Right well I should be hopefully reaching my 2000th viewer this time round. When you are reading this just check down at the bottom where the reader count thingy is. If you're number 2000; let me know! It would be nice and not creepy whatsoever.
Presupposing that more than 12 people actually read this anyway.
I hope so. I get more viewers in the holiday time. Seeing as it's vaguely around holiday time now hopefully people will be very bored, see that I've written a blog and read something other than increasingly bitchy statuses on facebook.
I mean I like to think that these blogs are vaguely interesting/absolutely hilarious but obviously it could be the funniest blog in the world yet would probably be pretty pointless if nobody read it.
Anybody listening in to me writing one of these will probably hear sniggers and snorts as I laugh at my own jokes.
If that isn't sad enough I do occasionally get bored and re-read these. Just to remind me of how funny I actually am.
Brb. Going to get my new hat.
...
...
...
Back :D Exciting times!
Anyways moving on... Guns don't kill people... rappers do.
(completely related I know; I'm listening to it now.)
It's quite funny because we have these rappers that are professional etc. though I think I've found the winning answer for these.
It's simple maths really.
You take:
A hard life in the ghetto + money + "pussy" (though I'm not sure what cats actually have to do with it)
Gold chains, false teeth and several bullet wounds are optional but not required.
So I'm decided to move to a council estate, win the lottery... and buy a cat.
See you in the charts motherfuckers! (It's also important that I swear all the time too. Helps the badboy image.)
I need to drop all usage of spelling and grammar as this is perceived as "cool" and "with it" (or maybe "kwl" and "wit it yo brap, g, re-fucking-load {got my swearing in there})
Or maybe not...
Maybe I could be Andy Murray and rap about having fans etc.
Or I could be the worlds first grammatically correct rap-person with "sweet rhymes" such as the number 1 hit "i before e except after c".
Or maybe not that either.
The truth is that I will never make it as a rapper.
Nor do I really plan to.
Too many women. Too many guns and I don't plan on taking Emily to the candy shop.
I guess the rap scene just isn't ready for me yet.
However in the words of the artist known as "Phil"
"yes, well, legibility and correct punctuation might not be "street"... but that's how I roll, motherfucker."
MC Adam Legg.
"Alright stop... collaborate and listen" - Miss Davies.
Monday, 19 December 2011
Wednesday, 7 December 2011
On the road to driving godness.
The more observant of you will observe with all your powers of observingness (that is a word) that I am still not driving.
This, I have decided, is not my fault.
Nor is it the fault of my uncle, who, over the year that I've been driving nearly, has been a patient, albeit brave, teacher.
It is the fault of the hazard perception test.
It doesn't actually specify what a hazard actually is.
And if for example a caring member of the British community felt that four hooded teenagers doing a crack deal at the side of the road is worth about 5 million clicks that he feels is not only a hazard to the lives of the yobs involved but all those around them.
You never know. One might suddenly burst into a crack fueled rage and decide he is infact invincible and the bonnet of my car is a good thing to test this newfound power against. I'd count that as a hazard.
Or the fact that the trees your driving past could be the home to a wide assortment of vampires/ninjas/lost old people who could, at any moment, jump down and assault your vehicle with fangs, discs and worthers original.
I'd count that as a hazard too!
What if the sheep, innocently passing in front of your car waved on by a farmer who really does nothing for the stereotype) had rabies? You could be in risk of catching a disease that is potentially fatal if the crazed sheep somehow broke into your car and attacked you.
Have you ever seen a sheep run? You wouldn't be able to get away. It'd keep coming and coming and coming. And then you'd have rabies.
I'd say that's a hazard. Rabies, in the past, has been considered to be quite hazardous.
All this is apparently incorrect in the world where a car turning out 5 miles ahead of you is the dawning of the next Apocalypse.
Its just that I like to plan ahead for these things.
All you people who are laughing and don't will one day fall victim of an invincible teenager, a fully armed old person or that you didn't quite lock your doors quick enough to stop that crazy ball of wool from infecting you with rabies.
You were drawn in by their cute propaganda of Sean the sheep and Timmy time. You might even be old enough to have been influenced by menace-to-the-street Larry the Lamb. They are coming. The sheep will rule. LONG LIVE KING COTTON
...sorry I don't know what quite happened there. However my sheep bite is burning....
Adam
BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA... wait, what?
Btw who will be the 2000th viewer? baa.
This, I have decided, is not my fault.
Nor is it the fault of my uncle, who, over the year that I've been driving nearly, has been a patient, albeit brave, teacher.
It is the fault of the hazard perception test.
It doesn't actually specify what a hazard actually is.
And if for example a caring member of the British community felt that four hooded teenagers doing a crack deal at the side of the road is worth about 5 million clicks that he feels is not only a hazard to the lives of the yobs involved but all those around them.
You never know. One might suddenly burst into a crack fueled rage and decide he is infact invincible and the bonnet of my car is a good thing to test this newfound power against. I'd count that as a hazard.
Or the fact that the trees your driving past could be the home to a wide assortment of vampires/ninjas/lost old people who could, at any moment, jump down and assault your vehicle with fangs, discs and worthers original.
I'd count that as a hazard too!
What if the sheep, innocently passing in front of your car waved on by a farmer who really does nothing for the stereotype) had rabies? You could be in risk of catching a disease that is potentially fatal if the crazed sheep somehow broke into your car and attacked you.
Have you ever seen a sheep run? You wouldn't be able to get away. It'd keep coming and coming and coming. And then you'd have rabies.
I'd say that's a hazard. Rabies, in the past, has been considered to be quite hazardous.
All this is apparently incorrect in the world where a car turning out 5 miles ahead of you is the dawning of the next Apocalypse.
Its just that I like to plan ahead for these things.
All you people who are laughing and don't will one day fall victim of an invincible teenager, a fully armed old person or that you didn't quite lock your doors quick enough to stop that crazy ball of wool from infecting you with rabies.
You were drawn in by their cute propaganda of Sean the sheep and Timmy time. You might even be old enough to have been influenced by menace-to-the-street Larry the Lamb. They are coming. The sheep will rule. LONG LIVE KING COTTON
...sorry I don't know what quite happened there. However my sheep bite is burning....
Adam
BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA... wait, what?
Btw who will be the 2000th viewer? baa.
Thursday, 1 December 2011
A close shave.
I should be reaching my 2000th view sometime soon.
It might be with this post...
most likely it will be the next!
Or maybe not at all! WHO KNOWS?
IT COULD BE YOU! *mysterious music*
Anyway back on track. What I actually wanted to come and write to you about was the end of Movember and all the goodness it bought with it.
I had just come back from doing some editorial work for the university newspaper when I was told by Jade that it was nearly midnight! EXCITING TIMES!
I rushed into my bedroom to ready my razor.
Here's what my mind decided to happen. Bearing in mind my life, in my head, is a musical.
I entered the room.
We're leaving together... and still we stand tall
Coz maybe they've seen us... something something something...
ITS THE FINAL COUNTDOWN
lala la la
lalalalalaaaa
lala la la
lalalalalalaaaa
Something along those lines anyway.
Not with all those people in the background though. That's just a little creepy.
I think if I was shaving and someones face popped up in the mirror screaming the final countdown at me. I'd probably cut myself.
Which, surprisingly enough, hurts.
Plus when you cut your face. Does it stop bleeding? No it bloody well doesn't!
Numerous rolls of toilet roll stuck to my face later... It's still bleeding! Not helpful when your late for something... like the line for time keeping. The irony would've probably killed me.
Anyway clicking play on the video of my life I am currently entering the bathroom...
I grasped hold on my razor and held it in the air!
AAAHHHHHHH DA BINNN YAAAAAAA
DAABAADEE DABBA DAAA
I barely resisted the urge to wake the whole block up by screaming "BY THE POWER OF GREYSKULL" at the top of my voice.
Apparently people don't like being woken up by battle cries! Who knew?
My shaving skills were like Barry Scott on the Cilit bang advert. BANG...
...and I'd cut myself three bloody times!
Numerous toilet rolls later and I'd managed to clot the gaping wound which was at least the size of the rubber on the end of a pencil. THAT BIG!
Despite the war wound that I currently carried on my face I battled through to shave. Earning man points along the way by not crying.
I'm a big boy. I'm a big boy. I'm a big boy.
WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Smoothness... mmmm... my chin feels nice.
Moving on at a reasonable pace.
After my entry about dancing last week about my dancing skills earning me the title of "white gangster" last week.
(A title I really want Bruce Forsythe to come out with on strictly come dancing
"Didn't they do well?
Those moves reminded me of when I was a white gangster...
When I was hip to the hop and 'down with the kids'
Seeing you dance makes me want to put my baseball cap on backwards and listen to snoop dogg")
I WON A DANCEOFF.
I'm feeling cool and "safe" already.
Infront of the whole Students Union Bar my pub quiz team had drawn with another team.
Anyway I went out
I busted some moves
and a hip.
And won.
Gotta love drinks vouchers.
Will see if I can try and get a video up at some point
Anyway I'm off to do my radio show
8-10pm www.frequencyradio.co.uk
THE LEGG UP
Adam xxx
Smart/Casual
Dinner Jacket - Very Smart
Naked - Very casual.
Going out wearing nothing but a dinner jacket... now that's smart casual.
It might be with this post...
most likely it will be the next!
Or maybe not at all! WHO KNOWS?
IT COULD BE YOU! *mysterious music*
Anyway back on track. What I actually wanted to come and write to you about was the end of Movember and all the goodness it bought with it.
I had just come back from doing some editorial work for the university newspaper when I was told by Jade that it was nearly midnight! EXCITING TIMES!
I rushed into my bedroom to ready my razor.
Here's what my mind decided to happen. Bearing in mind my life, in my head, is a musical.
I entered the room.
We're leaving together... and still we stand tall
Coz maybe they've seen us... something something something...
ITS THE FINAL COUNTDOWN
lala la la
lalalalalaaaa
lala la la
lalalalalalaaaa
Something along those lines anyway.
Not with all those people in the background though. That's just a little creepy.
I think if I was shaving and someones face popped up in the mirror screaming the final countdown at me. I'd probably cut myself.
Which, surprisingly enough, hurts.
Plus when you cut your face. Does it stop bleeding? No it bloody well doesn't!
Numerous rolls of toilet roll stuck to my face later... It's still bleeding! Not helpful when your late for something... like the line for time keeping. The irony would've probably killed me.
Anyway clicking play on the video of my life I am currently entering the bathroom...
I grasped hold on my razor and held it in the air!
AAAHHHHHHH DA BINNN YAAAAAAA
DAABAADEE DABBA DAAA
I barely resisted the urge to wake the whole block up by screaming "BY THE POWER OF GREYSKULL" at the top of my voice.
Apparently people don't like being woken up by battle cries! Who knew?
My shaving skills were like Barry Scott on the Cilit bang advert. BANG...
...and I'd cut myself three bloody times!
Numerous toilet rolls later and I'd managed to clot the gaping wound which was at least the size of the rubber on the end of a pencil. THAT BIG!
Despite the war wound that I currently carried on my face I battled through to shave. Earning man points along the way by not crying.
I'm a big boy. I'm a big boy. I'm a big boy.
WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Smoothness... mmmm... my chin feels nice.
Moving on at a reasonable pace.
After my entry about dancing last week about my dancing skills earning me the title of "white gangster" last week.
(A title I really want Bruce Forsythe to come out with on strictly come dancing
"Didn't they do well?
Those moves reminded me of when I was a white gangster...
When I was hip to the hop and 'down with the kids'
Seeing you dance makes me want to put my baseball cap on backwards and listen to snoop dogg")
I WON A DANCEOFF.
I'm feeling cool and "safe" already.
Infront of the whole Students Union Bar my pub quiz team had drawn with another team.
Anyway I went out
I busted some moves
and a hip.
And won.
Gotta love drinks vouchers.
Will see if I can try and get a video up at some point
Anyway I'm off to do my radio show
8-10pm www.frequencyradio.co.uk
THE LEGG UP
Adam xxx
Smart/Casual
Dinner Jacket - Very Smart
Naked - Very casual.
Going out wearing nothing but a dinner jacket... now that's smart casual.
Sunday, 20 November 2011
Saturday Night (hand actions)
Okay so maybe I don't post quite as often as I used to on this blog.
This is mainly because I'm too busy being absolutely hilarious on radio instead...
This actually means while technology is advancing I'm actually becoming more old school as the years go by.
On that note it might be appropriate to inform you that I will be communicating my next blog to you by smoke signal. Have your sacrificing knives and animal skin drums at the ready because it's going to be a wild night.
I thought I'd get back on the old blog, stretch the typing fingers and don my intelligent-look glasses to tell you about how I managed to end up being referred to as "white gangster".
I mean it was probably bound to happen. With my gold chain, bouncing car and the fact that I go around calling everyone "bro" had to get someone's attention.
The limp and the drugs I've been selling to the feline underground as well probably turned a few heads.
But alas no! My dear readers, it was not to be!
The thing that got picked up on the most is the way I dance.
From the age of about 4 I was always determined I would not dance like my Dad. You know the whole "dad dancing = social suicide" sort of thing. However after my Dad got first dance with a bride at a wedding (that wasn't his own) I decided that probably wasn't such a bad thing.
My girlfriend, for those of you who live on the moon she is called Emily, hates it when I dance. Well I say hates it when I dance. She hates it when I move and dance. She is quite happy for me to stand and click but apart from that dancing for me was a nono!
I wouldn't say that I have really ever been a confident dancer. I was okay at the Frank Martin Disco parties with loads of cheesy music, especially the macarena, at which I am a self-professed pro.I am also alright at the foxtrot (I think that's what it was anyway) after I danced with Gareth's mum at his sister's 18th.
However; put me in a club I am absolutely clueless.
Girls seem to be fine at dancing. They mostly do their own thing and look like they genuinely fit into their surroundings. Acting cool and mostly keeping their eyes closed. Which is a mystery to me.
Guys seem to do a lot of shouting, a lot of hugging and a lot of jumping around as if they've just had an electric shock up their arse.
And then there's me. I would be tempted to quote the lyrics "stuck in the middle with you". Except there's no "you" there's just me. So I'm just stuck in the middle with me really.
Anyway your stood there; fighting to keep your space in the circle with everyone barging in-front of you, while trying not to look overly keen about trying to look like you fit in.
Then you realise. I have as much idea of what I'm meant to be doing as the guys who kept grabbing girls arses around me in the expectancy that a girl is looking for just that classy sort of lad.
In times of need like this the middle class part of my mind puts down it's guardian and pipe and gets on the case.
"West side story!" It says; "that's perceived to be a 'cool' musical and there's dancing on it! Result! Now you don't want to seem to keen so just stand there and click your fingers. Remember; Emily hates swaying."
"Everybody will be really impressed with your fine aptitude for theatre and your knowledge of musicals will make you seem really manly to protect you from the muscly guys that you happened to be really scared of."
I am never listening to my middle class side ever again.
Needless to say I found myself very awkwardly clicking along to dubstep. This is surprisingly hard. As aparently West side story and electronic dance music don't really mix that well. Who knew?
In the end I decided to follow suite. I ended up jumping round and shouting and hugging like every other guy there and had a rather good time of it!
And there we have it. Successful night of trying to fit in sorted. Now I'm off to play oblivion.
Adam. xx
Never trust spiritual leader who cannot dance. ~Mr. Miyagi, The Next Karate Kid, 1994
This is mainly because I'm too busy being absolutely hilarious on radio instead...
This actually means while technology is advancing I'm actually becoming more old school as the years go by.
On that note it might be appropriate to inform you that I will be communicating my next blog to you by smoke signal. Have your sacrificing knives and animal skin drums at the ready because it's going to be a wild night.
I thought I'd get back on the old blog, stretch the typing fingers and don my intelligent-look glasses to tell you about how I managed to end up being referred to as "white gangster".
I mean it was probably bound to happen. With my gold chain, bouncing car and the fact that I go around calling everyone "bro" had to get someone's attention.
The limp and the drugs I've been selling to the feline underground as well probably turned a few heads.
But alas no! My dear readers, it was not to be!
The thing that got picked up on the most is the way I dance.
From the age of about 4 I was always determined I would not dance like my Dad. You know the whole "dad dancing = social suicide" sort of thing. However after my Dad got first dance with a bride at a wedding (that wasn't his own) I decided that probably wasn't such a bad thing.
My girlfriend, for those of you who live on the moon she is called Emily, hates it when I dance. Well I say hates it when I dance. She hates it when I move and dance. She is quite happy for me to stand and click but apart from that dancing for me was a nono!
I wouldn't say that I have really ever been a confident dancer. I was okay at the Frank Martin Disco parties with loads of cheesy music, especially the macarena, at which I am a self-professed pro.I am also alright at the foxtrot (I think that's what it was anyway) after I danced with Gareth's mum at his sister's 18th.
However; put me in a club I am absolutely clueless.
Girls seem to be fine at dancing. They mostly do their own thing and look like they genuinely fit into their surroundings. Acting cool and mostly keeping their eyes closed. Which is a mystery to me.
Guys seem to do a lot of shouting, a lot of hugging and a lot of jumping around as if they've just had an electric shock up their arse.
And then there's me. I would be tempted to quote the lyrics "stuck in the middle with you". Except there's no "you" there's just me. So I'm just stuck in the middle with me really.
Anyway your stood there; fighting to keep your space in the circle with everyone barging in-front of you, while trying not to look overly keen about trying to look like you fit in.
Then you realise. I have as much idea of what I'm meant to be doing as the guys who kept grabbing girls arses around me in the expectancy that a girl is looking for just that classy sort of lad.
In times of need like this the middle class part of my mind puts down it's guardian and pipe and gets on the case.
"West side story!" It says; "that's perceived to be a 'cool' musical and there's dancing on it! Result! Now you don't want to seem to keen so just stand there and click your fingers. Remember; Emily hates swaying."
"Everybody will be really impressed with your fine aptitude for theatre and your knowledge of musicals will make you seem really manly to protect you from the muscly guys that you happened to be really scared of."
I am never listening to my middle class side ever again.
Needless to say I found myself very awkwardly clicking along to dubstep. This is surprisingly hard. As aparently West side story and electronic dance music don't really mix that well. Who knew?
In the end I decided to follow suite. I ended up jumping round and shouting and hugging like every other guy there and had a rather good time of it!
And there we have it. Successful night of trying to fit in sorted. Now I'm off to play oblivion.
Adam. xx
Never trust spiritual leader who cannot dance. ~Mr. Miyagi, The Next Karate Kid, 1994
Wednesday, 19 October 2011
Swimmingly dear, just swimmingly.
Hello dearest readers
Remember me?
While I've strayed into the dizzying heights of audio entertainment I have often thought it was high time I posted another post in this wonderful blog of mine!
I've just been discussing the word "swimmingly" with a good friend of mine Winnie Southgate, who is going as Winnie the witch to her Halloween thingymebob which I thought gave me some rather good material to stick in this blog.
University is great too. Thanks for asking.
Gawd. People sometimes. So bloody rude.
Anyways the thing we were discussing the word swimmingly. That's where I was. I think. Maybe. Who knows?
Back to reality (oops there goes gravity), yes swimmingly.
Generally used in the phrase; "it was all going swimmingly but..."
There's always a but isn't there! Nothing can ever just go swimmingly.
It's like "the party was going swimmingly apart from the two ambulance crews and a fire engine attempting to douse the huge flames that had already engulfed half of the guests" you just don't get things just going swimmingly.
You don't get a swear word before it either. Nothing goes "fucking swimmingly".
Frankly it just sounds wrong.
Like "fucking spiffing". It's just too posh for such vulgarities. (Yeh, vulgarities, it's a word, it's what 4 weeks of english language gets you. Don't push me or I will wack out another)
Anthropocentric. You bought that on yourselves.
But anyhow the word "swimmingly" is an interesting word.
Especially, as I often did on my Kayaking weekend away (My attempt at trying something manly *makes manly grunt and flexes pathetic muscles*) when you've just fallen out of a boat.
In this case, if things are going swimmingly, it's generally considered not to be a massively great thing. In this case there is no but. Unless you've just urinated in your wetsuit. In which case everything is going swimmingly but there's a nice warm tingle that makes everything seem like it's going to be okay.
Apart from the rapids. But hey. C'est la vie.
Going back to manly sports *manly noise, flexing of muscles* I've taken up 5-a-side.
Turns out I'm shit at football. Who knew?
Well that was brief. I was fantastic. You were mediocre.
This is dedicated to everyone who is missing me back home. I miss you too. Most of you.
Adam x
Note to Amy Johnson, I was not mentioned in your blog as people you are missing who have moved to university. I expect a full and public apology. Maybe then you'll go under the category "most of you" ;D
Remember me?
While I've strayed into the dizzying heights of audio entertainment I have often thought it was high time I posted another post in this wonderful blog of mine!
I've just been discussing the word "swimmingly" with a good friend of mine Winnie Southgate, who is going as Winnie the witch to her Halloween thingymebob which I thought gave me some rather good material to stick in this blog.
University is great too. Thanks for asking.
Gawd. People sometimes. So bloody rude.
Anyways the thing we were discussing the word swimmingly. That's where I was. I think. Maybe. Who knows?
Back to reality (oops there goes gravity), yes swimmingly.
Generally used in the phrase; "it was all going swimmingly but..."
There's always a but isn't there! Nothing can ever just go swimmingly.
It's like "the party was going swimmingly apart from the two ambulance crews and a fire engine attempting to douse the huge flames that had already engulfed half of the guests" you just don't get things just going swimmingly.
You don't get a swear word before it either. Nothing goes "fucking swimmingly".
Frankly it just sounds wrong.
Like "fucking spiffing". It's just too posh for such vulgarities. (Yeh, vulgarities, it's a word, it's what 4 weeks of english language gets you. Don't push me or I will wack out another)
Anthropocentric. You bought that on yourselves.
But anyhow the word "swimmingly" is an interesting word.
Especially, as I often did on my Kayaking weekend away (My attempt at trying something manly *makes manly grunt and flexes pathetic muscles*) when you've just fallen out of a boat.
In this case, if things are going swimmingly, it's generally considered not to be a massively great thing. In this case there is no but. Unless you've just urinated in your wetsuit. In which case everything is going swimmingly but there's a nice warm tingle that makes everything seem like it's going to be okay.
Apart from the rapids. But hey. C'est la vie.
Going back to manly sports *manly noise, flexing of muscles* I've taken up 5-a-side.
Turns out I'm shit at football. Who knew?
Well that was brief. I was fantastic. You were mediocre.
This is dedicated to everyone who is missing me back home. I miss you too. Most of you.
Adam x
Note to Amy Johnson, I was not mentioned in your blog as people you are missing who have moved to university. I expect a full and public apology. Maybe then you'll go under the category "most of you" ;D
Friday, 16 September 2011
Funky Monk.
It is day 6 in Roeburn Halls and Adam is in his room, in his flat, writing on his blog. He would like to remind the viewers that although this voice is technically meant to be a geordie accent that might be compared to that of big brother; any resemblance is purely co-incidental.
Well dearest readers I will start today's (or rather tonight's!) blog with an apology; an apology to Joanna Boyle. This is because I have promised Joanna that I would do a blog about Greenbelt. However sadly this post has almost no relevance to Greenbelt whatsoever really however I will throw in the odd "UP" reference to keep you amused/ satisfy your hunger for our beloved festival to be mentioned on the blogesphere.
UP fans may want to play the UP drinking game. Everytime I make an UP reference. Take a shot. Simples.
Moving on! Onwards and UPwards (Take a shot).
To say that settling into uni was easy would be more of a lie than anyone who says they actually took a shot at that last reference. If you didn't; go find yourself a million balloons and don't come back until you've got a picture of you on paradise falls (and while you're at it. Take another shot!)
Back to my little adventure. (hmm... a sort of UP reference. Take another half shot on that one; just to be sure) I semi moved in on the Saturday which was eventful after only finishing packing somewhere between 2.30/4am (a bit hazy) so as you can imagine I was the life and soul of the party when I got there.
After my mum had unpacked enough supplies to last me the apocalypse and toddled off with my dad to get me more I got to know my flatmates. What they were like "behind the profile" would be a good phrase to put it. It turns out they are all really nice and I get on with them rather well. However it has only been 6 days, and although you could fly to paradise falls (take a shot) in less than that in a house kept suspended by thousands of balloons (take another shot), I'm not overly convinced they have had enough time to get fully annoyed by every little movement I do which is bound to happen as a side effect of to much exposure to the horrors of living with a sarcastic guy like me.
In regards to people on my course I have made two great first impressions of myself to all of them.
The first came when I was walking to a lecture with James and Rob (his real name is Conor. Long story.) Anyway we got the usual bombardment of people giving us leaflets like they contain the plague when I noticed a guy in what I perceived to be a really good costume. I took a leaflet from him, complimented him saying "nice costume mate" to which he replied "haha well it's the real thing". Not really hearing what he said I laughed and walked on. However something was bothering me so I looked down at the leaflet. The man whom I had just complimented on his attire was actually a monk, dressed in monkly attire, and was giving out leaftlets to the "UCLan Catholic Chaplaincy".
God -1
Adam - 0
After waking up the next morning, dreams littered with images of God smiting me down for harassing a brown robed man in socks and sandals, I looked down and realised that my next lecture was less than an hour away and that I needed to get a move on if I was to actually get there on time. In recent years, and countless times being last arrival of the class, I have formed the concept that I must be naturally fashionably late to everything; (Apart from the time we were given the ability to organise. I pulled a sicky.) That day was no exception. I turned up at the building, already ten minutes late. I wandered round a bit until I found a class. I walked in and then had a sudden realisation that I didn't recognise anybody there! As I backed out slowly and ran away, the awkward turtle was breading like a rabbit, I was then caught up by my classmate James Maisey who revealed that I HAD actually found the right class and that I was, infact, an idiot.
I quickly returned to the class and sat down. Meanwhile the awkward turtle was having grandchildren.
Still, at least I arrived. The lecturer never turned up. Bad times. Ahh well. I'm sure there was a good reason. Uclan are usually rather organised. (They didn't pull a sicky and got a queue jump ticket) for that they get the Ellie badge. (Ahh you thought I'd forgotten! Take a shot and get that Alcoholics anonymous form. You might need it!)
It was the second lecture in two days that a lecturer hadn't turned up for. The head of English turned up for the second part which was good. Again I doubt it's the lecturers fault. The online timetable is apparently less than brilliant at the moment. However, because I'm nice, I will excuse it. We share two things in common. We are both new to the university and we both have our off weeks. Fingers crossed!
Moving on! Uclan is awesome! I've really enjoyed my time here so far and am actually looking forward to the beginning of lectures! Everyone's been very friendly... and yeh... erm... enough said? I can't really say much more than that really. It's been great! Living on my own has been fun so far!
I went shopping today! (This may confuse people but I'm actually writing this nearly 24hours after I first started it.
Impressed? So am I.
I have never been excited in Iceland before. No, I haven't decided that I need to rack up some airmiles and I wish my student loan covered me enough to go to Iceland (well... it kind of does. Getting back would be problematic. So might the essentials. Don't think I'd be up for "best son award" if my parents got an international phonecall from Iceland saying that I'd blown all my money on the plane ride not realising that I might just need food, water, accomodation, socks (I'd inevitably forget them). Then again with my natural talent for fashionable lateness I'd probably miss the flight.
That was an amusing tangent. Back to the story?
... Oh wait you don't have much of an option. LOL.
Anyway as it turns out I actually quite like food shopping. Emily will be happy with this. It's another step on my seemingly inevitable road to domesticated manhood; where we will move to the suburbs, have BBQs with the neighbours, and I'll drive a saloon... hmm I'm quite liking this picture. Got a few things to do first though. It's on my "To do list". Funnily enough things end up on my "to do list" and never get done. Coincidental? I think not my dear Watson.
On Adam's "to do list" no one can hear you scream. Not even a man in a flying house will save you. (Take a shot).
Sitting here to Busted. Gotta love them. Old school.
You may notice that I sometimes make random comments such as the one above. This is my way to deal with writers block. Don't like it? Deal with it.
No... wait... don't leave. I love you really. Please stay. I have cookies? :D
Back to living in the suburbs. I'm sorry Emily that's not going to happen. We're going to get uber rich and live in a zeppelin with lots of dogs (Yes, that's right, take a shot. Your mouth is a little to the left. Got it. Well done). Zeppelins are awesome. Dogs are pretty cool too. (A zeppelin shaped like a giant dog? Genius here I come.)
Wherever I live I'd like to have a big red button. Attached to a siren. This is because big red buttons may be fun; however, big red buttons attached to sirens are EXCITING. (For the record Exciting>Fun)
Big red buttons that have a siren, a do not touch sign and make something go BOOM! Well... you'd better stand well clear and wack Lonely Island on. Things just got messy. (I apologuise Lorraine. That was an inappropriate joke. Please don't create an awkward moment for both you and Eve and ask her what that means...)
I think I have kept you entertained enough... for now. MWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
By the way I might have my own radio show. Gotta love it.
Adam
ADVENTURE IS OUT THERE! (Finish the bottle. Then maybe two more.)
Well dearest readers I will start today's (or rather tonight's!) blog with an apology; an apology to Joanna Boyle. This is because I have promised Joanna that I would do a blog about Greenbelt. However sadly this post has almost no relevance to Greenbelt whatsoever really however I will throw in the odd "UP" reference to keep you amused/ satisfy your hunger for our beloved festival to be mentioned on the blogesphere.
UP fans may want to play the UP drinking game. Everytime I make an UP reference. Take a shot. Simples.
Moving on! Onwards and UPwards (Take a shot).
To say that settling into uni was easy would be more of a lie than anyone who says they actually took a shot at that last reference. If you didn't; go find yourself a million balloons and don't come back until you've got a picture of you on paradise falls (and while you're at it. Take another shot!)
Back to my little adventure. (hmm... a sort of UP reference. Take another half shot on that one; just to be sure) I semi moved in on the Saturday which was eventful after only finishing packing somewhere between 2.30/4am (a bit hazy) so as you can imagine I was the life and soul of the party when I got there.
After my mum had unpacked enough supplies to last me the apocalypse and toddled off with my dad to get me more I got to know my flatmates. What they were like "behind the profile" would be a good phrase to put it. It turns out they are all really nice and I get on with them rather well. However it has only been 6 days, and although you could fly to paradise falls (take a shot) in less than that in a house kept suspended by thousands of balloons (take another shot), I'm not overly convinced they have had enough time to get fully annoyed by every little movement I do which is bound to happen as a side effect of to much exposure to the horrors of living with a sarcastic guy like me.
In regards to people on my course I have made two great first impressions of myself to all of them.
The first came when I was walking to a lecture with James and Rob (his real name is Conor. Long story.) Anyway we got the usual bombardment of people giving us leaflets like they contain the plague when I noticed a guy in what I perceived to be a really good costume. I took a leaflet from him, complimented him saying "nice costume mate" to which he replied "haha well it's the real thing". Not really hearing what he said I laughed and walked on. However something was bothering me so I looked down at the leaflet. The man whom I had just complimented on his attire was actually a monk, dressed in monkly attire, and was giving out leaftlets to the "UCLan Catholic Chaplaincy".
God -1
Adam - 0
After waking up the next morning, dreams littered with images of God smiting me down for harassing a brown robed man in socks and sandals, I looked down and realised that my next lecture was less than an hour away and that I needed to get a move on if I was to actually get there on time. In recent years, and countless times being last arrival of the class, I have formed the concept that I must be naturally fashionably late to everything; (Apart from the time we were given the ability to organise. I pulled a sicky.) That day was no exception. I turned up at the building, already ten minutes late. I wandered round a bit until I found a class. I walked in and then had a sudden realisation that I didn't recognise anybody there! As I backed out slowly and ran away, the awkward turtle was breading like a rabbit, I was then caught up by my classmate James Maisey who revealed that I HAD actually found the right class and that I was, infact, an idiot.
I quickly returned to the class and sat down. Meanwhile the awkward turtle was having grandchildren.
Still, at least I arrived. The lecturer never turned up. Bad times. Ahh well. I'm sure there was a good reason. Uclan are usually rather organised. (They didn't pull a sicky and got a queue jump ticket) for that they get the Ellie badge. (Ahh you thought I'd forgotten! Take a shot and get that Alcoholics anonymous form. You might need it!)
It was the second lecture in two days that a lecturer hadn't turned up for. The head of English turned up for the second part which was good. Again I doubt it's the lecturers fault. The online timetable is apparently less than brilliant at the moment. However, because I'm nice, I will excuse it. We share two things in common. We are both new to the university and we both have our off weeks. Fingers crossed!
Moving on! Uclan is awesome! I've really enjoyed my time here so far and am actually looking forward to the beginning of lectures! Everyone's been very friendly... and yeh... erm... enough said? I can't really say much more than that really. It's been great! Living on my own has been fun so far!
I went shopping today! (This may confuse people but I'm actually writing this nearly 24hours after I first started it.
Impressed? So am I.
I have never been excited in Iceland before. No, I haven't decided that I need to rack up some airmiles and I wish my student loan covered me enough to go to Iceland (well... it kind of does. Getting back would be problematic. So might the essentials. Don't think I'd be up for "best son award" if my parents got an international phonecall from Iceland saying that I'd blown all my money on the plane ride not realising that I might just need food, water, accomodation, socks (I'd inevitably forget them). Then again with my natural talent for fashionable lateness I'd probably miss the flight.
That was an amusing tangent. Back to the story?
... Oh wait you don't have much of an option. LOL.
Anyway as it turns out I actually quite like food shopping. Emily will be happy with this. It's another step on my seemingly inevitable road to domesticated manhood; where we will move to the suburbs, have BBQs with the neighbours, and I'll drive a saloon... hmm I'm quite liking this picture. Got a few things to do first though. It's on my "To do list". Funnily enough things end up on my "to do list" and never get done. Coincidental? I think not my dear Watson.
On Adam's "to do list" no one can hear you scream. Not even a man in a flying house will save you. (Take a shot).
Sitting here to Busted. Gotta love them. Old school.
You may notice that I sometimes make random comments such as the one above. This is my way to deal with writers block. Don't like it? Deal with it.
No... wait... don't leave. I love you really. Please stay. I have cookies? :D
Back to living in the suburbs. I'm sorry Emily that's not going to happen. We're going to get uber rich and live in a zeppelin with lots of dogs (Yes, that's right, take a shot. Your mouth is a little to the left. Got it. Well done). Zeppelins are awesome. Dogs are pretty cool too. (A zeppelin shaped like a giant dog? Genius here I come.)
Wherever I live I'd like to have a big red button. Attached to a siren. This is because big red buttons may be fun; however, big red buttons attached to sirens are EXCITING. (For the record Exciting>Fun)
Big red buttons that have a siren, a do not touch sign and make something go BOOM! Well... you'd better stand well clear and wack Lonely Island on. Things just got messy. (I apologuise Lorraine. That was an inappropriate joke. Please don't create an awkward moment for both you and Eve and ask her what that means...)
I think I have kept you entertained enough... for now. MWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
By the way I might have my own radio show. Gotta love it.
Adam
ADVENTURE IS OUT THERE! (Finish the bottle. Then maybe two more.)
Wednesday, 31 August 2011
Young and camp.
Having returned from my week and a bit of camping (in various areas of the country) i have realised that I have not posted on the ol' blog in a while... though not, I suspect on quite the same level as others I might think of. (*cough* Laycock there is STILL only one post! *cough*) <- quite a lot to say in-between coughs as I'm sure you can imagine!
My holiday consisted of two parts - Devon and Greenbelt. One of which is a music festival and one isn't. I'm sure you can work out which is which.
I suppose I could start with Devon... or do a George Lucas and start in the middle and work from there.
In the spirit of this...
A LONG TIME AGO
IN A TOWN RELATIVELY BUT NOT QUITE THAT FAR AWAY REALLY... I SUPPOSE
ADAM LEGG
My holiday consisted of two parts - Devon and Greenbelt. One of which is a music festival and one isn't. I'm sure you can work out which is which.
I suppose I could start with Devon... or do a George Lucas and start in the middle and work from there.
In the spirit of this...
A LONG TIME AGO
IN A TOWN RELATIVELY BUT NOT QUITE THAT FAR AWAY REALLY... I SUPPOSE
ADAM LEGG
*que dramatic music that sounds suspiciously like the starwars theme*
(I cannot confirm or deny that this is actually the starwars theme due to copyright. However if you thought of the starwars theme while reading this feel free to sue yourselves. Just finish this blog first.)
EPISODE WHATEVER: THE PHANTOM SHOWERS
DURRR, DURRR, DEDEDE DURRR DURRR DEDEDE DURR DURRR DEDEDEDEEEEEE (you get the idea)
Adam Legg has arrived in Devon with the Black's (in the spirit of the douchebags who might interpret this as racism, it is not. My girlfriend is Emily BLACK... her father is Jonathan BLACK, HER MOTHER IS ANNE BLACK... you get the picture) all seems to be going well until they return from the beach.
Adam and Emily go to have a shower but are met with a curious case of facist showerdom.
(By now maybe the starwars music is getting a bit boring for the rest of you who aren't massive fans of the franchise. In which case I suggest "Build me up buttercup". You can accompany it with the idea of me and Emily with classic 80s style cheesy shocked faces if you feel the need. Maybe even some long-johns for me too?)
Can they save enough 20ps to keep clean or will they spin into itchy decay and grow mould in their armpits? ONLY TIME WILL TELL...
Moving away from the starwars nostalgia that I'm sure many of you were feeling during that little piece of variation on the usual blogging. Devon was rather good!
CELEBRATE GOOD TIMES, COME ON! (No prizes for guessing what spotify has just put on)
Back on track (and back to black!) The campsite showers! *Que DUN DUN DUHHHH* *Screaming heard in background* ARGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Anyway these FACIST SHOWERS (okay I've been listening to Billy Bragg a little too much)
Okay well, the showers in the campsite take money before they wash you; a sort of "pass my showerhead with silver" sort of thing. (Not a sort of thong which spellcheck decided to suggest!) You have 4 minutes once the shower decides that your 20p is indeed not fairy currency or a piece of chewing gum and accepts it. Included in this the shower gives you a 1 minute period of grace for you to strip off and mentally prepare yourself for the frenzy that will follow. You do your stretches, jog on the spot, weigh up your shower and attempt to position yourself so NO WATER WILL BE WASTED. The shower demons are unforgiving.
Suddenly you hear a beeping noise and you run in! Only to realise that the beeping noise is someone else's and all the meets you is the cold, bitter feeling of disappointment while the shower laughs in your face! As you walk out, there is another beeping and the shower turns on. The Demons laughing again as they torment you! You slap yourself with showergel and move until the pathetic drizzle your shower gives you. (I was half tempted to start shouting "It's spitting! It's spitting! Everybody in!")
To add to the initial stress of trying to get clean in under 4 minutes you are supposed to listen out for other beeps that indicate intervals of time that have passed. However, to torment you further, the demons of the shower have put all the showers close together, so your shower is accompanied by a series of beeps; none of which you know what it means and any could mean that you are left more soapy and disappointed than a slag at a foam party.
If you are unlucky enough to not heed the warnings of the beeps you might end up in that state. There is a solution though. You can go stick another 20p in the meter outside (cross my showerhead with silver). While this may satisfy the demons of the shower, it does not satisfy the massive queue of unhappy campers who glare at you if you so much as THINK about putting that 20p in. You little bastard.
I have bought myself a straw hat. Emily hates it. I love it.
While we were on the beach I was thinking how a wedding on the beach is something people view as romantic, cute etc. (Sex on the beach has just popped up on spotify. How wonderful.)
However the cynical voice in the back of my mind was wondering about the practicalities of it that might not make it so appealing...
For a start, getting sand on your suit will probably result in the loss of your deposit on it, probably the same with the dresses... secondly the wind blowing sand in your face isn't considered massively romantic either, as the priest having to spit several times over the bride to get the sand out his mouth wouldn't give you a massive score on four weddings.
I will blog about greenbelt tomorrow as I am conscious about how long this one is getting
Talk later,
Adam xx
Hello my name is Russel and I am a wilderness explorer...
Tuesday, 16 August 2011
Discovery and caravanning
Morning readers! Bit of an early one today as I can't sleep and the bloody limited time wifi we have here is effectively run out at any second!
Currently sat up in bed (well... A sofa actually, details details) I have been listening to an artist in particular over the past couple of days who I've really come to enjoy after hearing her songs for the first time last week. More on her to come later!
Suspense! It's good for you. Deal with it.
This week I've been in the welshland trying to make heads or tails of the weather which seems to be more varied than the theories behind the death of bees. Personally I think someone somewhere challenged them to a hide and seek contest, the earth will be flooded in 2012 and we'll have an onslaught of bees appearing from various hiding places wondering if the human race will ever bloody find them!
On the whole though the weathers been rather nice. In the bits inbetween being surrounded by old people and feeling sometimes more out of place than a small nun at a human sacrifice, I've actually had quite a good time! I was joined in sunday by Emily with whom I've spent the majority of my time with. Unfortunately for her, she's has to put up with me for another week as I'm going away with her family to devon on Saturday (at some ungodly hour) which I am rather looking forward to!
Exam results are playing on the mind of many a British teen currently as they are released to us plebs on Thursday. To me this seems an unfair experience to put me through as I've been at the bottom of the ocean, shivering about it for the past few months and now it's even worse as the universities get the results before we do! Someone somewhere knows whether I'm into uclan or not; hoping the former!! Writers block, writers block, writers block... Sorry I fell asleep just after the sentence and forgot where I am going with it! Ermmmmmm.... Arghhh can't think of it! Oh well I'm sure you'll get over it; counselling should ease the pain.
Anyway to ease your suspense I have (the amount of times I just spelled that last word wrong is depressing) been listening to Megan Oliver! Two of her songs; Terrified and Travelling soldier (lots of "t"s there!) are rapidly becoming two of my favourite song. Forgive my mistake and blame it on tiredness if I'm wrong but I believe her genre is sort of countryish. (not countryman as spellcheck wonderfully corrected it to with it's facist (or racist if your spellcheck) regime over the English language) Even if you are generally a massive fan of country (though let's face it; your Stetson, pipe and banjo gave that one away didn't it?) I would seriously urge you to lend her an ear (dunno what she'd do with it) and listen to one of her songs! You could say it was music to my ears! :P
This is the bit where it gets complicated... I'm going to attempt to put a link on this post to her myspace (I know! Myspace!) and you can (and will goddammit!) give her a listen! Bear with me... http://m.myspace.com/artistprofile.wap?bfd=webnext&friendId=564423595 (managed it! Get in there!
Anyway sleep is beckoning again! Ttfn bloggers!
Adam
Stop, collaborate and... Zzzzzzz
Currently sat up in bed (well... A sofa actually, details details) I have been listening to an artist in particular over the past couple of days who I've really come to enjoy after hearing her songs for the first time last week. More on her to come later!
Suspense! It's good for you. Deal with it.
This week I've been in the welshland trying to make heads or tails of the weather which seems to be more varied than the theories behind the death of bees. Personally I think someone somewhere challenged them to a hide and seek contest, the earth will be flooded in 2012 and we'll have an onslaught of bees appearing from various hiding places wondering if the human race will ever bloody find them!
On the whole though the weathers been rather nice. In the bits inbetween being surrounded by old people and feeling sometimes more out of place than a small nun at a human sacrifice, I've actually had quite a good time! I was joined in sunday by Emily with whom I've spent the majority of my time with. Unfortunately for her, she's has to put up with me for another week as I'm going away with her family to devon on Saturday (at some ungodly hour) which I am rather looking forward to!
Exam results are playing on the mind of many a British teen currently as they are released to us plebs on Thursday. To me this seems an unfair experience to put me through as I've been at the bottom of the ocean, shivering about it for the past few months and now it's even worse as the universities get the results before we do! Someone somewhere knows whether I'm into uclan or not; hoping the former!! Writers block, writers block, writers block... Sorry I fell asleep just after the sentence and forgot where I am going with it! Ermmmmmm.... Arghhh can't think of it! Oh well I'm sure you'll get over it; counselling should ease the pain.
Anyway to ease your suspense I have (the amount of times I just spelled that last word wrong is depressing) been listening to Megan Oliver! Two of her songs; Terrified and Travelling soldier (lots of "t"s there!) are rapidly becoming two of my favourite song. Forgive my mistake and blame it on tiredness if I'm wrong but I believe her genre is sort of countryish. (not countryman as spellcheck wonderfully corrected it to with it's facist (or racist if your spellcheck) regime over the English language) Even if you are generally a massive fan of country (though let's face it; your Stetson, pipe and banjo gave that one away didn't it?) I would seriously urge you to lend her an ear (dunno what she'd do with it) and listen to one of her songs! You could say it was music to my ears! :P
This is the bit where it gets complicated... I'm going to attempt to put a link on this post to her myspace (I know! Myspace!) and you can (and will goddammit!) give her a listen! Bear with me... http://m.myspace.com/artistprofile.wap?bfd=webnext&friendId=564423595 (managed it! Get in there!
Anyway sleep is beckoning again! Ttfn bloggers!
Adam
Stop, collaborate and... Zzzzzzz
Thursday, 4 August 2011
Don't blame it on...
I am a chronic procrastinator. Whenever I really have to do something, something else becomes so vitally important the world might just end if I don't do it.
My room is a perfect example of this...
On and off my room hasn't been completely tidy for about 2 years. Sure it's been cleaned, vacced, moved around and repainted... but never completely tidy. I'd blame this on the sunshine, moonlight and the boogie if I could but somehow I doubt anyone would believe me.
Here are my reasons why the song has a lot to do with tidying my room (or rather lack of it)
Sunshine
The sun is a bitch when you are tidying you room. It makes everything look so inviting outside. When the sun is properly shining in Manchester (a phrase most might consider an oxymoron) it makes the world through your window look like it should be skipping through a field singing "it's all too beautiful" while surrounded by a yellow haze.
Moonlight
When evening comes and the sun descends below the wonderful horizon that is the Broomwood council estate; things start to happen...
... Not fangs, extra hair or an overwhelming desire to urinate against a lamppost...
...People start to happen. Everyone comes out at night, they let their hair down and whip you in the eye on the dancefloor with it...
...or just sleep.
Exciting and attractive opportunities arise for the chronic procrastinator at night; parties, nights out, good film, takeaway etc. However, if your anything like me, you will find that sleep attacks you first.
Sleep comes out of nowhere, like a ninja with chloroform... ironically, after I had written this I woke up at 4am wondering what the hell just happened. Now finishing this at 15.29 the next day and reading through this wondering exactly what was going through my head at the time. Probably pink zambuka... The show must go on!
This leaves us with...
Boogie
Now I, like I'm sure most of you do, tidy my room to music. This in itself isn't necessarily a problem, until a particularly catchy song comes up and I start dancing. This, for me, is the time where I decide to try out some new moves I have literally just thought of just then. This distracts me from room tidying, often for a good 20 minutes while I have the song on repeat so I can perfect said dancemove...
... I really need to get out more.
Some of the more smart arsed ones of you may have noticed that I'm talking about "Blame it on the boogie" by Jackson 5 to illustrate the point to this blog. Others may notice that I missed out "the good times" - All the times are "the good times"
...Back to fish...
Have had plenty of comments about my fish but none on the nature of what their names might be so suggestions please :D
Adam xx
Do not argue with an idiot. He will drag you down to his level and beat you with experience.
My room is a perfect example of this...
On and off my room hasn't been completely tidy for about 2 years. Sure it's been cleaned, vacced, moved around and repainted... but never completely tidy. I'd blame this on the sunshine, moonlight and the boogie if I could but somehow I doubt anyone would believe me.
Here are my reasons why the song has a lot to do with tidying my room (or rather lack of it)
Sunshine
The sun is a bitch when you are tidying you room. It makes everything look so inviting outside. When the sun is properly shining in Manchester (a phrase most might consider an oxymoron) it makes the world through your window look like it should be skipping through a field singing "it's all too beautiful" while surrounded by a yellow haze.
Moonlight
When evening comes and the sun descends below the wonderful horizon that is the Broomwood council estate; things start to happen...
... Not fangs, extra hair or an overwhelming desire to urinate against a lamppost...
...People start to happen. Everyone comes out at night, they let their hair down and whip you in the eye on the dancefloor with it...
...or just sleep.
Exciting and attractive opportunities arise for the chronic procrastinator at night; parties, nights out, good film, takeaway etc. However, if your anything like me, you will find that sleep attacks you first.
Sleep comes out of nowhere, like a ninja with chloroform... ironically, after I had written this I woke up at 4am wondering what the hell just happened. Now finishing this at 15.29 the next day and reading through this wondering exactly what was going through my head at the time. Probably pink zambuka... The show must go on!
This leaves us with...
Boogie
Now I, like I'm sure most of you do, tidy my room to music. This in itself isn't necessarily a problem, until a particularly catchy song comes up and I start dancing. This, for me, is the time where I decide to try out some new moves I have literally just thought of just then. This distracts me from room tidying, often for a good 20 minutes while I have the song on repeat so I can perfect said dancemove...
... I really need to get out more.
Some of the more smart arsed ones of you may have noticed that I'm talking about "Blame it on the boogie" by Jackson 5 to illustrate the point to this blog. Others may notice that I missed out "the good times" - All the times are "the good times"
...Back to fish...
Have had plenty of comments about my fish but none on the nature of what their names might be so suggestions please :D
Adam xx
Do not argue with an idiot. He will drag you down to his level and beat you with experience.
Tuesday, 26 July 2011
My fishies bring all the readers to the blog!
Hello all!
I'd like to start this blog by saying an extra special hello to all my non-uk readers. Many of whom I have never met but I appreciate your following :D Especially in the US of A where I have picked up a couple of followers I believe. One checked in last week coming straight from the facebook page of a Rudy Hernandes so a shout out to them is in order too, for being the second strangest traffic source on my history.
Since my last blog I have become a tad obsessed after finding the statistic page on my blog and have been keeping an eye of the countries you are reading this from and what page you last viewed before viewing my blog, also known as a traffic source.
As I mentioned before the person visiting straight from Rudy Hernandes' page is only the second strangest. In my non-stalking capacity on my overly obsessive stat abuse I came across this traffic source that confused me further;
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Montel_Williams
Somebody, whoever you are you win the prize for strangest traffic source, came to my blog straight from Montel William's wikipedia page. I entertained the thought that there might be a link hidden in the page though I highly doubt it.
Moving on from my stalkerish ways on my blog some of the more observant ones; probably the same as those that noticed that the title for my whole blog is blog spelled backwards (and wrongly!) May have noticed the fish at the top of the screen. For the sake of argument I'm keeping 5 of them and keeping them orange, however, what I need from you, my dearly loved readers, is names for them. Email me or post on my wall ( or even, heaven forbid, comment on this blogpost once in a while ;) ) potential names. My favourite ones will go in a poll that I'll put up on this website and we can vote for the ones we like the best. Top 5 wins! Easy!
By the way the fish aren't just there for decoration...
... okay that was a lie. BUT they will swim towards your mouse if you move it over the pool in the hopes you will press your mouse and give them food :D
Me, or any of my affiliates; (Myself and I), cannot accept any harm caused by the fish if they bite. It's your own stupid fault.
Adam xxx
Sex, drugs and veggie rolls.
I'd like to start this blog by saying an extra special hello to all my non-uk readers. Many of whom I have never met but I appreciate your following :D Especially in the US of A where I have picked up a couple of followers I believe. One checked in last week coming straight from the facebook page of a Rudy Hernandes so a shout out to them is in order too, for being the second strangest traffic source on my history.
Since my last blog I have become a tad obsessed after finding the statistic page on my blog and have been keeping an eye of the countries you are reading this from and what page you last viewed before viewing my blog, also known as a traffic source.
As I mentioned before the person visiting straight from Rudy Hernandes' page is only the second strangest. In my non-stalking capacity on my overly obsessive stat abuse I came across this traffic source that confused me further;
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Montel_Williams
Somebody, whoever you are you win the prize for strangest traffic source, came to my blog straight from Montel William's wikipedia page. I entertained the thought that there might be a link hidden in the page though I highly doubt it.
Moving on from my stalkerish ways on my blog some of the more observant ones; probably the same as those that noticed that the title for my whole blog is blog spelled backwards (and wrongly!) May have noticed the fish at the top of the screen. For the sake of argument I'm keeping 5 of them and keeping them orange, however, what I need from you, my dearly loved readers, is names for them. Email me or post on my wall ( or even, heaven forbid, comment on this blogpost once in a while ;) ) potential names. My favourite ones will go in a poll that I'll put up on this website and we can vote for the ones we like the best. Top 5 wins! Easy!
By the way the fish aren't just there for decoration...
... okay that was a lie. BUT they will swim towards your mouse if you move it over the pool in the hopes you will press your mouse and give them food :D
Me, or any of my affiliates; (Myself and I), cannot accept any harm caused by the fish if they bite. It's your own stupid fault.
Adam xxx
Sex, drugs and veggie rolls.
Monday, 11 July 2011
The view from a blogger.
I'm going to be honest. This post is a thank you.
All that may have been in earshot in the past week will know that I have reached over 1000 views of this blog.
Practically speaking about 20 of these are probably me; looking at formatting with my OCD design mind and wondering if I could make any more anal improvements to somehow increase the attractiveness of the page.
After a while I had decided that I could spend forever trying to make everything look all prettiful and nice; art decor flowers on the ceiling perhaps? A new sofa? Maybe pink chimpanzees performing the Charleston or dazzling flashing lights to make sure epileptics have the time of their lives...
Though my interior design phase I realised that I didn't actually aim this blog at anyone in particular. It was just open, as it always has been, for anyone who takes a casual interest in what happens to me on my day to day activities; the rather bizarre events that happen or simply the weird things I attempt to do to make the boring journey up Brooklands road that little bit less soul destroying.
It was on my way home today that I had time to reflect on my blog and where it had begun to where it now is; with an average of 200 core people reading each one in recent posts!
I looked down and realised that I had been swinging my hands similar to the time I had tried to speed up my walk to school by taking a leaf out of Micheal Mcintyre's book and swinging my arms.
I have been a fan of this technique for a while. Even though it means you look a bit of twat you are king of the pavement. Overtaking pedestrians easily on your crusade to arrive home in a quicker time than before...
...Still, 1000 views.
I'd like to say thanks to everyone for supporting me so far, your kind words of encouragement to me have always been welcome. Even my critics, of whom I know there are some, I appreciate the time you take to read it anyway.
Therefore I'd like to take the opportunity to say a massive thank you to you all.
My blogs; past, present and future are always dedicated to you.
Adam xx
All that may have been in earshot in the past week will know that I have reached over 1000 views of this blog.
Practically speaking about 20 of these are probably me; looking at formatting with my OCD design mind and wondering if I could make any more anal improvements to somehow increase the attractiveness of the page.
After a while I had decided that I could spend forever trying to make everything look all prettiful and nice; art decor flowers on the ceiling perhaps? A new sofa? Maybe pink chimpanzees performing the Charleston or dazzling flashing lights to make sure epileptics have the time of their lives...
Though my interior design phase I realised that I didn't actually aim this blog at anyone in particular. It was just open, as it always has been, for anyone who takes a casual interest in what happens to me on my day to day activities; the rather bizarre events that happen or simply the weird things I attempt to do to make the boring journey up Brooklands road that little bit less soul destroying.
It was on my way home today that I had time to reflect on my blog and where it had begun to where it now is; with an average of 200 core people reading each one in recent posts!
I looked down and realised that I had been swinging my hands similar to the time I had tried to speed up my walk to school by taking a leaf out of Micheal Mcintyre's book and swinging my arms.
I have been a fan of this technique for a while. Even though it means you look a bit of twat you are king of the pavement. Overtaking pedestrians easily on your crusade to arrive home in a quicker time than before...
...Still, 1000 views.
I'd like to say thanks to everyone for supporting me so far, your kind words of encouragement to me have always been welcome. Even my critics, of whom I know there are some, I appreciate the time you take to read it anyway.
Therefore I'd like to take the opportunity to say a massive thank you to you all.
My blogs; past, present and future are always dedicated to you.
Adam xx
Friday, 17 June 2011
Friday, Friday, write another bloggy thing on Friday.
Just got in from Emily's house and am sat in my dining-room-turned-playroom with a Ribena and the TV on "90s Dance Resurrection". As I progress to be transfixed I become more and more fixed in the belief that some 90s dance tracks should, much like the outfits some of the artists are wearing, should never been seen in public again.
I am however quite enjoying some of it. And have perhaps found something that my life has been lacking of lately. I've been searching for some feel good dance music that I wouldn't mind playing out loud. The closest I have been to feel good music recently has been the subtle volume turn up of "In the Navy" which comes up on my phone.
...Not quite sure what the neighbours would think though...
Today, has been interesting to say the least really. The point of my day that I will remember was being persuaded into buying a pen for some prostate charity. When exiting the Clintons cards store where I had purchased this pen I was reminded to "keep checking them"... thanks for that :P
...Sweet like chocolate has just come on. Probably what a chocolate inducted nightmare would look like. Seriously this video is scarier than the exorcist on crack...
Not quite sure what I think of this "Geordie shore". I really can't see what people see in programs like that. I tried watching that "made in essex" the other day and ended up switching....
...Oh dear god... There's this song that is basically an advert for "visit Ecuador" It shows a man in a cowboy hat shouting thinks at a camera ending with the country. This man could effectively be shouting anything. "I am shagging your mother... come visit Ecuador!"
...An Eagle keeps popping up which I'm sure is meant to be one of those abstract allegories for something. To be honest I'm half expecting a car logo to pop up and for it to be all some subtle pointing to a car.
Car adverts have really messed up a game I used to play with myself where I had to guess what the advert was trying to sell. (A game that works well in Britian where an advert can consist of basically anything with a quick flash to the product at the end) However no. Car adverts have to be different. The volvo advert picked up on this quite well with their "how to make a sexy car" add (just a shame they were selling a 4x4... not generally considered to be sexiest car in the world...
That advert for match.com is starting to annoy me. Just saying.
Bye for now.
Adam.
A diplomat is someone who will tell you to go to hell in such a way you will look forward to the trip.
I am however quite enjoying some of it. And have perhaps found something that my life has been lacking of lately. I've been searching for some feel good dance music that I wouldn't mind playing out loud. The closest I have been to feel good music recently has been the subtle volume turn up of "In the Navy" which comes up on my phone.
...Not quite sure what the neighbours would think though...
Today, has been interesting to say the least really. The point of my day that I will remember was being persuaded into buying a pen for some prostate charity. When exiting the Clintons cards store where I had purchased this pen I was reminded to "keep checking them"... thanks for that :P
...Sweet like chocolate has just come on. Probably what a chocolate inducted nightmare would look like. Seriously this video is scarier than the exorcist on crack...
Not quite sure what I think of this "Geordie shore". I really can't see what people see in programs like that. I tried watching that "made in essex" the other day and ended up switching....
...Oh dear god... There's this song that is basically an advert for "visit Ecuador" It shows a man in a cowboy hat shouting thinks at a camera ending with the country. This man could effectively be shouting anything. "I am shagging your mother... come visit Ecuador!"
...An Eagle keeps popping up which I'm sure is meant to be one of those abstract allegories for something. To be honest I'm half expecting a car logo to pop up and for it to be all some subtle pointing to a car.
Car adverts have really messed up a game I used to play with myself where I had to guess what the advert was trying to sell. (A game that works well in Britian where an advert can consist of basically anything with a quick flash to the product at the end) However no. Car adverts have to be different. The volvo advert picked up on this quite well with their "how to make a sexy car" add (just a shame they were selling a 4x4... not generally considered to be sexiest car in the world...
That advert for match.com is starting to annoy me. Just saying.
Bye for now.
Adam.
A diplomat is someone who will tell you to go to hell in such a way you will look forward to the trip.
Saturday, 19 March 2011
Shortest ever blog.
To get the ol' ball rolling I thought I'd follow up on a previous post and happily announce the release of the app "core" onto the app store (God I should be paid for this!) Rather addictive I must say! Well worth the monies it costs to pur-chase. On the 'tunes market place. Here's the link! Happy "Coring" (I am copyrighting that word!) http://smartcode.at/apps/#core
Onto more recent business. As anybody who was in a 2 mile radius of me from about 2 months ago will know it was my birthday on Friday. They will also know how excited I have been and have also had an overwhelming urge to punch me in the face... (note to self: Are these two phenomenon linked?!?)
I FINALLY GOT MY CUDDLY TALKING CHEWBACCA! Get in there! I mean even if he does make slightly orgasmic sounding noises when you squeeze him... Other presents include; A new coat, a fender top (Miss Johnstone), an angry birds pig (pretty awesome I must say Miss Eve), a Hollister Hoodie and photo collage (From Em (L))>
... and a pan...
I was overwhelmed by text messages. The blasted things pretty much killed my phone for most of the day so thanks for that guys ;D. I think I managed to reply to them all but if I didn't nothing personal it probably got lost in the depths of my now massive inbox... The thing is now bigger than some girl singing about her average day needing bowls...
Whilst on the subject of that awful song I'm going to jump on the proverbial bandwagon and express my annoyance of it. Is anybody else sitting there shouting at the screen for her to CHOOSE A FUCKING SEAT?!? If you watch the video backwards its about a girl who comes out of a party and becomes increasingly unpopular... SHE HAS NO SOUL. Seriously I think she's actually an animated corpse on some sick joke on the music industry...
She didn't actually write the song. Arkmusic.com or whoever she's with actually wrote the song... so no more jokes from me...
... though she probably has problems on planes...
I scored a goal in Lacrosse today... just saying.
I have decided to try and become a journalist. I don't know what you may all think of this dear readers. It is a job that is likely to keep me more on my toes than a midget at a urinal.
THAT IS ALL,
Adam.
To the woman behind me on my driving lesson the other day;
Keep honking... I'm reloading.
Sunday, 27 February 2011
I wish I could think of a decent title.
With the encouraging words of Alexander Schuch still firmly ingrained in my memory I set to work writing the first blog I have written in a while.
No excuses its probably got a lot to do with the general laziness I've been suffering that I haven't actually done another blog. Or that I've only ever had like 3 comments ever! People say they have read them and thought they were really good yet I have no comments!
The best place to start would probably be the events of today, which started badly after I forgot that the church service I had meant to be doing sound desk on was moved to Alty Methodist Church. The silver lining to this was that I went campaigning with the Labour Party (Woo!) and Broadheath was full of the sounds of the general public being harassed by a bunch of people who had far too much energy for a Sunday morning!
After that my family (or rather my mum) was insistent that we went out for lunch. We were originally meant to be visiting Bocadillo's in the village; but finding that closed we went further afield.
This was when my Mum revealed to us that she didn't feel suitably dressed or prepared for an actual restaurant and so 2 o'clock found her wallowing in the ambiance of the Tesco café eating jacket potato with the rest of us deciding that maybe it wasn't so bad at all.
Yesterday an event happened that had been waiting a while. I, by a slip of the tongue, called Anne Black... Mum.
I was on Skype to Emily and we had been talking earlier about how I sometimes practically live at her house. True as this may be maybe I shouldn't go round as often before I forget where I actually live.
I went down to watch telly with my actual parents later wondering if I would feel any bond of familiarity with them at all!
This week I have been looking at the world of the automobile. I've been trawling through www.Autotrader.co.uk trying to find a possible car for me to drive. After the millionth page of ford fiesta's I found possibly the worst car in the world.
This car has;
- A top speed of 56mph (so litterally 0-60 in like never!)
- An engine you'd probably find in a lawnmower with about 21bhp.
And let's face it. Any car with "boot carpet" listed in its features is getting pretty desperate!
On the flip side it's an automatic and is all yours for £1790.
On the other hand you'll have grannies overtaking you on the inside lane whilst their mates, stuffed in the back with their morrisons and B'n'M bargains bags, swear at you through the back window.
Recently I have discovered the wonder that is Skype. (Recently being since my last blog). Skype basically lets you talk to people via the wonder that is the internet! Unfortunately my girlfriend's skype keeps going on and off. I have actually started to just to count until she goes offline again. It's rather frustrating for her. Mildly amusing for me as it winds her up to no end. It's even funnier because you can do this thing called screen share which means that the other person can see what you're doing on your screen. I am using this as a form of torture as she can see what is being written AND HAS NO WAY OF STOPPING IT MWHAHAHAHA! ... apart from blackmail.
... which she is rather good at. Because she is a horrible person.
I am also a horrible person because I am enjoying this. I guess that's why we're still together.
(Emily: God knows why) (Adam: I'm sure he does but because you're an atheist he doesn't think you exist)
Religion is an interesting topic. Not many comedians venture out into what is effectively an
Indiana Jones tunnel of death with a rolling Pope chasing them. However some do. Eddie Izzard for example likes the idea of a god of chaos who sits in a caravan somewhere in the universe and goes "I made that? I dunno did I?" *Emily's internet fails* Maybe God is punishing me. He certainly seemed hellbent that I was not going to be going to church today. (Maybe he thinks I'm a bad influence on the old people there) First I overslept, second of all it tipped it down and when I finally arrived. Nobody was there. Instead a polite little notice informed me that the service had been moved to Alty Methodist Church and nobody had deigned to tell me (or maybe I just forgot... who knows? Apparently him but I received no memo from the guy in the sky)
You might notice that my spelling is rather good in this Blog. This is because I now have my own little voice making sure I stay on the straight and narrow with Emily on this screen sharing thing on Skype who seems to be going pedal to the metal to make sure my spelling is correct. GRAMMAR NAZI! (Emily: well you're the English Student!)
It's kind of like having your teacher staring over your shoulder and reading everything you've said. I can also tell her reaction to everything I've said as she is in a wonderful little box to the right of my screen. Which also means I can see the guy in her cupboard that she's been "babysitting" with again! (Emily: No you can't because I'm on the floor) (Adam: So there IS a guy in your cupboard then?) *Emily's internet dies* (Emily: kills self)
I hope by my little brackets you can see my relationship with Emily *Emily's internet dies* as a sort of voice over my shoulder thing... *Emily's internet dies* (Adam: this is actually quite funny... except its not because I have to put the effort in of actually putting her back on screen share. It's like trying to hang a cup on a rail that's slanted. You know the cups going to fall off and you'll have to pick it up and... (Emily: Oh so you have to put effort in to putting me back on the screen? Am I that much of a burden?) (Adam: No dear...) yeh its always going to fall off...
Any how I will now love you and leave you as I am going to get back to watching Emily get increasingly frustrated with her internet. Which, as it turns out, is actually quite fun!
Adam xxx
A conclusion is the place where you get tired of thinking. x
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