Fack me John, they’ve only gone and changed the music channels on Sky Digital ‘aint they? I sit down, at home, after working my arse off, switch to 440 and what do I get, fackin’ Sport Nation. What am I, some kinda caant?
With the 8am Saturday morning arrival of my computer (thanks MESH) I’m already addicted to Civilization IV. This is the real Sid Meier deal, none of this Call to Power nonsense. Ironically, I preferred how Call to Power was controlled and there seemed to be a lot more diplomacy, but nonetheless, Civ IV just looks and sounds wicked. Compare it to how the first 3D version of Civ looked. Here:
And old Civ here:
So there you go. Thing is, I don’t think the gameplay is as good as the oldies. Nonetheless, I totally kicked the Aztec’s arse last night. That’ll serve him right for giving it all the bigg’un with his “gimmie medicine and flight or you’ll be sorry”.
Still it’s no Mega-lo-Mania though is it? Best computer game evah?
Having handed in my notice, I’m officially leaving work on 21st March. And no, I have no back-up plan or anywhere else to go so get over it already. Anyway, this has forced me to take stock of any files and folders I have on my personal drive that I may want to copy to my home computer, during which I’ve found over three years worth of crap. Some of which I’ll share with you now (Settle down, don’t get too excited).
Some old ‘end of the new’ promo stuff:
Some random photos I have saved:
And some pics I have for bizarre reasons:
Other stuff that I can’t attach included:
1) An excel sheet starting at 1, doubling every row up to 64, to prove the old chessboard claim that if you have £1 and double it on every square on the chessboard you wouldn’t have enough money in the world to complete the task. Or something.
2) A half complete table with the Vigin band poster answers on that I had worked out.
3) The most annoying lyrics quiz ever on excel. I still can’t work some of them out. Any idea what song contains the line “You and me were meant to be walking free, in harmony“. No? Me neither. And you can’t google answers.
4) An excellent excel ‘minipops’ quiz based on guessing which small cartoon figures represent which solo artists or groups, like these.
5) A hundred other things I haven’t bothered posting ‘cos they’re even more boring than above.
Still, I guess this is the modern day equivalent of cleaning out your desk. All I need is a memory stick for a day and all this crap can sit nicely on my home PC so I keep it forevermore, but let’s face it, never look at it again.
The “less desirable” the person, the more they’ll manage to mention their partner in every bloody conversation.
I feel bad for saying this, but it’s an undeniable truth. You hear me? Undeniable!
For “less desirable” read: uglier
“Voi tutta la necessità di mostrarmi più rispetto. Sono un uomo gentile che è saggio oltre i suoi anni. Coloro che lo offende pagheranno un prezzo elevato!”
Google Languages rules (even if it’s wildly inaccurate at times)!
So, after three and a half weeks wait, I sat in last night, eagerly awaiting a random white van man to come to my door and deliver my brand spanking new computer. But surprise fucking-bastard surprise, it didn’t arrive. Wankers.
So I call up today, ready to unleash an unforgiving onslaught of anger down the phone only to end up talking to some £5-a-hour-office-temp-so-i-don’t-blame-him-for-not-giving-a-monkey’s-really -as-let’s-face-it-if-you-do-care-that-much-about-a-job-you’re-a-bit-of-a-knob bloke tell me “Yeah sorry and all that, but I can’t tell you why it didn’t get delivered. The computer doesn’t tell me.” On top of that he was actually friendly. Arses.
So MESH have disappointed me twice now, once for not delivering the computer as promised, the other for depriving me of an argument. Anyway, he promised me it would be delivered at 10am tomorrow morning. I’ll believe it when I see it.
Final Thought: Buying stuff of the internet is asking for trouble. It sucks. *Cue boring discussion in the comments section about how the internet is actually the way forward thankyouverymuch and I’m just stuck in the dark ages for thinking it’s good to look at and walk away with the product you actually pay for*
The firmer your handshake, the more likely it is you’re an over-zealous, work-obsessed, alpha-male twat.
Yep, check this amazing Bafta information out about The Baftas. The Baftas. Baftas, The. The Baftas.
Not really, it’s just my hit count has gone up because I wrote about The Baftas. The Bafta Awards that is. The Baftas. Bafta!
Yeah, I bored of this now. The Baftas. Come on google… THE BAFTAS.
Yeah, bollocks wasn’t it? Literally, they picked five main films and pretty much concentrated every award on them. Oh look, for ‘Screen Play Directing Arse’ it’s Brokeback Mountain, Capote, Crash, Pride and Prejudice and The Constant Gardiner… oh look, now for ‘Best Supporting Hairy Nads’ it’s the same films again. And again, and again.
There were other minor irritations including the actors who won awards but didn’t turn up (they wouldn’t do that at the chuffin’ Oscars would they? This means you Witherspoon… you and your overly pointy chin) and Stephen ‘Fuck me! I’m more clever than everyone!‘ Fry’s continued smarmy one-liners.
Still, my main irritation was the pure, unfettered pretentiousness of the whole night. At award ceremonies like this, you can’t avoid a bit of industry self-love (uhuhuh), but this ceremony was carried out as if they were giving awards for saving the fucking universe. I’m only going to say this once… IT’S ONLY ACTING. No-one’s doing anything more important or amazing than reading lines and saying them back in front of a camera whilst dressed up in some very nice costumes indeed.
The way Philip Seymour Hoffman was treated for winning ‘Best Overweight Actor With a Beard’ (or something), you’d be forgiven for thinking he’d discovered a cure for AIDS, cancer and world hunger whilst revealing he’s the son of God. All at the same time. But in fact, he’d won a lump of copper for pretending to be someone with a high pitched voice. Bravo. I’m sure it’s very hard to do, but it’s still just fucking acting isn’t it you bearded twonk? This type of overblown nonsense happens at all award ceremonies but for some reason, the Baftas seem to be the epitome of the backslapping luvviefest and it pisses me off. Just smile you uptight twats… You’re meant to be having a good time.
Anyway, for a much more constructive and analytical blog-review of last night’s yawnfest, go here.
Annnywaaay… first off, my Dad’s two Highland Westies had dog sex and have produced seven little puppies. They jump around, roll about and generally look much better than horrid, skinny, little sly-faced, self-serving cats. Here’s some pretty badly taken phone pics:
I have some good movies of them, but I don’t know how to upload those, and no-one really gives a flying fuck, so that’ll do. Also, found this very amusing picture of the cat I used to own when Kate left it in our flat. It’s since been given to the Cats Protection League and has a nice new home in Finsbury Park with some woman called Roz.
UPDATE: Pete’s allowed me to upload short videos, so here it is: Puppy short movie (you might have to ’save target as’ or something)
Oh, one one other thing… these puppies are for sale. So any offers welcome. But you’re looking at around £700 per dog. And that’s a good price. Discounts for bulk buys. Seriously.
