Sunday, 5 December 2010

Things That Really Annoy Me 2.0 Edition

Has anyone been on Facebook lately?

How annoying has that place become?

I don't want to know that you love your children/family/unborn child/sister's boyfriend. I don't care.

Actually, I probably would care about that last one.

Facebook should be kept light and loose.

Deep down we're all only on there to gawk at people we went to school with or used to work with to see just what a car crash everyone's life has become.

Who has put on the most weight? Who has the most retarded looking children? Who is 27 and has 4 kids? Who has the least likely looking boyfriend? Who married somebody else that we went to school with? Who ended up marrying their boyfriend's dad (true story)?

What has really ignited my ire is the latest thing that we're all 'supposed' to do. Change your profile picture to that of a cartoon character from your childhood to 'raise awareness of, and help end' cruelty to children.

What the fuckity fuck.

So if I change my profile picture to Inspector Gadget, Chip 'N Dale (Rescue Rangers), The Raccoons, Jem & The Holograms etc etc that will stop a child getting punched in the face?

Pull the other one, it's got bells on it.

How arbitrary and moronic a concept is that?

What is most disappointing is the sheer number of people changing their bloody profile pics!

It's as if nobody wants to apply any logic or brain to this - as though by not doing it you will be seen as condoning or encouraging child abuse.

And of course, any child abuser randomly surfing Facebook will see that profile picture of Captain Planet or Top Cat, and will immediately be struck by such an epiphany that they will instantly change their ways.

GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Some of the people that have changed their profile pics are surprising to me. I always thought one individual in particular had such a cynical, dry sense of humour that they would in no way ever participate in such idiocy. But no, they are participating in this ridiculous, low IQ groupthink.

It's like the other herd behaviour instigated by that message to change your status to say what bra you have on to 'raise awareness' of breast cancer. How stupid. And downright offensive to anyone who has actually been affected, in any way, by cancer.

Moral of the story: People are dicks.

Oh, and because I posted this pic of The Thundercats here, instead of on Facebook, little Timmy has been beaten like a red headed step child.

Oh, and Pob wasn't a cartoon dickhead!

Sunday, 14 November 2010

My Kinda Welcome

Loving the latest flash mobbery from T Mobile.

Also curious as to how all these people arriving at Heathrow airport all look so fresh and non-dishevelled. Short haul is my guess ...

I always look like a wreck when I'm there, the last time being in June when I stumbled through arrivals looking exactly like someone who had spent the previous 4 weeks sleeping in a tent and drinking heavily.

I then had to get some sort of train and run, yes run, to domestic departures to avoid missing a connection to Manchester because British Airways are flight cancelling bastards. Consider yourself blacklisted along with American Airlines and Air France.

/rant

EDIT: I can't seem to get the video to shrink to fit the margin. Deal with it.

Thursday, 14 October 2010

OMGZ

I am so excited.

This weekend I am travelling to Monkey World in Dorset, a mere 4 and a half hours from home.

The point of the visit? To look at monkeys. Hopefully without getting my face torn off.

More specifically, to see this orangutan:


AKA the fattest primate in Britain.

The orangutan is called Oshine [pronounced Osheen] and weighs 100kg. Even fatter than me.

She had been kept as a pet in South Africa and lived on sweets, jelly, burgers and marshmallows. Now she has been put on a diet of fruit and vegetables. And she doesn't look happy about it.

She looks like a little, angry, fat ginger man. A kind of fanta pants primate version of Phil Mitchell ... minus the ludicrous crack addiction.

Oshine had to travel in a specially built crate from Joburg to London. The shame.

Oshine had better be on display to the public. If not, I'll be demanding a refund.

I love an obese pet.

There is nothing better than seeing a really fat cat looking completely disinterested as it's moron owner dangles some yarn in front of it in a vain attempt to encourage it to exercise. Or an obese cat in a sweater. Or with something on it's head. Or wearing sunglasses.

Obese pets, putting the lol into cruelty to animals.

Monday, 20 September 2010

Nicholas Sparks Bingo

As part of The Reading Crusade, I have just read the entire Nicholas Sparks archive. They were on special offer, alright? Either I was suffering from deja vu, or a lot of the books were fairly similar. I have concocted a game of bingo for when you next read one of Mr Sparks' fine tomes.


Scorecards at the ready. Eyes down looking.

02 - a North Carolina location

62 - a 76 page long chapter where he waxes poetic in an attempt to be 'literary'

16 - main character is a 30-something single mother who is described as 'still smoking hot' or 'in great shape'

85 - male romantic lead mainly wears khaki pants or deck shoes without socks

24 - novel's only pop culture reference is to Pokemon cards [and the novel was first published in 2009]

77 - completely untelegraphed, patently ridiculous ending which occurs on page 320. The preceding 319 pages having given no sense that the novel was close to even ending, nevermind in such a paper thin, moronic fashion [Hello, Message In A Bottle]

53 - romantic lead's pursuit of main character could most accurately be described as 'stalkerish'

39 - the only actor you can picture playing the male lead is Kevin Costner circa 1992

60 - minor character has a ridiculous name like Cornflake Sweetshop

48 - a lingering sense that the author had spent 300 pages unravelling plot threads and then 14 pages and an epilogue tying them up

94 - the characters have gone out on a date and eaten fresh crabs and drawn butter

11 - couple have a deep and meaningful talk about their relationship and then one of them says something which no one on planet Earth has ever actually said - like 'Just hold me!'

87 - male character dresses up for a date and is described as wearing a 'sports jacket'. Whatever that is.

73 - a character feels something tighten. "She felt her stomach tighten" or "His throat tightened"

51 - character, who is a school teacher, can get a school day off whenever they feel like it to go to the beach or to wallow miserably in their bed

18 - character finds a message in a bottle and doesn't once reference the Police song of the same name

44 - the print is inordinately large

70 - the male romantic lead is an insufferable douche [I am talking about you, Mr A Walk To Remember] and has a truly odious personality

63 - the book is so poorly written and short, you are left confused by the actual ending. You strongly suspect she dies, but the last sentence is so ridiculous you are not quite sure

03 - Nobody has sex until at least page 200

38 - at the end of the book there is the first chapter of the next exciting Nicholas Sparks magnum opus


Anyone got a full house?

Sunday, 20 June 2010

M.I.A


So, I have not really been around lately. And by lately, I mean 2010.

In my defence, I have been doing stuff.

I have provided pics as proof - because we all know that without pictures, it didn't really happen.

WARNING: This post contains pictures of my fat face and a man wearing a thong. Proceed at own risk.

I had me a trip to Crosby beach to go and see Another Place, the Anthony Gormley sculpture installation. It's basically a load of cast iron models of his body placed at various places along the shore.

This is what Anthony Gormley looks like.

STD?!
Who goes to the beach when it's minus 5 degrees? English people!
It is also the law that you must have an ice cream, no matter the weather.


We walked 6km along the beach - the figures are spread out over 3km


BFFs. And probably not how Anthony Gormley predicted people would use his 'art' - to take Myspace-style pictures.

Creating our own art


Moody

Bob, the cat who looks like Hitler, brought a live mouse into my parent's house and let it go in their bedroom. My mum trapped the mouse in the room by attatching a bungee cord to the door as it doesn't shut properly. Then they killed it in a mousetrap. Lolz.


I went to Lyme Park in Stockport.
Or for the nerds amongst us, I went to the location of Pemberley in the BBC version of Pride & Prejudice.
Colin Firth was not there, alas.

GJammz was there, however, and we made him pretend to be coming out of the lake a la the Firth.


This is only the 2nd cup of tea I have ever had.
Yes, I am 27.

Nom, nom, nom!
Scone and cream and jam!


I went to Blackpool and up to the top of the Blackpool Tower.
Stood on a bit of glass with a 380ft drop. Big wow.
If that glass can hold my weight, it can pretty much hold anything.

I went to the world's dodgiest waxwork museum.
Here's me and, erm, it'll come to me in a minute ...

Blackpool Tower

Don't look down

Wow. Matt Damon.

Tom Hanks would be turning in his grave. If he were dead.

Yes, that is a man wearing a thong. On a pole. The shame.
We must never speak of this night again.



Had a little trip down to Bath. Pretended I was in Persuasion and that.
Yet another Jane Austen reference.

Went into the cathedral

This is The Circus.
Nicolas Cage, and his hair, live here some of the time.

Snigger.

The Royal Crescent in Bath.
Would love to live in one of those houses - or stay in the hotel - if it weren't for the hordes of tourists. And the torrential rain.

Visited Stonehenge.
Don't bother.

Saturday, 12 June 2010

1966 And All That ...



COME ON ENGLAND!
England vs. USA in about 2 hours.
We invented soccerball so we should be allowed to win!

*EDIT: By 'COME ON ENGLAND' what I actually meant was 'Come on and get a mediocre draw against the USA, a country with traditionally limited football success, and disappoint us all again so we have to wait another 4 years to have our inflated hopes dashed. Thankssomuch.'*


Monday, 31 May 2010

Born In The USA


So I am in America on my shiny new iPhone.

Just come to Panama City Beach from New Orleans and what a night out that is ... I think I agreed to a sham marriage with some dude from Chicago. Oops.

I have been whitewater rafting in Tennessee. Our guide Brad looked like a stoner pirate. It was slightly concerning to realise that he had been one of the people around our campfire the night before smoking some, erm, jazz cigarettes and drinking colt 45. Stay classy Tennessee. Brad fell out of the boat within the first 30 seconds - but his cigarette stayed lit the whole time. Result.

A game of Edward Fortyhands ensued which led to vomiting, men urinating on each other and various substances bring snorted. Shit got messy ...

I am engaged in a battle of wills with a Philadelphia Flyers fan regarding the Stanley Cup. Chicago are going to win as I am using my Blackhawks hoodie as a pillow. The prophet has spoken. I randomly high fived a stranger wearing a Blackhawks jersey on Bourbon Street to prove my point. A woman then told me that Jesus loved me and wanted me to stop drinking. I had a daiquiri in each hand at the time ...

Camping at the beach tonight and onto Disneyworld soon. Woop woop.

Things wrong with America:

1. Cheese - American cheese is atrocious and plastic
2. R.V.s - If you want to stay in a bed with an en suite bathroom, then pay for a fucking hotel moron
3. The insects here all wish to have me as a tasty snack
4. It's too hot
5. Hershey's chocolate

On a side note, fuck British Airways and never fly with them.

A special message to Blake: EXTRA TEETH!!

Tuesday, 11 May 2010

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!




ConDemmed
I am off to watch Hot Tub Time Machine to ease the pain ...

Friday, 2 April 2010

Mad As A March Hare


So much has happened since I last wrote here...

Who am I kidding? I have done virtually nothing of interest.

Got a year older.
Saw Kelly Clarkson for the second time.
Saw Mika in one of the strangest live shows I have ever been to.
Drunk too much on too many occasions.
Watched Invictus.
Met a male model.
Been on strike for 3 days.

The Winter Olympics, eh?

Slightly bizarre viewing experience at times - who knew that was the snowboard giant slalom going on amongst all that fog?

Watched the closing ceremony and some guy in a suit made a speech praising the Games and all that jazz, then repeated parts of the speech in French so totally Godawful, even I was offended. And I comfortably speak the French of a 5 or 6 year old child.Even if he had spoken the words in English with a comedy French accent, I doubt they would have sounded as bad as they did.

My favourite athletes? Kasper Kokk and Andreas Wank, obv.

BBC commentary was bizarre at times - Steve Cram, one of the world's greatest middle distance runners, commentating on curling and Sue Barker, twice French Open champion, commentating on figure skating/ice dancing/whatever.

BBC commentary was over excited at other times - the absolutely awful ice hockey commentary being a case in point. Sidney Crosby won the gold for "Canadia" apparently.

Most disturbing event? The double luge.

Most disturbing commentary? The double luge. "And the Austrian pair have got one hand and four fingers on the gold medal." Where is the other finger? On second thoughts, don't answer that ....

Curling gets waaaaay too much TV time.

The snowboard halfpipe was won by a ginger cocker spaniel.

Olympic fact: 95% of all snowboarders are called Nate.

Snowboard and skicross and short track speed skating are awesome to watch.

According to an ad that has just been on TV, 77% of all women feel sexier when their underarms look good. Who has ever even thought about that? And what is the purpose of such 'scientific' research? Advertising, it goes without saying, is the art of talking balls.

Films to go and see:
Invictus
Green Zone

Films to avoid:
Shutter Island
Alice In Wonderland

Talking to an 88 year old woman at work, she said that chatting with me was "more interesting than watching Poirot".
I misheard this as being more interesting than watching porno. Cue me asking her if she lived next door.

On 6th April, I will have had my real world, responsible job for 1 year. Who saw that one coming? Not me. Get a performance bonus - basically for showing up every day, occasionally on time - so thank you taxpayers! This should make up for the fact that our pay rise is 1% *rips Che Guevara beret from head in disgust*.

I was told in my appraisal that I had "so much potential" but that I was not willing to use it and that I was "hiding my light under a bushel". Why would I waste my "potential" on the British public? They are idiots.

Number of the day: 47
The number of days until I will be in New York City.
Dreaded number of the day: 72
The number of days until I will be flying back to Manchester from Miami.

Friday, 5 February 2010

An Open Letter ...


... to my 80-something year old next door neighbour.

Please turn the volume of your pornography down.

Thankssomuch,

Jess

Monday, 18 January 2010

Why Not?


Why not pay £7.60 to go to the cinema and watch a film whilst talking loudly throughout the whole thing?

[Talking through a film is only acceptable if you are me, it is Friday night and you find yourself in Westbrook Odeon watching Paranormal Activity whilst drunk. Then your running commentary will not only enhance your own personal viewing experience, but that of everyone else sat around you, providing such insight as: "Why is he leaving the door open?!" and "What a DICKHEAD!" Then upon the ending of the film pronouncing loudly: "Is that it?! That was almost as bad as the Blair Witch Project!"]

Why not be an employer? Why not laughably refer to the people you deal with as 'customers'? Why not make sure that your 'customers' have a collective IQ of 3.826? Why not enforce so many petty, illogical and ridiculous rules that you make a convention of OCD, semi-autistic Health & Safety officers look like a hookers-'n-coke feeding frenzy?

Why not go and watch Sting AND Bono in Help For Haiti? Here's an idea douchebags, why not shut your fucking traps and put your hands into your own very deep pockets and spare us all your numbskull dad-rock/medieval lute rainforest panpipe arse and just give Haiti $10million each of your own money. And whilst we are on the subject, Bono and Sting - hasn't Haiti suffered enough?

Why not read The Shack with a straight face? Oh, wait, because that's impossible.

Why not, eh?

Tuesday, 5 January 2010

Family Portrait


This whole snow thing is getting a bit ridic.

Instead of working, just take one plastic red nose, one wig purchased as part of a Lionel Richie costume [don't ask] and some carrots.

Et voilĂ .

My family of Schneemänner.




Friday, 1 January 2010

2010 ...

So, that's it for another year then.
The final David Tennant Doctor Who is on my tellybox.

Highlights of my family Christmas?
  1. Dinner table conversation about the quality of prostitutes in Hamburg.
  2. The whole family settling down on Christmas Day to watch The Hangover on DVD.
  3. Dickhead John buying my mother a book he wanted to read as a Christmas gift. He has started reading it already and has complained that it is boring and "there are too many words in it". What does he expect from Charles Dickens?
  4. Dickhead John giving my mother another gift - a pair of fingerless gloves. What. The. Fuck? He said he thought they would be a good present for someone who worked outside. My mother is a teacher.
  5. Sitting in stony silence watching Deadliest Catch or Ice Road Truckers with Dickhead John in the name of father/daughter bonding.

Signs you are having a true Northern Christmas?

None of the chairs at the dinner table match

Bob, the world's fattest cat, also menaced some ham on a plate.

Some things I am going to try and do in 2010:

  • Read more books
  • Arrive at work on time 3 days out of 5 [This will almost certainly never happen]
  • Watch less TV [with the exception of Glee]
  • Eat more fish
  • Go to at least one place I have never been before
  • Learn more about wine
  • Dispose of at least one third of my wardrobe
  • Bake more cakes
  • More pyjamas-as-leisurewear action
  • Incorporate at least one Malcolm Tucker quote into my everyday life

"Do you know, Malcolm? The best way to clear a paper jam?"

"I don't know. Kill a kid an hour until it sorts itself out?"