This afternoon was a chilled experience. I arranged with Layabout lad to go for a drink and chit chat. We began by meeting up and having a Chinese take away from one of the best local take aways. I've tried them all so I know which is the best. He choose a simple special dish which was fried rice, chips and a sweet and sour sauce on top. I wouldn't of gone for such an option in nearly all circumstances, unless I was already drunk and substituted the sweet and sour for a curry sauce. It's always good to carry about your own personal supply of salt sachets just in case. Layabout hardly ate any of his and I advised him to tip it out on the grass. A flock of about two hundred pigeons descended like crazed flesh starved zombies and in no time his pile of left over food was a memory to the grass it had restfully laid on. I ate every bit of the Chicken in black bean sauce and fried rice my lunch consisted off. It was lovely. A fat squirrel also ventured out of a tree to see what the commotion was, but by this time the crowd of pigeons obscured what food was left. He didn't stand a chance. No left overs for fat boy squirrel. It shouldn't of been so fat and maybe it would of got there a little earlier. Sounds like a catch 22 situation to me.
After lunch we went to the pub. Layabout had to detour for twenty minutes as he had an interview with a dubious employment agency registered by the government. He came back to a table with me and we chatted. As the talk went on so did the time. Five and a half hours later we decided to move off. Things to do. We were both amazed how quickly the time passed, both just chatting away over nothing in particular but enjoying the time together. It's fortunate for me we are both lightweights in the drinking department so it didn't cost a great deal anyway. Next stop was home and a cup of tea with crazy Momma.
I did try and get Sparkling involved in a text conversation but I think her alarm antenna must of been raised. She is careful not to talk to me when I an intoxicated. Even though I had suggested she could talk to Layabout rather than me. Shame. It would of been nice to of had a couple of minutes, the full extent of my allowable chat time when speech is slow or a little slurred. When you love someone you would think they would also be open to giving you time even when drunk. But it don't work this way. I know. I'm afraid I also steer clear of phone calls or conversations with other drunks if I don't have a pint in my hand either. The even wore on. We saw Big Momma, had a cuppa tea then I escorted Layabout back home. He was appreciative of the time out and the long chilled out chit chat. It gave him a break, but it was equally relaxing for myself. Another two or three cups of tea and I might be sobre enough to hit the hay.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
The art of Fat Blogging
It seems when you stop writing blogs then you stop getting views. Like the old blogs are not enough by themselves. Even when I am writing new blogs the old ones get more hits than when I stop writing them. And why did I stop for a short while? I don't know I just did. Sometimes things don't have explanations, or I know what they are but just don't want to write them down. Hell if there isn't a loyal following then why should I delve into the inner workings of my mind. Heck, it can take a day off, maybe more every once in a while. So I have.
I see myself getting increasingly fatter and hate it happening. Last time I went on a real diet which was hell it lasted months and I lost 17 pounds. A pretty big sack of sand. I'm even heavier than then and if I carry on at this rate I'll be getting fatter even more as each year passes. Only to be reminded by copious TV programs about fat people slimming or the health implications of being overweight. Diabetes, high blood pressure, high cholesterol the lot. Farting is the least of worries for fat people. It's not just food it's alcohol consumption as well. I wish I had a naturally high metabolism and didn't have to worry about these things. It's unfair skinny people have high metabolisms. I bet there's a lot of skinny people out there who want to be fatter but just cant. They sit there with three or four hamburgers in front of them a few portions of fries and a large milkshake, they then wipe the plate clean and are none the fatter for it. Poor bloody things. Skinny people need to get a metabolism transplant and look a bit healthier. Worse still are the ones who are skinny because they don't eat much. It's like they have no appreciation of food. Of how beautiful food is. I see some skinny girls eat crisps (potato chips) one at a time as though the crisp is the most filling thing in the world, and is the most precious thing. Heck, I an eat a whole bag of crisps in under a minute easy but these girls make their snack last at least thirty minutes. Shame on them. Life is to short to be so cruel to a bag of crisps, they were made to be eaten not admired. Their very insubstantial nature means once you've had one bag you should have another or even go for the family size bag, the big one which is an aspiring hand bag. No. Some people don't respect food enough. Food prices are going up every day, so you have to eat as much as you can before they go up again. Go gorge should be the motto. I read somewhere in a few years time meat will cost a week's wages. All because China and India are becoming richer and want to eat more meat. So eat it NOW.
So there are some good reasons for being slightly overweight, and substantial reasons. All I need to do now is become a compulsive BLOGGER just as I am a compulsive stuff-my-face-eater and lover of food. Now if only typing was as good an exercise as running, skipping, cycling or mountain climbing. Wake up, it bloody well isn't. Think I'll just console myself with a little snack. Take my mind of it all.
I see myself getting increasingly fatter and hate it happening. Last time I went on a real diet which was hell it lasted months and I lost 17 pounds. A pretty big sack of sand. I'm even heavier than then and if I carry on at this rate I'll be getting fatter even more as each year passes. Only to be reminded by copious TV programs about fat people slimming or the health implications of being overweight. Diabetes, high blood pressure, high cholesterol the lot. Farting is the least of worries for fat people. It's not just food it's alcohol consumption as well. I wish I had a naturally high metabolism and didn't have to worry about these things. It's unfair skinny people have high metabolisms. I bet there's a lot of skinny people out there who want to be fatter but just cant. They sit there with three or four hamburgers in front of them a few portions of fries and a large milkshake, they then wipe the plate clean and are none the fatter for it. Poor bloody things. Skinny people need to get a metabolism transplant and look a bit healthier. Worse still are the ones who are skinny because they don't eat much. It's like they have no appreciation of food. Of how beautiful food is. I see some skinny girls eat crisps (potato chips) one at a time as though the crisp is the most filling thing in the world, and is the most precious thing. Heck, I an eat a whole bag of crisps in under a minute easy but these girls make their snack last at least thirty minutes. Shame on them. Life is to short to be so cruel to a bag of crisps, they were made to be eaten not admired. Their very insubstantial nature means once you've had one bag you should have another or even go for the family size bag, the big one which is an aspiring hand bag. No. Some people don't respect food enough. Food prices are going up every day, so you have to eat as much as you can before they go up again. Go gorge should be the motto. I read somewhere in a few years time meat will cost a week's wages. All because China and India are becoming richer and want to eat more meat. So eat it NOW.
So there are some good reasons for being slightly overweight, and substantial reasons. All I need to do now is become a compulsive BLOGGER just as I am a compulsive stuff-my-face-eater and lover of food. Now if only typing was as good an exercise as running, skipping, cycling or mountain climbing. Wake up, it bloody well isn't. Think I'll just console myself with a little snack. Take my mind of it all.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Losing time on 29th February without the pink thanks
It's come around again, the leap year and an extra day added in, although it gives all the clocks and calendars time to reset themselves it doesn't quite meet the mark. For there are also a few minutes lost. To be absolutely correct it's 11 minutes and 14 seconds, but I note we do not change our watches This would suggest over a number of years the actual time may not relate fully to the day. After a few hundred years if we carry on getting up at say 6 a.m. in the morning it could end up we get up in the middle of the night. Just because all of those 11 minutes and 14 seconds have added up to an accumulative deficit. We're in effect going backwards. This is worrying I don't want to get up for the Fish Factory when I have only just gone to bed. Something will need to be done.
The other day I was chatting to Sparkling via text message and she advised me about a little job she has. A little job for me. It is to paint the kitchen. I can understand this is to ensure I have something to do when I next see her, which is only a couple of days away and I don't mind doing things, except we are talking about pink. Pink is not something men like to talk about or be associated with. It is better for us to stay away from pink because we get ill. There is no doubt a definite gender thing going on here, but it is very true and it could be genetic when I think about it. There are few men in the world who would actually say they like pink, and if there is some then you first have to ask yourself if they are colour blind. And then hope they are not electricians by occupation. I don't fretted pink would bring me out in a rash and I would start to sing Dolly Parton songs. This was a mistake because ten minutes later I found myself humming From 9 to 5 and thinking of Dolly. OK I may of had an extra spring in my step at the time however, this was a psychosomatic spring brought on just by discussing the colour pink. See even the subtle undertones of text can have an effect on the mind. Tiny pink excitable brain receptors had been set of to spark. No doubt they had been neglected since the last leap year. Or leap day.
It is said on this day it is OK for a woman to ask a man if he would like to get married. Many men would go down with mysterious illnesses. Some would lock themselves away in a bunker, with a dozen DVDs, several pizza's and a few cans of beer. They would then emerge in March wiping their brow and knowing the world was safe again to come out of the dark. Those men were sensible, they knew the best place to be. No doubt those warm safe bunkers were not painted pink either. For this would of been anathema and been akin to have gender reassignment. The stubble on their chin was not just a good mark of hormonal growth but it showed they had been through a one day war and come through the other side, victorious. They didn't care for the extra 11 minutes either, because sometimes sacrifices have to be made and losing 11 minutes of your life every four years isn't so bad after all.
Unfortunately the future may mean the world runs on atomic clocks so everything is perfectly synchronised. Whether those men can then emerge at the right time will be a daunting prospect, and indeed what time is right? A time when pink is relegated to some other place, far, far away. Like Belgium, where chocolate makes up for it.
The other day I was chatting to Sparkling via text message and she advised me about a little job she has. A little job for me. It is to paint the kitchen. I can understand this is to ensure I have something to do when I next see her, which is only a couple of days away and I don't mind doing things, except we are talking about pink. Pink is not something men like to talk about or be associated with. It is better for us to stay away from pink because we get ill. There is no doubt a definite gender thing going on here, but it is very true and it could be genetic when I think about it. There are few men in the world who would actually say they like pink, and if there is some then you first have to ask yourself if they are colour blind. And then hope they are not electricians by occupation. I don't fretted pink would bring me out in a rash and I would start to sing Dolly Parton songs. This was a mistake because ten minutes later I found myself humming From 9 to 5 and thinking of Dolly. OK I may of had an extra spring in my step at the time however, this was a psychosomatic spring brought on just by discussing the colour pink. See even the subtle undertones of text can have an effect on the mind. Tiny pink excitable brain receptors had been set of to spark. No doubt they had been neglected since the last leap year. Or leap day.
It is said on this day it is OK for a woman to ask a man if he would like to get married. Many men would go down with mysterious illnesses. Some would lock themselves away in a bunker, with a dozen DVDs, several pizza's and a few cans of beer. They would then emerge in March wiping their brow and knowing the world was safe again to come out of the dark. Those men were sensible, they knew the best place to be. No doubt those warm safe bunkers were not painted pink either. For this would of been anathema and been akin to have gender reassignment. The stubble on their chin was not just a good mark of hormonal growth but it showed they had been through a one day war and come through the other side, victorious. They didn't care for the extra 11 minutes either, because sometimes sacrifices have to be made and losing 11 minutes of your life every four years isn't so bad after all.
Unfortunately the future may mean the world runs on atomic clocks so everything is perfectly synchronised. Whether those men can then emerge at the right time will be a daunting prospect, and indeed what time is right? A time when pink is relegated to some other place, far, far away. Like Belgium, where chocolate makes up for it.
Monday, February 27, 2012
The 2012 Oscars, where did I put my bucket
The Oscars have been given out to glamorous rich actors, with lots of crocodile tears and equally crocodile emotions. Except for the wit of host Billy Crystal, nine times host. When I saw him I thought there is someone who has had a little bit of surgery. His forhead looked so stretched and large I kept thinking of some sci fi film I saw ages ago but could't quite put a name to the title. Billy presented well, you could tell he had put a lot of practice for his speach, and although rehearsed it was still funny, some of his lines were ironic, sarcastic and darkly biting all with smile. This man was lathering up the irony like a fat american layering yet more peanut spread and jelly on his sandwich. I wondered to myself how sarcasm, subtle biting wit and comment was such an British trait and how on earth would America appreciate his performance. Fortunately it was beamed to the UK so we could appreciate it. Some of Billy's comments were:
"...Hollywood tradition that not only creates memories for the ages but also breeds resentment that lasts a lifetime."
What a reflection this is of the movie industry and shallowness of actors. Further I couldn't help think this man must be a silent socialist. The audience laughed, it was a true gag, I'm sure the politicians and bankers didn't though.
"Nothing can take the sting out of the world's economic problems like watching millionaires present each other with golden statues."
Again although the acting profession is incredibly well paid, parts of it, not all of it I guess, it lives in a world of it's own. In another twist of irony revealing the cultural divide of black and white America he said:
"After I saw The Help I just wanted to hug the first black woman I saw, which from Beverly Hills is a bout a 45 minute drive."
And for one of Hollywood's greatest female actors he said:
"Please welcome the original Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Angelina Jolie." It was Angelina who wore a black velvet dress which had a split up one side and in order to show her leg she strutted one hip out. I suppose she thought it was the best way to get noticed, but the truth be said she probably needed a get a ride and was hoping to stop passing traffic. Talking about dresses, I'll just add this one point. Meryl Streep winner of an Oscar for a tragic and mind numbing performance of one of the world's most hated women, looked like she was wearing a pair of gold curtains for a dress. You would of thought she could of got something a bit newer, I'll expect there is a store wondering where it's Chrimbo decorations have gone. Meryl darling, you really don't want to ever interview in the UK and comment on that film, next time your guaranteed an egg if not a cabbage thrown at you. Ignorance is not an asset, you should of refused the script. Stick to singing on hot islands in the Mediterranean.
When looking at the comments and reviews of the Oscars ceremony they are remarkably mixed. Some people seem to have taken offence to Billy Crystal, some not even sure who he is.This shows the incredible spread of views and varying levels of ignorance. Oops there goes that word again. At least there is one thing which can be said, it was entertaining. I nearly filled my puke bucket.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
A happy drunk with an opinion or two
Last night I got blootered, or drunk. I had been so good all the week, barely drinking or over eating but last night it stopped when I had slightly too much Guinness. It was odd how easily the first pint went down, how good it tasted. The other pints were not as good as the first one. I rang up L & B man and got into a drunken chat with him. He was sobre. I wasn't. But it's always good to talk to someone who is completely sobre and clear headed and make a nuisance of yourself. I did and enjoyed it. I would of rang Sparkling but she was at her Fish Factory and she also has s sixth sense about my talking to her when I'm pissed. This sense means she ignores me. I told L & B man how much I missed her, which was lots and lots. She's at work again today and it may be a few days before I actually do get round to chatting with her. The Guinness was talking and so was I. Alcohol can be a bad thing in the wrong hands, but in the right hands it can be liberating, relaxing, chilling and bring out those deeper emotional tendencies. Like the repressed English man becomes a liberated softy, wanting to hug everyone and laugh. I enjoy humour and it's great to see the funny side of everything. When normally it could be difficult.
I woke up early this morning and am not sure if this was a side effect of last night's drinking or whether I have just got into the routine. Early rise and early work. Toast, tea and radio four. A listen to the world and how it is doing, a moment of catch up. Though what is news to some isn't news to others. As I wondered who it was who chose what would be discussed and presented as news. For whoever it is they make decisions which influence everyone else. What they consider to be important might not be so important. Know what I mean? Or am I talking dribble? Some times I switch to a different radio channel and listen to other views of the world. There's a chat show which is quite entertaining, it always seems to fly by as well. People phone in to give their opinions and then the host will either entertain them or cut them off or even argue the caller is an idiot and then cut them off. Chat show hosts have a lot of power, especially in their own shows. They then completely influence the tone and political leaning of the show they run. They are not neutral. Maybe this helps with advertising, but it also results in listeners changing opinions, especially those who can not think for themselves and accept blindly what another says. I hope I never get to be a sheep. Let me be a goat any day of the week, or night come to think of it.
When in the pub, one drinking companion couldn't believe what I said on a particular subject. He thought because the legal system had said one thing I should believe it. He seemed to get his knickers in a twist. Then I hit him with the killer punch. Everyone is entitled to an opinion and he had more than most. It's odd turning the table on someone who then has to face their own form of discussion and doesn't know how to deal with it. I walked out of the pub swaying from side to side, happy and entertained. It's good having a band of people to regularly talk to, unfortunately this group is slowly disbanding. Retiring or going to other pubs to drink. If this goes on I'll be giving up the few pints I consume and going sobre. Which is something to think about, or have a drink on.
I woke up early this morning and am not sure if this was a side effect of last night's drinking or whether I have just got into the routine. Early rise and early work. Toast, tea and radio four. A listen to the world and how it is doing, a moment of catch up. Though what is news to some isn't news to others. As I wondered who it was who chose what would be discussed and presented as news. For whoever it is they make decisions which influence everyone else. What they consider to be important might not be so important. Know what I mean? Or am I talking dribble? Some times I switch to a different radio channel and listen to other views of the world. There's a chat show which is quite entertaining, it always seems to fly by as well. People phone in to give their opinions and then the host will either entertain them or cut them off or even argue the caller is an idiot and then cut them off. Chat show hosts have a lot of power, especially in their own shows. They then completely influence the tone and political leaning of the show they run. They are not neutral. Maybe this helps with advertising, but it also results in listeners changing opinions, especially those who can not think for themselves and accept blindly what another says. I hope I never get to be a sheep. Let me be a goat any day of the week, or night come to think of it.
When in the pub, one drinking companion couldn't believe what I said on a particular subject. He thought because the legal system had said one thing I should believe it. He seemed to get his knickers in a twist. Then I hit him with the killer punch. Everyone is entitled to an opinion and he had more than most. It's odd turning the table on someone who then has to face their own form of discussion and doesn't know how to deal with it. I walked out of the pub swaying from side to side, happy and entertained. It's good having a band of people to regularly talk to, unfortunately this group is slowly disbanding. Retiring or going to other pubs to drink. If this goes on I'll be giving up the few pints I consume and going sobre. Which is something to think about, or have a drink on.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
A penchant for herbal teas, now for some home made fennel tea
At the Fish Factory I decided a few weeks ago to stop drinking coffee, fresh coffee from a cafetiere. There were a couple of reasons. Firstly it seemed to be doing something to my belly, as my belly is like a little ruler to the rest of my body I have to listen to it. Quite a large ruler with the present size of it. Then secondly because of my disposition. The coffee could of been adding to the excitement of chopping up fishes and maybe not making me so good at concentrating, which I relate to the caffeine content. I haven't stopped taking caffeine, but rather chose to reduce my intake. So I have ventured into the world of different herbal teas. Which may I state are overly expensive if you purchase them from a cafe. A box of twenty costs about £1.20, while a cup of herbal tea in a cafe cost £1.20 in itself. It's a no brainier. Buy the box and make your own with a 90 percent reduction in costs. The net result has been a slightly calmer frame of mind especially when everyone else is losing theirs.
My preference for these teas depends on the time of day. In the morning I like a little bit of a pick me up so usually tend for a lemon and ginger. The ginger has a slight hot tang at the back of my throat and the lemon is so smooth. It is nice. I might have two cups of this in the morning if I really need a boost. Then there is a chamomile and vanilla one, because I'm worth it. The vanilla is a nice sweet taste even though I consume these with no sugar, this tea just has a sweet taste. It feels extravagant and like I am spoiling myself. But this tea is a strictly one cup a day only for it is too rich. There is also a plane chamomile tea, it has no whistles or bells on it but is like a standard cup of tea. It is the marker of all other teas. I also have a green tea and lemon. Green tea tends to generally be a Jasmine tea and has a much closer taste to actual real tea. This one is subtle. I have once tried the mint tea, but for some reason can not get along with it, or was it the peppermint? I don't know. It reminded me of something old ladies would drink and so I have kept it at arms length. I am particular about the ones I try. I just keep them simple, none of the fancy stuff for me. Then the other day I came across fennel tea. Now I've had fennel with pork and therefore knew it would be a kind of aniseed taste. So I tried this one as well, and yes it is slightly liquorish in flavour but it is also quite soothing. It makes me feel calm, like chamomile tea can.
The thing with these teas is they are all in a locker in the Fish Factory and not at home. At home it is a normal tea bag and some milk, then I'll usually go for two cups, one immediately after the other. It's as though a single cup does not fulfill my desire. I can only come to the conclusion my body is at this time craving caffeine and when I take two cups it is being stored up to get me through the rest of the day. However, on looking into my cupboard of spices I noticed fennel seeds. I got to thinking. These are the same things in the tea bags so why not put a few in the bottom of a cup. Poor in some boiling water and see what happens. After all there is hardly going to be any other side effect. I did. The seeds then all floated to the top, they would not sink down. There followed ten minutes of pressing the seeds with a spoon against the side of the cup so they would soak in water and lose any air. They mostly sank in the cup. Viola, it tasted just like the fennel tea bags I had in a locker in the Fish Factory, with quite a nice aftertaste as well.
I wonder if there is such a thing now as basil tea or even oregano? Could this be another adventure into the realms of the unknown, me thinks so. If it works I could go on and make a mint. I meant a lot of dosh, spondoolies etc. All of which and no caffeiine in sight.
My preference for these teas depends on the time of day. In the morning I like a little bit of a pick me up so usually tend for a lemon and ginger. The ginger has a slight hot tang at the back of my throat and the lemon is so smooth. It is nice. I might have two cups of this in the morning if I really need a boost. Then there is a chamomile and vanilla one, because I'm worth it. The vanilla is a nice sweet taste even though I consume these with no sugar, this tea just has a sweet taste. It feels extravagant and like I am spoiling myself. But this tea is a strictly one cup a day only for it is too rich. There is also a plane chamomile tea, it has no whistles or bells on it but is like a standard cup of tea. It is the marker of all other teas. I also have a green tea and lemon. Green tea tends to generally be a Jasmine tea and has a much closer taste to actual real tea. This one is subtle. I have once tried the mint tea, but for some reason can not get along with it, or was it the peppermint? I don't know. It reminded me of something old ladies would drink and so I have kept it at arms length. I am particular about the ones I try. I just keep them simple, none of the fancy stuff for me. Then the other day I came across fennel tea. Now I've had fennel with pork and therefore knew it would be a kind of aniseed taste. So I tried this one as well, and yes it is slightly liquorish in flavour but it is also quite soothing. It makes me feel calm, like chamomile tea can.
The thing with these teas is they are all in a locker in the Fish Factory and not at home. At home it is a normal tea bag and some milk, then I'll usually go for two cups, one immediately after the other. It's as though a single cup does not fulfill my desire. I can only come to the conclusion my body is at this time craving caffeine and when I take two cups it is being stored up to get me through the rest of the day. However, on looking into my cupboard of spices I noticed fennel seeds. I got to thinking. These are the same things in the tea bags so why not put a few in the bottom of a cup. Poor in some boiling water and see what happens. After all there is hardly going to be any other side effect. I did. The seeds then all floated to the top, they would not sink down. There followed ten minutes of pressing the seeds with a spoon against the side of the cup so they would soak in water and lose any air. They mostly sank in the cup. Viola, it tasted just like the fennel tea bags I had in a locker in the Fish Factory, with quite a nice aftertaste as well.
I wonder if there is such a thing now as basil tea or even oregano? Could this be another adventure into the realms of the unknown, me thinks so. If it works I could go on and make a mint. I meant a lot of dosh, spondoolies etc. All of which and no caffeiine in sight.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Vampires, Werewolfs, Zombies, Ghosts, Ghoulies and God
All of these things have two common factors, which firstly is their interest. Vampires are fictional creatures who live by sucking the blood out of the victims. It helps when their meal is alive because they have a thing about leaving behind the tell tale puncture wounds which usually are found on the neck by the jugular vein. Fresh blood also has a better taste. Vamps are possibly afraid of holy things, like crosses, bibles - although I am not sure whether this goes for all domination's or even other holy books like the Koran. They certainly do not like to be staked through the heart and being they keep themselves under the radar they can live forever. They provide great entertainment value and I believe they go back to Dram Stoker who in the 1800s wrote the original book called Dracula. Dracula originated from the UK, Whitby. Yep, no where fancy just some place near the sea in Yorkshire. I'm told it is nice there as well.
Werewolves are completely different creatures to vampires. They are humans who turn into wolves when there is a full moon. They like to eat meat, again preferably their prey is fresh and running about. I've not seen any at the supermarket lately so they must be quite shy or just possibly like vamps keep themselves to themselves. It is believed their legend came from the ancient Greeks however, the name werewolf derives from Olde English, possibly. Unlike dogs these creatures generally are not portrayed as obedient easy to pet dogs. They are savage and incredibly strong, so are vamps by the way but vamps are intelligent, where as wolves are not in the same league and like to be in packs. Humans who are werewolves are said to have good hearing and sense of smell. Another name for a werewolf is a lycan (short form of lycanthrope). If you are bitten by a werewolf you become one yourself, providing you are not shredded to pieces because they are an all or nothing and don't tend to play with their food.
Zombies are the lowest of creatures. In they are not credited with any intelligence at all and are dead. They like the werewolves eat flesh, again best if it is warm. Anyone who is killed by a zombie is infected by their disease and will turn into one themselves. Zombies because of their lack of intelligence are not afraid of anything at all even if their action leads to their second death. This usually only comes about when they suffer brain damage. Zombies are in a continuous state of decay and it is only by feeding on fresh living things they stay in their zombie state. They move slowly, don't care much for their appearances and are attracted to noises. There is a suggestion Zombies may have derived from voodoo, however there seems to be a blurring of the definition as voodoo (which could equally have been entered into the title) magic (again something else which could of been added) can transfer a spirit of a deceased person into a live person. A lot of people believe this to be scaremongering, yet, I can't help thinking there have been some mornings when I have felt a little zombie like myself and it wouldn't surprise me if some spirit had jumped inside of my body. I usually find a couple of slices of toast and a coffee is the antidote. The origins of the zombie are difficult to pin down, there has been some pretty good films of them but they are probably less than 100 years old. In western literature anyway, as for the voodoo, lets not even consider their literature because there is none which I know of, surprise, surprise and if there was it would probably be written in chicken blood then washed away by the next rainy day.
Ghosts are said to be the memories of living people. Unlike the vamps, werewolves and zombies ghosts and ghoulies included do not have any physical existence. They are like a mist. They do like to influence literature but can only do so by popping up now and again as shadows in photographs. There is no difference between ghosts and ghoulies, it's just the name ghoulie rhymes with scary and makes young people quiver. Ghosts may have been about since the event of humanity, but it's hard to tell because there are no written documents from cavemen, or photographs come to think of it. Nor in any cave paintings. There was an upsurge in the ghostly ghoulie belief systems in the 19th century when spiritualism was invented by the Fox sisters. They would do seances and ask the ghosties or spirits to knock if they happened to be around. Then there would be a knocking sound. The fox sisters confessed at a later date they had actually been cracking their joints and enjoyed the company on lonely nights in.
God is something which people have a belief in. God is a supernatural creature just like all of the above, but is also omnipotent and when humans die they hope there is a life after death and they go to heaven, said to be quite a nice place. There is also a hell, where the Central heating is always full on and the spirits of bad people are suffer an eternity of damnation. Yes, an eternity. It's a long time. It is odd there are many different religions and each religion alledgies their god is the only true god and no others exist. Their god is bigger and better. Many humans need the belief of a god as a way to help them live their life. Whereas the belief of vamps or zombies is absolutely absurd the belief there is a God is not. There are no captured photographic images of God because he, or she does not like to stand on parade and likes to leave humans to do their own thing. This is called free will. God expects everyone to obey him/her but doesn't actually speak to the public, only to elected special people. These special people include the pope, George W. Bush and Ayohtolla Khamoenei, not forgetting Homer Simpson.
The second common theme of all these fascinating creatures or concepts is, they do not exist but they do come to tea every Sunday, eat cucumber sandwiches and put their feet up. After all it is pretty hard work inspiring imaginations.
Werewolves are completely different creatures to vampires. They are humans who turn into wolves when there is a full moon. They like to eat meat, again preferably their prey is fresh and running about. I've not seen any at the supermarket lately so they must be quite shy or just possibly like vamps keep themselves to themselves. It is believed their legend came from the ancient Greeks however, the name werewolf derives from Olde English, possibly. Unlike dogs these creatures generally are not portrayed as obedient easy to pet dogs. They are savage and incredibly strong, so are vamps by the way but vamps are intelligent, where as wolves are not in the same league and like to be in packs. Humans who are werewolves are said to have good hearing and sense of smell. Another name for a werewolf is a lycan (short form of lycanthrope). If you are bitten by a werewolf you become one yourself, providing you are not shredded to pieces because they are an all or nothing and don't tend to play with their food.
Zombies are the lowest of creatures. In they are not credited with any intelligence at all and are dead. They like the werewolves eat flesh, again best if it is warm. Anyone who is killed by a zombie is infected by their disease and will turn into one themselves. Zombies because of their lack of intelligence are not afraid of anything at all even if their action leads to their second death. This usually only comes about when they suffer brain damage. Zombies are in a continuous state of decay and it is only by feeding on fresh living things they stay in their zombie state. They move slowly, don't care much for their appearances and are attracted to noises. There is a suggestion Zombies may have derived from voodoo, however there seems to be a blurring of the definition as voodoo (which could equally have been entered into the title) magic (again something else which could of been added) can transfer a spirit of a deceased person into a live person. A lot of people believe this to be scaremongering, yet, I can't help thinking there have been some mornings when I have felt a little zombie like myself and it wouldn't surprise me if some spirit had jumped inside of my body. I usually find a couple of slices of toast and a coffee is the antidote. The origins of the zombie are difficult to pin down, there has been some pretty good films of them but they are probably less than 100 years old. In western literature anyway, as for the voodoo, lets not even consider their literature because there is none which I know of, surprise, surprise and if there was it would probably be written in chicken blood then washed away by the next rainy day.
Ghosts are said to be the memories of living people. Unlike the vamps, werewolves and zombies ghosts and ghoulies included do not have any physical existence. They are like a mist. They do like to influence literature but can only do so by popping up now and again as shadows in photographs. There is no difference between ghosts and ghoulies, it's just the name ghoulie rhymes with scary and makes young people quiver. Ghosts may have been about since the event of humanity, but it's hard to tell because there are no written documents from cavemen, or photographs come to think of it. Nor in any cave paintings. There was an upsurge in the ghostly ghoulie belief systems in the 19th century when spiritualism was invented by the Fox sisters. They would do seances and ask the ghosties or spirits to knock if they happened to be around. Then there would be a knocking sound. The fox sisters confessed at a later date they had actually been cracking their joints and enjoyed the company on lonely nights in.
God is something which people have a belief in. God is a supernatural creature just like all of the above, but is also omnipotent and when humans die they hope there is a life after death and they go to heaven, said to be quite a nice place. There is also a hell, where the Central heating is always full on and the spirits of bad people are suffer an eternity of damnation. Yes, an eternity. It's a long time. It is odd there are many different religions and each religion alledgies their god is the only true god and no others exist. Their god is bigger and better. Many humans need the belief of a god as a way to help them live their life. Whereas the belief of vamps or zombies is absolutely absurd the belief there is a God is not. There are no captured photographic images of God because he, or she does not like to stand on parade and likes to leave humans to do their own thing. This is called free will. God expects everyone to obey him/her but doesn't actually speak to the public, only to elected special people. These special people include the pope, George W. Bush and Ayohtolla Khamoenei, not forgetting Homer Simpson.
The second common theme of all these fascinating creatures or concepts is, they do not exist but they do come to tea every Sunday, eat cucumber sandwiches and put their feet up. After all it is pretty hard work inspiring imaginations.
Monday, February 13, 2012
The boring authors, four lumps of sugar not two please
Not only am I losing my hair, very gradually but my memory is on the blink as well. This I found out again after my computer crashed on a Sunday afternoon and needed to have it's operating system re installed. The number of hours it has taken to get programs put back on it and for the various million windows updates to be downloaded from Big Brother corp have been been ridiculous. There's still more programs which should be downloaded but I'm just not getting round to finishing it off. Fortunately the Flu thing is on it's last legs and fading away. A bit like the improvement in the weather. It's no longer in the minus degree C. Thankfully. When I went back to the Fish Factory today I was told of how many people had been off sick from the Fish Factory department, 66 percent. A lot. A hell of a lot. Flu is a right bit of a slapper if you ask me the way she has been spreading herself around and quite indiscriminately. Indeed. I also rang up Sparkling because I hadn't heard anything from her today. She's been keeping herself busy painting and painting must effect one's ability to text. Then I enquired about her next week off work only to find it is actually this week she is off. So this week when I should really be up North I'm down South. Just to think Sparkling could of been looking after me when I wasn't well with the ManFlu as she calls it. Which is another item to add to my forgotten things listing. Hey did I mention about not remembering all those blooming passwords to those programs which need reloading? No I didn't, but I have now. I mean. Like putting all my favourites back on my browser. So I have to go and find the favourites I had. Which isn't anywhere near finished either. I wish I knew more about computers. This old thing is definitely on it's last legs but has been really faithful and done a brilliant job for what it is. I'm considering a laptop, but it may be a few months before I can get get one. On account of things other than a laptop being higher priority. Like getting a new memory, better get the handkerchief out and start tying knots in it.
I did lunch, which was a kind of running affair thing. Stopped in Chinese had chicken and mushroom fried rice and then headed to the pub for a nice coffee, a sit down and a read of my book, before returning to the madness of Fishes. I now ask the staff for four lumps of brown sugar with my Americano, and no milk on the side. Four lumps because I keep getting pissed of with the crummy two small lumps they normally give me. So this time round the four lumps I got looked like house bricks. If I go there another couple of dozen times then one of the three piggies can have these to build his homestead with. You'd also think sugar would dissolve, but hell no, after dropping only two of the four lumps in my coffee it seemed I nearly ran out of the remainder of my lunch break when they did dissolve. Maybe these sugar lumps were actually mortar lumps. Well, you never know nowadays with every business doing it's best to cut corners or hike up prices. Let me say this coffee is extortionate and all just to get away from the maddening crowd and a little peace. Which on this blooming occasion didn't work out so well either. On account of two men sitting on a table directly behind me and then going into a diatribe about books. It seemed one of them had already written a book and was about to write another, whilst the other was doing his own autobiography. I couldn't tell you what the content of these books were or weather they even sold copies of them. Just to say, they seemed boring and this resulted in my fishing out ear plugs and sticking them in my ears. Well I wouldn't stick them in my nose now would I? For goodness sake, if you are going to talk about writing a book bloody make it sound interesting and make it sound like you're interesting as well is what I say. By the way, this makes me think I should get on about writing my own some time. I can see it now, the lonely life of a man in a Fish Factory, who is losing his memory, suffering from contagious illnesses and enjoys four lumps of sugar rather than two. It will be on the best seller list. Mark my words. OK don't then. But it could hold some interest, perhaps, maybe, possibly. It's how I tell them what matters. Delivery, delivery old chap, people laugh at delivery. Unless it happens to be s spine chilling horror. Then their laughter might be a bit on the sinister side. Who ever thought cubes of sugar could be such fun? Not me.
I did lunch, which was a kind of running affair thing. Stopped in Chinese had chicken and mushroom fried rice and then headed to the pub for a nice coffee, a sit down and a read of my book, before returning to the madness of Fishes. I now ask the staff for four lumps of brown sugar with my Americano, and no milk on the side. Four lumps because I keep getting pissed of with the crummy two small lumps they normally give me. So this time round the four lumps I got looked like house bricks. If I go there another couple of dozen times then one of the three piggies can have these to build his homestead with. You'd also think sugar would dissolve, but hell no, after dropping only two of the four lumps in my coffee it seemed I nearly ran out of the remainder of my lunch break when they did dissolve. Maybe these sugar lumps were actually mortar lumps. Well, you never know nowadays with every business doing it's best to cut corners or hike up prices. Let me say this coffee is extortionate and all just to get away from the maddening crowd and a little peace. Which on this blooming occasion didn't work out so well either. On account of two men sitting on a table directly behind me and then going into a diatribe about books. It seemed one of them had already written a book and was about to write another, whilst the other was doing his own autobiography. I couldn't tell you what the content of these books were or weather they even sold copies of them. Just to say, they seemed boring and this resulted in my fishing out ear plugs and sticking them in my ears. Well I wouldn't stick them in my nose now would I? For goodness sake, if you are going to talk about writing a book bloody make it sound interesting and make it sound like you're interesting as well is what I say. By the way, this makes me think I should get on about writing my own some time. I can see it now, the lonely life of a man in a Fish Factory, who is losing his memory, suffering from contagious illnesses and enjoys four lumps of sugar rather than two. It will be on the best seller list. Mark my words. OK don't then. But it could hold some interest, perhaps, maybe, possibly. It's how I tell them what matters. Delivery, delivery old chap, people laugh at delivery. Unless it happens to be s spine chilling horror. Then their laughter might be a bit on the sinister side. Who ever thought cubes of sugar could be such fun? Not me.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Recovering from Flu
This morning Flu treated me with a different set of conditions, glued up ears. Both at the same time. It felt like I was under water and sound was muffled by a million waves. But I've come through the worse of it. I advised Sparkling she should really sooth my brow and call me "bunny" of course this caused a lol text in reply. She's hardly the "bunny" supporting type she tells me. Don't matter, I think I'm coming through now, I can see the light. It helps when it's switched on. So does a regular hot lemon drink, echinacia and drugs I'm taking. Every little bit contributes. Over the weekend it will be all plain sailing. I hope. Fingers crossed. You can only but hope, these things take a course of their own and you're become the back street driver.
I'm beginning to feel like a prisoner now so it's about time to get up and out. My belly feels bit and it's about time it was assualted with exercise. I poked my head outside of the back door, there's still patches of snow and ice about which stubbornly doesn't seem to melt away. My head told me it's still blooming freezing out, it felt like minus four of five, but it must be warmer otherwise there wouldn't of been so much melted away. There's some old paint brushes in a tin. They are standing upright and the water around them is frozen solid. I suppose the smart thing to do would be to empty the freezer, turn it off to save on the electric and store everything outside, there definately must of been times over the last week when it was warmer in the freezer than walking in the open. It's not particularly good to be sitting around all day long but still pushing the evelope of recovery can be a tenuous thing. One step at a time. I don't know how the poor dicky birds are able to survive this weather. They must have some insulation in those feathers. If we were born with feathers we'd either fly or live in the antartic. It's getting so boring I'd rather be at the Fish Factory. I must be on the mend. I got to be. To say something like that.
Come on weekend, lets be having you.
I'm beginning to feel like a prisoner now so it's about time to get up and out. My belly feels bit and it's about time it was assualted with exercise. I poked my head outside of the back door, there's still patches of snow and ice about which stubbornly doesn't seem to melt away. My head told me it's still blooming freezing out, it felt like minus four of five, but it must be warmer otherwise there wouldn't of been so much melted away. There's some old paint brushes in a tin. They are standing upright and the water around them is frozen solid. I suppose the smart thing to do would be to empty the freezer, turn it off to save on the electric and store everything outside, there definately must of been times over the last week when it was warmer in the freezer than walking in the open. It's not particularly good to be sitting around all day long but still pushing the evelope of recovery can be a tenuous thing. One step at a time. I don't know how the poor dicky birds are able to survive this weather. They must have some insulation in those feathers. If we were born with feathers we'd either fly or live in the antartic. It's getting so boring I'd rather be at the Fish Factory. I must be on the mend. I got to be. To say something like that.
Come on weekend, lets be having you.
Thursday, February 09, 2012
21 hours in bed with Flu, she was awful
I went to bed after leaving the Fish Factory early. It was just before 6 p.m., in a fitful sleep intervaled by the shivers, over heating, dizzy head and constant coughing I then found myself half awake at 12:00 p.m.. I knew it was no good to get up and I had to continue through to the following morning. I'd just had what on a normal day could of been my portion of slumber reality.. The next six hours were a lot more tossing and turning as Flu kept elbowing me, in the back, in the sides and she gave me a right walloping thump between the temples. So inconsiderate. There was no letting up. One of my feet seemed to be colder than the other. So I would more position, pulling my leg up once in a while and rubbing the cold foot. It got cramp a couple of times as well. Flu can stamp on your foot even lying down, it makes no difference to her she has no quibbles. The next morning came and I opened the curtains, sun light streamed through the window and was like an additional electric blanket. I just relaxed and drifted off into a land of stone dead fitful tiredness. Beautiful. I got up on the occasion because it was necessary to visit the toilet and about 10:00 a.m. rose just long enough to make two slices of toast and a hot cup of lemon drink. I managed to eat one slice but had to force the second one down. This was all I had eaten for 14 hours. The dizziness was pushing me to the edge of stability as I held on tables, door frames and banister to get back to bed. Once there my belly let out a groan of digestion it would rather be in a sitting position than laying down. Flu made me feel a touch nauseous, but I overcame it and slept on. A text arrived on my phone, I read it replied and dropped off again. It was a necessary sleep, one where the blood cells were rallying to take on Flu and try their best to persuade her to go away. Awake again it's now after 3 p.m. more than 21 hours of bed, but I can't live my life here I had got to get up otherwise sleeping could be more difficult later.
Pen to paper I write, go away Flu, you are awful and I don't like you.
Pen to paper I write, go away Flu, you are awful and I don't like you.
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