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[03 Sep 2009|08:29pm] |
Ever wanted to see Romanians do the Haka? Nope, me neither
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[14 Jul 2009|06:19pm] |
London Survival Guide1) Don't make eye contact, don't show fear - the slightest slip and they'll rip you to shreds like wolves
2) Their vision is based on movement. Stand very still at all times, preferably in dense undergrowth. Or Tescos
3) The accepted method test in London for deciding on a mate is determining whether they're approximately the right density to fit into an airing cupboard - if not, reject and try again
4) Develop a hobby. Everyone in London has hobbies; some have interest and pastimes also. For example: hating foreigners, getting irate at bus drivers, wearing pleather, complaining about tube strikes and getting upset about how loud, busy, frenetic, expensive, and, well, generally like a city, London is. Also dominoes.
5) There are a number of practices that are considered uncouth while travelling on the underground. Do all of them - it’s the only way to prevent the man in beige slacks whose sitting next to you from trying to touch you in your pants. He will roll his eyes and tut loudly instead, but this is code for 'you disgust me, I no longer want to rub myself against you surreptitiously'. Be very grateful.
6) People will introduce themselves to you for the first time with the words 'Hi I'm [Susan/John/Paul/Bartholomew] and I'm a bisexual*'. Nod and smile, tell them it’s your favourite type of biscuit too. Or hoist them with their own petard by wearing a very amusing novelty tie, possibly with cartoon genitals embossed on it, and tell them the highly entertaining anecdote about the exciting adventure on which you bought said tie. This adventure should ideally involve beer and a foreigner with a rather exaggerated accent.
7) An alternative to this is explaining to them precisely how you acquired your most recent bout of thrush / exactly how much menstrual blood you wept this month and, of course, when they look disgusted and appalled just say 'but I thought we were sharing?’ It helps if you can cry a little at this point. From your face.
* / Pagan / web-footed child-of-badgers
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[09 Feb 2006|06:52pm] |
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I know I should stop this, I’ve been warned, but I just can’t resist, I’m sorry…
[Last one honest] 10 more things that I hate. Sort of
1) I could’ve gone to Oxford/Cambridge you know. Well done. I could’ve ridden backwards around the Sahara on a weasel. But I didn’t, which is why I don’t tell people about it.
2) Velour.
3) Is it your time of the month then? If you mean is it my time of the month when I stab you repeatedly in the face, then yes, its always that time. Oh…you mean am I excreting blood and decomposing tissue from my cunt? Oh, no, that’s not till next week. Thanks for asking though.
4) I can speak fluent Elvish. Why?
5) You never know your luck yes you bloody do. Funnier things have happened at sea what? like people died? Rome wasn’t built in a day LOOK, FUCK OFF, JUST FUCK OFF. Will you do us all a favour and just, y’know, die or something.
6) Cottage cheese. Its like cheese for people who are dead inside.
7) The most unbelievably awesome thing happened just now… Are we talking something so outwith my possible belief structure that it will inspire awe on a cataclysmic level, like you just shot some pool with god, and you beat him 5-3? or you just spoke to a dolphin that told you Elvis was your mummy? or are we talking like there was a cute guy at the bus stop and he smiled at you, possibly, or it looked like he might’ve done, viewed in the right light and such?
8) Ryvita. Its like bread for people who are dead inside.
9) Cartons of stuff. Why would you make a straw that only fits like an inch into my drink? why?, why would you do that to me?. I mean, really, do you have any idea how stressful my life is? I have to get up, travel all the way to work, pretend to do stuff for 8 hours, and then go home again. And now you give me this! This albino hunchback midget fucking cripple of a straw! I’m gonna hunt you down, flay you, and then give you to sickslit to use in her fucking art exhibition. So there.
10) Heh. There’s nothing I like more than hot blonde twins/a sexy mum and her daughter. Christ sake man, that’s incest, INCEST. I mean personally there’s nothing I like to watch more than a chainfuck – granddaddy doing daddy, whose giving his all to his hot young son there. Three generations of jizz shot off in unison, it’s almost poetic, when you think about it. So I’m not one to judge, except that I am, obviously
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[07 Feb 2006|12:06pm] |
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What an archivist is/was/does/what?…
1) Archivists are composed of approximately 90% chocolate biscuits and coffee breaks.
2) Archivists like to touch old things. That includes Terry Wogan.
3) Archivists hate people. This means that if you want to come in and use a computer you have to fill out a form in triplicate three weeks before your visit, get it signed by your academic tutor/dead grandmother/second cousin’s infant child. Then we say no.
4) Don’t ever sneak up behind an archivist. Speed is an alien concept to us, we find it strange and confusing.
5) Don’t ever ask an archivist about their holiday. They do have slides, and they are prepared to use them.
6) Archivists orgasm every time you say the word practical [also organised, efficiency and regulations]
7) In the archival world nothing is like it used to be. This includes children/the price of meat/the Labour Party/shoes/The Daily Telegraph/researchers/shops/the quality of paper/the economy/life/the universe/everything/kitkats.
8) Archivists can only conceive upside down in a mound of dust, covered in silverfish, while being shouted at in Latin and whipped on the ass with a hefty wad of archival regulations.
9) Archivists work on an Ent time scale. Normal human definition of soon = within the next few hours/days/weeks, archival definition of soon = within the next decade/century/possibly/ish/give or take.
10) They lied, it wasn’t the Borrowers. We’ve got all your paperclips. And your string too.
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[30 Jan 2006|06:12pm] |
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Yet a further 10 things I hate that other people seem to like. Because I’m an archivist. Archivists like lists. It’s the natural order of things, archivists list, teachers teach, Gary Glitter touches children, and the world continues to rotate on its axis.
1) 42. No, no it is not the meaning of life. Not even a little bit. Firstly, well, it just isn’t. Secondly, shut up. Read a proper book. Go for a walk, there’s weather out there you know. It’s terribly exciting.
2) Meeting people. Some people I know seem to consciously go out of their way to do this. Why on earth would you want to do that? 99.9% of people are tossers, so if you’re going up to that bloke at the bar and making conversation with him, odds are ridiculously high that within the first 60 seconds you’ll want to stab him in the head. People are highly overrated anyway.
3) Saying it’s not like the book you know. Of course it fucking isn’t. Books, they’re words, written on bits of paper that are all stuck together and you sit down and you read ‘em and sometimes it takes ages and ages and you have to make up stuff in your head so it makes sense, and everyone makes up different stuff so they have a different story. Films, they’re people on a big screen making noises and moving about and doing things for our general entertainment. At what point precisely did you come to the conclusion that these two things would be remotely similar? *
4) Spain. Really, I don’t get it. Why?
5) Doing things. So many people seem to be continually bemoaning the fact that they’re not doing things. Again, I ponder, why exactly would you want to do things? Really, not doing things is so much more fun. And besides anything else, we’ll all be dead soon and all this doing of stuff will count for precisely bugger all in the grand scheme of things. So there, that’s my positive thought for the day.
6) Facets. As in I have many different facets to my personality; I’m a multi-dimensional, well-rounded individual. I’m not. I drink and I smoke and I arse about online and I read and sometimes I leave the house, if somebody makes me. I have no desire to have multiple facets, it’d only get confusing. I still have enough trouble keeping track of my single facet and what its getting up to when I’m not paying attention (read - drunk). Give me any more and I’d likely be all over the gaff doing Christ knows what to God knows who.
7) In continuation of number 6: having a brain. Now I know personally at least half a dozen folk who have proclaimed themselves to be geniuses, and I never entirely understood why. I mean, not denying their inherent smartness or owt, but really, start telling folk things like that and they’re going to start having expectations and other such unpleasantness. Me, I work on the I like DRINK! basis. That way if I ever do manage to get out a coherent sentence people are roundly impressed that I’m capable of more than carnal knowledge of farmyard animals and projectile vomiting onto my own head.
8) Smugness. As in oh the funniest thing happened to me the other day, I was on the bus, reading Plato, and contemplating the fragility of the mind’s conception of the reality of the human form and it being an integral component in the arena of our perception of the world around us, when a man asked me for a light… Translation: I was on my way to work, being a tosser…
9) Black Sabbath. I mean, come on, really, do people seriously listen to that shit?
10) Egos. I remember wanting one for quite a while, thinking it’d be a terribly useful thing to have. Since discovering livejournal though I’ve witnessed what having an ego can do, and to be honest this time I think I’ll pass. The words smug supercilious self-absorbed self-aggrandising pointless little leech do rather spring to mind. Self-hatred, it’s the new black, or the new rock and roll, or the new cottage cheese. Or something.
* See also It simply doesn’t have the integrity of the original. If, in this instance, the original was a comic book, possibly featuring a large green man or scantily clad female with a bosom bigger than my head (and I do have a remarkably large head), then I laugh in your face at this point. Oh, and I spit on you and steal your first-born.
Addendum:
(11) Livejournal stalking. As in Oh my god, I was just looking at Mike’s friendslist and I found out that John’s ex Sarah is going out with that bloke who used to live near Bill. You know, the one with the weird leg thing. I’m sorry, whatnow?
(12) Stating the fucking goddamn obvious. You’ve had your hair cut. No shit, what did you think they’d snuck in during the night and given me a trim when I was asleep? ninja hairdressers or summat?. Your jacket is one fire (and yes, I was informed of this recently, and yes, I was aware of this fact and was in the process of trying to put out said fire. Oddly enough).
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[27 Jan 2006|06:55pm] |
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10 more things I hate - because I have far too much hatred for just one meme…
1) Saying things like God Alanis Morisette is so thick, she doesn’t even get the meaning of irony. WE KNOW. You’re a tosser. Ironically. Your base are belong to us. Git. Isn’t it funny that you wait for a bus for hours, then two come along at once?. No. No it isn’t. You’re pretty, you know what would make you look even better?, my cock in your mouth. Fuck off and die.
2) Anti-intellectualism. This doesn’t mean that every conversation has to be about the philosophical conception of the watsit in regards to the overarching principles of the thingyumyjig. But really people, we’re out of the playground now, by 20odd you really should have moved beyond the ha!, you read books, you geek! phase of your life. Some people seem to react to semi-intelligent discourse the way I react to the Gremlins in my wardrobe – hide under the duvet and stay very quiet till all the bad things go away.
3) Tea. Because it tastes like what I imagine Margaret Thatcher’s urine to taste of. [Don’t ask why I’m imagining the taste of Thatcher’s urine. Can/worms].
4) Hating Harry Potter. Look, for fucks sake, it’s a bloody children’s book. Stop telling me oh, it isn’t as good as Tolkien/Peake/Andersen. Of course it bloody isn’t, what the hell do you expect?. Don’t like it, don’t read it. But it DID get children (and, in the case of my sister-in-law, twentysomethings) who’d never read a book before in their lives to start doing so. Get back to Dostoevsky and stop whinging.
5) ‘Buddies’. I’m not sure if I have any of those, but I sure as hell don’t want them. The I have 176 people on my friendslist, so I have 176 friends principle. Bollocks to that. I have maybe half a dozen friends in the world, and they fucking rock, and I love every single one of them. I don’t want ‘pals’ or ‘mates’, I want people I can call at 3am if I need them, I want friends who’ll get on a plane and fly over if I need them, and I would reciprocate without a second thought.
6) Charles Dickens. It’s the same book over and over. And that book is shite. [See also Jane Austen]
7) Relationship games. As in, how many days before I can call?, should I tell him I like him?, how long before I should put out?. Bah and humbug I say. I work firmly on the principle that if you like someone it’d be bloody idiotic not to call (unless he has a restraining order against you, then perhaps you should think twice), if you want to fuck him, fuck him, if you like him, tell him. Games are for 5 year olds, come play with the big kids, its fun out here, the air is fresh, the shafting is plenty.
8) Socialising (yes, I know, I know). Some people go out every single night, and every single morning they’re posting on livejournal oh, well, it was alright, wasn’t really in the mood, played pool, usual crowd was there. Personally, I go out when I’m in a mood to destroy worlds, what’s the point in sitting in the pub talking about soaps?, I want to fly damn it.
9) Emoting. Because as far as I can see it the more you complain about your problems the more life shatteringly awful they seem (note – this does not apply to rape/mugging/spontaneous combustion/lions). Deal with it, get a puppy.
10) Telling people what I had for breakfast. I mean, if you want to know I can do a daily post. But really, odds are pretty high on the muesli front. Possibly with milk. You want pictures?
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[27 Jan 2006|12:27pm] |
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Because everyone else is doing it
10 things I hate that everyone (or many, or some, or, well, that bloke over there. Possibly) like...
1). LMAO. See also ROTFLMAO. For the more refined individuals I just spat tea all over my monitor will suffice. I have never done any of these things, my ass remains permanently attached, my floor unrolled on (which is good, all things considered – you should see the state of my carpet). And if these people were wantonly spitting tea as often as they proclaimed then they’d have one knackered monitor and a severe dribbling problem. Most of the time the internet is retarded, frequently depressing as all hell, sometimes (rarely) it makes me smile. Never does it cause me to excrete liquid from any of my bodily orifices. Much to my continual disappointment.
2) *hugs*. I don’t want hugs from random strangers/brief acquaintances, cyber or otherwise. Yes, my entire family just died in a horrific accident, my leg is being amputated on Friday, my dog has cystitis and one of my elbows has come over all queer. But yes, *hugs*, that’s sure to fix everything. How about throwing in a I’m thinking about you, its totally going to be okay xxxxxxxxx for good measure. Phew. And I was worried for a minute there.
3) Little Britain. It blows, it always blew. Get over it. How about you try crawling out of the sludge and joining the rest of us sentient beings.
4) In a similar vein – Scrubs. I’ve been watching it for some time and by now I’m on tenderhooks, the joke is coming soon, right? I mean…there must be a joke…it’s a comedy. Hmm, perhaps they’re saving it for the grand finale.
5) Hating Big Brother. See a million and one livejournal posts saying omg, I watched Big Brother last night and it’s the worst thing ever! just look at all those stupid people being stupid and saying stupid things!, why the hell do they make this crap?. Here’s an idea – stop watching it. Just turn off the television and back away from the remote. Read a book, you never know, you might enjoy it. I don’t hate Big Brother; know why? because I have never in my entire life watched it. The whole thing passed me by in a pleasant haze of indifference.
6) Saying I never read the newspapers, it’s all biased and unrepresentative anyway, I get all my news online. Hah. Hahahahahaha. Idiot. Yes newspapers are biased, everything and everyone is biased. Suck it up. But newspapers have watchdogs, The Guardian may put their own spin on it, but if they outright LIE they generally get caught out and shat upon. www.totalnewsallthewaywithknobson.com, on the other hand, talks utter shite. Moron.
7) Hating George Bush. See also hating Blair/America/whoeverthefuck. As in, ‘what do you think of the current situation in Iraq?’. ‘Oh god, I totally hate Bush, he’s such a fascist!’. ‘Right, what in particular bothers you?’. ‘Oh, well’ *shrugs* ‘just, y’know, all of it’. Try having an actual opinion, knowing things helps this remarkably I find. I heard a bloke tell my dad down the pub that this Bush bloke was up to no good really isn’t going to cut it. [Disclaimer: this does not mean I support Bush/Blair, it just means I appreciate anyone who can come up with a coherent argument either way beyond grunts].
8) Terry Pratchett. Really, cmon now people, you can do better than that.
9) Beliefs. I’m a vegetarian, have been for over 10 years, bet loads of you didn’t know that. This is, my children, because I don’t feel the need to make posts or engage in conversations of the evil meat eater/Christian/non-Christian/monkey raper variety. Have your beliefs, go on, knock yourself out. Talk about them if you will, but stronger/smarter/more bendy folk than you have tried to convert me and failed. So stop it. [Disclaimer: this rule applies to all beliefs except feminism, which I’m allowed to rant about as much as I want and you have to listen. Or kill me dead. Those are the options. First one to say hypocrite gets a spork in the eye]
10) And (stolen from ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) cream_tea , but it bears reiteration): memes. Not so much the doing of them, more the 'holy crap! this meme says I'm defined by the colour orange and therefore am deeply insightful and intelligent, that is so me!. Doh. Yes, it is so you, and 57 other people on my friendslist, apparently. If memes were to be believed we're all remarkably intellectual types, fascinating and erudite and such. One might enquire what such a group of higher beings is doing pissing away our lives online. Hah, one might respond. Bah, also perhaps.
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[12 Jan 2006|06:07pm] |
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This serves no particular purpose, aside from the venting of spleens and such.
Things people say that I really really REALLY hate...
'So how've you been then?'
'Oh, its all on my livejournal'
'Fabulous. Well done. I'll just go and find someone else to talk to whose capable of forming coherent sentences then shall I?'
‘We have a deep spiritual connection’. Personally my most meaningful connection is with my left hand.* You’re a sales technician from Swansea with a penchant for comedy ties who thinks Little Britain is just the funniest thing since syphilis, I’m an archivist from Shetland whose idea of a hilarious joke is ‘hahaha, look at the one legged midgets…just look at them limp!’. Really, the similarity is uncanny when you think about it. And when I say I like ‘em literate, that doesn’t mean ‘dost thou desire me to wank on thine tits?’ is going to work. So stop it. How did you even get my msn anyway you pointless little shit?
* its my wanking hand, case you’re slow and didn’t get that. And yes I’m a witch, just you try and burn me. Also a polar bear, but that’s entirely beside the point.
‘I understand you as a person’. Firstly, as opposed to what?, understanding me as a lemon?, a ferret?, a bag of satsumas?. Secondly, I don’t even pretend to understand me, did you know that when I was a kid I pretended to be dyslexic for four years just to see if I could? My imaginary friend was a waterfall called Percy. I thought I could fly until I was twelve. I like fucking Warrant for christsake, and I doubt anyone could come up with a decent explanation for that one.
'So what've you been up to?'
'Oh well [insert name of significant other] has been really busy, his band have a gig this Saturday and he's been practicing every day!'
'Right, but how are you getting on?'
'And great news - he's got a new job, its fabulous, he's on a permanent contract now and everything'
'Oh. Good. But how are YOU?'
'I'm terribly happy, see this bracelet?, he got it for me for my birthday, he's ever so thoughtful like that'
'Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrgggggghhhhhhh'
‘There is nothing about you that I don’t find attractive’. Ha. Hahaha. Seriously, have you seen the size of my ass? did you know I have arthritis?, does the fact that when I smoke too much my lips bleed really get you hard?, cos seriously, you might want to question yourself on that score.
Right, I'm off to bother London for a few days...
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[04 Jan 2006|12:36pm] |
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Right. She's done it. She's crossed the fucking line. According to Janet*, i.e. archive assistant, i.e. middle aged woman with zero work experience, zero qualifications, a chip on her shoulder the size of my arse and a 19 year old spotty dim-witted overweight waste of space for a son, my jewellery is too clanky, and could I please remove it so as not to distract the researchers. These would be the half dozen dribbling veterans who got their ears/arses/elbows shot off in the war. And my necklaces are going to put them off their aimless gazing at the Warwick Gazette and surreptitious sandwich eating. Clearly. Its times like this the urge to invest in some woad, take off all my clothes and run up and down the research room screaming and beating my chest becomes almost unbearable. Almost.
* 'Boris Johnson, is he like a man then?'. Remarkably similar really, well done, have all the cookies. You fucktard.
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