'Special Grumpy Lady Time'
SGLT is some sort of made-up disease that girls catch on a monthly basis, and despite this similarity to man-flu, the similarities end there.
The disease itself seems to occur on a regular basis, usually following about a week of pleasant, civilised behaviour. The various behaviour patterns usually follow this pattern.
Week 1. Pleasant, civilised behaviour. The lady will possibly do the washing up, be naughty in bed, and let you watch an episode of Thundercats without complaining.
Week 2. Grumpy bitch
Week 3. Grumpy, uncomfortable bitch
Week 4. Grumpy, fragile bitch.
This 'cycle' then repeats.
During week 3, so the adverts tell me, some kind of blue liquid is emitted, and this must be absorbed in a number of ways.
1. A little sponge on a string. From what i gather these appear to be bullet shaped, and come with some sort of insertion device, called an 'applicator'. This may or may not be spring-loaded.
2. Things with wings. These are sponges that sellotape onto a girl's pants. They do not allow girls to be able to fly. This is more due to poor piloting skills, and lack of knowledge of aerodynamics and such.
Modern advancements in Things with Wings include the ability to play pinball with your ladybits, something to do with pearls and 1GB mp3 player.
There are several cures for this disease
1. Avoid ladies during weeks 2-4. This is usually impossible, as ladies deliberately catch SGLT at different times, so men can never be happy.
2. Old age. After about 50 years, the lady's body decides we've suffered enough, and gives us men a 'pause' from grumpyness. By this time though we've usually had enough and retired to our shed.
3. Pregnancy. This is actually only a cure for blue liquid, with the drawback of completely removing week 1 from the cycle. Also, babies are a result of this.
Anyway, there's the sum total of all my SGLT knowledge. Enjoy.
Here is the resulting footage...
...and yes, I am wearing a hoody. How street am I? Wickedy whack muddyfunker. Innit.
Today i has been researching the lady-thing known as make up.
Make-up was invented (or 'made up' chortle) by probably a frenchman, in an effort to make some ugly girl look humpable, in about the year 1532ish. For the sake of argument, let's call him French Bob.
Using various ingredients gathered from his 16th century inventor's desk (tipp-ex, red wine, weetabix) he no doubt made a concoction so wonderful that life without painted-up lady-faces would never be heard of again.
TYPES OF MAKE-UP
1. Eye make-up
2. Face make-up
That is all the types of make-up, but for the sake of you men who sit wobbling in the corner every time you stray away from the novelty gift section of Boots, i shall go into greater detail...
1. EYE MAKE-UP
There are three sub-categories of eye make-up...
This is some kind of eyelash paint, held on some kind of inverted brush pen thing. This allows girls to have longer eyelashes, useful for fighting wasps.
There are two fun things about mascara, firstly that if (and possibly when) you make a girl cry, it draws on magical manga cry-lines down their face. Secondly, if they forget to clean it off before bed, it can lead to a girl's eyelashes sticking together, thus giving them a unique jail-like experience.
Eye-liner is like a pencil to make girl's eyes look similar to a cartoon character, or perhaps a panda. The pencil itself is useless as an actual writing implement, going all squishy at the first sign of pressure, causing arguments, even though it's her fault that she tidied up all the pens and left her eye-liner on the top of the fridge.
There is a male equivalent of eye-liner, hilariously called 'guy-liner'. This is only used by 'emo' boys (emo meaning 'pale fan of vampire-themed television') or droogs from a clockwork orange.
This is a mysterious powder (more on them below) that girls apply to their upper eyelids. Because blue eyelids are a sign of healthiness.
2. FACE MAKE-UP
There's no real need to sub-categorise face make-up, as it only really consists of powders that stick to a lady's face, covering up their lumpy face skin, and in the case of blusher, making them look out of breath, like they've been on a run or something. Apparently there is some sort of difference between concealer and foundation but I think this is just some sort of marketing scam to make ladies fork out £40 a go for the smallest bottle of brownish liquid in the world.
3. MOUTH MAKE-UP
Lip-liner, Lip-gloss, Lip-stick. These three substances exist to do one thing, and one thing only - to stain men. Apparently by making their lips look more red and pronounced, this makes girls appear more eager to have sex. I find taking your top off works just as well. And is also a lot cheaper...
Anyway, that is my useful guide to all things womanly and make-uppish. I hope you have found it more useful than anything else ever. Which quite clearly it is.
Anyway, effort number one got deleted by the wiki mods, because it failed to explain the reason for my existance. Crap. Effort two got deleted because it was 'patent nonsense', which I suppose is quite complimentary.
Anyway, effort number three is now online, in a slightly less mod-tempting place here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/user:fudgecrumpet
feel free to contribute as much as you'd like to it, as long as you're honest, and not too mean.
Said bye bye to the twitterfolk, checked replies to see if anyone said I had a fat arse.
Played Batman Arkham Asylum for much too long. Had a little wee in my pants as the Scarecrow scared me.
Sleep (sofa, because pregnant ladies sleep like diagonal starfish)
Here is the semi-definitive guide to fdgtxt. Enjoy and learn...
ASL - Anal Saliva Leakage (always an issue...)
ATM - Anthony Trent Mencolo (inventor of the carpet 1422-74)
BRB - Big Ruddy Boobies
BBL - Big Boobed Lady
BBS - Big Boobs? Splendid!
BBF - Big Boobed Friend
BBFL - Big Boobed Foreign Lady
BMBL - Big Man-Boobed Lad
BTW - Boobs To Wobble (used in a similar manner, and to similar effect as 'phasers to stun')
CBA - Cuddle Baby Arnold
DW - Drown William
FOCL - Find Out Colin's Length
FYI - French Yawn (Inward) (as opposed to a spanish outward yawn)
GTFO - Get The First Orange
GTG - Get The Gun
HRU - His Royal Ugliness
IDK - Inside Donald's Kidney
IRC - Intelligent Robot Condom
JJ - Jolly Jelly
JK - Jolly Kelly
LOL - Lazy Old Lesbian
LMAO - Look! My Arse 'Ole!
LMFAO - Look! My Festering Arse 'Ole!
NM - Nutty Moron
NP - Nutty Pillock
OMG - Oooh Marmite! Good!
PPL - Percy Plays Ludo
ROFL - Revenge Of Francis Leonard
ROFLMAO - Revenge Of Francis Leonard Means Armageddon. Oh.
STFU - Shhh, Tits, Fanny, Understand? (used when your missus tries starting a conversation instead of performing her kinky woman duties)
SOB - Silly Orange Balloon (used to describe overweight people who use too much fake tan)
TTFN - Toot Toot! Funky Nipples!
TBH - Trendy Bum Hug
WTF - Where's The Fridge?
...So now you know. And knowing is half the battle.
Right then, more random brain leakage...
Saturday night telly, how bloody rubbish. Frigging x-factor is back on, doing exactly the same thing but with a different background, like chuckie egg 2, only with less eggs and slightly better graphics. The singing, if it can be called that, is obviously some kind of sonic paralysis inducer like off of Iron Man, a fact that works to itv's advantage by forcing people to sit there and endure The Cube. A mixture of nintendo ds game, who wants to be a millionaire and the crystal maze, with a female cobra commander/stig hybrid that doesn't seem to do anything. The program basically consists of phillip schofield feeling sorry for people who do nothing to challenge idiotic stereotypes.
And then, you're forced to watch Big Brother on channel 4, because the missus won't go to bed and let you play ps3 games. As far as i can tell, a man comprised completely of sideburn looks like he'll win. They should burn that house down and see who's willing to piss on the burning remains. That'd get ratings...
Getting me world domination via getting me on telly has hit a slight hiccup, whereby gem won't let me audition for mtv's new dancing/stripping show. Just because I can't dance, and that showing off my moobs on tv would be immensley embarrassing. Sheesh, if jesus gave up because his missus told him he'd look a bit of a twat in a beard, we'd never have had Life of Brian.
Am going to write to Whiskas in a bit to ask why they don't do mouse flavour cat food. Only reason i can think they wouldn't is that the cat might feel it has to share it with it's owner. Mitzy thought we wanted to share her mouse on saturday then spent the rest of the day sulking when i threw the remains in the bin.
Ooh bugger i gotta do some work... Back in a bit for more rambleness...
Step one. Get myself mentioned on telly...
Actually quite easy, as there are an incredible amount of celebrities on Twitter, eager to point out on their TV shows that they are cool and use Twitter.
So, here is my mention by the lovely Mark Ryes on Bid.tv...
(don't know if that'll work, it's my first time embedding a video)
Anyway, first bid.tv, next... the World! or maybe channel 5.
Wet Soapy Nipples.
Are always nice. In fact, I'm tempted to say bollocks to the blog and so some google image searching...
...back now. Right then, where was I?
Peaches and Cream.
I follow Peaches Geldof on that there Twitter. She's quite interesting, in a mental teeny-bopper kind of way. She probably likes cream. I don't like cream though. Except Wuzzy-aerosol Cream. I like wuzzing it into my mouth and making cream come out of my nose. How sexy am I?
Fish and Chips.
Not as nice as it used to be. Newspaper print improves the flavour.
In The News.
I don't tend to watch the news any more. Mainly because 90% isn't actually proper news. Politicians arguing the same point at each other, resolving nothing; celebrities either being fatter, being thinner or dying; or someone complaining about a war that it's too late to do anything about.
On The Run.
I used to think Nuns on the Run was a great film. That's why I refuse to watch it when it's repeated on TV, because I know my memories of the film will be destroyed by it's actual crapness. Much like watching The Real Ghostbusters on DVD.
What Is Next.
The future always makes me think HOVERCARS. Wake me up when we get Hovercars.
Who Has Died.
No-one worth blogging about has died recently, despite the media trying to force me to grieve.
Who Am I.
I am Al. How do you do?
Do I Care?
I think I'm pretty caring. I'll help an old lady who has fallen over and everything. Might not stop if I run over a cat though.
Shakey Step Ladders.
Shaking Stephens, five feet off the ground. This is why the Frontier in Batley is making a comeback.
Jolly Green Giant.
I preferred him when he sold toys in Leeds. He kind of lost his edge when he moved into selling sweetcorn and other forced-to-eat-by-evil-parents food. Also, why did he insist on wearing leaves? One gale-force wind and everyone would get a glimpse of his Jolly Green Jiggler.
Soapy Tit Wank.
One day. One day I will persuade the missus to give me one. And then I will tell you all about it.
Sun Rain Crap.
The weather is being all over the place recently, and being British, I feel the need to complain about it. I'm not a fan of heatwaves and all Summery weather, and am always grateful when it turns into a storm. Give me snow and days-off-work ice and I'm much happier.
Monsters Vs Aliens.
Bloody great movie. Get the DVD and force it's goodness into your eyes. Jess insists on calling B.O.B. 'Blob', this annoys me no end. Why can't she understand character name copyright? WHY?
Aliens Have Landed.
If Aliens did land, they'd probably avoid Huddersfield. It's too hilly and there are too many speed bumps. They'd probably go to Manchester or London. All the cool stuff goes there.
Little Cornets Please.
I had the most massive-est ice cream the other day. It was lovely. Felt a bit gurple afterwards though...
Terrorists Who Smile.
And why not? They're bastards who get to play with guns. Must be a lot of fun. They're probably weeping their eyes out when they're at home, and there'll be plenty of time for them to be sad when inevitable revenge attacks bugger up their life, so let them have a big grin while they do their naughty deeds.
Sesame Seed Bun. Victoria Sponge Cake. Etc.
I think the Twitter folk are hungry, they're obsessed with food.
Stephen Mulhern Why?
Because who else would present Britain's Got More Talent without trying to stab Piers Morgan in the face with a pin. He's employed because his violent urges have been calmed by his extremely close exposure to Holly Willoughby during his CITV days. She can calm a raging bull, she can. Oooh have you seen that photo of her with that drippy ice cream cornet? Oooh.
Ice Dancing Hippos.
This would be the only thing that would make me watch a dancing program on telly. And that would only depend on if they went mad and killed everyone after they'd finished dancing. The missus is scared of hippos since she discovered that they are evil monsters that kill people. Of course, she also thinks that Meerkats are deadly creatures, because a sign at Longleats stated...
Meerkats can withstand poisons
strong enough to kill a man.
My missus is a blonde under all that brunette hair.
Rail, Cake, Shoes.
Chuggington is a bloody addictive program. It's not as good as Thomas (although that suffers from too-many-series, too-many-characters syndrome), and it's CGI isn't as impressive as Underground Ernie (which goes for realism over toy-realism) but it's much more lovable and colourful. Jess made a cake out of play-doh the other night. She put candles in it for Gem and everything. I took a photo, but I can't be arsed uploading it off my phone. It basically looked a bit like a giant turd, you wouldn't be impressed anyway. And Shoes. I need some new trainers, who wants to send me some for free?
Terrible Times Past.
Why haven't we seen any retro-90s stuff yet? I know the whole decade was a mish-mash of retro-60s-70s-80s on it's own, but I was relatively cool back then, and I still own some of the clothes. Come on people, let the 90s revival begin!
Er, that's it now. Hope that was ok. Bifernow.
fully air conditioned sauna. Keeps you nice and cool as you sweat.
moving walkways next to bus stops so people don't have to run as fast if They're late.
hover-dogs. Never need taking for a walk, you just tie them to your guttering.
square dvds, therefore eliminating wasted space in the box. (the alternative, round boxes would be silly, as they would just roll off the shelf)
a Twattering Ram. Which is a big log for knocking over idiots.
hi-vis camoflague. Because even if you're hiding from baddies, you need to obey proper H&S procedure.
cat spanners. For tightening up your cat.
boxboxes. Boxes specifically designed for holding multiple boxes.
Ford Court-ina. A car that also hands out justice.
a bee-bee gun. Enabling you to shoot your enemies then watch them get stung. by bees.
a Fiddler's Forcefield - a piece of clear plastic to shield your favourite jazz mag from accidental stainage.
a fence fence. A wooden garden barrier that can help you dispose of stolen goods.
Simon The Pocket Tramp. A tramp that you carry around to fight Big Issue sellers.
Fat-nav. Avoids narrow streets and always knows the way to Wimpy.
motor-horse. A horse that has an engine. With 1 horsepower. Saves on carrots.
a Hyper Susan. The same as a lazy susan, but faster.
a mobile landline. a backpack with a wire sticking out of the top like dodgems, connected to the phone network.
Monoproperly. A device that electrocutes anyone who tries to cheat at the Property Trading Game.
Underground Helicopters. For miners who like to hover.
Bumblegum. fruit flavoured chewing gum that makes you clumsy.
Leg-o. Build anything you like. Out of legs
Tattooths. Get your lover's name permanently engraved on your tooth enamel.
slag-cabbage. A portable vegetable launcher for soiling Sharons.
hamdock. A hammock. Made of haddock
Wheeee Bins. Wheelie Bins designed for racing down hills.
Underwater Corn-on-Cob Scuba Gear. A special mouthpiece that allows divers to eat corn and breathe underwater.
Predictive Talking. A device that saves you from saying whole words, finishing them automagically for you.
Lostbianism. The love between two girls who know the difference between a Charlie and a Sawyer.
tar-macs. A raincoat covered in asphalt. Hard wearing and completely waterproof. And black. (also, would build up your muscles and give you a hard shoulder.)
ink pencils. When you want to use a pencil, but don't want someone rubbing it out.
Tea-gulls. Tiny birds that fly over your cup of tea, removing any fish or scraps of food.
tampogons, for women on their period who really want to bounce.
Head and Shoulders and Crotch. Because downstairs dandruff can be a problem too...
hot air trampolloon. Lets you jump and bounce at an altitude of 6000 ft.
Poopascoopascoopas. To pick up discarded poopascoopas and prevent litter.
Cold Pants. Basically, hot pants. But with ice down the front.
Biker Protractor. For measuring Hell's Angles.
Shoe Police. A special department of the police that deals with all aspects of shoe-related crime.
high definition glasses. For people who can't tell the difference between normal telly and hi-def.
glo-bras. "oh no power cut! missus, get your top off!"
Asdar. A device that can locate a supermarket from up to 200 miles away.
Megan Fog. The ability to obscure your vision when watching Transformers so your missus can't call you a dirty perve.
haircuds. Getting your hair shortened by cows chewing at your head.
Manchester Untied. Making football more entertaining by banning the players from fastening their shoes.
So, that's it. All these ideas are copyright me, so if you do want to build them and sell them, then I want money. or toys. or sweets. or a hug.
(suggestions that aren't named are mine, otherwise you should definitely think about following the links to each person's twitter profile and following them, because they are obviously geniuses)
See anyone in a Superman t-shirt, shout 'LOOK IT'S SUPERMAN!'
Stand behind people at cash machines, look over their shoulder, and really loudly read out their pin. Then run (http://twitter.com/AlexHammond1)
Sit in every chair in dfs, see how many make fart noises when u get up.
glue a pound coin to the street and watch people try to pick it up (http://twitter.com/alisonhendo)
Go to blockbuster and turn every dvd box upside down.
When going into a restaurant, only ask for the sweet menu! (http://twitter.com/ANDYRROO)
Use the word 'nodule'.
When walking out of a lift, press all the button levels! (http://twitter.com/ANDYRROO)
Shout OI at someone. Then run away.
Renew your car tax using the Welsh language form at a post office in Warrington (http://twitter.com/simonwxm)
Get overexcited about something really boring... OOH THE KETTLE'S BOILING!
When ordering puddings, ask the waiter if its going to make you fat! (http://twitter.com/ANDYRROO)
Say 'simon says' and then describe what You're doing. All day.
When drinking Guinness or cappucino allow froth to get on your nose and refuse to wipe it off. (http://twitter.com/simonwxm)
Pretend you have a spring-loaded waist, like a 1980s he-man figure.
Go to the toy store and set off all of the Tickle Me Elmos. (http://twitter.com/DottyTeakettle)
Send a message to kutcher asking him if there will ever be a dude, Where's my car 2.
Swig water from a vodka bottle when driving and look at the faces of other motorists, pedestrians, your bus passengers. (http://twitter.com/simonwxm)
Pick up one of those big protein tablet bottles in holland n barratt and shout 'get yer shrinkin medicine ere!'
See if you can do this http://yoga.about.com/od/yogaposes/a/crow.htm (http://twitter.com/DottyTeakettle)
Drive your car about, shouting 'HELLO BOB' at EVERYONE.
When on a bus, stare at someone in the street until they turn around. Then smile big and wave before turning back to your book. (http://twitter.com/DottyTeakettle)
Take your shoes off and try and lick your big toe.
Shout twat at someone then pretend you don't speak English! (http://twitter.com/Glamroxx)
Drink ribena, but convince yourself it's posh red wine. See if you get drunk.
Try and spend a whole day with a pencil casually balanced between your upper lip and nose. Get annoyed at people staring. (http://twitter.com/DaisyBentley)
Fall over in a supermarket, and count how many people help you.
Go to a phone shop and get one of the phone numbers and send it a text later tellin people there is an explosive in the shop (http://twitter.com/talk2_me)
Go to a crowded place and 'accidentally' bump into as many girl's bottoms as possible.
When in a busy street with high buildings, stop and point high up and make sounds of amazement, guaranteed to pull a crowd. (http://twitter.com/scottiD)
Pull a funny face whilst on a long train ride. For the whole trip.
Take all the keys off your keyboard and put them back at random. Then try to use it. (http://twitter.com/AlexHammond1)
Go into phone shop, pick up the phones and yell "£200 for that? I could knock that together in a couple of hours!" (http://twitter.com/DaisyBentley)
Now if you do all of these, your life will be so fun you will be walking around in a permanent state of excitement, like you've eaten too many viagras or something. Unless you do that bomb threat one, that's probably illegal. Anyway, enjoy.
1. Keep your friend count below 30. - You're a celebrity, you don't need to know what the common people are up to. They won't stop following you, you've been on celebrity masterchef.
2. Don't block anyone - even if They're just posting links to inflatable dog's crotches, they add to your follower count, and thus make you more famous.
3. Only tweet when you've got something to plug. - people will be annoyed if they discover that you have a life away from BBC4, so only ever tweet if you've got a tv show on tonight, or if your new column is being published in the daily felch. This can also apply to reruns, out of date appearances on panel shows and cameos on The Royal.
4. Reply only when necessary. - because you are famous, the common plebs will think they are your closest friend and will send you messages in reply to every tweet you post. Only reply to a maximum of three a day, this not only will keep you clean of the commoner's filth, but will make those three lucky individuals idolise you and they will give you free publicity next time you need to plug your appearance on Never Mind The Buzzcocks.
5. Everyone loves charity. - occasionally, the common plebs will ask you to plug a charity or sponsor them to run a mile in a giant penis suit. Even if you don't support that charity, even if It's the national society for the rape of baby badgers, you must ReTweet their charity tweet. Charity support is the best way to appear more famous, without getting pleb smell on your posh shoes.
If you follow these simple tips, you will be stalked by millions and people will think you are better and nicer than jesus, even if You're a right shit.
Right, here goes...
Drink one shot whenever...
Someone makes coffee.
Someone twitpics their dinner.
Someone confuses everyone by getting out of or going to bed in a different time zone.
Someone can make you free money by clicking here! Http://tinyurl.com/w4nk
Someone retweets a completely irrelevant but seemingly deep piece of philosophy.
Someone can get you 427 friends without any effort! Click here now! Http://tinyurl.com/w4nk
Someone complains about aston kutcher.
Someone drinks a glass of wine.
Someone posts a 140-character-long scream, making twitter unreadable by anyone trying to use it on a mobile.
Someone posts a twitpic of a cat and makes a pussy pun.
Someone is naked and feels the need to tweet this fact.
Someone retweets a swineflu joke.
Someone gets close to a milestone number of followers and needs more followers, now!
Someone replies to something three hours ago, when you've forgotten what you originally said.
Someone plugs a charity, petition or other 'meaningful cause'
Someone posts a blip.fm link to an 80s kitch classic or novelty toss tune.
Now, don't go shouting 'oh you poor man not having to carry a child or push it out of your bumbum', because I'm in full agreement with the female side of the argument, how it's all painful and all effort and pushing and uncontrollable urination and such, I just feel that us blokes either get no sympathy at all (why we should get some is below) or get turned into insensitive, heartless idiots when we offer the slightest word of complaint.
Why we deserve a modicum of sympathy? Well, for starters, there's the morning sick creature that carries your future child. This is no longer the woman you wanted to spend all night with, watching episodes of American Idol with, because she is just so lovely that you'll put up with any old crap. No, this is a creature of endless vomiting and complaining (both come out of the mouth, both of which now render her completely inable of doing anything else. Thus the man is left doing every single household chore (not easy when there's a 4 year old undoing the chores shortly after you've done them) whilst still being all sensitive and loving and sympathetic and not falling asleep when she needs you. For all the gratitude you recieve...
And then when it comes to morning sickness, and whatever other ailments that she ends up getting during the pregnancy. Turns out the only things that pregnant girls can do if they get poorly is bugger all towards getting better. The only 'cure' offered by NHS Direct for Morning Sickness (which is a lie. It should really be called Any Time You're Awake Sickness) were those ridiculous sea-sickness wristbands that have no effect, eating little and often (i.e. eating something in between throwing up bouts and hoping it stays down) and for some bizarre reason getting her to lie on her left hand side (improves circulation or some such nonsense), this last one is obviously impossible as the telly is on the wrong side of the room.
For some reason it's impossible to buy these sea-sickness wristbands over the counter at Tescos, even though they are on the shelf next to the Rennies, and since they are a Pharmacy item, they cost twice as much as anything else in the store. For an elastic band with a plastic lump stuck in the middle, and no apparent effect I can heartily unrecommend wasting your money on such crap.
Cravings next, and the reason my house smells like a dodgy burger van. She's gone mad for fried onions, and general unhealthy deep fried stuff and stodge. So, anything like Yorkshire Puddings is good. Anything that requires little effort to cook, tastes nice or helps with my efforts to reduce my gut size is out. And yes, I know that there's the option of cooking separate meals, but then that means eating in separate rooms as the nice looking, nice tasting food that I would want to eat also happens to be the food that triggers off her gipping fits. And by now I've emptied enough buckets to know that everything I can do to prevent a gipping fit is worth doing. (no carrots in pregancy vomit though, unusually - even when she eats carrots).
As for the length of the morning sickness, I think if her last pregnancy is anything to go by, we've got about a week or so left until she stops chucking and enters the so tired she can't do anything stage. I swear none of the above ranting will be found in Myleene's book. Grrr.
Anyway, that's enough ranting for now. Will try and get some more splurging done sometime later in the week.
Anyway, stuff what has happened since I last splurged... Had a dating scan on the baby in Gem's tummy, turns out it's only 9 and a half weeks gone, so it's actual due date is about five days before Jess' birthday. Which will probably be easier in some respects (one big party instead of two, less chance of me forgetting) but will probably throw up all sorts of annoying complications (especially when they hit their teens, i'd expect).
Anyway, the scan pic is here -> http://www.twitpic.com/2a3jp <-if anyone wants to have a look. On that pic it looks a bit like a peanut, but when the lady wiggled about the ultrasound thing we did get to see fingers and toes and such (no willy or lack of at this point, too early for such things apparantly, before you ask).
Also sold a lotta lotta stuff on ebay, finally got round to being persuaded to shift my Marvel Essential books, mainly because they take up so much room, also because I'm fed up of visitors going ooh look at all them in a sarcastic 'youre a geek and we think you need to be mocked' voice. Also got rid of a few unwanted Transformers, and pretty much all of my most mediocre DVDs (obviously kept the really good ones, but also have the pisspoor terrible ones left as well just because I know Gem can't stand the sight of Biggles on my shelf). Don't seem to have any spare cash still though, thanks to the ridiculously huge lecky/gas bills and everything else extra that needs paying out this time of year. Which is just irritating. Ah well.
And when I'm not taking the missus to be ultrasounded (full bladder required - fun car journey over speed bumps hehehe), ebaying or eating three packets of skips at a time, I'm on twitter. Twitter is lovely, completely random lines of text from completely random people about completely random topics.
I was going to be all gimmicky and do this blog post in 140 character chunks in tribute to the wonders of the tweet, but then I realised that firstly, noone would notice and would just think I was writing very short paragraphs, and secondly it's impossible to have a good rant in under 140 characters. Which means that most of my tweets are either me complaining about something and writing 'urg', celebrating something and writing 'yay' or eating something and writing 'yum'.
Anyway, that's it for now, I am going to be eating some of Mr Brain's pork faggots now. Which, as well as being incredibly tasty are also good for confusing site swear filters and Americans, who by this point would be thinking I am munching down on an offensively piggish homosexual. Which I would never do. Because Dr Brain's faggots come in a lovely gravy and piggish offensive american homosexuals don't. At least not round these parts.
Right then, See ya soon, add me on yonder twitter if you'd like http://twitter.com/fudgecrumpet and go and look at my lovely ebay stuff here http://search.ebay.co.uk/_W0QQsassZfudgecrumpet
Now then, thought i'd blog a bit tonight, seeing as tomorrow is going to be stress day, what with us going to get the official yes on gem being up the duff. It's one hell of a morning-sickness-style bug gem's got otherwise. Good god i hate it when she's all morning sicknessy, which for starters isn't just in the bloody morning, It's all day, and occasionally all night. Most of the time she's just dry hukking, chucking up without actually bringing up anything, which is fine for me, noisy as hell and triggers my guilt nerves, but at least she's not filling her bucket up with the most foul smelling stuff ever. I'm no good around vomit, and for some reason she thinks that It's my duty to empty the full, well i say full... It smells full, even if there's only a splatter... Bucket. Now for any other person this is probably an easy task. For me this is an almost impossible chore, as the stench of sick automatically triggers my gag reflex and sends my tummy into Eject mode quicker than a dodgy bhuna from the local takeaway. But still, i have designed a rudimentary device for stopping the gipping, basically i tie a t-shirt around my face, so i look like a crap ninja, and then i am able to perform my husbandly vomit disposal duties without any risk of myself throwing up. Of course, this only works if i don't see the sick in the bucket, as for some reason seeing the sick triggers the same results as me smelling it.
Now it seems The only way to keep gem from reaching V-point, the point at which her innocent hurrrking turns to carrot soup city, is too keep her full of toast. So my toaster is on constant standby, and i bought an extra loaf to get us through the night...
Anyway, that's my morning sickness rantblog done. Back to twitter, which i'll rant about next time probably. Well, actually It's a kind of definite, as it seems to be taking control of everything in my life like some crazy 140 worded brain lurgy. Or maybe i'll realise what a waste of time it is and start bitching about it. Either way, see ya soon!
1. I'm bloody knackered from work, had to do 139 locks on sunday and It's thrown my work-play balance in my head off.
2 & 3. Making babies, just not in the fun way. You know when you've made a cake and you've mixed all the ingredients together and then you put the mixture in the oven and then you're just worrying how it'll turn out, if the oven will overheat and switch off or if you'll get distracted and everything will come out burnt. Damn, i got lost in my own metaphor then, anyway now i'm stuck with 2nd baby stress, gem is a gurgle morning sickness creature that makes me do all the chores, and basically my brain is too full of moses baskets and the dread of going back to nights of 2 hours of sleep that i can't think of anything as random as a hedgehog wondering how on earth he is going to wear his new backpack. Which i know is the sort of random stuff you like.
3. I've spread myself too thinly over the whole internet and I've run out of stuff to type. Basically, I've added myself to too many forums and random stuff recently, and i don't like letting anyone feel left out, so I've been shuffling from site to site like an alcoholic uncle searching for parties with a free bar, letting everyone know whatever my brain feels like releasing then shuffling elsewhere. I might have to cull a few sites so my creative juices keep flowing.
4. TWITTER! It's bloody wonderful bollocks and I've gone and got myself addicted to finding out what random famous people (most notably phillip scofield, tara from buffy the vampire player, aston kutcher and jonathan ross, only by the fact that they seem to post more than anyone else) are doing with their time. It's quite interesting learning that they actually have normal lives and don't just sit in the corner and cry when You're not watchin them on tv. Here's my twitter link if anyone wants to find me and join in with my campaign of legalised stalking... [url]http://twitter.com/fudgecrumpet[/url]
Anyway, those are the reasons why this blog is rubbish. Although that was a good couple of thousand words, so i suppose it'll have to do. Yay for rambles and excuses.
Not that nagging has helped attract people to join me on crazy attention deficit disorder post site [url]http://www.Twitter.com[/url] which i am as yet undecided upon as to whether it is genius or arse. I've done what most folk seem to have done and added Aston Kutcher and Stephen Fry to their follow list, and I've got a couple of random folks as my own followers, but as yet i still can't see the point. Maybe I've caught it too early, i had the same problems when i first joined facebook before that went all popular and mainstream. I'm feeling like one of those annoying guys at parties who go on about new bands, boring folk to death about The Flan Mangles, two years before they become famous and they saturate the media and then you stop feeling relatively cool and start feeling mildly bitter and grumpy. Which I've been told i am a lot. Grumpy, that is.
Sorry about the lack of a structure to this post, i'm just typing as much as i can to waste the minute or so until gem leaves work. In fact, i should probably start signing off now because she's on her way and looks tired. Bye
So, after I've typed this I'll be settling down on the sofa with a drink of purple juice to watch the latest (cheekily downloaded, damn you slow ass e4 schedulers) episode of Smallville, which has picked up a bit following a two-season slump when it all got a bit stinky and crap. I'm really looking forward to the end of season battle between Clark and Doomsday, as the show's clever plotting has firmly ousted any fanboy 'You cant have Doomsday this early in Supes' career' thoughts out of my head. Although to be honest Doomsday was never the sort of bad guy I've been impressed guy - sure he was unstoppable, but he never really had a plan, he just hit stuff. Also he didn't really kill Superman, did he? That was just some marketing nonsense.
Reluctantly been putting more stuff on ebay tonight as well, including some films that I'd much rather keep but 1) can't afford other new nice stuff (a lot of cool stuff comes out on Monday) and 2) Gem doesn't like and I'm trying to stay in her good books for the time being.
So, I'm selling Ella Enchanted, a film about a girl with big boobs who does whatever anyone tells her to do (and no men take advantage of this?!? Crazy), Disney's Dinosaur (which is better than 90% of their recent output, yet avoids being labelled as a Disney Classic for reasons which are beyond me), Sex and the City The Movie (which I liked keeping on the shelf, as it stops Gem from nagging about my Bloke-ing up of the living room - Marvel Essentials books need more shelf space than flowers in vases, when will she realise this?) and Prince Caspian (on blu-ray, which distracts from the fact that the film's shite by being all hi-def and lovely).
Anyway, I can't do a blatant plug like that without offering you a link ---> http://search.ebay.co.uk/_W0QQsassZfudgecrumpet <---, so there you go.
Anyway, I think that's enough random splurging for tonight. I'd write a bit more but this kitchen chair is bloody uncomfortable on my bum and I fear if I sit here any longer I will end up with a very flat bottom. And my fan club prefers me to have a nice peachy curve. Well, if I did have a fan club they would. Why don't I have a fan club yet? Grrrrrrr
Anyway, what have I done recently... well, I've watched a few films on Blu-Ray (or blue ray, as their ebay auctions stated, hence they were ignored by regular searches and therefore were bargains) - Run Fat Boy Run, Vantage Point and the 2006 remake of The Omen.
Run Fat Boy Run is by far the best film out of this bunch, starting off a bit rubbish but getting gradually better towards the end, with a genuinely satisfying ending.
Vantage Point starts off excellent, but goes and forgets about it's multi-character-viewpoint gimmick about halfway through and just goes off on a standard action thriller schtick. Oh, and it also reveals who the bad guys are way too early. Just to save you the effort the real bad guy is the man from Lost, and the president who gets shot is just a double. I've whited out the spoiler I typed, because I didn't want people swearing at me. More than normal.
The remake of The Omen is bloody awful, but I'm only saying that in comparison to the original, which in my mind is a bloody wonderful movie. This one basically takes the original, removes the great scary music, makes the death scenes overblown effects extravaganzas and reduces the acting to pulling 'dull surprise' faces and getting occasionally sweaty.
Anyway, I've shoved Vantage Point and The Omen back on ebay, hopefully they'll make a bit of cash so I don't feel completely cheated. RFBR is staying for the time being though, it's a nice bit of fluff I'll probably stick on next time I want Jess to go to sleep.
Today we went to the cinema to see Bolt. Gem forced us to see the 2D version, because she was worried it'd give her a headache or somethingnagnagnag, but all in all I don't think the film needs a 3D gimmick to work. The CGI is as cartoony as ever, but the characters seem to work great, and the hamster is a genius creation. I did however feel that the film would have been so much better if they'd forgotten about the 'TV dog forced into the real world' plot and just stuck with the TV show within a film's plot of a superpowered dog. Sure, it's derivative 80s toy selling nonsense, but it'd be a cracking movie. This is the second dog themed movie I've seen this month, the other being Beverly Hills Chihuahua, which is surprisingly funny. Shame I hate dogs. Well, I don't hate dogs, they just all want to kill me and eat my face off.
I really need to see a decent bloke film though. Not sure how I'll convince Gem to see TF2 yet, never mind Terminator or Star Trek (that'll be a challenge, seeing as she was in labour when Star Trek 9 was on TV, and it'll probably bring on sympathy pains or something).
Anyway, my laptop's being a bitch recently so I'm gonna sign off for now before it crashes and I lose all these lovely words I've just typed (no great loss to the world, I hear you cry).
See ya later if I feel the need for further splurging.
Sorry, i just felt like having a rant. Feel free to call me an insensitive swine or hit me with a hammer.
Matrix over at http://www.thetf.net/ did a fancy colouring job on my Scrounge sketch, and now it looks all lovely and professional and such...
Speaking of the head, I've made it out of some of the 'liquid metal' epoxy resin stuff we use to block up drilled holes on safes, but that still needs some work doing to it, filing down to give it sharper edges etc. Anyway, it just looks like a lump of grey lumpyness at the moment, so I'm not bothering with a photo of that yet....
CLASSIC FUDGE #1
Two people stood on a bridge, one says to the other 'whats the current situation in taiwan?', the other replies 'well the economy is going strong and i love you,' then they both jumped off the bridge and died, happy in the knowledge of their mutual love and the economic situation of a foreign country.
I decided for the time being, finances and spare time and such, that i'd forego doing a transforming scrounge and make a non-transforming toy out of stuff i already own. Fortunately, i had a tf-a blackarachnia spare following my birthday, and her body is scrawny enough to match scrounge (i beefed him up a bit for my drawing) and she's got the whole bell-bottom legs and skinny six-pack.
First, i pulled off all the spidery bits and unscrewed her face, then in the process of chopping down her chest to a more reasonable and less feminine size i sliced a chunk off my left thumb. I'm fine now, thanks to TCP spray plaster, which is a genius invention obviously invented by Neil Buchanan, the only man in the world to use PVA glue in every aspect of his life.
I also glued up BA's split-legs and broke off her various spikes and such.
So now i'm left with a faceless basic action figure, i'm going to do some experiments with epoxy resin later, and i'll post some photos of my work in progress. Cheers.
His wheel mode is pretty much perfect, but his robot leaves a lot to be desired. Scrounge's tummy wouldn't be that round, he's supposed to be a scrawny little get, not a tubby american footballer.
Another idea that was suggested by one of the lovely folk over at http://www.thetf.net/ was to use the Star Wars Transformers General Grevious Wheel Bike. Now, this guy's wheel mode is almost right, I'd need to find a way to hide those legs, and those spikes would need to come off, but this one is definitely do-able. His robot mode to quite messy looking, but again I can see it working. I think I'd probably give Scrounge a bit more of a neck, which I think Grevious is lacking. The main problem with this one, is that I can't find the bloody thing anywhere (actually, that's a lie, there's one on eBay for £40, which is silly money). If anyone sees one for cheapish, please let me know. Cheers.
My other option is to start from scratch, get the most basic TF I can find and do my best with a hammer and sellotape. This is not a good idea.
Anyway, that's just my brain thinking out loud, any help or advice you've got to offer on this subject would be great. Cheers
Dear Mister Ritchie,
Hello, how are you? I am fine.
Are you related to Mrs Ritchie, who was my teacher in 1988? She was nice but bossy.
Anyway, i digest, what i actually am writting to you about is that we know you are a herbal lion off of the 70s and you can stop lying and we will destroy you if you lie you liar. Lies!
Are you related to shane ritchie? He was good in the 90s and as a fat mouse in flushed away. Are you really made of parsley and does it hurt when people put you in cauliflower cheese?
Is guy ritchie your dad? I'm sorry he broke up with madonald, as i'm sure she would have been a good mum for you. Please don't cry.
Are you rich, ritchie? I'm sure you have a few bobs and pounds and dollars and other money. Do people call you ritchie rich, like the film called richy rich with kevin off of that home alone horror film with that do you think i'm funny like a clown man. Is his dad really ted danson? That'd be cool because then kirstie alley would be your mum and she was nice before she was fat.
So, stop lion-ing (lying) about being a lie-on (lion) and we'll stop sending you packets of salt (the cure for lying) as soon as we are sure You're telling the truth.
Yours sincerely much,
fudge and the other people.
ps. I lost my cayenne pepper, do you have any friends you could shave some off? I will pay you 24p an ounce.
First posted on www.thetf.net
On a side-note, it was decided that this letter was to be written in the medium of Bloomen, which is a mixture of blood and semen used in all the best stalker-ish letters.
Anyway, I'm having issues with my brain not being able to spout sufficient stuff to fill a blog I thought I'd take the quick and easy route for the time being and just cut n paste stuff I've previously ranted about on other sites. I'll get round to this after I've cooked tea though, we're having Chicken with pasta in tommytarter sauce. Which should be nice.
Today, Al is chuffed with himself for picking up the last copy of ASM #538 in Leeds, and plans to get it listed on eBay as quickly as possible to collect silly money off of crazy Barack OBama fans.
So, this is the Fudgeblog, I am Al, and if you've not heard of me before, then you've obviously just stumbled over this site in an effort to find confectionary and bread product combinations. This is not that sort of place. Well, actually it might be, as I do tend to rant about my culinary creations occassionally, but it's not the main reason I'm spilling words out here.
Anyway, I've got other stuff to do at this exact moment (my daughter, Jess, has just finished painting and thus the kitchen is pink and needs a wipe.) but I'll be back a bit later with a bit of a rant or something equally pointless.
May the Fudge be with you.