So long, farewell..... but only until next year

Well that time is upon me, where I get to leave the office and not come back for more than 2 days. I'm therefore unlikely to be near a 'net connection, unless I decide to take advantage of wi-fi connectivity in my local pub.

That being the case I won't be posting anything here until 2006, although the chances are that I'll still be writing and I'll post anything I do write upon my return.

See you in 2006!

Scams

I’m listening to a story about a woman who fell for a scam in which she was told she’d won the Spanish lottery, and then had to shell out a load of cash in order to claim her winnings. I kind of feel sorry for the woman – I think she’s stupid, but I can kind of understand how she got suckered.

However, there are people out there who fall for the so-called ‘419 scams’, where people receive letters from people asking for British folk to help transfer money out of Africa due to various reasons which all equate to one thing – money laundering. The people who fall for these scams are not only stupid, but they’ve got absolutely no reason to feel aggrieved – after all, they’re greedy idiots who have agreed to perform an illegal activity in order to make some cash.

Many hundreds of people fall for these scams every year, ergo there must be many hundreds of greedy, stupid people out there who can be taken advantage of. Which gives me an idea...

I’m not going to scam people, or try and con them, I’m simply going to ask them to send me their money. The way I see it, asking people to send me the money they would have lost to criminal gangs helps both parties. I get rich, and they don’t have to suffer the ignominy of losing their money to a con artist. Oh, and also the money won’t get used to fund drug trafficking or prostitution, it’ll be used to buy gadgets, cigarettes, beer and a Pagani Zonda F. You may think this will never work, but there’s no accounting for people’s stupidity.

Things to do before I'm 30

I’m 28 in three days. This means I have 2 years and two days to do all the things I want to do before I’m thirty. Admittedly I haven’t actually sat down and put a list together of the things I want to do, so maybe that’s the first step.

Hmm, actually, it’s not as easy as you think, I mean, really, what am I going to do of any note in the next two years? So far the only thing I have on my list of things I want to do in the next two years and two days is ‘twins’, and I have a feeling that that’s something that will be down to chance, luck and a lot of alcohol.

I could add things like hang gliding, badger baiting and skydiving, but unless I actually get off my arse and make an effort to do these things they’re really not going to happen, and, if I’m honest, I’m not going to. So, here’s my realistic list:

Give up smoking
Learn to drive
Visit Australia
Take up smoking again

I know it’s only a short list, but once you take in to account the time I spend at work, asleep, in the pub and waiting for trains, that only leaves me a short amount of time to do the things on my list. Oh, and if the twins thing happens, that’ll give me even less time.

Look - a Moose!

I’m struggling to think of anything to write today. It’s been so long since my last post you’d think I’d have pages worth of material stored in my somewhat strange brain. Let’s face it, there’s so much happening at the moment – the government is telling us that we need to teach kids to read by telling them how letters sound (no, really) whilst at the same time telling us that it’s ok to carry up to seven grams of cocaine because you can class that as a personal stash (no, really). Also, a survey has just been completed that says one in ten men have paid for sex sometime in their lives (try ten in ten, find me one man who’s managed to get a woman in to bed without buying them a drink, dinner or paying for a cab and I’ll be impressed). Oh, and apparently truffles taste like romping in a field, according to the host of the cookery program that’s on in the background at the moment.

One very random thing I learnt today is that (apparently) it is illegal in Alaska to look at a moose from an aeroplane or other flying vehicle. I’ve always been a fan of these sorts of crazy laws, and I’m always tempted to test them. For example, if you did look at a moose from a plane in Alaska, would the local constabulary be waiting for you with some nice steel bracelets on the runway? Would the case get to court? Would the judge convict? Obviously if I was the judge I’d send the or bastard up on the charge straight to jail for a few months and then laugh about it afterwards down the pub, but I’m obviously not completely sane.

I believe there’s an equally strange law in the UK that says you’re allowed to shoot Scotsmen on Clapham Common as long as you use a long-bow. Now this one is really quite interesting. On the one hand, you’ve committed murder, which is very illegal, but on the other hand, by law, you were perfectly entitled to do so. I’m willing to bet my laptop that if you tried to get away with that one you’d get sent straight down, unless the judge was a Scot-hating duffer with a few loose screws, or me.

In case you’re wondering at this point why I found out that it’s illegal to look at a moose from a plane in Alaska, I was actually trying to find the shortest distance between Russia and America. I couldn’t remember the distance in miles (it’s something crazy like eight) but ended up getting sidetracked, which is quite common for me.

I also discovered recently that Microsoft have found a new way to cause system administrators headaches. They’ve launched a web-based version of Messenger, which is useful in as much as the IT department at work haven’t yet worked out I can use it (mind you, they also haven’t cottoned on the fact that there’s generally a USB hard disk sitting on my desk), but it’s sure to open up all sorts of security holes before long. If you happen to read about a large British bank being compromised by online instant messaging software, the chances are I’ll be involved in some way (and posting about it from a computer in the dole office).

Snakebite

I’ve just seen a story about a guy who was out in the desert in America shooting various innocent animals. He shot a rattlesnake, and then decided to cut the snakes head off. Once he’d done this he then went to pick up the snakes head and noticed it was still trying to bite him. Pretty cool huh?

It gets better though. The bloke managed to get himself bitten by the snakes head, and ended up losing a finger because of it. I say fair play to the snake. There he was, minding his own business out in the sunshine; some bloke shoots him and then chops his head off, so the snake gets its revenge by biting the bastard.

The ironic bit? The bloke lost his trigger finger.

Inspiration, or lack thereof

I’m struggling to find some inspiration at the moment. Writing a blog may look like a very simple thing to do, but finding a topic that other people are likely to want to read about can be more tricky than the Times “Fiendish” Su Doku (I WILL finish yesterdays one at some point).

After all, the different types of sediment found in Britain’s canals may be something you feel very passionately about, but the chances of anyone else caring in the slightest are slim. The chances that the two other people on the planet who do care actually find and read your blog are slightly less than the odds of Eminem becoming the next U.S. President.

Actually, Eminem may be a better option than George W. Bush, who, let’s face it, is a moron. I’m not sure how someone who is such good evidence that humans are related to baboons actually became president of the world’s largest superpower, but if memory serves it had something to do with chads and vote rigging. Allegedly (I can’t afford lawyers as expensive as George can).

So anyway, where was I before I disappeared along that rather obscure train of thought? Ah, yes, inspiration. I still haven’t had any, so I’m going to give up and watch Bill and Ted’s excellent adventure. Strange things are afoot at the circle K.

Christmas shopping

I make it about six and a half weeks until Christmas, which is scary because I’ve only just realised that and I haven’t even thought about Christmas shopping. I love Christmas, what with the family gatherings, parties and that sort of thing, but I hate Christmas shopping. Actually, hate isn’t strong enough a word, maybe loathe would be better.

I find shopping a stressful experience at the best of times, and the extra crowds in the run up to Christmas fill me with a sense of dread. Over the years I’ve managed to make the experience slightly less stressful by limiting my shopping to one shop for all the presents – Boots 3 for 2 has been a lifesaver for me – but I still seem to spend hours walking around the same few aisles trying to find suitable gifts.

This year things are going to be different. This year, I’m doing all my Christmas shopping online. This seems to me to be a cunning way of avoiding all the things I hate, nay, loathe, about the Christmas shopping experience, whilst still allowing me to purchase suitable gifts for my friends and family.

I hope everyone wants stuff from eBay...

The worst advert in the world...ever!

I’ve just been subjected to possibly the worst advertisement I’ve ever seen – two animated sheep (I think they were sheep anyway) singing a bastardised version of “Push it” by Salt ‘n’ Peppa. This already sounds pretty bad, but when you consider that they were singing about not putting salt or fat in food you can maybe start to appreciate just how terrible this advert was.

What gets me is that some advertising company thinks that people are going to see this sort of bilge and think it’s funny, cool, ironic maybe? The only thing people are going to think when they see adverts like these is “that was shit”, or possibly “I now refuse to shop at the Co-op as a matter of principle”. I for one thought both.

What's on TV?

People talk of Britain becoming a nanny state, and although this may be true to some extent, I never realised how bad it was until I saw that Channel 5 had given ‘Flubber’ a G for guidance rating. I mean, this is a film aimed at primary school kids – surely it can’t be that bad, can it?

Something I’ve noticed recently is the huge number of “Top 100 greatest ever…” type TV shows that seem to be appearing at the moment. I’ve noticed at least three different ones over the last two days, and I don’t even have satellite. Be it the greatest ever adverts, documentaries, music videos, whatever, they all follow the exact same format – a few D-List celebs get wheeled in to talk about the clips, whilst Graham Norton or Jimmy Carr make the odd quip before and after the ad breaks. Surely we’ve had enough of these now, haven’t we, or do we have to wait until we see the Top 100 greatest ever Top 100 greatest ever shows?

So, back to ‘Flubber’ – so far I’ve not noticed anything particularly worthy of a guidance rating. I’m only watching it to see whether the rating is justified of course.

Jamie Oliver, the fat-tongued mockney, is currently cropping up in virtually every advert break, peddling Sainsbury’s products for Christmas. Somebody please shoot me, and quickly.

I’ve decided – ‘Flubber’ gets a C rating, for crap.

Gunpowder, treason and plot

As I write this the sky is alive with fireworks, which is fine, except they’re making it difficult to hear the Eddie Izzard DVD I’m trying to watch. It’s funny though, that we celebrate what was basically an attempted act of terrorism, albeit 400 years ago. In case you don’t know, Guy Fawkes and his co-conspirators were trying to blow up the then parliament in order to remove the protestant ruling class and stop the persecution of Catholics in England at the time. Unfortunately for them though somebody grassed them up, and the plan was thwarted at the 11th hour.

It seems strange, as after all, should somebody try to blow up parliament today they’d be locked up in an MI5 interrogation room for a few months before being sentenced to several hundred years of making sure they didn’t drop the soap. We certainly wouldn’t decide to name a day of the year after them and celebrate their antics.

Pointless advertising

I've realised my last entry was a bit diary-like, something I'd been hoping to avoid in all honesty, so for that I apologise. Normal service will now be resumed....

So anyway, I'm watching TV the other night and during one of the ad breaks there was a Phillips advert for one of their MRI (Magnetic Resonance Imaging) scanners. In case you don't know, MRI scanners are huge machines used in hospitals to scan people for leprechauns (or something along those lines). Anyway, the point is they're huge machines costing many thousands of pounds. So, what's the point of advertising them in the middle of Brainiac? How many people are honestly sitting at home, see an advert for one of these things and think "You know, I must rush out and buy a new MRI scanner"? What demographic are Phillips aiming for here? To me it just seems like a huge waste of time and money. Ok, so maybe it increases peoples awareness of the brand but to be totally honest, showing off a 60" plasma TV would probably work just as well...

Here's a thought - why don't Phillips donate the money they have spent on these totally pointless adverts to a hospital, or just give them a scanner?

The trip

The trip to France had to be cancelled due to my friend injuring himself and rendering himself incapable of riding the bike, so instead we decided to travel the UK and have a few drinks instead.

On day one we left London around lunch time and headed for Doncaster, and after dropping our stuff at the hotel and having a quick bite to eat we headed in to Doncaster. We started of in Yates’ but although it was cheap it was also empty, so after a quick pint we headed off in search of a livelier venue.

We stumbled across a wetherspoons and decided on a couple of pints in there, but, being a wetherspoons there was no atmosphere so we again headed off in search of fun. We wandered in to a club called Berlins, and discovered it was 99p a pint night, so we decided to stay there for the duration. Many many drinks later we apparently took a cab back to the hotel….

On day 2 we managed to crawl out of bed in time for breakfast, and after a quick trip to Asda to buy some essentials (crisps and coke) we headed off for our next destination, Blackpool.


After arriving in Blackpool and locating a suitably cheap B&B we headed out on the town for the second night of drinking (actually, if you take in to account the nights we were drinking at home it was about the fifth night drinking) and started off the night in the Walkabout, which was home to some very good looking ladies. After a few pints, a little letching and a lot of mullet spotting, we decided to head down the sea front, where we stumbled upon Manchesters, somewhere we’d been before on a stag do. Unfortunately the Manchester was worse than it sounds, with dodgy covers of bad songs and a lot of chavs. Queue a very quick pint and a quick exit.

Next stop was another Yates’, where we stayed until closing time due to the fact we couldn’t be bothered to walk any further. After that, it was a quick cab ride back to the B&B, where we sat drinking with the owner until 2.30 in the morning.

After another early rise for breakfast on day three, we again jumped in the car and headed towards Manchester (the place, not the pub). We were staying at a friends’ girlfriends flat, but we arrived in time for a quick mosey around the Trafford centre. After an altercation over seats between my friend and a group of ten year old girls, we headed out for a rather posh dinner in Wilmslow, and of course a few more drinks.

The following morning, after returning to the Trafford centre due to having return a DVD box set that had been supplied without DVDs, we headed home, and of course, once we’d dropped our stuff off we headed for the pub.

All in all, it was a heavy but fun week and certainly made a change from being at work. Roll on next time!

Road Trip (Part 2)

The trip is currently in jeopardy - there's a problem with my passport, and although steps are being taken to try and ensure I receive it before we leave, there's currently no guarantee, unless I decide to fork out a further £47, which is slightly rude when I've already spent £49 so far.

There's a dilemma - pay £47 for peace of mine or don't pay and then spend the whole week waiting to see if my passport arrives on time.....

Road Trip (Part 1)

This time in a little under two weeks I'll be somewhere in France, hooning through the coutnryside or maybe down a mountain road on the back of a motorbike, with (hopefully) not a care in the world. The idea is basically to head south until we run out of ground, and then basically head along whatever road looks like fun at the time, ending up back on a ferry headed for Blighty.

So far we've managed to cobble together a very rough plan as to where we're heading within France, and we know when we're going. We've also managed to sort out most of the kit for the trip, like spare mobiles, MP3 players, that sort of thing. We're still in need of a comms system so we can communicate whilst on the bike and listen to music from the iPod, and possibly a few bits of vital safety equipment, but we're basically there. Oh, and we're short one passport too, although it should arrive before we go...

Expect a full report on the trip in a few weeks.

Shark attack

I watched a program on TV recently about Sharks. It was coming live from somewhere or other in the States, and part of the program involved a couple of blokes in a 'cage', trying to find out how hard a great white shark can bite. I put the word cage in inverted commas on the basis that it wasn't so much a cage, more a couple of bits of metal with some gaping holes in the side which were more than large enough to allow the great whites swimming feet away to get inside.

So anyway, the guys in the cage basically have a stick with a pressure gauge on the end, and they were trying to put the stick in the mouth of a fairly hefty great white. Now, my first thought at seeing this was "wouldn't it make great telly if that fella's arm got bitten off". Now, I'm starting to wonder whether thinking something like that makes me a psycho (see Nightmares, below for more information on that) or whether every bloke watching the program thought the same thing. I hope it's the second.....

I hope that (at least some of) my posts will leave you thinking "huh!", and on that note, I'll finish off by mentioning that sharks have two penises, which are permanently erect. Gits.

¿Dónde está mi escritorio?

I’ve just realised that I haven’t seen my desk for a while now. I’m pretty sure it’s here somewhere, underneath the papers, cups, packets of salt and pepper, cutlery, toys, books, electronic gadgets and a whole wealth of other stuff that currently covers my workspace. True, I probably need to have a bit of a tidy, but I’m starting to think that maybe I’m spending too long in the office.




I’m tempted to do some sort of experiment to see if I can live in the office for a week, ordering food from Bluewater over the internet and drinking the awful coffee from the vending machine. I could claim for a hell of a lot of overtime…

Oh, and the more astute amongst you may notice the keyboards in the two pictures are different - that's beacause I have so much work to do I need two PC's on my desk...

Nightmares

It’s been a good few weeks since I made my first post on here, and since then I’ve managed to not post a single word. Some might put it down to laziness, others perhaps a complete lack of any creative thoughts over the last few weeks, or some may feel it’s because it’s hard to post to your blog when your boss sits behind you. I’m going to go with the laziness thing.

As I write this I’m sat in the office, trying very hard not to fall asleep. It’s not that I’m bored, it’s more the fact I’m exhausted through lack of sleep, the main cause of this insomnia seeming to be a lot of nightmares in recent weeks. I decided to have a quick poke around on Google to see if I could find out what could be causing me to have all these nightmares, and stumbled upon the following:

Characteristics of the frequent nightmare sufferer.

Previous research has found that persons who experience frequent nightmares score highly on scales that measure psychotic symptomatology. Neurotic symptoms have also been implicated as correlates of nightmare frequency…..

So, in other words, I’m a neurotic psychotic. It’s quite a harsh diagnosis I feel, but then I suppose I would feel hard done by and perhaps just a little angry, after all, I’m psychotic and neurotic.

Intro

Before I start pouring my innermost (and for the most thought very strange) thoughts out for the world to see, I'll start by introducing myself and letting you know a little bit about me.

My name's Rich, I live in the south east of England, I'm approaching 30 at about the same rate that my hairline is approaching the back of my head, and I work as an analyst for a third party administrator for mortgages, which is easily as boring as it sounds.

I'm anticipating that this blog will become an outlet for the strange, funny, hideously self-loathing, happy, sad and somewhat scary thoughts that form the veritable minefield that is my mind, I'm hoping that you'll find the majority of the content entertaining, or at the very least, worth reading when you've got a spare five minutes and can't think of anything constuctive to do.

I'd just like to say hi and thanks to those closest to me who have to suffer me on a a regular basis, and who don't have the luxury of clicking File > Close when they've had enough. Without you guys, I'm lost.

More soon.