Disjointed brain lumps

There's a complete lack of coherency to what I'm posting today, but bear with me - some of it might be entertaining!

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It's a work tradition that we buy our own chocolaty delights for the office to mark our birthdays, so first thing this morning I headed down to Hammersmith and ram-raided Marks and Spencers. And by 'ram-raided' I mean that I 'bought some delicious treats.' And by 'delicious treats' I mean some belgium biscuits, and three of the little tubs of chocolate cornflake bites, chocolate roll bites, and oaty flapjacks bites (which were handily in a buy three for £5 deal).

At about 12:30, by which time I was feeling slightly naseous from too much chocolate (who the hell knew that was possible?!) my boss came in carrying a chocolate Dalek cake for me and - because that was a little bit too small to cater for everyone in the office - a long sponge cake.

Note to Doctor Who: did you know Daleks have a chocolaty base? No, neither did I, but I recommend you attack them from that angle in the future.

Now feeling a tad weighty.

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Marcosy and Yaz FINALLY retrieved their cars after the events of Friday evening. Poor Marcosy had to get the train in because he lives in a castle in the middle of nowhere. It was, by all accounts, not a pleasant experience. But on the plus side it did mean that I had a delightful lunchtime coffee with him and Yaz. Apart from the mouthy college students who descended on Cafe Nero at the same time. Good God, what hideous semi-human creatures they were. One had the worst dyed hair I've EVER seen; another had such a huge head that I thought he was suffering from elephantitus.

No wonder I'm pro choice. Can you abort a 17 year-old?

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I realised earlier that today marks the 10th anniversary of me starting work in full time employment at my old company, Visual Imagination. I remember that first day well: the nerves, trying to remember everyone's name, the giddy excitement of getting my own desk and a real computer.

The laughs from my new colleagues as I looked at it and said "how do you turn this thing on then?"

Watching their smiles fade as they realised I was actually asking a serious question. Ah... those were the days!

I also remember having to rush home from work that night in order to go to an awards evening at my old school where I was to collect my A-level certificates. I remember shoving a KitKat in my pocket on the way there (one of the old foil wrapped bars!), and remember standing on stage, putting my hand in my pocket and realising that it had melted and all I was left with were four bare wafers, a chocolaty pocket, and a headmaster waiting to shake my hand in front of about 400 assembled teachers, parents, and students.

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Advice from my Grandad over the weekend:

"Make sure you marry a midget - they work twice as hard."

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My beard and moustache continues to flourish in a weirdly cool and not at all pervert-looking style. In fact, I think I look a little bit like Terrence Stamp as General Zod in Superman II. Maybe "kneel before Zod!" could be my new chat-up line?

Rather disturbingly, though, I seem to be taking great comfort in sucking the beardiness below my bottom lip. Is this weird?

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In other hair-related news, did I mention that I had a haircut last week? No? Well I did. And now it's quite short (about 3 inches at most) and scruffy looking. I do keep having that amputee reaction though - y'know, where they think they can feel a phantom limb?

In my case, however, I keep brushing phantom hair out of my eyes and tucking phantom hair behind my ears. I hope it stops soon because it makes me look a bit stupid.

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As promised - the Rolling Stones Sticky Fingers album cover/Sparky party invite
picture comparison:


Which is which?! Who the hell cares!

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I watched the entire fifth season of Family Guy over the weekend, and I thought I'd share two of my favourite moments with you.




I love Stewie. Probably explains why I keep saying "what the deuce..." and "DAMN YOU TO HELL!" all the time...