Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Wherein I tell you exactly how glutinous I am

Yesterday was not a proud day for me.

It started with a spew in a bucket, because the night before I had completely forgotten that I’m 28, which is too old to drink one’s liver irresponsibly (and somewhat accidentally) into oblivion.
I also woke up with a head full of hazy memories of wildly gesticulated dance moves and terror on the faces of people who were unfortunate enough to watch me eat Burger King after. Although, to be fair, at least they (unlike Mark) didn’t have to watch it come back out again. Which was worse from certain angles.
So I spent Sunday as a jittery mess of hair, makeup and headaches and wore the expression of someone who had been severely done wrong by. A victim. A helpless, wounded junkie. And I made all of the appropriate noises.
Suddenly – shortly after my body’s rapid rejection of chamomile tea – WHOOOP! A different instinct overtook my withered, sweaty and unshowered body. Hunger. Nay, STARVATION!
It was the closest I’ve come to actually eating Mark.
To appease my sudden turnaround in disposition (and maybe as a basic self preservation instinct) he offered to go to KFC and get me whatever I wanted. WHATEVER I WANTED!
Drool slid greedily down the sides of my mouth as I tried to decide between the various meals. But you know. You KNOW what I had to have.
So yeah, Mark went to KFC and came back a little shell-shocked. Seconds later I sat in bed, looking like a lost lamb of god while feasting on two buckets of KFC chicken.
This translates to 21 pieces of chicken.
Except I stopped at five because it turns out that 21 pieces of chicken is A LOT of chicken. According to our calculations I might be responsible for the deaths of a whole chicken family. And the five pieces I ate – oh yeah at least one chicken died for that.
Anyway, I’d love to tell you more about it, but I have 16 pieces of chicken to eat...and that’s going to take an afternoon...

Gadgetry



I mean, aside from looking stupid, it's really kind of cool.

Friday, March 25, 2011

Dealing with my demons

Right, so I’ll get straight to the point: MY COMPUTER HAS BEEN POSSESSED BY A DEMON!

And this demon is really fond of purple Times New Roman font justified. And I’m not down with that so, naturally, since I’m all kinds of sensible I went in search of a computer exorcist. Naturally.

After a bit of insightful reading I found out that – and I’m sure you’ll be appropriately shocked – according to a Reverend Jim Peasboro, it was only a matter of time until my computer got possessed.

My hands trembled as I read the following article:

SAVANNAH, Ga. — Your computer may be possessed by a demon, a leading minister warns.

“While the Computer Age has ushered in many advances, it has also opened yet another door through which Lucifer and his minions can enter and corrupt men’s souls,” said the Reverend Jim Peasboro, author of an upcoming book, The Devil in the Machine.

Demons are able to possess anything with a brain, from a chicken to a human being. And today’s thinking machines have enough space on their hard drives to accommodate Satan or his pals.

"Any PC built after 1985 has the storage capacity to house an evil spirit,” the minister confirmed.

The Savannah clergyman says he became aware of the problem from counseling churchgoers. “I learned that many members of my congregation became in touch with a dark force whenever they used their computers,” he said, “Decent, happily married family men were drawn irresistibly to pornographic websites and forced to witness unspeakable abominations. Housewives who had never expressed an impure thought were entering Internet chat rooms and found themselves spewing foul, debasing language they would never use normally.
One woman wept as she confessed to me, ‘I feel when I’m on the computer as if someone else or something else just takes over.’ ”

The minister said he probed one such case, actually logging onto the parishioner’s computer himself. To his surprise, an artificial-intelligence program fired up — without him clicking it on.

“The program began talking directly to me, openly mocked me,” he recalls. “It typed out, ‘Preacher, you are a weakling and your God is a damn liar.’ ” Then the device went haywire and started printing out what looked like gobbledygook.

“I later had an expert in dead languages examine the text,” the minister said. “It turned out to be a stream of obscenities written in a 2,800-year-old Mesopotamian dialect!”

Since then, Rev. Peasboro has researched the problem further and uncovered alarming facts.

“I learned most of the youths involved in school shootings like the tragedy at Columbine were computer buffs,” he said. “I have no doubt that computer demons exerted an influence on them.”

The minister estimates that one in 10 computers in America now houses some type of evil spirit. Rev. Peasboro advises that if you suspect your computer is possessed, you consult a clergyman or, if the computer is still under warranty, take it in for servicing. He says, “Technicians can replace the hard drive and reinstall the software, getting rid of the wicked spirit permanently.”

Dudes, do you know what this means?! All I need to solve my problems is to learn how to say, “Hello there! Could you please replace my hard drive so that my computer demons don’t exert their influence on me? I’m afraid I might find myself in the centre of the street covered in purple glitter…and ONLY purple glitter.”

Then wink inappropriately.

Give me a couple of months. Also I have to get my hands on that book!

Blogger, we need to have words

Can somebody – anybody – please explain to me why some programs (Blogger and Microsoft Word I’m looking at you) have completely sporadic font FREAKOUTS?
I feel like this is knowledge that I should have gained at some point leading up to this day. Like someone should have pulled me aside at university and said “listen chahld, you doin’ this ahll wrohng. Leht me show you the way...”
That’s all it would have taken to prevent today. Which is the day that will henceforth be known by my German neighbours as “When That Crazy Bitch Finally Lost Her Shit And Pegged Her Computer Out The Window...Without Cleaning It First”.
 Except, you’ll be happy to know, I didn’t go through with it. Even though it’s not a Mac and doesn’t make me want to lick it with my tongue (or any other body part).
The reason is, of course, that without a computer how can I solve the mystery of the random font? I can’t and now that I’ve kept it, could someone reward me by explaining to me why WHY WHY WHY Blogger and Word change random parts of font, spacing and layout without me specifically directing them to do so? Creative expression? Demonic possession? Rebellion?
I need to know.

An Ode to Jelly

Oh Jelly, you so fine
You so fine you blow my mind
Oh Jelly! (oh oh) Oh Jelly!

I’ve known you all my life, and that’s a little long
You think you’ve got the right, but I think you’ve got it wrong
Why can’t you say farewell so I can eat you up, Jelly?

‘Cause when I say I will, it always means I won't
You're givin' me the chills, baby, please baby don't
Every night you still leave me all alone, Jelly

Oh Jelly, what a pity you don’t understand
You take me by the heart when I eat you with my hand
Oh Jelly, you’re so pretty, can’t you understand
It’s jellies like you Jelly

Oh, what you do Jelly, do Jelly,
Don’t break my gut, Jelly!


HOLD UP!


ARE YOU BITCHES HAVING FUN IN HERE?


LET ME HEAR YOU SAY “HO-OH”, LET ME HEAR YOU SAY “JE-LLY”.

THAT’S A LITTLE BETTER. NOW I CAN HEAR THE BEAT GO:

Seven a.m. waking up in the morning
Gotta be fresh, gotta go downstairs
Gotta have my bowl, gotta have Jelly
Seein’ everything, the time is goin’
Tickin’ on and on, everybody’s rushin’
Gotta stick the jelly down
Gotta catch the bus,
I see my friends (my friends)

Kicin’ with strawberry
Sittin’ on lime jelly
Gotta make my mind up
Which flavour should I take?

It’s Jelly, Jelly
Gotta get down on Jelly
Everybody’s lookin’ forward to the jiggle, jiggle
Jelly, Jelly
Gettin’ down on Jelly
Everybody’s lookin’ forward to the jiggle

Devourin', Devourin' (Yeah)
Devourin', Devourin' (Yeah)
Fun, fun, fun, fun
Lookin' forward to the Jelly

Inspired by Toni Basil, Rebecca Black and some phat rapper

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Ich bin Gemüse!

While we’re in Germany we’ve decided that it’s not enough that we lay around the house doing nothing, occasionally butchering some German, eating a bladder and gushing over Better Off Ted, 30 Rock, Community and Archer. So we’re determined to enrich the German culture, which has given us so much (pretzels, schnitzel, bladders and compound nouns), by introducing some fun new terms.

Be gems and help us spread them, will you?
OK the first:
“Ich bin Gemüse!”
Literally meaning: “I am vegetables”. But if you really sound out “Gemüse” you’ll undoubtedly note the underlying tone of sadness. So, naturally, when you’re not feeling overly happy you’d TOTALLY say “Ich bin Gemüse. Ich bin GEMÜÜÜSE.”
The Germans aren’t loving it....yet....but it’ll happen. It’ll happen.
The second:
“Leuts” (pronounced “loyts”)
So you know how when you’re really cool – like when you go to KFC and don’t even care what other people think of you? And  then – when you’re speaking English in between bites of your Tower Burger – you say “peeps” instead of “people” (because you’re too cool to say “people”)?
Same concept only with “Leute” (which means people in German).
Like, “Yo yo my Leuts, let’s go smash some KFC!”
Because that’s cool.
And finally the third:
“Get Simon and Agnes a job in Germany!”
 That one just means what it says. Make it happen, please. Ploise...
We’ve also think that English speakers should start saying “party lion” instead of “party animal”. Just a thought.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

A somewhat delayed letter to Alanis Morisset

Sweetie-pie horse-face,

Not ironic: An old man turned ninety-eight, he won the lottery and died the next day.
Ironic: The old man died after investing his lottery money in an experimental procedure to extend his lifespan.

Nor ironic: It's a black fly in your Chardonnay
Ironic: You’re on the moon, because you’re allergic to insects and have gone to extreme lengths to avoid contact with them.

Not ironic: It's a death row pardon two minutes too late
Ironic: The person performing the execution is the one you were convicted of murdering.

Not ironic: It's like rain on your wedding day
Ironic: You’re a fish (and are having your wedding underwater).

Not ironic: It's a free ride when you've already paid
Ironic: You paid for a cab because you thought it would be safer than getting into the car with your boyfriend. The cab crashed and now your boyfriend is giving you a free ride to the hospital.

Not ironic: It's the good advice that you just didn't take.
Ironic: The advice was “take good advice”.

Not ironic: Mr. Play It Safe was afraid to fly, He packed his suitcase and kissed his kids goodbye, He waited his whole damn life to take that flight, And as the plane crashed down he thought, "Well isn't this nice..."
Ironic: He did find it nice.

Not ironic: A traffic jam when you're already late
Ironic: You’re late to deliver a traffic report.

Not ironic: A no-smoking sign on your cigarette break
Ironic: You work for a cigarette company and the official slogan is “How fast are you smoking now?”

Not ironic: It's like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife
Ironic: You’re at “Knives ‘r’ Us”

Not ironic: It's meeting the man of my dreams. And then meeting his beautiful wife
Ironic: The dream man is repulsed by the way you look. His wife is your identical twin with whom you were separated at birth.

Ironic: You write a song about irony that contains a series of examples which contain no irony in them.

So, well done...

A rebellion against sentographs

Using only the most irritating anti-grammatical structure, which doesn’t reflect the true potential of the English language nor actually inspires anyone to do anything, Sentographs (a term coined by combining “Sentence” with “Paragraph” both in capital letters, because that’s just how Sentograph writers - or Sentographers if you will - roll) are a unique combination of a lack of vision, loss of creativity and failure in writing ability, disguised under a mantle of denial on the part of the author.

Savings

The euro still has 1c and 2c coins. This is our collection. One day we're going to buy a car with it.

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Things that make me happy:

This blog retort by my favourite Twitterer Just_Alison (Alison Agosti) to a recent Twitter attack.
Hilarious.

The perks of being old

Getting bus seats and motorised wheelchairs aside, old people can do the coolest things.

Like walk through a heavily-guarded, military-only, pedestrian-free zone




and not even raise an eyebrow!



 Or wear this outfit, raise plenty of eyebrows and not even care:


Thanks Copenhagen, we'll always have the memories...

P.S.
For those of you who thought this blog was going to be about my advancing age...we'll be having words later.

Probably the worst slogan in town

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Hallelujah!

For the past four and a bit months – ever since we arrived in Munich – we have been ploughing through our savings in the kind of haphazard way that someone who thinks the world is ending might do.

Very irresponsible, but we did manage to go to the Dansk Melodi Grand Prix and make total fools of ourselves, like this:




So I’m not complaining.
The main problem with spending ALL of our savings is 1) it takes us even further from our dream to get a Mini Lop and call it “Trish”* and 2) we now live on my irregular freelance earnings month to month. So when we get to about the 15th of the month my panic alarm button goes off like HOLY SHIT! AM I GOING TO MAKE ENOUGH MONEY THIS MONTH?! And my brain plays out a colourful scenario not unlike an avant garde Oliver Twist, with me as Oliver and Mark as the person who tells me I can’t have any more bladdery goodness*because he spent our last pennies on Milo (very avant garde).
But this month is different because MARK GOT A JOB!!!! And not just any job, he got an IT job at a German company...in German! If you’re not recognising how big an achievement this is, let me just break it down a little.
When we first arrived in Munich we approached every conversation with the attitude that if you couldn’t communicate what you wanted to say via interpretive dance you were done for. No matter how good your pom poms looked.
So for Mark to score a job in a German company, where he now has to learn technical German IT jargon, is quite incredible. And it means that today is the 15th and I’ve only chewed one of my hands down to the elbow which leaves the other one free to write this blog.  
 In summary: HIP HIP HOORAY!
*
**I will explain this reference. But not now, so you’ll have to make do on your own.

Friday, March 11, 2011

Why you shouldn’t judge me for kidnapping my neighbour’s cat

1. He made this face:

 2. Then he did this:

3. Then he smiled like this:

4. Look me straight in the eye and tell me that you wouldn’t pinch this Mussy-Mussy the first chance you had:



5. I don’t believe you. Look again:



If it makes you feel better, I released him from his prison my company.

Help! I've been cat-napped!

His mussy-muss cuteness made me do it!

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

To the person who suggested the yellow thing is a commonplace banana chair

I ask you; why doesn't it look like this?



Or this?
Looks like somebody has some answering to do...

A somewhat falsified tale of Miss Emilia Flyckt

Emilia was born in Sweden, in the small town of Kiruna in Nordland. Which means she’s technically not even Norwegian, even though she sometimes sounds like she might be.
It also meant that she was often the focus of taunts by friends Simon The Melodious, Gustav The Immer Story-Telling, Agnes The Dim-Witted and Mark The Cackling.
But little did this brilliantly funny group realise that it was making a huge mistake and unleashing a new kind of anger onto the world...
On one otherwise-insignificant day Emilia tore her way to Palace de Geyerstraße via Marien Platz, where she made it a habit to arbitrarily drop off her shoes; for it had a great door just made for that sort of thing.
Then she came stomping in – a stolen baby in one hand, a pancake in the other – looked at the startled residents and said, “I’m leaving you and Munich. You saldnav odsniva;lv...”
Some of that was unclear because she was speaking Norwegian.
Then she departed, leaving a sense of emptiness and a lone pair of shoes hanging around like a bad smell from a pair of shoes that had been left behind by an angry Viking woman. The very next month she donned her glorious horned hat and set sail for her beautiful homeland.
Legend goes that if you’re very still at night and hear a baby crying, it’s probably Emilia snatching it out of its mother’s arms...

Seriously though...

The yellow thing is definitely a seesaw  


I'm not apologising for this picture

Even if I'm not completely sure what I'm doing in it...