The posies are posing

My mother has a beautiful garden, and my phone has a sweet camera, especially for macro mode. Nokia N95 FTMFW.

Enjoy the flowers, you big gay bear.

09-F9-11-02-9D-74-E3-5B-D8-41-56-C5-63-56-88-C0

09-F9-11-02-9D-74-E3-5B-D8-41-56-C5-63-56-88-C0, it’s the magic number.
Yes it is, it’s the magic number.

Just doing my bit.

saturday morning wake-up call.

Last night was a fairly tame Friday night; our two female housemates Isla and Kat were going out for a girly night out, while myself and housemate Tommy were helping Isla’s sister Iona move a piano from one house to another. Once we got back home we were both fairly tired so we played cards and listened to some music, which is generally what we do when we’re tired and can’t be bothered to do anything constructive. I decided to cook a stroganoff, as I love a good stroganoff and I haven’t had one in a while. Only problem was, we had no cream. So Tommy drove me to the shops to buy cream, and while we were there we figured that since it was only a 1 minute drive to the pub where Isla and Kat were (as well as people from the place Tommy and myself used to work), we might as well drop in quickly to say hello.

Earlier on in the evening (at about 7pm) I had been trying to get in touch with an old friend, Josh. We hadn’t spoken in about 2 years, and I still had 2 mobile phone numbers for him. I gave both a go but they both went to voicemail after ringing a few times. I gave up fairly quickly.

Anyhow, we got to the pub to find Isla and Kat mildly inebriated as well as quite a few old friends from work who had just finished their 12-8pm shifts and were welcoming the weekend with alcohol, as is their custom. We got a few drinks in and stayed for about an hour before heading home to cook the stroganoff. Which was delicious.

We chilled for a few more hours before going to bed. I watched the Borat movie, which I found fairly entertaining, especially when coupled with whiskey. I ended up hitting the sack at about 3:30am.

At 8am I awoke with a start, my mouth still tasting of whiskey. My phone was ringing about 3 inches from my head. I didn’t recognise the number but picked it up anyway and managed my best attempt at a “hello”, only to have the person on the other end hang up immediately. How rude, I thought, but maybe they’d simply got the wrong number and were expecting to hear a different voice on the other end of the phone.

Now, I’m NOT a morning person. To make matters worse, if I’m woken up early in the morning, no matter what time I went to bed the night before, I find it near-impossible to get back to sleep. However, I was just feeling myself drifting off to Slumberland again when my phone beeped. It was a text message, from the same number. I was pretty pissed off. Somebody didn’t want me to start my weekend with a good night’s sleep. An exact transcript of the conversation:

Who is this you rang my other number last night
Dave, who’s this? It’s way too early for this crap, I’m barely alive at 8am on a saturday. SO rude to ring and hang up like that!
Dave who. sorry but my baby was woken by you last night
I was trying to get hold of an old friend, Josh. He must have changed number. I rang at a SOCIABLE hour. If you’d picked up it wouldn’t have woken the baby!
well that was a brand new number anyway hope ya find him and we’ll leave it at that ok
Yeah. Just for future reference, probably an idea NOT to leave an active mobile phone on a Friday night on a loud ringtone in a room with a sleeping baby. Thanks for the alarm.
Whatever
Nice comeback.

Some people are so fucking rude, I swear. What is wrong with the world? Yeah, I guess I might have been a little sarcastic, but jeez. I couldn’t get back to sleep, which resulted in me being exhausted all day today. What a bitch. If it was a woman. I don’t know their sex, SINCE THEY WERE TOO FUCKING TIMID TO TALK, PREFERRING INSTEAD TO BE A DOUCHEBAG VIA TEXT MESSAGES. You know who you are. And you know you’re a douche.

Oh, Josh, if you’re out there - get in touch mate. We should have a jam sometime.

Check it out, this blog entry is TOTALLY dull and self-centred. I am SO a blogger right now. Hear me roar.

ain’t nothing going on but me.

I set up a blog on my site many months ago. This fact evades me day after day. Truth is, I don’t really “do” blogs. My life is not nearly interesting enough to warrant a commentary for faceless unknowns to follow in a zombie-like state, like an even duller version of The X Factor. Neither, I postulate, is yours. I’m vehemently anti-myspace, and consider internet clichés like personality quizzes and embedded mp3s about as useful and enchanting as cancer of the colon. My stance will not be altered by the opportunity to display myself as having 684 ‘friends’, nor the ability to force upon you not only the in-depth angst-ridden nonchalance of my being, but my tastes in music and movies along with it.

And so the question begs itself: why post? History would dictate that there is certainly no worldwide demand for such a thing. Yet millions of people worldwide provide us with a daily insight into the insightless realm of the broken pencil-like tribulations of their day-to-day existence. Why should I join the ever-growing throng and disclose the ever-more banal life experiences that will spawn only inside jokes and memetic apathy? O RLY?

The obvious answer leaps to mind: I haven’t posted. For 7 glorious months this blog has celebrated taciturn inertia: a gentle otiosity akin to turning off your television and removing yourself from the arena of purposeless frivolity. The facility to communicate may abide, yet you are not burdened with the meandering droolings of a plain and shallow subsistence that serves only to increase the length and girth of my internet penis. This fact needs no celebration - the festival is in the silence.

Do I have ample and firm breasts? Perhaps I do. Am I willing to take grainy stills of said breasts and paste them for the world to see so that the great unloved can bless me with barely legible, acronym-infested, quasi-flirtatious compliments via an overly-complex comments and rating system? Perhaps not. Do I have a furtive desperation for needless attention to be lavished upon me? Apparently so. This is a blog entry, after all. Does the average blog reader appreciate prosaic, loquacious melancholy and endless rhetorical questions that I myself answer regardless? Not on your life.

Apparently I’m meant to finish up with some pictures: a random smattering of pictorial evidence of the humdrum routine that you may refer to as my life. I wouldn’t want to shit all over industry standards now, would I? I’m no revolutionary. I am not unique. I have no special talents. I merely claim to surpass mediocrity in a couple of fields that are of interest to myself and of relative indifference to anybody witless enough to feel the need to pry. Enjoy my average fare. It is of no consequence; it is not worthy of your attention; and yet here I am, for all the world to see.

And thus the internet fits me like a well-used latex glove. The terrorists win.

Back again… but not for long.

This Wordpress blog is here temporarily in the meantime before I try some experiments with the newest vBhome. Still not sure exactly what I’m doing with the site, but check back occasionally, there should be updates. Maybe. If you get tired of waiting, watch Joscho play guitar like a fucking genius.

In the meantime, make some mess on the forum, which is still alive, amazingly - in fact, it’s been ever-so-slightly improved over the past few weeks. The Google Video face-off thread is still kicking, as well as Inky’s fantastic night photography thread. Have you got anything to add?

In as much as I hate writing blog entries, there’s very little to say. I have my university finals in less than a month, I’m a little overworked, and I’m living in squalor thanks to lazy housemates. Don’t believe me? Then I’ll test the gallery plugin.

Shitty times all round really. At least my room is clean. After my last exam I’ll be getting some kind of temp job up here in Nottingham for a while until the end of July, and then I’ll be moving back to Brighton and finding my own place with the money I earned. Of course it’s far more complicated than that, but there’s no need to go into detail.

At least we occasionally still have moments of fun up here, even if they do involve broken glass.

Apparently you’re meant to post ‘artistic’ photos on these things (along with pictures of your filthy living conditions), even if you have no aptitude for such a thing. So with great pride I present to you the best photograph I have ever taken. To me it symbolizes love, fidelity and happiness.

Please note: to the casual observer this photograph closely resembles two ladybugs having sex.