanders by and large list their hobby as photography.

which roughly translates to snap's of them and their mates.

in case any of you's is curious, favourite photographic themes are landscape, historic architecture, sport architecture and candid. i dig black & white photography totally, and would like to try my paw at IR [infra red] photography sometime.

but if only i have the time and, most importantly, space for a dark room facility. 'cos i live in a flat, that's why.

serialised

this is surely good news to fan's.

soz for not expandin this further as i don't want megaloads of googler's come a lookin for the link.

today's toons

duh

sample the followin snippet, nicked off this article:

i shall not speculate about the nationality - or nationalities - of those mong's. and oh, how about this:

where do these twats come from? planet earth?

wee island idiosyncracies

the royal wedding took place like donkey's day's ago. yet there are still 'em ineffectual cow's - of the wee island variety that is - who bleated the followin:

"...of all thing's he married that horse, who is nothin compared to Diana...she's so beautiful like a goddess.."

and this, my dear readers, comes from spastic's who are [xx times] uglier than a cow's behind.

no-brainer

indeed, me braincell's have had gone missing. and this blah is an utterly lame excuse to fill up the column inches.

anyhoo, here are my pet peeve's in no particular order. which are all equally enough to make my blood boil:
1. fibbin's - i make an exception for white lies
2. lame excuses - one could give me the blue marble's bestest excuse which to me is still *lame*
3. lack of manner's - is it so effin' hard to say "please"?
4. lack of common sense - which is rife on this islet
5. those who go about manglin the english language; or any other for that matter - for goodness sake, l and r are totally different letter's, GEDDIT??
6. dithering's - two fella's dithered when they had the chance; and now i gloat at their missed opportunity. hohoho
7. sheer idiocy - i don't suffer em amoebae gladly
8. inconsistencies in statement's or actions - 'nuff said
9. negativity - an ex-classmate was so effin' negative in thought that i nearly ended up committin hara-kiri bashin her noggin
10. show-off's - especially those cunt's who see it fit to flash their "gold" credit card's/diamond ring's/latest mobile phone's/other such bollock's within my visual range

erm, ok so i'm guilty of givin *lame* excuses like "fingers before brain" or "blood rushed to the head" time and again.

the irony.

today's toons

23 april

need i say more, people?

no blah's for today as i'd be out gettin meself [semi] trolleyed with the idling chief. so have a good one.

addled brain

now i know why i've had been rather scatterbrained all these moon's. coupled with deterioratin grammatical skills. and here i was blamin 'em all on the ageing process:

the evil's of modern technology, eh.

wot's new?

article nicked without permission off the telegraph, about the teachin of english as a foreign language. see emphasis:

i shudder to think how they would go about manglin my [pseudo] name breanagh. apart from their sheer incapability to go beyond two syllables.

b_mc.t's sparklin' gem

it's tragic enough those mingin mong's are allowed to breed. their innumerable sprog's are gonna *choke* the life out of this planet.

copyrighted stuff breanagh mctavish © 2005

today's toons

just days away

i know that st george's day is but two days away, yet i'm already plannin' to get meself erm, plastered. on guinness. at the local's sister pub, which seem appropriate.

probably with a mate or two. and then wind 'em native's up with a rendition of god's save the queen. or on my own as i could spend it in quiet contemplation.

not quite really

it appears that Hitler didn't abandon his plans altogether to invade great britain. in spite of the previous year's battle of britain:

but what and who stopped him? i could draw up a speculated list of possibilities, but bagpipes is certainly not one of 'em.

erm, sheep perhaps?

boggled mind

if i, a lifeform who grabs whatever opportunities that come her way, but of course with some calculated risks depending on what they are; am i henceforth considered:
a. utterly brave
b. stark ravin' mad
c. bloomin' daft
d. a complete spastic
e. all of the above
f. none of the above
g. there's some word to describe me but none's appropriate so far

i'm merely wonderin aloud, that's all.

the rock-star b

this is the closest to how i look like - offline - right down to the twig-like built.

piccy nicked off my yahoo messanger's avatar. and the clobber come with names like "rock star jeans" and "rock star top". and they are all in my favourite colour's, including the background's.

no matter, don't i look, erm, sexy?

and yer point is?

spotted off a blog - whilst googlin' for traditional costumes - a former wee island airways trolley dolly gushed the followin bollocks:
"... met my husband - french - on board.... blah yadda... i have two beautiful children....blah yadda boast... and we are still happily married and in love after 14 years...".

which was totally irrelevant to the topic that was discussed, which was about the airways uniform over the moon's. or summat.

and cow's like said trolley dolly were even allowed to breed. never mind walk the blue marble.

re-made

just heard off the LAUNCHcast, a remake of one of my favouritest tune's - radio gaga - by this american sextet.

not bad a copy, that. i meant said tune.

today's toons

memed

volunteered to blah about this, off sparx's, since i'm an avid reader. the bluetea has also blogged about it.

You're stuck inside Fahrenheit 451, which book do you want to be?
interestingly enough, i'd read this book ages ago, which was borrowed from the library. since it's a sci-fi written by an author whose short-story works i enjoyed, why not i be another works of his, October Country. which incidentally is in my collection.

Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character?
eh? how could one possibly have had a crush on a fictional character? if i'm asked which had an impact on me such that i had this fanciful idea of becoming like them; it'd be that egg-shaped head belgian detective with the dodgy 'tache, Hercules Poirot.

The last book you bought is:
Set in Darkness by Ian Rankin. an Inspector Rebus instalment.

The last book you read:
Lost in a Good Book by Jasper Fforde. the second in a series of Thursday Next adventures.

What are you currently reading?
The Well of Lost Plots by Jasper Fforde. the third in a series of Thursday Next adventures.

Five books you would take to a deserted island:
1. The Point of Departure - Diaries from the Front Bench by Robin Cook
2. Intelligence in War by John Keegan
3. Six Days - How the 1967 War shaped the Middle East by Jeremy Bowen
4. Dune - The Machine Crusade by Brian Herbert and Kevin J Anderson
5. Me Life! An AutoBiog of Breanagh McT by Breanagh McTavish

Who are you going to pass this stick to (3 persons) and why?
nah, i leave it to whomever's keen to do this meme. but of course, an acknowledgement is appreciated.

spotted

at my favourite warpaint counter this afternoon:
a greying western geezer grudgingly paying for items selected by his *filipina bird. who was outfitted in denim jacket, mini skirt and, get this, a top with a *massive* picture of mickey mouse.

common sense stopped me from pointing and cacklin at said bird. who looked older than said greyin western geezer.

crikey.

*probable occupation: wee island domestic helper or holidaying ex-bargirl from subic/clarke/manila

ravin' mad

is it really so difficult for wee island minging pseudoposhbutarepeasantsreally bint's to treat counter sales assistants nicely? just because in their effin' wee mind's they think they:
1. are highly and better educated
2. work in "posh" multinational companies
3. henceforth are in a higher income bracket
3. speak better engRish - not

that warrant their rude twatish behaviour?

besides throwin eye-dagger's at my direction simply because i chat with my favourite counter sales bird in malay. or that i'm being chummy with someone they deem as beneath 'em.

wankin' cunt's. decency [yeah, right] stops me from stating their colour.

today's toons

happy 2nd blogiwotsit

to my innermost sanctum aka the massive whinger. the greatest irony is i'm not much of a whinger in real life.

regardless, ta muchly to each and every one of you's for making this blog one of your favourites.

and oh, keep yer eyes peeled. i may come up with somethin' utterly brilliant.

note to self

heard some of indie rock's [alternative, metal and celtic rock also] finest off LAUNCHcast radio that comes with yahoo messanger version x.xx

so, must go get these album's.

i know the last one's welsh. and that the lead warbler's called kelly [snigger]. but they certainly do some really fab tunes. especially dakota that sounds a tad 80's-ish.

oddly enough, their earlier album's didn't grab me though certain gem's had me head bangin'.

engerland!

as texted by said mate who's at the stadium watchin' the seven's day two:

now playing, the finals - england vs new zealand

so altogether now: swing low, sweet chariot...

-----------------------------------------------------------
update: 18 Apr 2005, results off some rag that passed itself off as a morning freebie newspaper:
england 5 - new zealand 26

oh well. there's always next year, innit?

scanning through other finals results, canada lost to france by 12 to 19. i'm gobsmacked. canada in the finals?! and a respectable scoreline, that. that sure is somethin.

note to self

go lay me grubby mitts on this.

to think they've been around for ages. since i was sixteen. or younger.

good lordy.

anyhoo, they don't make musician's like 'em anymore.

gobwaterin', that

i'm not one to regret over the could have been's. or shouldn't have been's. but regret's are few and far between pour moi. one of which now is i'm rueing that i'm not at the stadium watchin the seven's.

said mate has just updated me about the following encounters, now playing as we speak: england vs scotland.

drat. england vs scotland, mind. and he's complaining, "the bloody bagpipes are here."

ah, scotland the brave! swing low sweet chariot!! i'm obviously fucked-up and confused!!!

and in a short while, australia vs new zealand.

double drat.

-----------------------------------------
update: scotland 21 - england 5. blimey. it's not the crappy ref as whinged by said mate.

it's 'em bagpipes, i tell ye. they ain't called instrument's of uprisin fer nothin. aye.

today's toons

found.. yet again!

another reader of this wonderful blog, smidsy.

so, go say hello to sparx, folks :)

i'm really getting popular, blah yadda blowin' trumpet blah...

misplaced pride

why don't 'em both hypocrites go nuke the hell out of each other so that the blue marble will be a better place to live in.

of course to a certain degree, i'm appalled by the japanese government's whitewashing of their past atrocities. yet there they are whingeing about the tragedies of yokohama and nagasaki.

to be honest, i just cannot accept what they had subjected wee islanders to during the second world war. especially the rounding up of:
1. ethnic chinese babies and then throwin' em up into the air and then bayonet them
2. ethnic chinese lasses and then gang-raped them, after which disembowelled 'em
3. ethnic chinese fella's who worked for the brits, had 'em dig up trenches and then shot them there and then

and the blowing up of HMS Repulse and HMS Prince of Wales - erm, not relevant this as both were rickety old ships to begin with.

my late dad witnessed the massacres throughout the occupation. my granny escaped if not for my greatgran's quick wit. an aunt went missing. a great uncle was one of those who died in the firing line. and another had a narrow escape.

of course, all these are but the past. but the sight of 'em feckless youngling's worshipping things japanese is nothing short of revolting. not to mention, completely amoebic.

and the utter irony is i took up japanese language lessons many many many :: ad infinitum :: moons ago. not out of sheer interest, but because i had nothing better to do in the evening's after work back then.

found

a long-time reader of this wonderful blog, peekaboo / kick ass.

so, go say hello to Sarah D, people :)

i'm so popular that i should get meself voted for next year's best *asian blogs lark or summat. or more specifically, bribe each and every one of you's regular's to do so.

yeah, as if i need all those reassurances.

* asian?! good golly.

reet

here i was blahin' my spleen out, a one-time fanciable mate texted me if i'm going to be part of the spectacle.

this coming from a lifeform who stopped texting me when he got married last year. after a L-O-N-G engagement. don't get me wrong, not that i'm bitter. it is his utter loss after all.

no matter, curious mind wonders.

well, so long

just received news that an ex-course mate is emigrating to canada soon. she's one of those few who doesn't seem to be able to fit in here.

in spite of being a 4th or 5th generation wee islander. compare to the majority chink's whose claim to wee island ancestry was zilch - ie: grandparents were emigrant's from china.

the fact that she's a minority person makes it harder for her.

canada's gain, the wee isle's loss.

cheap stunts

this weekend sees the third annual wee island seven's. whereby loads of:

1. western expats would dress up in fanciful costumes
2. terribly underdressed and completely rugby-ignorant local and other asian bint's would be surgically attached to the arm's - and other limbs - of their loser white paramours
3. posh but terribly underdressed local chink bint's with a passing knowledge of rugby would shamelessly ogle and drool at 'em rugby player's - whilst yakkin' loudly amongst 'emselves like what they were up to the night before
4. and somesuch

put all of the above sub-species in one wee enclosure; and the finest display of ape-like behaviour ever known to humankind [disguised as "...sporting-mad wee islanders who know how to let their hair down..."] is in utterly full glory.

apart from the half-time bollocks that had yer ear-drums shattered by those massive chinese pugilistic drum's. any wonder why the islet is mistaken for a rural province of the peopre's lepubrik of china?

what's more disgusting than the sight of spastic apes misbehavin' is the organiser's resorting to cheap stunts like:
1. desperately beggin' those on their mailing list to spread the word about the event - daily, mind
2. going on a marketing blitz on the radio by giving away tickets to "lucky" caller's
3. going on a marketing blitz downtown by making some twats dressed up as rugby balls so that curious passers-by would somehow turn into fan's overnight

how low could they stoop?

besides, i was told the other day that this year's seven's might be the last ever before the stadium is demolished. or rather, they might not organise it any more as they have had been making losses since it started in 2002.

i'd rather they stop making a joke out of the sport altogether as rugby is meant for genuine fan's. not a spectacle for the lowest of the lowest common denominator's to flaunt themselves as some pampered high-society aspiring cunts. who insisted on sitting away from the sun and rain.

to think that the purpose of having the seven's here was to bring international prominence to the islet. they did somehow actually.

today's toons

one of 'em great mysteries?

why is it so darn effin' hard for bird's to reveal their age?

and why do they have to beat around the bush with a:
1. "...oh, i'm in my uhm, thirties.." [can't remember exactly when she was born]
2. "...i'm twenty-something..." [otherwise peopRe won't believe she's climbed the corporate ladder at such a terribly young age]
3. "...uhm, guess my age... teehee..." [deserves to be walloped]
4. "...no, can't tell you how old i am..." [oft-quoted line by those in their forties]

or worse, fib about their age?

and i thought only local amoebae have this rather illogical reason or three for their irrational behaviour. especially so when they are nearing or hit their third decade:
"... no because peopRe will think how come i...
1. still so childish.."
2. haven't married yet..."
3. still fuck around..."

indeed, you ought to be removed from the gene pool, ye bint. the sooner the better. btw, #3 is made up by moi.

i'm ranting this as whilst having a meal with a mate on monday evening, right after this event; that i discovered, to my dismay, that she fibbed about her age not once. but thrice. she was caught off guard when i uttered, "erm, i thought you said you turned xx the other day?"

it's no big deal since i don't know her well. but what else would she have fibbed? it's a shame really as i enjoyed her company as a quaffin' buddy.

oh well.

poem

still on the footy theme, here's one of a handful of footy poem's written many many many :: ad infinitum :: moons ago. so enjoy.

DODGY REFS

Does it ever occur to you
those men in black called Referees
have a slightest idea about football?

It’s not that they’ve got wonky blinkers
nor not toeing the line as told
when making bizarre decisions

Believe you me
they don’t give a f*ck or two for the game
So now you know

copyrighted stuff breanagh mctavish © 1999

belated congrat's

to Liverpool FC and their supporters on their win over Juventus. at the latter's home turf. isn't that awesome. teachin' 'em italian's how to play footy the erm, english way.

i have an affection towards the club, not because having a bro who's been a fan since their domination in the 80s. but also of the warm welcome i received from the club official's whilst visiting anfield, as part of my UK tour itinerary.

oh the joy i derived when revealing to said officials - at the end of the tour - that i was actually a manyooo fan. not that i was being cheeky, but i just couldn't take it when they kept saying manyooo this, manyooo that. manyooo could do such and such 'cos they had loadsa dosh. or manyooo tried to bribe the neighbours to abandon their houses so that they could extend the ground. and summat.

good grief. if that's not sour grapes, what is, i wondered. so, i thought why not go up and tell the guide of my true club loyalty. and then watch his reaction. by then it'd be too late to have me ejected from the stadium.

not sure though if that smirk on me face caused another official to grudgingly snappin' me; whilst posing with a newly-bought away jersey that i had it printed at the clubshop prior to the tour:

anyhoo, i have ian rush's autographs - oh and piccy also - which i bagged when he visited the islet back in 2003. and no, i ain't gonna sell 'em on e-bay.

found

a new reader of this wonderful blog, crazy little thing called life.

so, go say hello to Emma, people :)

today's toons

myth dispelled

about how birds are more intuitive than blokes. here's why:

erm, i got 'em all correctly. it's not due to luck or intuition, rather, lookin' at their blinkers as well.

and how come many of 'em bird's were clueless? see emphasis:

that neatly sums up why i prefer the company of fella's.

portrait

this is an artist's impression of the chief of all chiefs of the mohawk tribe, rainbow dances with buffaloes of the buffalo tribe:

gettin' trolleyed to know ye

off shortly for this session at the historic albeit posh hotel of the same name as the founder of the "modern" wee isle.

should expect a handful of 'em wee island gormless chavette's who might turn up together with their british loser of paramour's.

today's toons

thru' a frog's eyes

i didn't realise that queuing is a national obsession. i thought that is a common sense thing to do?

i may suggest to the author to come over here to the wee isle where not only stereotypes of cheap asian chavette's are more accurate - click on below link to see picture evidence - but where national obsessions are also numerous.

portrait of the typical brand-obsessed fake-blonde and black-outfitted chavette of a minger.

tremortised but p*ssed

yesterday's quake that hit sumatra - just 13 days after the easter monday's - had wee islanders "rattled" and rolled, see emphasis:

and then they questioned about the structural integrity of their flats. just because their furniture moved and lights swayed.

i'm not aware that there were buildings that could stand so firmly to the ground that would guarantee the occupants' peace of mind. apart from withstanding tremors off earthquakes that happened, erm, miles away.

obviously they have never heard of a field of study called geology. besides this being a clear evidence of wee islanders' most recent simian ancestry.

today's toons

reet..

three mates - female and happily married, about the same age as me mum - uttered the following these past couple of days:
1. from the best mate who's almost like a mum via email - "...miss you.."
2. from a good mate via email - "...missed you not being at the pub night.."
3. from a mate/fellow regular at the local - "..missed you flower.."

honestly, i'm not aware that i'm so well-lurved.

the other b's

here are images of how i'd appear on parallel cosmoverse's. indeed i have too much time on me paws.

the tweety blonde. look at that ridiculous amount of warpaint.



the dragon-slayin' female knight. not sure if there'd be bloke's fallin' all over me.



the female jedi knight. 'nuff said



the typical asian/wee island lowest common denominator bottled-blonde chavette. pass the barfbag!

the androgynous b

after seeing these, i thought why not have a few of meself. go 'ere to create yerself's.

the lead warbler of an alternative rock band called "the beanbag's". yes, my favouritest pair of shades are of deep orange lenses with orangey red frames; amended to the exact colours 'ere - together with the blue bits - with the help of ms paint.



the violent tomboy b. they didn't list hockey stick as part of their arsenal of weapons. so i guess a football is close enough.



the everyday b. 'nuff said.

l'nom nouvelle

not sure if i should rebrand meself as "beanbag".

it's the darn spellchecker [do scroll down to see exchanges] at Miles' that started it. anyways, if my failin' memory serves me correctly, i was called beanpole [as opposed to twig] whilst at school. and for some unknown reason or three, i stopped growing when i turned 14. and everyone else caught up.

so beanbag is a nice change.

today's lesson

it's been awhile since i first blahed about this. but anyhoo, let's begin.

Lesson #3: How to speak like a scot part ii

when the Proclaimers' tune "five hoondred miles" comes on the radio:
1. turn up the volume to full blast. but ain't loud enough to burst yer eardrums
2. pay attention to how said Proclaimer's warble
3. ensure lyrics to the above tune is on hand. if not, quickly nick copy from any of the numerous lyrics sites; and then paste 'em on .txt format
4. voila!

i wager you'd speak like a true-blue scot in no time. after the *fifth try at least.

* estimated number

?

yet another fine example of the workin's of the letter b's mind:

how come when i hear of news that someone lost their parents, extended family members, spouses or bairn's, i tend to mumble, "oh.. soz to hear.."?

yet when i:
1. witnessed the carcass of a stray moggy that was ran over by some vehicle
2. picked up a stray kitten and then discovered to my horror, one of its eye was dug out by some chavling's
3. was told of my granda's pet dogs' passings
4. watched the telly on battersea dogs' home's abandoned resident's

i wept my blinker's out?

and i swear the next time any amoeba telling me with an incredulous tone, "they are only animals!", i'd snuff its life out.

today's toons

copyrighting

has any out there heard of or used the term wankin' twat before?

if not, i'd like to copyright it henceforth. in other words, anyone using it will have to:
1. acknowledge my invention of the term accordingly
2. pay me some form of royalties for each and every use

just imagine, how much i could earn from royalties alone. i needn't slog my derierre off working. whatsoever.

some excuse

has the blue marble gone mad?

i don't understand the argument of this utter tosh brought up by the boffin. or probably a sad attempt by said boffin to perpetuate her "beliefs".

it's ok to have more than one partner at any one time - regardless for sexual or emotional purposes - because they make one a better lifeform? like bringing different perspectives to relationships? and it's in the human dna to love more than one lifeform? and that whomever doesn't agree to such way of life should somehow accept it if their mates or family do it?

so is this one of the latest "trends" to attack the sanctity of marriage?

methinks:
1. it's logically unsound - and morally wrong
2. it's simply an excuse to bonk or flirt around
3. it says alot about the follower's state of mind - or none whatsoever, both "state" and "mind"
4. the fact that it started in the U S of A doesn't suprise me the least - weirder things happened over there before

so isn't this a good reason to wipe out the human race before they harm themselves further?

today's toons

can't wait

.. for this film to come to these shores. the characters are so adorable that i'm looking at 'em pigeons in a different light now.

also, it's been a long time since i watched a film based only on the british forces during the second world war.

ta to Miles for the link.

first peoples

i spent a good part of my day today looking at these pictures of canada's aborigines and reading up some of these links.

native american history and cultures have always been one of my several pet subjects since childhood, no doubt largely influenced by those old western telly programmes.

it is a real shame that for what is a once proud race of people whose way of life is still connected to nature, they are now reduced to live in reservations, some of which have casinos so that income could be derived to support the community. what was surely an utter insult, for a good part of the late 19th century, they must sought the government's permission before they could leave their reservations.

it is sad to hear that they have one of the highest suicide rates in the blue marble; and that poverty, gambling - see the casino bit - and alcoholism are rife. but there are of course success stories i'm sure, but these are hardly reported. nor hardly available on the internet.

one thing that both perplexes and frustrates me is that there aren't any proper or in-depth studies done on east malaysia's aborigines. some of whose practices are very similar to their american counterparts. like, the longhouses, the beadwork, the basketry, the medicine men, the ceremonial dances, the headdresses [made of black and white feathers of the hornbill] and others which i have yet discovered. apart from their shared ancestry.

perhaps i should make a trip to sabah and sarawak sometime. simply to satisfy my curiosity and enrich my knowledge.

heh, maybe i could always ask one of my long-time fan's/friend's, c to be my guide. eh c? boleh tak? :D