Alex Noonan mentioned an old car of mine in his blog a few days ago and linked it to this blog. This blog which I had almost forgotten I had. As a service to my only loyal follower I have decided to write something. I have no idea what to write about because of the aforementioned forgetting I had a blog. So I am going to just write about whatever crap I found interesting recently.
The films Commando, Predator and Die Hard all take place within the same (awesome) parallel universe. The thing that proves the link between the three is the fictional nation of Val Verde.
Sewage treatment plants in the United States are lax with regards to safety regulations concerning methane gas.
My youngest brother got engaged on his birthday.
Camper vans are not street legal without a leopard-print silk and velour interior.
Printers are the worst thing in all of Christendom and possibly whatever the rest of the world is called too.
tvtropes.org is digital crack. I can not spend less than fifteen minutes on it.
Typing out the word "fifteen" instead of the number is probably massively pretentious.
Alcest are still a great band. Despite being French. Saying that I remember meeting two very nice French people in The Porterhouse that time me and Darragh Glennon drank a Russian beer called Baltika 6. I'm entirely sure the main ingredient in that beer was peat. Alex was there too. I don't even know why I call you by name. You're the only person who has ever read this.
Youtube comments are still the single most offensive thing to happen to any language. Except Esperanto. William Shatner happened to Esperanto and that is a terrible thing to happen to a language.
A dog punched me in the throat on Sunday. I still think he's sound though.
Guinness and Mojito does not make for a pleasant next morning.
Linux is a massive pain in the arse.
I'm done now.
Monday 26 September 2011
Thursday 25 August 2011
Cats and the internet. What's all that about?
About a year ago my friend James and I were wasting a Sunday afternoon on the internet. We noticed a trend. Nearly every second page we went to was a story about, a picture of or a picture with a grammatically icorrect caption of one or more cats. Using the sort of logic that wouldn't pass muster with a fourteen year old girl we came to the conclusion that the internet is powered by cats. I have decided to do my part to keep the internet running.
I have three cats. That is the only time they will ever be mentioned. Consider the internet safe for another day.
I have three cats. That is the only time they will ever be mentioned. Consider the internet safe for another day.
Monday 22 August 2011
The terror of 80's power ballads.
I made this blog because Alex Noonan who runs http://www.onwardstothehorrorshow.com/ told me to(You should go read that by the way; It's better than this). I haven't a clue what a blog is supposed to be about so I have decided to tell the tale of why I can no longer listen to "I want to know what love is" by 80's band Foreigner without gagging.
Please note: All names have been changed to protect the guilty.
A few years back I lived in Cavan. A town which oddly enough is in the County of Cavan. I spent quite a bit of time in my friend Carl's (I'd use his real name but if I ever feel inclined to post anything more he might come up again in a less than savoury anecdote.) house just down the road. Carl had a housemate that was older than us who I shall from now on refer to as Ronald. Ronald was American and a veteran of the first Gulf War. He was also an alcoholic.
Ronald was in the habit of bringing a large woman in her late forties home to the house for some sexy rumpus (His words, not mine). We called this woman "The Beast". When Ron and the Beast were in the throes of drunken passion it was not uncommon to hear the strains of "I want to know what love is" from behind the door. This was an endless source of amusement to Carl and I.
One night I was over watching a film. The film was probably Commando. About halfway through the film Ronald struts into the room wearing nothing but a hoodie around his waist. He had the sleeves tied around the back to conceal his junk, however, there was a noticeable tent in front. He strode into the kitchen and proceeded to root around in all of the cupboards for a good four or five minutes.
After the above time elapsed Carl's curiosity got the best of him and he asked what Ronald was looking for. "Cooking Oil" was the response. Carl's rebuttal: "We don't have any at the moment. What are you planning on cooking at this hour anyway?". "I'm not cooking. I'm gonna fist her in the ass" was Ronald's reply that sent me and Carl into hysterical laughter.
While me and Carl were laughing, Ronald grabbed a mug, opened the lid of the deep fat fryer and helped himself to a large cup of used cooking oil that had been sitting there for months and headed back upstairs. Me and Carl's stunned silence was interrupted by Foreigner's classic ballad. To this day that song reminds me of unattractive people involved in depraved sex acts that smell like a chipper.
Please note: All names have been changed to protect the guilty.
A few years back I lived in Cavan. A town which oddly enough is in the County of Cavan. I spent quite a bit of time in my friend Carl's (I'd use his real name but if I ever feel inclined to post anything more he might come up again in a less than savoury anecdote.) house just down the road. Carl had a housemate that was older than us who I shall from now on refer to as Ronald. Ronald was American and a veteran of the first Gulf War. He was also an alcoholic.
Ronald was in the habit of bringing a large woman in her late forties home to the house for some sexy rumpus (His words, not mine). We called this woman "The Beast". When Ron and the Beast were in the throes of drunken passion it was not uncommon to hear the strains of "I want to know what love is" from behind the door. This was an endless source of amusement to Carl and I.
One night I was over watching a film. The film was probably Commando. About halfway through the film Ronald struts into the room wearing nothing but a hoodie around his waist. He had the sleeves tied around the back to conceal his junk, however, there was a noticeable tent in front. He strode into the kitchen and proceeded to root around in all of the cupboards for a good four or five minutes.
After the above time elapsed Carl's curiosity got the best of him and he asked what Ronald was looking for. "Cooking Oil" was the response. Carl's rebuttal: "We don't have any at the moment. What are you planning on cooking at this hour anyway?". "I'm not cooking. I'm gonna fist her in the ass" was Ronald's reply that sent me and Carl into hysterical laughter.
While me and Carl were laughing, Ronald grabbed a mug, opened the lid of the deep fat fryer and helped himself to a large cup of used cooking oil that had been sitting there for months and headed back upstairs. Me and Carl's stunned silence was interrupted by Foreigner's classic ballad. To this day that song reminds me of unattractive people involved in depraved sex acts that smell like a chipper.
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