Deep
"That Billie Piper - she's the same character in every role."
"What? A time-travelling prostitute? Actually - I'd probably watch that."
In the future, the conversations we have in this house will be mentioned in the same breath as the Platonic Dialogues.
Labels: diary, television
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Sunday, September 23, 2007
BBC Radio Sex. Heehee - see what I did there? "Sex." Chortle
Getting a bit sick of Terry Wogan in the morning, we bought a wee DAB digital radio for the shower, thinking it would give us some more options. So this morning I thought I'd stick on 6 Music. When I first turned it on, they were playing a song from the new Go! Team album, which segued right into an old My Bloody Valentine Peel Session track while I was brushing my teeth.
Unfortunately, things went right downhill as soon as I actually got into the shower, with the music replaced by a good ten minutes of the sort of inane adolescent sub-Loaded blether that you expect from the Radio 1 breakfast show. If it was Radio 1 you would kinda expect and forgive it, since their target audience is obviously the 12-14 year old age group, but for fuck's sake - is there no respite from wankers giggling about woman's bits?
So it's back with my tail between my legs to the delights of Radio 2, Norah fucking Jones, and our Tel. Only in crystal-clear digital sound. Bollocks.
Radio in this country died with John Peel if you ask me. And it wasn't very well to begin with.
Labels: music
link | 0 comment(s) | links to this postSaturday, September 22, 2007
Nothing
Today is almost at an end, and I have achieved approximately bugger-all. If this were a Sunday I'd be depressed about that, but Saturdays are easier to let slide when you know you still have another day in which to make your weekend worthwhile.
I have, however, shot a lot of (not-)zombies in the face in Resident Evil 4, so it hasn't been a total loss.
Oh, and Poster now supports labels on Blogger. Woo.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Feeds and Things
It's just been pointed out to me that browsers which auto-detect rss feeds will have been led astray by this site, which has been pointing to the wrong place for some time. I've fixed it and it should work ok now, such that clicking on the little orange thingy will give you a correct feed to subscribe to. D'oh.
link | 0 comment(s) | links to this postThursday, September 13, 2007
Blech
A mid-afternoon trip to the vending machine today revealed an imposter lurking in the space normally reserved for the classic Cadbury's Dairy Milk. Dairy Milk "Double Choc" sounded quite promising, mind you. I imagined a kind-of up-market Dairy Milk, perhaps made with a blend of milk and dark chocolate or something, so I handed over my 45p optimistically.
That it was much lighter than the standard Dairy Milk should have been the first giveaway that this wasn't a block of pure chocolately goodness, but it wasn't until I popped the first chunk into my mouth that I realised I hadn't purchased a Dairy Milk at all, but instead the bastard offspring of the hated Caramel bar, which has been masquerading under the Dairy Milk name for some time now, but always in a clearly marked blue and yellow wrapper, much like the stripes on the back of wasps, warning you to keep clear. Calling it Dairy Milk Double Choc is nothing short of a bare-faced lie, when there's actually less chocolate involved. Instead there's a wafer-thing chocolate coating which quickly breaks open to flood your mouth with sickly goo of a vaguely chocolately flavour.
In summary: no.
Labels: food
link | 0 comment(s) | links to this postMonday, September 10, 2007
Bah
My first full week back in the office since returning from holiday is stretching out in front of me, and I just feel like crawling under a rock, I'm so low.
On Friday night I went out for my ex-boss's leaving do, which was a boozy good time and the first work night out I've been on in a while. Saturday was largely spent recovering, which cake and copious orange juice in Mono with Marceline assisted. A day spent getting over the after-effects of a good night out never seems wasted, but Sunday was (mostly) dull wet splat of a day about which I have nothing to say, except that I slept only fitfully and now feel like crap.
Labels: diary
link | 2 comment(s) | links to this postWednesday, September 05, 2007
Yawn
Went to bed at about one a.m. last night, suffering from an evil headache. I managed to drop off at around two but only for an hour or so, then lay in a sort-of numb-but-conscious state for a couple of hours before falling back into a fitful sleep until half-six. Could have been a lot worse, I suppose, but today is going to be a long one, I think.
Labels: diary
link | 0 comment(s) | links to this postTuesday, September 04, 2007
Fishies
My body may be back in Scotland but my brain isn't yet. The 10 o'clock alarm I set for myself in an attempt to get back on a normal sleeping schedule was quickly slapped into silence, and I didn't manage to drag myself from my pit for another two hours. I'm feeling pretty knackered this evening, so hopefully I'll be able to get to sleep at something close to a normal time tonight, since I've got to get up and go to work tomorrow.
This evening we went to The Chippy Doon The Lane in town for some dinner. They deal in nostalgic grub in a similar fashion to Monster Mash (Oh why did the Glasgow branch have to close?), but in more fashionable surroundings and specialising in the old-fashioned "fish tea" - battered fish of your choice (from traditional haddock or cod to salmon or their catch of the today, sea breen in this case) with chunky chips, bread & butter and tea or coffee - served, somewhat incongruously given the surroundings, on a cardboard tray. It was pretty good, but I couldn't help thinking that we could have had the same thing from Guido's round the corner for about a quarter of the price and we were just paying for the ambiance, though it did seem a lot less greasy than the usual chippy fish supper you get round here, which is probably a good thing given the amount of fatty fried food we ate on holiday.
Monday, September 03, 2007
Back...
... on chilly Scottish soil. Actually, we arrived at the flat just before 9am, then foolishly allowed ourselves to be taken in by the self-lie that we could go to bed for just a little nap and get up again before lunchtime. Six hours later...
Labels: diary
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