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30 Aug 2011

A petal is smart but the buds wiser

I used to be Japanese until Kodak fired me...
Welcome back my little stalkers!  That's all you are essentially.  You follow me, finding out little facts about my life and just hoping to get some incriminating gossip to sell to the papers.  I'm not falling for that again, not after my phone got hacked!  Mind you this blog has got to 8 new countries since my last post so it's not like I need the publicity anyway.  ONTO BLOG HEAVEN....

Right so I've moved out of Bournemouth.  Spent a couple of days doing some hardcore cleaning.  Some of you are unaware of how cleaning works so let me explain it in a mathematical equation.  1 House minus dirt which was added and is now multiplying bacteria equals xy (clean house)  and the division of labour between the factors involed means 1 is subtracting the root of weeds and the other is ensuring there is no pi stains on the carpet and that the house is in the standing up position...or the RIGHT angle.  Simple really.  My enchantment of a Mother came to help... I say help, I mean more like save us.  We packed all my stuff in the car; tv, clothes, map of middle earth, girlfriend and my collection of Norwegian egg cups.  Unfortunately I couldnt fit in the car though, and my Mum still doesn't think I'm old enough to ride in the glovebox so I had to catch the coach to London.  Couldn't be bothered waiting for a connecting bus back to my house, so I ordered a strategic human transportation device...or taxi as the Scotsmen call them.

There are too many fat people annoying me.  Fat people annoy me in general simply because their bellow lungs consume twice as much oxygen as mine but they don't pay any extra.  I'm not talking about people who are just a little larger than others, I'm talking about the Jupiters of the human solar system.  Lately they've really been bugging me.  Some annoy me on the escalators at the tube stations.  They say stand on the right to let people walking up the steps pass on the left, this doesnt apply to the flub brigade though as they not only take up the whole width of the walkway but also droop over 3 steps so no matter where I stand, their chub is still in mace face.  Then it's rush hour and their bloated wisdom takes up half the bloody carriage on the train.  Pointless having a section for elderly and disabled people to sit when Shamoo has declared his own section.  Thusforth I have devised a step by step guide to help our lard enriched brothers live a healthy life without fear of being harpooned...
  1. Buy a hammock, all podgy peeps like a hammock.  But replace the netting with cheese wire so that chunks of flub with just fall through it.  Kind of like an industrial sieve.
  2. Confiscate all mobile phones from the butter bellies and replace them with morse code transmitters.  They may be ordering pizza but the constant tapping will cause them to lose weight in their index fingers in days.
  3. Remove all calendars from their houses.  If Chub Norris hasn't got his eye set on Christmas Dinner, he might decide to stop practising for it.
  4. Try my new invention.  It's a mirror which enhances Fatorexia™.  A gibbly gump who looks into the mirror will see a skinny good looking version of themselves.  This causes them to go into Fatolemia™ where they purge all their gastric gunk out to leave them with the body of a Greek god.
So there you go, my comprehensive, handy dandy guide to weight loss.  I hope people dont start stealing gates or taking offence (little joke there).  It's not mean, it's true, and if you don't like it, then go back to looking up techniques on how to free your belly from being trapped under the table you're sat at.

So there you go buddys.  So mildly insulting trivia for you to feast on, but not too much now or you'll need to take that step by step guide yourself.  Catch you soon chickadees

3 Aug 2011

The city life begins!!!

Left: My sister.  Right: My girl. Centre: Blog Hero!  

Now it may have been a while since my last blog and I do apologise, but I know you haven't forgotten about me have you?  Of course not, infact this blog has hit 4 more countries since my last post so I know you've all done your duty and spread this faster than cholera through a mining community.  But enough about disease and death, I'M FINALLY IN LONDON!  I'm well into my fourth week of my work placement and I'm loving it.  I wish I could tell you all about it....and I will.

Right chums.  So I moved to Oxford for 1 week, it was originally going to be a month, then 2 weeks and then they decided it would just be a week but that's fine.  I stayed in a house supplied by the company with the other interns, I felt like I was on the apprentice, living with the other candidates (except without the hate, deceit and free food).  I got to grips with the work and started to bond with my co-workers.  I say 'bond', more like work my magic of annoyance to ensure that when I'm gone that they'll remember me by being "that irritating little twerp who wouldn't shut the hell up".  I did it at uni, I did it at the co-op and now the wonder of David Honour the 4th has come to shake stuff up in my new workplace.  After the second week, they had a night out for the staff.  Totally immense.  We went up the Thames on a private boat with free bar, food and DJ.  Follow that up with heavy drinking and trademark dancing to Shakira in a club along with some decent winning at the casino and I think you'll agree that it was a brilliant start to my career.  When they looked at my CV, I'm sure that it was the section within my qualities entitled "Ability to dance like an epileptic grasshopper" that won them over. 

The work itself is also good fun, but it's the bits around the work that are best.  Such as the opportunities I get to wind up my manager.  I may be subbordinate, but I'm still a cheeky little devil with way too much enthusiasm considering I wake up at 6:30am to get there and the first thing I do is say something ingenious like "Remember, you don't have to be a farmer to be outstanding in your own field".  I think it's suitable that a co-worker has dubbed me 'Head of Motivation'.  What I lack in height, I make up for in annoyance, energy and of course good looks - it's all good for morale.  However, I have set out some targets for the year whilst I am working there, I'm sure you'd like to hear them.  WELL TOUGH!! I need to go to the toilet first.................................................................................................................................................................................................. Ok I'm back, thank you for waiting.  Right so my targets for the year are as follows;
  1. Become an alcoholic - If the people on the tube look and sound like they spend most of their time licking the pavement for a source of food after spending all their money on Lambrini then I'd like to blend in.
  2. Install a new computer system - Not to replace the current one, but so we can all have an extra computer to punch when our normal one messes up.
  3. Persuade my manager to introduce a show & tell day - I for one would be interested to see the designs of everyone elses toothbrushes one week.
  4. Invest in the stock market - Looking at the NASDAQ in the current climate against the current rate of 10234.43 means that stock should be bought against the HANG SENG for 3532.59.  I haven't a clue but it sounds so cool when you say it.
 You may also be interested to know that it is officially goodbye Bournemouth after this weekend.  Heading back there Friday night to sort the house out before moving everything up here on Sunday.  A lot of things need doing such as the removal of road signs and traffic control barriers from our garden, re-attaching doors to their frames and putting the roof back on.  The place needs a lot of work, think I may place an ad in the local paper for assistance "Bournemouth Council - If you want your road signs back, get round to my house and get it not only spick but more importantly span!"  That should do the trick.  If all else fails then I'm going to have to use the good old fashioned elbow grease (which isn't a type of cooking oil as I found out in the burns unit of Bournemouth hospital).  If anybody wants to lend a helping hand then that would be greatly appreciated, but it must be a helping hand, I don't want anyone lending a do-nothing hand!  Infact, all hands will be inspected to deduce helpfulness upon entry to my house.  Sort it out.

Well there you go buddys!  The blog is back.  I can't promise that I will back to my normal routine of 2 per week as this job is actually...work now!  Not only that but I STILL haven't received a birthday present from some of my readers so I'm not sure you should be treated so much until I get them.  Here's a new video for you though, enjoy my loyal bloggies!!