That was the weekend that was

Yet again I've done nothing of immense interest over the last couple of days. I say: why change the habit of a lifetime? Others might just say: shut up.

Others might just be right.

Anyway, there has been the odd burst of excitement and drama since I last posted an- Actually, I'm just going to pause there. Glancing through the comments on my last post, I've come to the admittedly fairly obvious conclusion that you lot are a bunch of perverts and deviants. Never have I seen the word 'penis' used so freely and easily. Lord knows what sort of weirdos Google will direct my way now. That said, I still like you.

Now, where was I? Oh yes…

Friday:
At around eight o'clock in the evening I decided I'd wash my car; it was either that or go for a run, and quite frankly I couldn't be arsed to do that. That and the fact that my car was looking really dirty, and recently someone else has moved into my road and he also owns a red 'n white Mini but his is clean. And I'm really not happy about someone having a cleaner Mini than me. So out I went, and washed the little bugger down. It looks much better now, and - sticks two-fingers up at new bloke - my wheels are cleaner than his. *snaps*

Saturday:
On Saturd- God. What the hell did I do on Saturday? I remember watching the Thunderbirds movie on telly, followed by Tomb Raider II: The Cradle of Life, which I inexplicably confused with a Disney show tune and renamed Tomb Raider II: The Circle of Life. But beyond that, well, the daytime is just a blur. Whoosh. Oh, I had an awesome time in the evening, though. I ended up playing Project Gotham Racing 3 on my Xbox against some dude from Sweden. He was very drunk and confided in me (and the six other people that we were playing against, though I don't think he was particularly aware of them) that the northern areas of Sweden are now devoid of women (they've all moved to the warmer climes of the south apparently), and he's had to resort to killing and f**king polar bears (in that order, I believe). This spurred a Mexican chap on to add that the only animals in his country are chickens and pinatas, but he didn't divulge whether he enjoyed them on any sort of meaningful or sexual level.

Best evening of Xbox I've had in a long time.

Sunday:
Sunday was noticeable for me doing some work (bleeugh) and going to Mr. Chunt's surprise Birthday gathering in Barnes. A good time was had by all, even, I believe, by Mr. Chunt, who rarely shows emotion; I swear, the man is a Vulcan.

Anyway, next door to the pub was an American car specialist, which deals in all the huge muscle cars we're deprived of on this small island. I spent a couple of minutes perving over two Ford Mustangs, which were apparently "fully-loaded" and yet cost a very reasonable £21,000 apiece. But then I noticed this mad bastard of a car:

This, my friends, is a Roush-tuned Mustang, which makes me feel really quite horny. Roush add a supercharger to the bog-standard V8, giving it 427 bhp and I expect a 0-60 time somewhere in the realm of the Starship Enterprise. All this for the bargain price of £46,000; yes, that's right, you could have two ordinary Mustangs for the price of this one. But god, look at it. I'd love to know what the C02 output of this mutha is; I keep having visions of it cruising down a road with everything behind it either dead or dying. Isn't it awesome?

I almost left a little deposit on it, but fortunately I managed to wipe it off with my hanky.

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Favourite news bylines of the day:

The always excellent trekweb with their headline 'George Takei on Zachery Quinto and Leonard Nimoy' conjured all sorts of weird mental imagery, while the free Chiswick magazine 'Westside' caught my attention with the strapline 'Tempting tarts in Chiswick.' Sadly, it was just an article about a bakery.

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The last word goes to Marcosy, and ties back in with something I mentioned earlier in this post. I popped into the Apple Store in Kingston over the weekend, and spent a few minutes checking out the new iMacs. Gorgeous machines - I want one. And Marcosy does too, so this morning I sent him an email that said:

"Guess what I was playing with over the weekend?"

Knowing him, I really shouldn't have been surprised when I got the following response:

"Was it your penis? Everyone on your blog says it was your penis."

You people are on the verge of being obsessed. Restraining orders will be forthcoming.