Dear otterlings, my apologies for my absence. I feel like I'm always saying that, but this time I genuinely have a reason. The Sloth and I were on a well-deserved, much-longed-for vacation. We went to London first, to visit the Harry Potter tour at Warner Brothers studios (which by the way, is INCREDIBLE. I cannot praise it enough. And I bought a chocolate frog) then flew to Athens for a couple of days to see some sights. Next we travelled to Mytilene for the 'beach and sun and relaxation' part of our holiday, and finally flew back to London and spent a wonderful day in the Natural History Museum,with the giant ground sloth and the dinosaurs. We even went on a special behind the scenes tour to see the preserved specimens, including animals that Darwin brought back from his voyage on the Beagle. It was amazing.
Since my friend Cublet had a birthday just before I left for vacation, I had already given her a present, but when I saw a picture of a cat wearing an inflatable unicorn horn, I knew that I would have to get it. It turned out that you could also buy them in black (because this is apparently makes it an 'evil inflatable unicorn horn', which feels slightly racist and weird but I suppose unicorns might have a different take on the colour-palette of their species) and when given the option, this is the one she chose. It arrived in the post today, and I had the following conversation wit our mutual friend Wetsoks. Please bear in mind that Cublet is also the flatmate of Wetsoks, and is actually older than both of us (not that reality ever really has any part to play in my chats with Wetsoks, but I suppose it is pertinent information)
Me: I bought the Cublet a unicorn horn. An evil unicorn horn, to be precise.
Wetsoks: Jesus.
Me: She wanted it!
Wetsoks: (exasperated) Did she really?
Me: I feel kind of like a divorced dad when you use that tone with me.
Wetsoks: I wish you would discuss these things with me before you spoil her by getting her whatever she wants. Then I'm the bad guy for telling her she can't wear it to bed.
Me: She can't do any harm with it.
There was a brief pause.
Me: She can't do any MAJOR harm with it. Probably.
Wetsoks: Says the absent parent.
Me: I'm not sure an inflatable unicorn horn can cause real injury.
Wetsoks: Uh huh. I'm just saying it always ends badly, and I end up picking up the pieces. You whiz in for a fun weekend of Glee and drinking and whatever, and I end up being the bad parent.
Me: But you got full custody, she lives with you! I just want our time together to be special.
Wetsoks: And you can - but in a healthy, less show-tuney, inflatable-weapony way.
Me: Aww, man.
Showing posts with label internet junk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label internet junk. Show all posts
Thursday, 29 May 2014
Wednesday, 18 July 2012
50 Shades Of Otter
My dear otterfriends, I am sure that - unlike the oblivious parent of almost any Disney protagonist in the first 5 minutes - you suspected this was coming. After all, even though my posts tend towards stupid conversations and small snapshots of my life, I have on occasion written about current events. I really tried to ignore this one, but people kept asking me if I'd read the much-publicised and apparently very poorly-written 50 Shades of Grey (I haven't, and I genuinely really don't want to but I will, as soon as I can find someone to lend me a copy since I refuse to part with actual currency for it) and whether I was planning to blog about it.
Honestly - I wasn't. It seemed like one of those things that happened despite everyone's best efforts ( much like Rebecca Black, or the global financial recession) and I was really hoping that I could ignore for a while until it went away and stopped yelping at me, or at least until the initial fuss died down. However, 50 Shades Of Grey is cropping up more and more in my life every week. There are people on my Facebook timeline talking about it. There are people on my Twitter timeline talking about it. And, more seriously and much more worrying, I have seen people in real life reading it on public transport. I can no longer avoid it.
50 Shades Of Grey is, from what I can gather, a very basic concept. A naive but beautiful student called Anastasia Steele meets a wealthy young businessman called Christian Grey, and falls in bed/love while ignoring his abusive nature in favour of the fact that he's super chiselled and rich. It was originally based on the author's Twilight fanfiction, and the excerpts I have seen certainly read like total fangirling wank. Let me assure you, this is not Saramago, or Hemingway, or Bulgakov. This is not even in the realm of the most insane fanfic ever written, 'My Immortal'. I'm fairly sure I'd rather read Kafka's The Castle again than attempt to trudge through 50 Shades Of Vom but I will in the name of Doing Science. Also because sometimes even when I know something is so awful that it will give me nightmares if I look at it, I can't help but look anyway. I blame my otter curiosity.
I won't bore you by going over the many issues that I am sure others have already covered in detail (the amazing stupidity of the protagonist; the fact that although she was supposed to be a student, she didn't have an email address until he set her up with one; the fact that the purported BDSM apparently amounts to little more than a light spanking, some rope and a buttplug; and something that bothers me more than anything else - the continued mention of Ana's 'Inner Goddess' and the unusual physical things her Inner Goddess gets up to during various events which include gymnastics, dancing and ice skating for totally inexplicable reasons).
If I do get around to reading it, I will of course review it for your reading pleasure. In the meantime, I'll leave you with this beautiful, amazing video, which you do not need any prior knowledge to enjoy.
Honestly - I wasn't. It seemed like one of those things that happened despite everyone's best efforts ( much like Rebecca Black, or the global financial recession) and I was really hoping that I could ignore for a while until it went away and stopped yelping at me, or at least until the initial fuss died down. However, 50 Shades Of Grey is cropping up more and more in my life every week. There are people on my Facebook timeline talking about it. There are people on my Twitter timeline talking about it. And, more seriously and much more worrying, I have seen people in real life reading it on public transport. I can no longer avoid it.
50 Shades Of Grey is, from what I can gather, a very basic concept. A naive but beautiful student called Anastasia Steele meets a wealthy young businessman called Christian Grey, and falls in bed/love while ignoring his abusive nature in favour of the fact that he's super chiselled and rich. It was originally based on the author's Twilight fanfiction, and the excerpts I have seen certainly read like total fangirling wank. Let me assure you, this is not Saramago, or Hemingway, or Bulgakov. This is not even in the realm of the most insane fanfic ever written, 'My Immortal'. I'm fairly sure I'd rather read Kafka's The Castle again than attempt to trudge through 50 Shades Of Vom but I will in the name of Doing Science. Also because sometimes even when I know something is so awful that it will give me nightmares if I look at it, I can't help but look anyway. I blame my otter curiosity.
I won't bore you by going over the many issues that I am sure others have already covered in detail (the amazing stupidity of the protagonist; the fact that although she was supposed to be a student, she didn't have an email address until he set her up with one; the fact that the purported BDSM apparently amounts to little more than a light spanking, some rope and a buttplug; and something that bothers me more than anything else - the continued mention of Ana's 'Inner Goddess' and the unusual physical things her Inner Goddess gets up to during various events which include gymnastics, dancing and ice skating for totally inexplicable reasons).
If I do get around to reading it, I will of course review it for your reading pleasure. In the meantime, I'll leave you with this beautiful, amazing video, which you do not need any prior knowledge to enjoy.
Thursday, 31 May 2012
Can't Hug Every Otter
Remember when I used to do posts about stuff I found on the internet and wanted, no, NEEDED, to share with the world? (link here http://witandpendulum.blogspot.co.uk/search/label/internet%20junk) Well, you're in for a treat, because this post is exactly that sort of madness. I promise at least one of the below will make you glad to be alive in a country with internet access, and more than one may make you wee yourself in sheer unbridled joy.
First up - this amazing classical/rock version of Game of Thrones. It started normally and then hit new levels of awesome that made me go all wide-eyed and twitch excitedly.
If you've been reading this blog for a while, you probably already know that sometimes I find it hilarious to be an utter dick to my friends. It's one of my favourite hobbies. I have therefore included below a picture of me "Rueing" my buddy Wetsoks during one of her naps. You know, "Rueing" - that Hunger-Games-inspired art of finding a sleeping person, covering them in flowers, doing the three-fingered salute and taking a photo to capture the moment forever. This picture is dedicated to Kristin over at Taming Insanity (link here for more awesomeness http://www.taminginsanity.com/), who has not yet done this to her children and therefore obviously has much, much more self-control than I will ever possess.
.JPG)
It's okay to be a dick to one particular group of my friends, because we all pick on each other equally without malice and things are always done with a good natured vibe. The Cublet, for example, has a crush on actress Clemence Poesy (who appeared as Fleur in Harry Potter, and a lot of other stuff I was forced to watch at various times and have deleted from my brain), for reasons unknown and inconceivable to the rest of us, especially because in a lot of her photos Miss Poesy appears to be totally cross-eyed. This has led to the affectionate nickname 'Pontoon Poesy'. So naturally it's totally normal for me to email the entire group with links to ebay auctions of taxidermied foxes simply to point out how much said stuffed fox resembles good old CP. I must admit, I have an urge to start my own collection of taxidermied woodland creatures - partly because of the below link to the Bloggess and her post about a fabulous stuffed weasel, but also partly because I'd love to recreate scenes from various films with the inanimate cast of The Animals Of Farthing Wood.
http://thebloggess.com/2012/02/her-name-is-juanita-juanita-weasel-unless-you-can-think-of-something-better/
And finally, to top it all off, a woman who is incredibly sad about the idea of her not being able to hug every cat in the world, ever.
First up - this amazing classical/rock version of Game of Thrones. It started normally and then hit new levels of awesome that made me go all wide-eyed and twitch excitedly.
If you've been reading this blog for a while, you probably already know that sometimes I find it hilarious to be an utter dick to my friends. It's one of my favourite hobbies. I have therefore included below a picture of me "Rueing" my buddy Wetsoks during one of her naps. You know, "Rueing" - that Hunger-Games-inspired art of finding a sleeping person, covering them in flowers, doing the three-fingered salute and taking a photo to capture the moment forever. This picture is dedicated to Kristin over at Taming Insanity (link here for more awesomeness http://www.taminginsanity.com/), who has not yet done this to her children and therefore obviously has much, much more self-control than I will ever possess.
.JPG)
It's okay to be a dick to one particular group of my friends, because we all pick on each other equally without malice and things are always done with a good natured vibe. The Cublet, for example, has a crush on actress Clemence Poesy (who appeared as Fleur in Harry Potter, and a lot of other stuff I was forced to watch at various times and have deleted from my brain), for reasons unknown and inconceivable to the rest of us, especially because in a lot of her photos Miss Poesy appears to be totally cross-eyed. This has led to the affectionate nickname 'Pontoon Poesy'. So naturally it's totally normal for me to email the entire group with links to ebay auctions of taxidermied foxes simply to point out how much said stuffed fox resembles good old CP. I must admit, I have an urge to start my own collection of taxidermied woodland creatures - partly because of the below link to the Bloggess and her post about a fabulous stuffed weasel, but also partly because I'd love to recreate scenes from various films with the inanimate cast of The Animals Of Farthing Wood.
http://thebloggess.com/2012/02/her-name-is-juanita-juanita-weasel-unless-you-can-think-of-something-better/
And finally, to top it all off, a woman who is incredibly sad about the idea of her not being able to hug every cat in the world, ever.
Wednesday, 12 October 2011
Found Down The Back Of The Internet
I adore modern technology. I love the convenience my smartphone affords me; when I'm lost, I can instantly check my location on Google Maps, when I need to know the real-time bus timetable for the stop I'm standing at, and when I want to find out what song is playing in the pub, I can use an app which will not only tell me the artist and song title, but also allows me to look up lyrics and immediately purchase the song if I should wish to do so.
A large part of this infatuation I have with technology boils down to the fact that I love the internet. I'm not ashamed to say it. The internet has brought me so much joy in the form of blogs, pictures, videos of anything and everything (including, in a couple of cases, some videos I wish I'd never laid eyes on and which may haunt me for the rest of my life, but every relationship has its flaws). So with this in mind, I decided to make this post in the form of an offering to the Internet Lord, may he live forever.
Firstly, I'd like to present this video of the Angry Birds Peace Negotiations, which is a sketch from an Israeli comedy show I'd never heard of before. It is incredibly funny even if you haven't actually played Angry Birds - and if you haven't, all you really need to know is that the pigs stole the birds' eggs, and in revenge the birds now hurtle themselves (using catapults) at the pigs' fortress, guided by the player. It really is as weird as that, and yet I find it curiously addicting. This video contains phrases you may repeat for months afterwards.
There is also this little gem, in the form of a video I have watched many times over, which is the introductory song to the Disney classic 'Beauty and the Beast' if it was sung by a West Hollywood Gay. Again, this one has a catchphrase which my friends have seized upon, much to my amusement, and several cleverly parodied lyrics (my current favourite is "fat bitch, with kids, she can't afford them"). Feast your ears upon on it.
http://www.autostraddle.com/beauty-the-beast-west-hollywood-gay-109596/
My friends and I have recently decided to go to Malta for a short holiday before the Fleetch leaves forever and returns to her homeland (possibly to settle down, mate and raise young Fleetches) which has spawned the 300 joke reference "This. Is. MALTA!" I'm going to make it a hashtag now, because any prolonged period of time with my friends inevitably has mild side effects - chaos, drunkenness and an urge to blog about every hilarious conversation.
This.
Is.
OTTER!
A large part of this infatuation I have with technology boils down to the fact that I love the internet. I'm not ashamed to say it. The internet has brought me so much joy in the form of blogs, pictures, videos of anything and everything (including, in a couple of cases, some videos I wish I'd never laid eyes on and which may haunt me for the rest of my life, but every relationship has its flaws). So with this in mind, I decided to make this post in the form of an offering to the Internet Lord, may he live forever.
Firstly, I'd like to present this video of the Angry Birds Peace Negotiations, which is a sketch from an Israeli comedy show I'd never heard of before. It is incredibly funny even if you haven't actually played Angry Birds - and if you haven't, all you really need to know is that the pigs stole the birds' eggs, and in revenge the birds now hurtle themselves (using catapults) at the pigs' fortress, guided by the player. It really is as weird as that, and yet I find it curiously addicting. This video contains phrases you may repeat for months afterwards.
There is also this little gem, in the form of a video I have watched many times over, which is the introductory song to the Disney classic 'Beauty and the Beast' if it was sung by a West Hollywood Gay. Again, this one has a catchphrase which my friends have seized upon, much to my amusement, and several cleverly parodied lyrics (my current favourite is "fat bitch, with kids, she can't afford them"). Feast your ears upon on it.
http://www.autostraddle.com/beauty-the-beast-west-hollywood-gay-109596/
My friends and I have recently decided to go to Malta for a short holiday before the Fleetch leaves forever and returns to her homeland (possibly to settle down, mate and raise young Fleetches) which has spawned the 300 joke reference "This. Is. MALTA!" I'm going to make it a hashtag now, because any prolonged period of time with my friends inevitably has mild side effects - chaos, drunkenness and an urge to blog about every hilarious conversation.
This.
Is.
OTTER!
Monday, 10 October 2011
The League of Extraordinary Shark Knights
I mentioned the Shark Knight joke in a previous post, but for those of you who didn't read that (shame on you, it was a pretty good one) I'll explain. My friends and I went to see a film called Shark Night 3D at the cinema a couple of weeks ago, and the general consensus was that it was awful. It's not like we expected it to be great, after all it was essentially a B-movie plot ramped up to suit the summer blockbuster needs of the masses, but it had been described as a combination of 'Saw' and 'Jaws' which sounded good but in fact was a great big pants-on-fire lie. The Fleetch decided that Shark Knights would have been a better title, and went off for some time on a tangent about how sharks would ride elephants in jousting tournaments (the physical handicaps sharks face in having fins and not hands with which to hold the lances was breezily brushed over and ignored). So when one of my friends spotted a local job advertisement for a position as Panda Team Leader at Edinburgh Zoo, the following email conversation occurred. I have put it in conversational form because it is easier on the eye this way, and dare I say, snappier.
The Sarahnator:I want to have a team of giant pandas. With this team I will rule the world.
Me: Ah but remember your arch-enemies, the villainous league of Shark Knights who ride their death elephants o'er the lands of man.
The Sarahnator:I want to have a team of giant pandas. With this team I will rule the world.
Me: Ah but remember your arch-enemies, the villainous league of Shark Knights who ride their death elephants o'er the lands of man.
Fleetch: Yeah, I would ride through with my great white sharks on elephants and trample your giant panda team. Sorry.
The Sarahnator: Ah but you forget, my giant pandas are riding on giant rhinos and are quite unbeatable.
Fleetch: My elephants wear crocodiles like slippers on their front stumpy legs, and have manes of various poisonous snakes. Your rhinos are about to get SERVED.
The Sarahnator: My rhinos are steampunk zombies and have no fear of crocodiles or snakes.
Me: Are the rhinos wearing Victorian period garb? Wait, no, that would only hinder them in battle.
Fleetch: I also have a Trogdor.
Me: Trogdor!
Fleetch: TROGDOOOOOOOR!
Me: Trogdor was a man.
Fleetch: He was a dragon man.
Me: Actually, he was just a dragon. But he was still TROGDOR!
If you've never heard of Trogdor, I urge you to watch this video now. It is a hilarious clip from the cartoon Strongbad, and a genius song.
Fleetch: I also have a Trogdor.
Me: Trogdor!
Fleetch: TROGDOOOOOOOR!
Me: Trogdor was a man.
Fleetch: He was a dragon man.
Me: Actually, he was just a dragon. But he was still TROGDOR!
If you've never heard of Trogdor, I urge you to watch this video now. It is a hilarious clip from the cartoon Strongbad, and a genius song.
Tuesday, 13 September 2011
Meet Me At The Clocktower
Some amusing things have been happening this week, my pretty little reader-minions. I'm not even sure where to start - I feel like a kid in a candy store, or perhaps an otter in a river full of juicy trout. Perhaps I should mention that I'm due for a hair cut later today, and thus will inevitably be found complaining about it on Twitter later (I promise that unless something really out of the ordinary happens, I won't blog about my complaints.. this time) so I may as well enjoy my good mood while it lasts. In the spirit of goodnatured joking, I hope you enjoy the following video by the Biebershop Quartet. Incidentally, on a music-related note, I suggested the other day on Twitter that I would be up for forming a gay tribute band called Bi Jovi, if anyone is interested.
One of my colleagues approached me yesterday with the opening sentence "I overheard something really weird and I knew you'd appreciate it". She wasn't wrong. Here the following conversation is between two young adult males of European descent, and was, I'm assured, held with completely serious tones.
Guy 1: Mate. Mate. I just don't get it.
Guy 2: What?
Guy 1: Why do gay people have so many friends?
Guy 2: (without missing a beat) Because they're spies.
Picking this tangled mess of thoughts apart is a task far beyond my mental endurance, much like a politically-incorrect Krypton Factor. The points I could make are all immediately obvious so I won't patronise you by pointing them out, and will instead settle for spluttering in indignation and amusement. In addition, the thought did occur to me that if some of my friends were in fact spies, firstly they've been hiding that damn well, and secondly, I've not been utilising them in the most effective way. Clearly, 2012 is going to be a very different kind of year.
The other amusing thing, which I am loathe to admit (for it makes me and my friend look like complete dillholes) but of course will, for the entertainment of those on the interwebz. I was supposed to meet my friend Sam for dinner last night. We arranged a time, we vaguely had restaurant ideas in mind, and then she text me with instructions to meet her at the clock in Tollcross. Now, for those of you who don't know Edinburgh, there is a large clock outside the Sheraton hotel in the Tollcross area. It is immediately visible as you walk up the hill, and as far as I knew, there was no way of mistaking it for anything else. I arrived a couple of minutes early despite the hurricane winds that threatened to float me Mary-Poppins style into the oncoming traffic and stood around awkwardly under the clock, waiting for Sam to arrive. A few minutes past our arranged meeting time, she rang me. Again, because of the wind, it was hard to hear her but I just about managed to make her words out.
Sam: Where are you?
Me: I'm here.
Sam: Wait...so am I. Are you at the clock?
Me: Yes?
Sam: Are you invisible?
Me: I don't think so....Okay, hang on, I'll walk around the clock.
I walked around the clock. There was no sign of her.
Me: Huh. Weird.
Sam: Wait, which clock are you at?
Me: The one in Tollcross, like you said.
Sam: Oh, I'm at the other one.
Me: What other one? The one on Princes Street?
The clock on Princes Street, I hasten to add, is only a 5 minute walk away, but is clearly on Princes Street itself and could not possibly have been mistaken for the Tollcross clock, especially not by someone who'd lived in the city for years like Sam has. I sighed, rolled my eyes and told her to walk towards me and to stay on the right side of the road. I began to trot towards Princes Street. About half way down, I started to get a sinking feeling in my stomach. I hadn't seen Sam yet and by my calculations she should have been visible walking up the hill. I'd been keeping an eye on both sides of the road, so I was sure I hadn't missed her. I rang her back:
Me: Dude. Where are you?
Sam: (giggling) I'm at the clock in Tollcross now. Did we miss each other?
Me: Okay, this is ridiculous. Where are you?
Sam: Okay, walk back and I'll meet you halfway.
I dutifully returned to the clock at Tollcross, only to find that Sam was nowhere to be seen. I rang her again.
Me: DUDE. SERIOUSLY. We are two adult women and we have now missed each other twice in an area about 600 yards long. How is this happening?
Sam: (now in complete giggling hysterics) I don't know! Let's try again, you walk towards me and I'll walk towards you.
We tried a third time and likewise failed. I called her back.
Me: (mystified and suspicious) Am I on Candid Camera?
Sam: Okay, I will come and get you. Stay where you are.
After another couple of minutes she turned up, still giggling. As if the whole debacle hadn't been bad enough already, we realised that in fact she had been talking about another clock in the Tollcross area entirely. We agreed that next time we'd just meet at the restaurant to save ourselves the 20 minutes of unnecessary exercise.
In conclusion, I am a complete idiot, there are too many damn clocks in Edinburgh, and if I had to guess which of my friends were spies, Sam would not be my first choice.
One of my colleagues approached me yesterday with the opening sentence "I overheard something really weird and I knew you'd appreciate it". She wasn't wrong. Here the following conversation is between two young adult males of European descent, and was, I'm assured, held with completely serious tones.
Guy 1: Mate. Mate. I just don't get it.
Guy 2: What?
Guy 1: Why do gay people have so many friends?
Guy 2: (without missing a beat) Because they're spies.
Picking this tangled mess of thoughts apart is a task far beyond my mental endurance, much like a politically-incorrect Krypton Factor. The points I could make are all immediately obvious so I won't patronise you by pointing them out, and will instead settle for spluttering in indignation and amusement. In addition, the thought did occur to me that if some of my friends were in fact spies, firstly they've been hiding that damn well, and secondly, I've not been utilising them in the most effective way. Clearly, 2012 is going to be a very different kind of year.
The other amusing thing, which I am loathe to admit (for it makes me and my friend look like complete dillholes) but of course will, for the entertainment of those on the interwebz. I was supposed to meet my friend Sam for dinner last night. We arranged a time, we vaguely had restaurant ideas in mind, and then she text me with instructions to meet her at the clock in Tollcross. Now, for those of you who don't know Edinburgh, there is a large clock outside the Sheraton hotel in the Tollcross area. It is immediately visible as you walk up the hill, and as far as I knew, there was no way of mistaking it for anything else. I arrived a couple of minutes early despite the hurricane winds that threatened to float me Mary-Poppins style into the oncoming traffic and stood around awkwardly under the clock, waiting for Sam to arrive. A few minutes past our arranged meeting time, she rang me. Again, because of the wind, it was hard to hear her but I just about managed to make her words out.
Sam: Where are you?
Me: I'm here.
Sam: Wait...so am I. Are you at the clock?
Me: Yes?
Sam: Are you invisible?
Me: I don't think so....Okay, hang on, I'll walk around the clock.
I walked around the clock. There was no sign of her.
Me: Huh. Weird.
Sam: Wait, which clock are you at?
Me: The one in Tollcross, like you said.
Sam: Oh, I'm at the other one.
Me: What other one? The one on Princes Street?
The clock on Princes Street, I hasten to add, is only a 5 minute walk away, but is clearly on Princes Street itself and could not possibly have been mistaken for the Tollcross clock, especially not by someone who'd lived in the city for years like Sam has. I sighed, rolled my eyes and told her to walk towards me and to stay on the right side of the road. I began to trot towards Princes Street. About half way down, I started to get a sinking feeling in my stomach. I hadn't seen Sam yet and by my calculations she should have been visible walking up the hill. I'd been keeping an eye on both sides of the road, so I was sure I hadn't missed her. I rang her back:
Me: Dude. Where are you?
Sam: (giggling) I'm at the clock in Tollcross now. Did we miss each other?
Me: Okay, this is ridiculous. Where are you?
Sam: Okay, walk back and I'll meet you halfway.
I dutifully returned to the clock at Tollcross, only to find that Sam was nowhere to be seen. I rang her again.
Me: DUDE. SERIOUSLY. We are two adult women and we have now missed each other twice in an area about 600 yards long. How is this happening?
Sam: (now in complete giggling hysterics) I don't know! Let's try again, you walk towards me and I'll walk towards you.
We tried a third time and likewise failed. I called her back.
Me: (mystified and suspicious) Am I on Candid Camera?
Sam: Okay, I will come and get you. Stay where you are.
After another couple of minutes she turned up, still giggling. As if the whole debacle hadn't been bad enough already, we realised that in fact she had been talking about another clock in the Tollcross area entirely. We agreed that next time we'd just meet at the restaurant to save ourselves the 20 minutes of unnecessary exercise.
In conclusion, I am a complete idiot, there are too many damn clocks in Edinburgh, and if I had to guess which of my friends were spies, Sam would not be my first choice.
Saturday, 11 June 2011
The Wheels On The Bus Turn In A Circular Fashion
I haven''t written an internet junk post for a while, and I'm sure you're all desperate to see what I've been watching/reading/generally chuckling at recently, so I'll get to that right after I talk about something rather close to my heart. That's right - games. Specifically, in this case, bus games (small diversions that I have developed specifically for the bus or that I have adapted to be bus-friendly, because sometimes public transport can be a trying experience). obviously, there are the classics - Who Is That Smell Coming From, Spot The Arch-Nemesis, etc, but my current favourite game to play with strange women is Gay Or Just Chavvy, which should only ever be played mentally and the results should never be verified with the target of the game, in case of disastrous and violent consequences. I mean, you could approach the lady and try to determine whether you were correct or not, but I cannot be held responsible for the consequences. It's all in the handbook (section 4. Liability - Otternator cannot be sued for any action taken by a reader, regardless of whether or not she asked, suggested, dared, served so that it was On and street cred was at stake or otherwise incited the reader to perform said action. Otternator performs all of her own stunts. Do not try these at home).
There is also Ned Or Dead, which my friend came up with, which involves deciding whether a person on the bus is practising the art of chavvy heroin-chic or is in actual fact a zombie. She informed me that playing this game can lead to serious paranoia and fear as, depending on the bus and location, you can quite easily convince yourself that everyone on board is about to turn around slowly en masse and tear you limb from limb.
Now to the good stuff. Good people, feast your eyes upon these beauties. First, we've got a link to Christine O'Donnell video, which is basically Christine's public announcement (that she was in fact not a witch, and the astounding theory that none of us are perfect - has she never seen a Laura Dern film? Good lord) which has been autotuned and made into a song. It is really quite catchy.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=44mqiBrB0zI&list=SL
If you have cats, you'll understand this perfectly. For everyone else, just enjoy the pictures and pray that one day you too shall know the fear and ultimate longing that can only come from petting your kitty on the tummy and being aware that any second they could try to sever your hand from your arm by means of a thousand scratches delivered in the space of a second but OH SO SOFT AND GLORIOUS WHILE IT LASTS.
http://catversushuman.blogspot.com/
This next one amused me greatly the first time I saw it, and everyone I've shown it to since then has turned to me afterwards, eyes wide with joy and said "that was awesome!" It's a fan-made trailer for what could actually be a proper Thundercats film, if any Hollywood studio picked it up. They have spliced scenes together from different films and cast the parts excellently (Brad Pitt as Lion-O is my favourite - watch out for his Troy scene making an appearance with the line "We are LIONS!")
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3_npg6PFXII
Okay, the final one. I've saved the best for last. Here is Stephen Lynch singing his comedy standup song "Craig". This guy is a genius. Trust me. You'll be singing it to your friends and guffawing, possibly forever.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pPdFrW076R0
Enjoy!
There is also Ned Or Dead, which my friend came up with, which involves deciding whether a person on the bus is practising the art of chavvy heroin-chic or is in actual fact a zombie. She informed me that playing this game can lead to serious paranoia and fear as, depending on the bus and location, you can quite easily convince yourself that everyone on board is about to turn around slowly en masse and tear you limb from limb.
Now to the good stuff. Good people, feast your eyes upon these beauties. First, we've got a link to Christine O'Donnell video, which is basically Christine's public announcement (that she was in fact not a witch, and the astounding theory that none of us are perfect - has she never seen a Laura Dern film? Good lord) which has been autotuned and made into a song. It is really quite catchy.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=44mqiBrB0zI&list=SL
If you have cats, you'll understand this perfectly. For everyone else, just enjoy the pictures and pray that one day you too shall know the fear and ultimate longing that can only come from petting your kitty on the tummy and being aware that any second they could try to sever your hand from your arm by means of a thousand scratches delivered in the space of a second but OH SO SOFT AND GLORIOUS WHILE IT LASTS.
http://catversushuman.blogspot.com/
This next one amused me greatly the first time I saw it, and everyone I've shown it to since then has turned to me afterwards, eyes wide with joy and said "that was awesome!" It's a fan-made trailer for what could actually be a proper Thundercats film, if any Hollywood studio picked it up. They have spliced scenes together from different films and cast the parts excellently (Brad Pitt as Lion-O is my favourite - watch out for his Troy scene making an appearance with the line "We are LIONS!")
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3_npg6PFXII
Okay, the final one. I've saved the best for last. Here is Stephen Lynch singing his comedy standup song "Craig". This guy is a genius. Trust me. You'll be singing it to your friends and guffawing, possibly forever.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pPdFrW076R0
Enjoy!
Wednesday, 16 March 2011
Porpoises Are Not The Only Fruit
I checked my hotmail account first thing this morning before I even got out of bed (because I am addicted to the internet in a perfectly healthy, natural way, despite what Other Half says) to find that I had an email from Twitter informing me that Santa was following me. Naturally, this disturbed me a little - after all, my friends and I have been playing the Muff Game for days on Twitter using the hashtag #muffgame and I'm not sure how favourably Santa would look on that, or what kind of disturbing presents he might now consider getting me for Christmas. I was even more startled to find that it wasn't the Real Santa but rather a Kinky Santa, whose profile made some rather alarming suggestions towards naughty/nice boys and girls that I am sure were not euphemisms.
There are a lot of bots going around on Twitter. I only sent a couple of tweets related to the idea of food bras for special seasonal occasions (which I still believe is a winner, and if I could be bothered I would take it on Dragon's Den and blow their minds) before I was inundated with spam followers wondering whether I would like to follow their lingerie-related tweets. This made me wonder - in an awful Carrie Bradshaw monologue voiceover way that I do apologise for - what other junk have I found on the internet that I could talk about?
Now, I had two different blog posts half-written yesterday. I discarded one of them in favour of Round Three, because everyone loves those endearing and whimsical conversations Other Half and I have, but today I will have another stab at the post I initially wanted to write. It's very odd, so bear with me.
Firstly, this story, which I have revisited time and again. It never gets any less funny or tragic, and that, I think you'll agree, it a mark of a true Fail. It begins, like so many fairytales, with a lady baking a cake. She had intended to enter the cake in a competition and so she spent some time on it before sending it away to be judged. Some time later, a letter arrived informing her that she had won second place. What joy! How wonderful! Her delight was overshadowed, however, by the discovery that she was the only person to have entered. No, don't doubt yourself, you read that correctly - she was the only entrant and she still got second place. That's some harsh judging. For realz.
For example, if you ran a 100 metre race, and you were the only competitor for whatever reasons, you would have to win. Those are the rules. The judges would not be able to disqualify you on account of being too tall, or running like a drunken badger, or anything like that, because that's just not cricket. Or running. Apparently the noble art of cake baking is held to a much higher standard.
If you would like to read the actual story and verify that I am not just making this up for fun, please visit the link. (http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-466434/Grandmother-cake-contest--came-second.html)
If I were to make a last note on this mindboggling article, it would be to point out that the newspaper interviewed a woman from the organising committee, who herself felt the sting of cakefailure years previously, when she entered some scones into a competition and got third place. Again, this woman was the only entrant. It is the ultimate irony. Or perhaps the ultimate spite. We may never know.
This leads me to Dick van Dyke (you may not instantly see the connection, but I'm sure it will come to you in time). We know him. We respect him as an actor. He danced with animated animals in Mary Poppins in scenes that charmed me as a child and still charm me to this day. But if you'd asked me a few years ago what the most unlikely story involving Dick Van Dyke might be, I don't think even my surreal mind could have constructed this entirely genuine story of a daring rescue. I'll summarise briefly. 84 year old Van Dyke was surfboarding (already, I'm impressed, I can barely walk a mile without breaking a sweat. But this guy?) when he fell asleep and was pushed by the tide further out to sea. He woke up surrounded by fins and intially panicked (as you would, understandably) before realising that the creatures were porpoises, not sharks. The friendly animals pushed Van Dyke back to land before disappearing back into the sea. Possibly the most incredible thing I have ever heard.
The Guardian article on this astounding incident makes a rather snide comment that the porpoises were "unavailable for comment". Firstly, do you speak Porpoise, Guardian? If not, how rude and frankly specie-ist of you to expect the porpoises to speak one of our languages. You sound like the Telegraph. You embarrass us all. Secondly, I'd logically expect the porpoises to release a mass statement, rather than release individual comments. They are group animals after all. And considering point one - the obvious language barrier - perhaps they did have a meeting and their most important official porpoises made a couple of speeches, but we just thought they were squeaking and honking and flipping about in the water? Shame on you. Ultimate respect to the porpoises.
There are a lot of bots going around on Twitter. I only sent a couple of tweets related to the idea of food bras for special seasonal occasions (which I still believe is a winner, and if I could be bothered I would take it on Dragon's Den and blow their minds) before I was inundated with spam followers wondering whether I would like to follow their lingerie-related tweets. This made me wonder - in an awful Carrie Bradshaw monologue voiceover way that I do apologise for - what other junk have I found on the internet that I could talk about?
Now, I had two different blog posts half-written yesterday. I discarded one of them in favour of Round Three, because everyone loves those endearing and whimsical conversations Other Half and I have, but today I will have another stab at the post I initially wanted to write. It's very odd, so bear with me.
Firstly, this story, which I have revisited time and again. It never gets any less funny or tragic, and that, I think you'll agree, it a mark of a true Fail. It begins, like so many fairytales, with a lady baking a cake. She had intended to enter the cake in a competition and so she spent some time on it before sending it away to be judged. Some time later, a letter arrived informing her that she had won second place. What joy! How wonderful! Her delight was overshadowed, however, by the discovery that she was the only person to have entered. No, don't doubt yourself, you read that correctly - she was the only entrant and she still got second place. That's some harsh judging. For realz.
For example, if you ran a 100 metre race, and you were the only competitor for whatever reasons, you would have to win. Those are the rules. The judges would not be able to disqualify you on account of being too tall, or running like a drunken badger, or anything like that, because that's just not cricket. Or running. Apparently the noble art of cake baking is held to a much higher standard.
If you would like to read the actual story and verify that I am not just making this up for fun, please visit the link. (http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-466434/Grandmother-cake-contest--came-second.html)
If I were to make a last note on this mindboggling article, it would be to point out that the newspaper interviewed a woman from the organising committee, who herself felt the sting of cakefailure years previously, when she entered some scones into a competition and got third place. Again, this woman was the only entrant. It is the ultimate irony. Or perhaps the ultimate spite. We may never know.
This leads me to Dick van Dyke (you may not instantly see the connection, but I'm sure it will come to you in time). We know him. We respect him as an actor. He danced with animated animals in Mary Poppins in scenes that charmed me as a child and still charm me to this day. But if you'd asked me a few years ago what the most unlikely story involving Dick Van Dyke might be, I don't think even my surreal mind could have constructed this entirely genuine story of a daring rescue. I'll summarise briefly. 84 year old Van Dyke was surfboarding (already, I'm impressed, I can barely walk a mile without breaking a sweat. But this guy?) when he fell asleep and was pushed by the tide further out to sea. He woke up surrounded by fins and intially panicked (as you would, understandably) before realising that the creatures were porpoises, not sharks. The friendly animals pushed Van Dyke back to land before disappearing back into the sea. Possibly the most incredible thing I have ever heard.
The Guardian article on this astounding incident makes a rather snide comment that the porpoises were "unavailable for comment". Firstly, do you speak Porpoise, Guardian? If not, how rude and frankly specie-ist of you to expect the porpoises to speak one of our languages. You sound like the Telegraph. You embarrass us all. Secondly, I'd logically expect the porpoises to release a mass statement, rather than release individual comments. They are group animals after all. And considering point one - the obvious language barrier - perhaps they did have a meeting and their most important official porpoises made a couple of speeches, but we just thought they were squeaking and honking and flipping about in the water? Shame on you. Ultimate respect to the porpoises.
Wednesday, 2 March 2011
Why Do You Weep? Did You Think I Was Immortal?
By the time Other Half and I loaded the last taxi yesterday - meaning she did all the heavy lifting (playing a dangerous game of Suitcase Tetris) while I carefully supervised - I was exhausted. I had been feeling pretty ill at work that day; my nose, ears and throat all hurt, I felt dizzy, disorientated and kind of like I was walking underwater. My brain appeared to be attempting to escape by tunnelling through my temples, aided by the tiny furnaces burning behind each of my eyes. When we finally returned home, I immediately fell into bed in a sad, bedraggled heap. It was clear I was sick and/or dying.
I am so susceptible to flu and colds it's almost laughable. If even a whiff of something gets within twenty feet of me, bam! I'm sniffling and wheezing for days on end, sinuses clogged up so that my voice comes out as a kind of nasal shriek, if it comes out at all. Other Half hardly ever gets sick. She considers it a sign of weakness. However, when I am dragging myself around, looking at our empty fridge with large, mournful eyes and making pathetic whimpers punctuated by spluttering, she does not hesitate to take care of me. She's pretty awesome, even if she does roll her eyes at me a lot.
I tweeted this morning how crap I was feeling and many of you very kindly replied with nice get-better-soon-tweets. That really cheered me up and definitely contributed to how much more alive I'm feeling now. One particular fellow twitterer suggested that I blog about the things that make me feel better when I'm sick. I liked the idea and so I shall.
Here's the situation - you're ill, so you've taken the day off work. What do you do with your time other than lie around, vomiting, sweating and feeling sorry for yourself? Here are my helpful suggestions:
1. Firstly, eat something. If you have Other Halves/flatmates/family/pets that you can bribe, blackmail or make mewling noises at, like I do, then you'll find it easier to obtain food. If you're alone, best order in. You can't go out like that. Look at the state of you. No, sit down. I'll get the takeaway menus.
2. Secondly, take a shower or bath. You'll feel better when you're clean. I like to take both at the same time so I can imagine I'm sitting in a lagoon while a waterfall cascades gently down on top of me, like in the Herbal Essences shampoo adverts. You don't necessarily have to do this but it may increase your overall enjoyment of shower/bath. I hope Other Half doesn't read this because she'll be all blah blah wasting water blah blah environment and I'll nod along in the right places but I'm totally still thinking about the Herbal Essences advert and how I'll brush aside the palm fronds to find that Laura Dern is sharing my lagoon and, how inconvenient, her shampoo just ran out and she needs to share mine. Sweet.
I also recommend singing as the steam generated by the hot water will clear your sinuses out. You can choose any song, but.I personally prefer I Feel Shitty, set to the tune of I Feel Pretty. Today I also incorporated a Tenacious D medley, which really opened up the old airways.
3. Once you're clean and have eaten, you may begin to get bored. Never fear, the internet is here! I don't know if you've noticed just how damn awesome the internet is, but let me tell you. It's pretty damn awesome. There's Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Stumbleupon and all kinds of interesting sites just waiting to help you find newer and better pictures of kittens or to fill up your friend's wall with posts about complete crap or to read new blogs. In addition, much fun can be had by simply browsing. You never know what you might find just by clicking from one page to another, leaving a little breadcrumb url trail behind you as you trudge further into the darkness of cyberspace. Here are a couple of links to things I've enjoyed recently, to start you off:
http://www.nerdist.com/2011/02/murmurs-of-middle-earth/
This is an Australian DJ who has, brilliantly, remixed music and words from the Lord of the Rings films to create one super-awesome master track. I played this to Other Half and was overjoyed to see her respond with something other than apathy (her default setting), so it must really be good.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V1HSNV9y25A
This is a man doing the best impression of Ian McKellan you have ever heard or will ever hear. It is a massive bonus that he's reciting the lyrics to Fresh Prince of Bel Air. Recommended by a twitter friend, to whom I am now forever in debt.
http://www.babelgum.com/5001744/glee-60-seconds.html
If you've heard of Glee (and come on, who hasn't these days? There's even a Glee perfume. Other Half and I were so excited/appalled about this that we took phone photos and sent them to everyone we knew, and then I spent the next two months making Glee-related facebook status updates that said things like "I'm Blainesexual" and "You think that's hard? Try fighting a spider army with nothing but a cup! That's hard!") then you will hopefully find this link particularly amusing. It's a summary of the entire first season of Glee in 60 seconds and it does cover all the major plot lines in a very amusing way.
4. Make a pillow fort or duvet cocoon, resplendent with all the blankets you can find and have a nice nap. You'll wake feeling as good as new. Except if you've had crazy fever-dreams about Other Half cheating on you, and then you wake up and you're incredibly angry until you realise that you can't actually accuse her of anything because technically it never happened, you dreamt it, but you can't stop being mad that she kissed some stupid blonde girl on a ski slope and left you in the hunting lodge with your face pressed sadly into the window as you watched them ski off together into the sunset.
Repeat these steps as necessary until the illness passes.You'll thank me for this, I'm sure of it.
I am so susceptible to flu and colds it's almost laughable. If even a whiff of something gets within twenty feet of me, bam! I'm sniffling and wheezing for days on end, sinuses clogged up so that my voice comes out as a kind of nasal shriek, if it comes out at all. Other Half hardly ever gets sick. She considers it a sign of weakness. However, when I am dragging myself around, looking at our empty fridge with large, mournful eyes and making pathetic whimpers punctuated by spluttering, she does not hesitate to take care of me. She's pretty awesome, even if she does roll her eyes at me a lot.
I tweeted this morning how crap I was feeling and many of you very kindly replied with nice get-better-soon-tweets. That really cheered me up and definitely contributed to how much more alive I'm feeling now. One particular fellow twitterer suggested that I blog about the things that make me feel better when I'm sick. I liked the idea and so I shall.
Here's the situation - you're ill, so you've taken the day off work. What do you do with your time other than lie around, vomiting, sweating and feeling sorry for yourself? Here are my helpful suggestions:
1. Firstly, eat something. If you have Other Halves/flatmates/family/pets that you can bribe, blackmail or make mewling noises at, like I do, then you'll find it easier to obtain food. If you're alone, best order in. You can't go out like that. Look at the state of you. No, sit down. I'll get the takeaway menus.
2. Secondly, take a shower or bath. You'll feel better when you're clean. I like to take both at the same time so I can imagine I'm sitting in a lagoon while a waterfall cascades gently down on top of me, like in the Herbal Essences shampoo adverts. You don't necessarily have to do this but it may increase your overall enjoyment of shower/bath. I hope Other Half doesn't read this because she'll be all blah blah wasting water blah blah environment and I'll nod along in the right places but I'm totally still thinking about the Herbal Essences advert and how I'll brush aside the palm fronds to find that Laura Dern is sharing my lagoon and, how inconvenient, her shampoo just ran out and she needs to share mine. Sweet.
I also recommend singing as the steam generated by the hot water will clear your sinuses out. You can choose any song, but.I personally prefer I Feel Shitty, set to the tune of I Feel Pretty. Today I also incorporated a Tenacious D medley, which really opened up the old airways.
3. Once you're clean and have eaten, you may begin to get bored. Never fear, the internet is here! I don't know if you've noticed just how damn awesome the internet is, but let me tell you. It's pretty damn awesome. There's Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Stumbleupon and all kinds of interesting sites just waiting to help you find newer and better pictures of kittens or to fill up your friend's wall with posts about complete crap or to read new blogs. In addition, much fun can be had by simply browsing. You never know what you might find just by clicking from one page to another, leaving a little breadcrumb url trail behind you as you trudge further into the darkness of cyberspace. Here are a couple of links to things I've enjoyed recently, to start you off:
http://www.nerdist.com/2011/02/murmurs-of-middle-earth/
This is an Australian DJ who has, brilliantly, remixed music and words from the Lord of the Rings films to create one super-awesome master track. I played this to Other Half and was overjoyed to see her respond with something other than apathy (her default setting), so it must really be good.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V1HSNV9y25A
This is a man doing the best impression of Ian McKellan you have ever heard or will ever hear. It is a massive bonus that he's reciting the lyrics to Fresh Prince of Bel Air. Recommended by a twitter friend, to whom I am now forever in debt.
http://www.babelgum.com/5001744/glee-60-seconds.html
If you've heard of Glee (and come on, who hasn't these days? There's even a Glee perfume. Other Half and I were so excited/appalled about this that we took phone photos and sent them to everyone we knew, and then I spent the next two months making Glee-related facebook status updates that said things like "I'm Blainesexual" and "You think that's hard? Try fighting a spider army with nothing but a cup! That's hard!") then you will hopefully find this link particularly amusing. It's a summary of the entire first season of Glee in 60 seconds and it does cover all the major plot lines in a very amusing way.
4. Make a pillow fort or duvet cocoon, resplendent with all the blankets you can find and have a nice nap. You'll wake feeling as good as new. Except if you've had crazy fever-dreams about Other Half cheating on you, and then you wake up and you're incredibly angry until you realise that you can't actually accuse her of anything because technically it never happened, you dreamt it, but you can't stop being mad that she kissed some stupid blonde girl on a ski slope and left you in the hunting lodge with your face pressed sadly into the window as you watched them ski off together into the sunset.
Repeat these steps as necessary until the illness passes.You'll thank me for this, I'm sure of it.
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