I've found my home

flicking a V

So, I'm out with my homies on Friday night, and it comes time to take the usual group photo. We all gather around, check that we can see the camera, maria pulls out her "psycho" face, and everyone flashes their gang sign.

We settle back down into our seats, sup on our ale, and maria points out that the 'V' sign that most of my homeboys/homegirls have just flashed is actually a rather rude sign in England.

NOOOOOOOOOOOO! They say is shock.

YEEEEEEEEEES! We reply.

WHAAAAAAAATTT? They demand.

'Tis giving the finger, except in this case it is giving it twice. We inform.

NOOOOOOOOOOOO! They say is shock.

YEEEEEEEEEES! We reply.

But, but, but...we thought it meant "Peace" or "Victory" or, or, or something. They say in bemusement.

It does, but that is with the palm facing outwards. When the palm is facing inwards it means something totally different. We explain.

Way back in the 1300s, England and France went to war. This was a war that would last (on and off) for one hundred and seven years. Thus it was called: The Hundred Years War. Under the leadership of Henry V, the English had their most successful period of the war. Some of this was due to his leadership (but please don't confuse the play with reality), but a lot was to do with a WMD (Weapon of Mass Destruction). The English introduced a weapon that was to annihilate French armies and bring a country to its knees. This weapon was the longbow. A single piece of yew, aged and shaped for four years into a bow, was capable of launching a 75cm (30in) arrow over 400m. It was either a long range weapon or a highly accurate weapon, not both. At the beginning of a battle volleys of arrows could be aimed into troops, on mass. During battle, single arrows could hit their mark, accurately, at up to 200m away. However, the key to this weapon's domination of battles rested in the hands of the archer or, to be more specific, the two fingers of the archer. To launch an arrow a great distance or to fire it with enough energy to pierce armour, the string had to be pulled back by the forefinger and middle finger, the arrow resting between them, notched onto the string. This was a tiring operation and, even though they would train, most archers couldn't fire more than six arrows a minute, for the first minute. However, this number would drop of dramatically as the fingers tired. Without those two fingers, a longbow was just a piece of wood.

Rumour had it that whenever the French took Englishmen prisoner, they would cut off their fingers. This would mean that they could no longer use a longbow. Knowing this, the English archers they would taunt the French by showing their fingers. They would wave them in the air, flicking Vs at the French army. Yes, all the way back in the 1400s the Gallagher brothers were already hard at work spreading peace and harmony amongst our European neighbours.

And so, flicking a V became the way that English people would say "I've got mine, now you're fucked". 

Over time it simply just became a way of saying "fuck off". 

So now you know.

Peace Out.

fuck, marry, kill

I got in close to 14 hours of sleep yesterday.Once I came back from work, I crashed. Managed to struggle awake to eat some wonderful chicken soup (cooked by the beautiful maria), post, complete some paperwork for SEP, and then crashed out again.

I dreamt. Long, complicated dreams. These were illness influenced, or drug induced, or a combination of the two, but they weren't (totally) surreal. They didn't delve into that weird and wonderful world that dreams, under those circumstances, can go. The dreams followed a logical progression, one dream to the next.

I'm not going to bore you with the whole thing, but I will hit you up with the main bullet points. Or to be more specific, the main bullet point: I really don't want to have sex with Superman. I was avoiding the whole "sex with Batman" thing, because that was a road I didn't want to go down, so I stuck with the whole: I really don't want to have sex with Superman. Oh, did I mention that in this part of the dream I was Robin? [Geek On: It was interesting to note that only DC characters were involved in this dream, especially as I am much more of a Marvel fan: Geek Off]

Anyhoo, enough of my dreams. Let's get down to the real nitty-gritty of this post:

Superman, The Batman, Spider-Man - Fuck, Marry, Kill?

I'm pretty sure that I'd marry Spider-Man [Geek On: which is good timing, considering that his 21 year old marriage to Mary Jane has just been ret-conned in the comics - but you knew that: Geek Off] I realise that there should be some discussion about whether I'd be better off married to Supes. But really? The guy is known as the big blue boy scout. He has no sense of humour. He is dull, really dull. And there is no way I'd marry The Batman. Oh, he's got a great sense of humour. And he's rich. But he's way too intense. I can't see a marriage lasting much longer than a week. He'd drive me mental. That said, I'm pretty convinced that sex with The Batman has got to be awesome. Probably have to lay down some ground rules, I get the feeling he's probably a little too into S&M, Way too much into it for me. But otherwise, of the three, he's got to be the more exciting of the three in bed. So, if push came to shove, I'd fuck The Batman. Which means, I'd kill Superman.

Right, I'm off to check my meds. See if it's time for another dose.

let's see if I can remember how this goes

Yeah, I know, but, like, stuff has kept occurring. There are three half written posts in the drafts file which I've just read and have no idea how to finish them - so they've been deleted. I should write about the films I've seen, the books I've read, the father's day present and what it meant. I could write about the job, about graduation, about the week ahead with no students. However, this is blogging and what better way to get back into the trend of writing than doing a meme? So, stolen from Helly:

65 Questions You’ve Probably Never Been Asked…

1. First thing you wash in the shower?
Hair. I normally stand in the shower for three minutes, letting the water run over me as I slowly increase the hot water, decrease the cold, find that temperature that boils lobsters, then wash my hair. I tend to wash downwards, finishing with my feet.Working on the idea that the dirt gets washed down. Does anyone start at the bottom and work up?

2. What colo(u)r is your favourite hoodie?
Green(ish). It's new, so it's my favourite at the moment. Of course, when it gets colder (or I'm in a need-for-security moment) I might change my mind and reach for my black Spider-Man hoody.

3. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?
Eh? Well yes. Slightly confused with question - do people go round randomly kissing people? Oh, yes they do, I suppose. Or, they might be the head of a mafia family who is lulling a soon-to-be-swimming-with-the-fish person. Or they could be setting up the messiah (he's not the messiah, he's a very naughty boy) for a fist full of dollars (or a few dollars more).

4. Do you plan outfits?
Do you mean plan as in what I am wearing tomorrow? No. Do you mean plan as in now I've grabbed this t-shirt I might wear it with this shirt? Yes. Although I know what I am wearing tomorrow, and for the rest of the week - I wear a uniform to work.

5. How are you feeling RIGHT now?
Hot. Tired. Happy. Satisfied. Happy. We spent the morning with friends. maria wanted to take pictures of them (and their children), so we crossed the border and went to Balboa Park. Crossing the border at the weekend is always traumatic before you get there - will there be long queues, will you get across easily, will I get the humourless border guard (as if there is one with a sense of humour...except there is one. My visa expires on July 4th and he always finds this the funniest thing, the fact I will be kicked out of the States on July 4th). The crossing went well, the picture taking was great. Afterwards we went for breakfast together. I ate. This is something I don't normally do in company but I did. And, whoot, everything went well. We then went to Seaport Village, where we walked, talked, bought books. Now I'm back home. The kids are zoned out in front of the tele, maria is sat beside me reading, I am posting. I am happy.

6. What's the closest thing to you that’s red?
My t-shirt.

7. Tell me about the last dream you remember having?
My dad turned up at the flat, came in, sat down. I asked him if he wanted a drink. He said no. maria got out of bed (not in the dream, in reality) and I woke up and told her that she didn't need to get my dad a drink. I miss my dad.

8. Did you meet anybody new today?
The waiter where we had breakfast had nice eyes according to Brenda and maria. I spoke to him, he replied, but I can't see this being a long term relationship.

9. What are you craving right now?
Nothing. Which is odd for me, as I normally have a desire for something. At the back of my mind I'd quite like a beer, but I don't crave one, and I won't have one.

10. Do you floss?
Nope. Got me a sonic toothbrush and I'm hoping that that takes care of business.

11. What comes to mind when I say cabbage?

I've just deleted Helly's answer which mentioned Cabbage Patch Dolls. So that is what first came to mind. However, so you don't think I'm cheating...The Cabbage Patch is the nickname for Twickenham Rugby ground, which is the home ground for the England Rugby Club (it used to be a cabbage patch before it became a ground). There is a pub nearby called (drumroll for suspense) The Cabbage Patch and I have been barred from this pub. Oddly enough, although I have been thrown out of many pubs, I have only been barred from one - The Cabbage Patch. And the crime I committed to incur the wrath of the owners? I don't know. I was on a pub crawl around Twickenham. The Cabbage Patch was the ninth/tenth pub? I had stuck to halves all night (I knew it was going to be a long night and we weren't half way through the pubs we were visiting). My (future) best man was drinking three dart throws in every pub - he'd walk in, throw three darts at the board, count along the shelf to the number he got on the board and have one of those (unless he hit a double or a treble). Others were doing their own thing. I got in the pub, ordered my half and went to the pinball machine (it was an Alien Invaders machine). Fifteen minutes later I was barred from the pub and spent the rest of the night with a totally inconsolable (future) best man. I never did get the full story (or any story) out of him, just it was his fault that I could never drink there again.

12. Are you emotional?
Yes. Very. Some would say "too". But I am emotional.

13. Have you ever counted to 1,000?
Nope.

14. Do you bite into your ice cream or just lick it?
Ice cream in a cone? Lick. Also try to push the ice cream all the way down the cone too, so I have ice cream to the bottom. Cornettos took all the fun out of that game.

15. Do you like your hair?
No. And I realise that there are people who are aghast at that statement (yes, I'm looking at you) but I don't like my hair.

16. Do you like yourself?
Ha! You mean physically or mentally? Mind you, it is probably the same answer: yes, no, maybe, sometimes, often, whatever.

17. Would you go out to eat with George W. Bush?
No. Michael Jackson died the other day and for a couple of seconds I felt sad and then...then I remembered the children who "slept in his bed". What has that got to do with eating with George W. Bush? Well, no matter how many people try to convince me that he's a wonderful raconteur, a great person to meet, a fantastic bloke, so that, just for a couple of seconds I think "I'd like to go out and eat with him". That's when I remember all the children's futures he's fucked. So, that's a no then.

18. What are you listening to right now?
The fan in our bedroom. In the background I can hear the kids are watching something that sounds cartooney. And the drier is going on the balcony.

19. Are your parents strict?
My mum is strict. My dad wasn't. Actually, my dad was strict. My mum would beat me, my father would talk to me. I suppose, looking back at it, my father's lectures were more frightening than my mum's violence. Also they were more effective. I am my father's son because of the things he said and the way he acted. I've also realised that I have portrayed my mum in a bad light here. Please don't think badly of her. I was (am) a frustrating type of person. Many people have wanted to (and actually have) hit me. I bring out the worst in people sometimes.

20. Would you go sky diving?
No. One of my "special abilities" is to see multiple endings to any scenario. I am the ultimate risk assessor. Of the many varied endings to a sky diving event, there is only one that is good. The rest end in death or worse (and yes, believe me when I say that are a lot of things worse than death). 

21. Do you like cottage cheese?
I don't know. I suppose so. It looks like sick, right? I must have eaten it at some point in my life. Just didn't remember to remember. Haven't bought any, ever.

22. Have you ever met a celebrity?
Yep. Mainly through teaching their kids.

23. Do you rent movies often?
Nope.

24. Is there anything sparkly in the room you’re in?
maria's wit. maria's personality. maria's earrings. The handcuffs attached to the bed. The look in my eye when I thought about handcuffs????

25. How many countries have you visited?
A lot. There was the two week trip through Europe, when my dad drove the six of us to Austria in order to remake "The Sound of Music" (don't ask). At one point, I remember him pulling into a lay-by and making us all get out the car so that we could all say we had stood in Luxembourg (it wasn't on his itinerary to actually stop for any length of time in Luxembourg). So, I have been to all of the Western European countries (except Portugal); the Czech Republic; Tunisia; the USofA; Mexico.

26. Have you made a prank phone call?
Yes. Unfortunately, most of them to the emergency services. Now, that I'm old, wise, and mature (I had that derisive snort at the back) I am very embarrassed about this. But, at the time, I was dead cool in front of my peers. 

27. Ever been on a train?
Errrr, yes. Lots.

28. Brown or white eggs?
In my mind, white eggs taste nicer. I always think, when I have a nice egg (and I haven't seen the shell), I bet that was a white egg. I tend to buy brown eggs though. I don't know why...are they cheaper? Are free range brown? And now I've just realised that the eggs in the fridge are white. So. I don't know the answer to this question any more. I am confused.

29. Do you have a cell-phone?
Yes. This is a meme, on the internet, and the question asks if you have a mobile? Would someone, connected to the internet, answer no? Who is this person? Why? I could understand you asking "do you use your mobile for anything else than phoning?" But, let's assume that most people who are doing a meme have a mobile, shall we?

30. Do you use chapstick?
No. Do I have a chapstick used on me? Yes. Every now and then maria complains that I have dry lips (or something) and then coats me in this gunk. I worry that people will think that I am a transvestite. Yep, I am this shallow and pathetic.

31. Do you own a gun?
Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. No.

32. Can you use chopsticks?
Yes. Can I use them well? No.

33. Who are you going to be with tonight?
maria. At seven-thirty we will take the kids back to their dad's house. We shall come home, alone.

34. Are you too forgiving?
Yes I am - according to maria. I didn't know the answer to this question so I asked her. She replied: "you tell me things and my eyelids twitch, in anger. You should be out there, killing people - or at least maiming them. But you forgive and forget." So that's me then, too forgiving.

35. Ever been in love?
Yes.

36. What is your best friend(s) doing tomorrow?
She'll be processing all the pictures she took today. She'll be missing me. She'll pick me up from work. She might go across the border to watch "The Hangover" again with her boyfriend. Or, she might drag said boyfriend to IKEA again....I hope it's the former :^)

37. Ever have cream puffs?
Oops. I suppose you mean those creme puffs that they sell at the mall? You see, I love profiteroles.  Adore profiteroles. Quite like chou(x) pastry just filled with cream. Those you could call creme puffs. So, when I saw that there was a store selling creme puffs at the mall, I became very excited. When I saw the size of the things, I became very, very excited. When I saw that they filled them with custard my erection failed. What? Custard filled chou(x) pastry - no way, joseph! The store closed a week later. A week after I refused to purchase a 12 pack of creme puffs the store closed. I feel slightly guilty every time we walk past the place.

38. Last time you cried?
Held back the tears on Friday at Graduation. I suppose "UP" was the last time.

39. What was the last question you asked?
Question 34: Am I too forgiving?

40. Favo(u)rite time of the year?
Vacations. Second week of vacations.

41. Who did you last call?
J.A.

42. Are you sarcastic?
Actually I'm not. I am constantly accused of being sarcastic but this is from people who don't know what sarcasm is, and assume that what I am saying is sarcastic. It rarely is. The last time I was accused of being sarcastic I was actually been down right rude and insulting. However, I accepted the accusation, as I felt that pointing out that their failure to recognise my rudeness just proved their moron credentials would have led to further complications.

43. Have you ever seen The Butterfly Effect?
Yes. And if I remember it rightly, it wasn't bad. I say this because that is exactly what I said 48 hours ago, whilst watching "3:10 to Yuma" (which is excellent). It appeared, after an IMDB search, that one of the actors in 3:10 had been in TBE, which maria professed to not having seen. I came back with a quick review: I have seen it and it's not as bad as you might imagine it to be.

44. Ever walked into a wall?
Yes. That is one of the main reasons I studied Passe-Fu. Which, as eny fule noes, is the art of self defense against inanimate objects.

45. Favo(u)rite colo(u)r?
I thought this was "65 questions you've probably never been asked"? I have been asked this question before and I tend to answer it with...really? a favourite colour? you want me to pick a favourite colour? fish.

46. Have you ever slapped someone?
I should have. I should have slapped so many, many people. But I am just too forgiving...probably. I don't remember "slapping" anyone.

47. Is your hair curly?
When it is long.

48. What was the last CD you bought?
Can't remember. I haven't bought a CD in 2009, and I'm not sure I bought any in 2008. For my birthday I received the new Snow Patrol CD. So that was bought.

49. Do looks matter?
In what way? Of course looks don't matter if we are talking about a friend, or an acquaintance. If we are asking about a long term relationship, yes.

50. Could you ever forgive a cheater?
No, even though I'm too forgiving. And I wouldn't be expected to be forgiven.

51. Is your phone bill sky high?
MY phone bill? No. OUR phone bill? Sometimes. It was last month, and I expected to take the blame because I knew I had phoned my mum a couple of times (her computer has died a death and she has no way of getting on the internet). So when I saw the bill, I stayed quiet. Then maria apologised for the phone call to France and I was off the hook.

52. Do you like your life right now?
Yes. No matter how bad these bits are or get, there was a time when I saw where my life could have gone. The place I'm in, the situation I am in, right now, is far better to the place I could have been in right now.

53. Do you sleep with the TV on?
I have fallen asleep in front of the tele but that is in the tele room. We don't have a tele in the bedroom. The bedroom is for other activities.

54. Can you handle the truth?
Yes. Sometimes I don't handle it very well at the get go, but I prefer the truth.

55. Do you have good vision?
I had wonderful vision. Perfect vision. And then my arms got shorter. I struggle to read without glasses now. This is not something that makes me happy.

56. Do you hate or dislike more than 3 people?
Long term - no. I am too forgiving (I'm also irritating in the way I bang on and on about the same thing). In the short term though, I can hate with a heat that burns white. And I have done that for more than three people.

57. How often do you talk on the phone?
Rarely. Three/four times a week? Mainly to maria.

58. The last person you held hands with?
maria.

59. What are you wearing?
Red t-shirt, dark blue jeans, dark blue pants (that's underwear to you), brown and blue striped socks, SPF 50 sunblock, Armani Code.

60.What is your favo(u)rite animal?
Again with the favourite. It used to be a penguin but "Happy Feet" destroyed that dream.

61. Where was your default picture taken?
A Japanese Fusion Restaurant. Unless you are looking at the one of me in a tie. That was taken at work.

62. Can you hula hoop?
No.

63. Do you have a job?
Yes. I also have a life.

64. What was the most recent thing you bought?
A book. Two books. I was supposed to be buying a book but on the way to the checkout I picked up another. Except, I didn't have enough money to pay for the two books, so maria paid for them. So, that means...popcorn and drinks, at the cinema, yesterday. We all went to see Transformers. Quick review: don't go see Transformers.

65. Have you ever crawled through a window?

Yes. Many, many times. Out of my window, onto the garage roof, onto the top of the gate, onto the fence, onto the path, off down the road. Four hours later, back up the road, onto the path, onto the fence, onto the gate, onto the garage roof, in through the window, back into my bedroom. Three nights a week for two and a bit years.

random stuff

I have the day off school today, maria has just popped out to visit Nikos at school, so I'm home alone. The desktop is overloaded with downloaded crap - tele programmes that we didn't quite get round to watching - so I'm burning all of that. Which means I'm sat here with nothing to do.

There's an advert running on Fox at the moment "Make My Mom An Idol". Every time it runs my brain translates it to "Make My Mum A MILF". When the adverts run I tend to zone-out, but my brain listens in the background. Sometimes I get zoned-in when I hear something preposterous (normally the side effects for some drug that sound incredible worse than actually dying from the primary disease), and I will question maria on the validity of what I think I've just heard. If it is a bad idea to turn round once to your girlfriend and ask if you heard the phrase "Make My Mum A MILF", when clearly you didn't because there is no way on god's green earth they would say that on Fox (or would they?); it is close to criminal ineptitude to turn round twice/three/four times and ask her. Really? Where is your brain if you are thinking that is what you heard? Maybe this is TMI and I should delete this paragraph?

The phone just rang. It was a parent. At the beginning of the academic year my class all went to the cinema to see "Beverley Hills Chihuahua" - I wasn't invited. Not that I was upset about this or anything, however I might have said I was upset. I might have mentioned it once or twice in lessons, once or twice a day, for the last six months. I wasn't upset...just very, very bitter. Anyhoo, that has come back to bite me. The phone call was an invite to go to the cinema with my class. The are all meeting up at 1:30pm to go see something about an egg? Yep, there appears to be a Mexican character, a famous Mexican cartoon character, who is an egg, and they are all going to see the film. I might not go.

There is a strange noise from the flat below. I think it is the flat below because where I am sat it sounds like it is from there. However the flat below is unoccupied. All the flats in our building are now unoccupied. So the only strange noise should be from our flat. I've been outside. Wandered round the building. Peered in windows. Can't see anything and, of course, when I'm out there I can't hear anything. It's a bit freaky. No wonder maria doesn't like being alone in the flat.

I am back on Twitter. This has made maria really happy in a way that I don't understand. She loves the fact that I am on Facebook and adores the fact that I have gone back to Twitter, and I don't get it. I don't understand why she is so deliriously happy about it all. Oh, I get the fact that my non-participation smacked a little like grandpa not understanding how to work a video recorder, but I'd been on Facebook, I'd been on Twitter. Hell, I was there at the beginning, it's just that I can't keep up - damn that does sound like grandpa! I've just sat here for an hour. I'm constantly getting updates on my Tweetdeck and I'm replying. I keep looking at my Facebook page. I've done nothing else in this hour. Oh, I've written this much of a post, walked round the outside of the building, had two telephone conversations, scratched myself inappropriately, eaten three Oreos (the biscuits not the birds). But I've done nothing! Nothing except Facebook/Twitter. Ok, it works today, when I have nothing to do. But tomorrow? Mind you, in less than five days vacations (NOOOOOO! It isn't vacations it's) holidays (stop being American) start, so I suppose I'll have time.

It was sports day yesterday. We had to be at the sports field at 6am. This was because the parents/kids would turn up at 7:15am for the event to start at 7:30am. (yes, you too can wonder if anyone was going to turn up before 8). To get to the ground by 6am, we would have to wake at 5. I say we because the wonderful, beautiful maria was coming with me, 'cos she is like that, very supportive. Anyhoo, alarms were set and we went to sleep. Except, I woke up at 3:50, woke up in that arrrghhhh, have I missed the alarm way. I then couldn't get back to sleep. I lay there, watching the time tick by, desperately trying to fall asleep. By 4:50 I realised it was never going to happen - hell, it was 4:50 and so, according to all the rules, I should fall asleep now just to be woken at 5. But I didn't. I watched the clock tick up to 5 and...nothing. No alarm, nothing! wtf? So I checked the alarm and realised, In my weird and wonderful way, that I had set it for five past - genius! So, I fell asleep. Just so that the bloody alarm could wake me up.

At the sports ground we all sat around until 6:30 when the van with all the stuff to set up arrived. As our small little truck arrived (filled with a couple of tables, some chairs, a small sound system, a helium tank to inflate a couple of balloons, two water dispensers, six large bottles of water, three brooms, three dust pans, and some bunting), a huge truck arrived (filled). It appears that the sports ground had been double booked. We had booked it for a sports day - 350 kids and their families n a fun day out. The Race Against Breast Cancer had booked it as their finishing line for 3000 women who were racing through Tijuana. Fortunately, considering it was 6:30 on a Sunday morning, we didn't have any difficulty contacting the correct people - mainly because the head of sport for Tijuana was actually there! We lost and got sent to the other end of the sports ground. It was still a fun event and (wonderfully) it went a lot quicker - mainly because there was nowhere to sit, so no-one got the chance to settle down and relax.

Right, stuff has finished burning - got six episodes of 30 Rock to watch, five episodes of The Office - and I have a cinema trip to avoid.

just sharing

Is it me or does anyone else in the world wonder what was going on at Northwest Airlines when they decided that their name needed to be changed?

OK, I get it that Kentucky Fried Chicken had developed a mutant that had eight breasts and twenty four legs that could no longer be called a chicken panicked about the word Fried in their name and changed it to KFC.

But seriously, would you think of changing your company's name to NWA?

There's a board meeting I want to have sat in on:

Hey, I don't think our profile is good enough being called Northwest Airlines. I reckon we should go with NWA. It's edgy. It's street. It's home with the downies.

an exercise in futility

what we did by will

Sunday morning we woke to the sound of the kids arguing over what they were watching on the tele. Shouting, from the bedroom, we told them to get dressed and get ready to go out. As the argument changed from what they were watching to who was going to use the bathroom first (neither of them realising that the one not in the bathroom had control of the remote), we discussed what we should do. We couldn't come to firm decision and decided that the best bet was to go to Starbucks, get breakfast, and then discuss it at further depth with coffee and a cigarette.

Is it me or is this just boring? I know, let's get someone to guest post this:

!STARBUCKS! by Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice

The curtain opens on a split stage- one side is a bedroom, the other a living room. In the bedroom there is a couple (think Rock Hudson and Doris Day), in matching pyjamas [note: they are in single beds - this is family entertainment]. In the other room there are a boy and a girl (think of that kid from A Christmas Story and that kid from Little Miss Sunshine) fighting over a enormous television remote.

Music starts. The music is like a slow heartbeat that will build towards the climax of the song:

Boy: Mine

Girl: Mine

Boy: Mine

Girl: Mine

Boy: Mine

Girl: Mine

Father: It's morning! It's morning!

Another day is dawning.

But my sleep it has been broken.

Oh why, oh why, have I been woken?

Mother: It's morning! It's morning!

Another day is dawning.

A day with kids and hubby

Would be lovely, lovely, lubbly.

Boy: Mum

Girl: Dad

Boy: Mum

Girl: Dad

Boy: Mum

Girl: Dad

Father: It's morning! It's morning!

I need my peace and quiet.

I do not need a riot.

Darling please deal with those brats!

Mother: It's morning! It's morning!

My husband is frustrated.

My children agitated.

I can't face these awful facts.

Boy: Hungry

Girl: Thirsty

Boy: Hungry

Girl: Thirsty

Boy: Hungry

Girl: Thirsty

Father: It's morning! It's morning!

Your children are complaining.

My patience, it is waning.

Do something about this dear.

Mother: It's morning! It's morning!

I need to stop this fight!

I need to make it right!

There is one option that is clear!

Starbucks!

We are going to Starbucks!

All our problems will be solved.

Your hunger will disolve.

At Starbucks!

All: Yes, Starbucks!

We are going to Starbucks!

Where the coffee is neat

And the cakes are sweet

Take the weight off your feet

At Starbucks!

At this point the stage fills with Starbucks personnel on roller skates. The scenery changes to a huge, shiny Starbucks. Need some choreography here...

The Journey by Stephen King

As we approached the car, by some trick of the light, it looked as though the lock on the driver's door moved upwards. I shook the feeling off, I must have left the car unlocked, there was no way that the door would unlock itself. Oddly, though, all the other doors were locked and it took several presses on the remote before the car, reluctantly, let everyone in. I lowered my body into the driving seat. The seat was so comfortable it seemed to mould itself to my body. As usual, my wife and children complained that their seats were lumpy. I didn't understand this. I had tried sitting everywhere in the car and it was always the same. It was the most comfortable place I had ever been. It was as though the car was moulded to my body. I put the key in the ignition, leaned it to the steering wheel, and whispered: "Come on baby. Come on baby. Start for daddy. Who loves ya? Daddy does!" I turned the key and the engined purred into life. The magic words worked. As I pulled out of the driveway, and headed towards Starbucks, John Jr. made us all laugh by telling us that his invisible friend was asphyxiating on the back seat. Something to do with exhaust fumes leaking into the back of the car.

The Visitor by Philip K. Dick

I entered the Starbucks. I didn't know what had brought me to this place at this time. I felt that I had been guided here by outside forces, a system beyond my control. I didn't know what was expected of me so I stood in line, trying to watch what others were doing. It was all too fast. They spoke a language I didn't understand using words that I had never heard before. I felt that I hadn't just stepped into a shop, that I had crossed an international boundary, or catapulted into the future. Behind the counter there were futuristic machines all chrome and steel. Occasional puffs of steam rose from these machines. Neon coloured drinks were served in space age containers. I had only wanted a cup o' joe and yet it no longer seemed possible to get one. The future was scary.

The Inquisition by Franz Kafka

"What do you want?"

I stared at the man asking the question. How much information did he want? Would I give the correct answer? What would he do to me if I gave the wrong answer? What would he do if I gave the correct answer? But I had no answer. I didn't know what to say. I stared at the man behind the counter. He had shaved that morning. I hadn't. I had a five o'clock shadow. It was nine in the morning. I realised that I was in deep. Five o'clock shadow at nine in the morning was not acceptable. I was breaking some rule. He knew that. I knew that. He knew that I knew that he knew. What I didn't know was the answer to the question. What do I want? What does anyone want? Does anyone really know what they want? And if they do can they express it. I stared at the man asking the question. I didn't blink. He didn't blink.

Free Trade by Bob Geldof and Bono

Bob: I'd like a coffee that has been picked by the hands of a free person.

Bono: And a mango juice made from mangoes grown in a land that is free from dictatorship.

Bob: The milk must be soy. I don't want anything in my coffee that comes from an oppressed animal.

Bono: And the ice in my drink has to have been made in a fridge that leaves a negative footprint.

Server: That'll be $11.75

Bob: Why should we pay? That money just goes to making huge profits for your capitalistic owners.

Bono: And what money does get back to the workers immediately goes on re-paying their national debt.

Bob: You should be paying us to drink your coffee and sending the full cost to the country of origin.

Server: Just give me the fuckin' money!

The Chicken Panini by Dr. Seuss

I do not like panini.

I only like a weiny.

I cannot eat panini.

It makes me feel all dreamy.

I will not eat it on a chair.

I will not sit it on my hair.

I will not chew it very well.

I will not swallow with a bell.

I will not let it fill my tummy.

I will not like it my dear mummy.

I will push it round my plate

Until the time gets very late

And when you say you want to go

I will say: No, no, no, no!

I do not want to be that rude

But I must stay and eat my food

Or maybe I should just say: We went to Starbucks. Not much happened.

as we fall asleep

Could we get a hippo?

Would I be a hippo?

What?

You just said: "Would I be a hippo?"

No I didn't.

I know you didn't. But that is what it sounded like.

Damn. Did I say it out loud?

What?

I thought I'd said it in my head?

What did you say?

Could we get a hippo?

You asked if we could get a hippo?

In my head.

You said it out loud.

Didn't mean to.

And, no.

No?

No. We can't get a hippo. They need to be kept in water, otherwise their skin cracks and they open up. We couldn't have a bath big enough for the hippo in this flat. It makes no sense.

So, no hippo.

Nope.

I knew you'd say that. Which is why I didn't want to ask it out loud. Just wanted to ask it in my head.

Goodnight.

G'night...g'night non-existent hippo.

random thought

I'm trying, really trying, to write.

I love writing. I love telling stories. But I just can't seem to get the words out of my brain, down my fingers, and on to the screen.

There's this one idea that is bugging me, driving me to distraction. I think it's a good idea but I just can't run with it. There has to be a good post in the idea, there has to be a good story in the idea. But, try as I might, I can't get a decent handle on it. I can't find the way to start, can't find a middle, can't find an end. Actually, now I've written that, I've realised it might not be a good idea at all.

However, I'll give you the idea, feel free to run with it, write a comment, write a post, or just nod wisely and ignore the whole thing altogether:

Pluto.

Seriously, what was the thinking behind Pluto? And, more importantly, how screwed up must Pluto be? It isn't the fact that his owner is a mouse. That isn't the real problem facing Pluto. The main problem in Pluto's life, his grasp of reality, his sense of worth, has got to be Goofy! As if it wasn't bad enough being the only non-talking animal in a world populated by talking animals, there's a fucking talking dog!

Maybe I haven't had enough sleep yet but this is really bugging the bejaysus out of me.

as the big J didn't say

Blessed are the meek geeks, for they shall inherit the earth.

We come out of Iron Man and Maria is ranting, ranting about this, that, the other and specifically ranting about "that old bloke - you know, the one in the cave with (the gorgeous)* Robert Downey at the beginning. WTF was that all about? It was so wrong, so very wrong, so unbelievably wrong! What were they thinking?" So, I told her. I told her how, unlike most super heroes, Iron Man didn't particularly have that driving force to do good - you know, like a dead mum/dad/planet/uncle - all he had was shrapnel in his heart. What he needed was a conscience. The old man was supposed to be his Jiminy Cricket. This then led to a fifteen minute lecture on Iron Man's history, his problems with alcohol, his problems with Jim Rhodes, his problems with The Armour Wars, his problems with super hero registration, his problems with erectile dysfunction (I made the last one up - but I want Maria to associate erectile dysfunction with Robert Downey...I can be that bitter).

At the end of my fifteen minute expose on the life and times of Iron Man, Maria commented that she didn't know I read Iron Man, was such a fan. I replied, I don't, I'm not. I'm a geek.

Say it loud, say it proud: I'm a geek!

For many years this was not a good thing to be, not a title that I would wear proudly. However, as much as I hate Vista, it is probably time to thank Bill Gates for allowing people like me to come out of our closet. You see, as much as Mr. Gates was probably the person "most likely to be smacked around at school", he has become a shining knight, an answer to all those put downs that geeks receive. Obviously no-one really wants to grow up a nerd**, but geeks are a whole different breed. Geeks can be cool. Geeks can get girls. And then there is the whole Trivial Pursuit phenomenon.

At first, when Trivial Pursuit hit the market, random knowledge wasn't that important. But, somehow, Trivial Pursuit built a totally different subculture that went onto to pervade the rest of society. Don't believe me? Think back to the early 1980s. A time before pub quizzes, a time before quiz shows with million pound prizes, a time when Ann Robinson was just an annoying git (oh, hang on, she still is!). However, the point I am trying to make (yes there is one), is that knowledge is good. Knowing stuff is cool. And it isn't knowing the intellectual stuff, it is knowing the pop culture stuff.

And then, yesterday, I heard the best news ever. While surfing through 100 television channels (and there was nothing on), I landed at VH1, where they were showing a clip. 'Twas Bow Wow Wow singing "I Want Candy". For no particular reason, I announced out loud:

You know, Bow Wow Wow are made up from the backing band for Adam and the Ants. Malcolm McLaren, once he'd lost The Sex Pistols, was brought in to help Adam and the Ants. His advice to the group was to ditch their lead singer, Adam Ant. He then took all the musicians, added a 14 year old girl that he'd found in a laundrette, and thus you have Bow Wow Wow. Of course, Adam Ant also went on to become a huge star in the UK. With a new band.

At that point, I turned and looked at Maria. There was a big grin on her face. Her eyes were shining. She told me that she loved me. I asked why? Thinking it might be my incredible charm, my good looks, my sexy hat that was perched jauntily (exceedingly jauntily) on my head. No, she informed me. It was none of those things.

It's because you don't have Alzheimer's.

It appears that a knowledge of trivial facts, the ability to recall those facts, is a good sign that I don't have Alzheimer's. You see, being a geek is a good thing. All that stuff packed inside my head is what is keeping me sane! One day, I will inherit the earth.

Of course, I'm not sure that I have got my head around the fact that Maria thinks I am a candidate for Alzheimer's. Is it 'cos I is old????

*she might not have actually said the gorgeous but it was implied - or inferred. Nope, think it was implied!!

**let's be totally clear about this. There is a world of difference between geeks and nerds. I am not a nerd!

the first time timmy saw yellow

Timmy left the house clutching the penny in his hand. He loved the size of the coin, it was so much bigger than a farthing or a ha'penny. It was much bigger than a thrupence or a sixpence. It felt solid, felt good, in his hand and he was allowed to spend it all. He knew that this was because he had managed not to stare at his uncle's face or, at least, not stare at the place where half of his uncle's face should have been. He hated the Saturdays when his mum's brother came to visit. Saturdays should be spent playing in the bomb sites, playing cricket or football, getting into mischief - as his grandpa would accuse him of doing every Saturday night. But when his uncle came round he would have to sit in the front parlour, making sure that he was seen but not heard. This was almost impossible. The hessian material of the chair seat made his legs itch, he had to wear his formal Sunday shorts. The neck of his shirt tried to strangle him, he had to wear his Sunday shirt. The conversation would mumble into his ears, all he could hear was a soporific murmur. The only way he could stay awake and stop fidgeting was to stare at his uncle's face, imagining what it must be like to kill Germans.

His mum always made a fuss over her brother, he'd been away to fight in the war and come back a hero. Not like his dad who had spent the war down the pit, digging for victory. His parents would argue, his grandpa would make snide comments. His dad was proud of what he'd done, his effort in the war, but it wasn't enough for mum and grandpa. All dad had to show for his sacrifice were a few cuts and grazes, he hadn't lost half his face. When mum's brother came round, dad would head out - to the allotment and then on to the pub. Timmy would go to the pub, after his uncle had left, and shout in through the door that dad could come home. Dad wouldn't come home for another couple of hours after the all-clear had sounded. And when he did, it would mean that the arguments would start all over again. He hated the Saturdays when his mum's brother came to visit.

After tea and sandwiches and hours and hours of boring conversation, his uncle would always call Timmy over. Tell him that he had seen something behind Timmy's ear - Timmy could see everything behind his uncle's ear because there was no ear to block the view. Then the uncle would pull a shiny penny out from behind Timmy's ear and give it to him. This was the moment he was dismissed. He would look at his mum, begging her to let him go to the shops. She would review his behaviour throughout the afternoon and then decide what could be done with the coin. If Timmy had been particularly restless, or staring, then the whole coin had to go in his piggy bank. Or, through degrees that Timmy didn't understand, his mum would allow the spending of a farthing or a ha'penny or three farthings. Today he'd been especially good. Today he could spend the whole penny. Now, now he just had to find someone so that he could gloat. He hoped that the rest of the kids on the street would be around as he headed over to the corner shop. A whole penny to spend. He might even share some of the booty he was about to purchase.

[to be continued...maybe]