An indoor hobby destined to kill my wrists

Some people, I’m led to believe, have partners who they describe as High Maintenance. The sort of person who will manipulate, scheme and plot to get what they want, usually something expensive costing the poor love-struck dupe a fortune. Sophie sometimes costs me a large sum for precisely the opposite reason - she never EVER talks me out of buying anything, no matter how insane. The swine.

So for some reason, I bought an X-Box 360 yesterday. I’m still not sure why. Can’t really claim to have been a game addict at any point in my life but I want to see what I’m missing.

Of the three games I’ve bought so far, my favourite is “Project Gotham Racing 3″. The plot goes like this:-

Drive big flash car round track

hit stuff

swear.

say to yourself “just one more shot”

repeat

8 hours later wonder what happened to your day.

I should point out that i’m no expert gamer and even less expert at driving (failed my cycling proficiency test…no, really, I did) but I absolutely LOVE this. The sound’s amazing, the rendering is unbelievable and it’s so bloody addictive.

Doesn’t half make your forearms sting, though.

Irish Blood, Hellbound Heart

Sophie spent last night typing up some of her (annoyingly excellent) poems to put on her (so far incomplete) website while I failed to get a wireless network card to work under Linux. Leaving her to crawl back out of her bottle of Cabernet, I skulked off to bed, musing on how unimaginative I was and how everything I said that sounded witty was just a re-hashed mish-mash of stuff I’d heard and read, like Morrissey lyrics and Stephen King books. Which made me wonder what a collaboration between Morrissey and Stephen King would sound like:-

I would go out tonight
But there’s a demon underneath my sta-airs

Oh it’s really there
and I’m so scared
but nobody cares
oh ha-hoooo

Got up this morning to find the sofa covered in old poems and valentines from and to Sophie’s ex-paramours. Clearly, she’s longing for someone more creative and it’s time I started marking which CDs are mine. More importantly, making sure the Bonnie Raitt and Dean Friedman go with her.

I’m not one for Omens but the puppy-poetry woman was in the park again today. I went to stroke the dog’s nose and it symbolically ran off.

The whole dog, not just the nose

AND the woman was reading

dan
dann
daaaaaaaaaaaaa

a Stephen King.

When I grow up, I want to be…

On my way to work, I walk through a small park. Nothing special, but enough greenery and life to put a little smile on my face before I resign myself to another day in a box. I noticed a woman the other day - actually, I noticed her dog. A floppy-eared hound with a smiley face, running around on a mission. The woman was walking a bit behind him, reading a book as she went.

What stuck in my head is the thought that someone, at 9:30 a.m. on a schoolday, has the time to wander round the park, with her dog, while reading a book. Whereas I’m sitting in a slightly too warm office, reconfiguring software control software and wishing I was still on the dole.

I wish I’d been rubbish at learning stuff and passing exams and just stuck to playing guitar.

Putting the ‘mental’ into ‘fundamentalist’

ay oop
Can’t build up the steam for a proper rant but Lisa sent me this scary-scary link from which I found  this list of loopiness and thought I’d share.

Some choice examples:

“I appreciate your recommendation, and it is intriguing, but as a pro-lifer, I cannot support an organization that is opposed to the death penalty.”

and
” several million years for a monkey to turn into a man. oh wait thats right. monkeys dont live several million years.”

ahhhhh you can’t beat the fundies for a giggle.

The lights, they grow so dim…SO dim

I’ve got a stinking cold so probably best if i don’t write anything until I stop loathing the world and everything in it. I’m rubbish at being even a little bit ill and i’m quite a lot poorly at the moments.

Stay Tuned, though

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