Stead is organising a Concert to raise some cash for the victims of the tsunami. http://www.yateonline.co.uk/whatson.htm
Wednesday, December 29, 2004
Tuesday, December 28, 2004
Tsunami
Mention should be made of the devastating tsunami that hit various parts of Indonesia, Thailand, India and so-on on Boxing Day. Much has been said on the net about it, and I can only echo those sentiments. It was a terrible day for those involved.
Vic’s Bum Ruins Christmas
Before I get to the part about Vic’s bum ruining Christmas for the entire family, I shall tell you about the circumstances that surrounded it.
Our original plan for Christmas was to hold it at our house again. Unfortunately this was impossible as we had very kindly allowed Vic’s Dad, who is currently ‘between houses’ having moved to Yorkshire, to store his furniture in our spare room. So with teeth gritted, we agreed to go to Mum’s for Christmas. Chris, my younger brother, was not going to be there as he was unable to get time off work (he’s a nurse), which was a shame, because he’s usually the only saving grace about going to Mum’s. On the plus side, Vic’s mum was invited over for the day, which meant that we didn’t have to rush off to engage in the obligatory visitations straight after lunch.
Having finished work at lunchtime (absolute bonus, that. Didn’t even have to take the half day as holiday) I winged my way home with the Stead. Vic, the dirty stopout, sloped off to the pub for the afternoon.
So we finally left to go ‘down south’ at about 7, arriving at 9.30ish. Darnit. That means we missed Midnight Mass at 8pm. Shame.
Anyway, after a morning or utter, utter boredom (Where’s the Bored Board when you need it?), and Russ’ normal Christmas bad mood, we sat down to dinner, which was very tasty. Christmas dinners are great. Especially when the turkey’s been covered in bacon. Mmmmm… bacon…
Then we got to the present-opening part of the day. This is where Vic’s bum and the ruining of Christmas comes into play.
Having cunningly tricked the Vickster into performing Chris’ traditional role of distributing the presents from under the tree, Vic engaged in the activity with gusto. And a splendid job she did of it, too. Until she decided to crawl under the tree to get the last few gifts from the back.
Bad move, that.
The towering elevation of Vic’s derriere caused the tree to descend in a graceful arc onto the floor, scattering baubles in glorious devastation.
Christmas. Ruined. By Vic’s bum.
Of course, I exaggerate. Christmas was not ruined at all. It was pretty comical, though. Heh.
Even better, was that despite being 250 miles away and working a 12 hour Christmas day shift, Chris still managed to make my day by telephoning at about 8pm, on his return from work. He decided to open his presents on the phone (bear in mind at this point, that both parents and Vic’s mum were present in the room and Chris, unbeknownst to him had been placed on speakerphone, so all could enjoy his delight at his presents).
Upon opening my present to him (and all the while thinking that I was the only one that could hear him), Chris enquired (and I quote) "What the f*ck is that?".
Loudly.
Obviously a bollocking ensued from Mum, who keeps forgetting that he’s all grown up now.
The present, incidentally was a pair of radio controlled battling tanks. Very cool.
Of the many cool presents I received for Christmas, mention should be made of my new Kodak Digital Camera: http://www.kodak.com/eknec/PageQuerier.jhtml?pq-locale=en_US&pq-path=4633. Exellent present from Mum and Dad there, which perfectly juxtaposed the cardboard build-your-own-st-paul’s-cathedral kit that they also gave me!
Our original plan for Christmas was to hold it at our house again. Unfortunately this was impossible as we had very kindly allowed Vic’s Dad, who is currently ‘between houses’ having moved to Yorkshire, to store his furniture in our spare room. So with teeth gritted, we agreed to go to Mum’s for Christmas. Chris, my younger brother, was not going to be there as he was unable to get time off work (he’s a nurse), which was a shame, because he’s usually the only saving grace about going to Mum’s. On the plus side, Vic’s mum was invited over for the day, which meant that we didn’t have to rush off to engage in the obligatory visitations straight after lunch.
Having finished work at lunchtime (absolute bonus, that. Didn’t even have to take the half day as holiday) I winged my way home with the Stead. Vic, the dirty stopout, sloped off to the pub for the afternoon.
So we finally left to go ‘down south’ at about 7, arriving at 9.30ish. Darnit. That means we missed Midnight Mass at 8pm. Shame.
Anyway, after a morning or utter, utter boredom (Where’s the Bored Board when you need it?), and Russ’ normal Christmas bad mood, we sat down to dinner, which was very tasty. Christmas dinners are great. Especially when the turkey’s been covered in bacon. Mmmmm… bacon…
Then we got to the present-opening part of the day. This is where Vic’s bum and the ruining of Christmas comes into play.
Having cunningly tricked the Vickster into performing Chris’ traditional role of distributing the presents from under the tree, Vic engaged in the activity with gusto. And a splendid job she did of it, too. Until she decided to crawl under the tree to get the last few gifts from the back.
Bad move, that.
The towering elevation of Vic’s derriere caused the tree to descend in a graceful arc onto the floor, scattering baubles in glorious devastation.
Christmas. Ruined. By Vic’s bum.
Of course, I exaggerate. Christmas was not ruined at all. It was pretty comical, though. Heh.
Even better, was that despite being 250 miles away and working a 12 hour Christmas day shift, Chris still managed to make my day by telephoning at about 8pm, on his return from work. He decided to open his presents on the phone (bear in mind at this point, that both parents and Vic’s mum were present in the room and Chris, unbeknownst to him had been placed on speakerphone, so all could enjoy his delight at his presents).
Upon opening my present to him (and all the while thinking that I was the only one that could hear him), Chris enquired (and I quote) "What the f*ck is that?".
Loudly.
Obviously a bollocking ensued from Mum, who keeps forgetting that he’s all grown up now.
The present, incidentally was a pair of radio controlled battling tanks. Very cool.
Of the many cool presents I received for Christmas, mention should be made of my new Kodak Digital Camera: http://www.kodak.com/eknec/PageQuerier.jhtml?pq-locale=en_US&pq-path=4633. Exellent present from Mum and Dad there, which perfectly juxtaposed the cardboard build-your-own-st-paul’s-cathedral kit that they also gave me!
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
Children In The Office
Some dozy bint has just decided that it's a good idea to bring her
child into the office. All I've heard for the last hour are things
like "Do you want to show Kim your Blankie" and strange gurgling
noises accompanied by high pitched squeaking from the little creature
itself.
Here's an analogy for you:
Going for a poo is a natural bodily function (do you see where I'm
going with this yet?).
Vomiting is a natural bodily function.
Sneezing is a natural bodily function.
Would you then take the product of these natural bodily functions and
show them round the office? I think not.
So why do parents feel the need to take the product of their natualy
bodily functions (i.e. childbirth)and show them round the office, eh?
Our reaction to children in the office should be the same as that to a
turd or pool of sick in the office - i.e. "Ewwwww. Gross."
I may post this on the Bored Board and see if anyone else has the same opinion.
child into the office. All I've heard for the last hour are things
like "Do you want to show Kim your Blankie" and strange gurgling
noises accompanied by high pitched squeaking from the little creature
itself.
Here's an analogy for you:
Going for a poo is a natural bodily function (do you see where I'm
going with this yet?).
Vomiting is a natural bodily function.
Sneezing is a natural bodily function.
Would you then take the product of these natural bodily functions and
show them round the office? I think not.
So why do parents feel the need to take the product of their natualy
bodily functions (i.e. childbirth)and show them round the office, eh?
Our reaction to children in the office should be the same as that to a
turd or pool of sick in the office - i.e. "Ewwwww. Gross."
I may post this on the Bored Board and see if anyone else has the same opinion.
Children In The Office
Some dozy bint has just decided that it's a good idea to bring her child into the office. All I've heard for the last hour are things like "Do you want to show Kim your Blankie" and strange gurgling noises accompanied by high pitched squeaking from the little creature itself.
Here's an analogy for you:
Going for a poo is a natural bodily function (do you see where I'mgoing with this yet?).
Vomiting is a natural bodily function.
Sneezing is a natural bodily function.
Would you then take the product of these natural bodily functions and show them round the office?
I think not.
So why do parents feel the need to take the product of their natural bodily functions (i.e. childbirth) and show them round the office, eh?
Our reaction to children in the office should be the same as that to a turd or pool of sick in the office - i.e. "Ewwwww. Gross."
Here's an analogy for you:
Going for a poo is a natural bodily function (do you see where I'mgoing with this yet?).
Vomiting is a natural bodily function.
Sneezing is a natural bodily function.
Would you then take the product of these natural bodily functions and show them round the office?
I think not.
So why do parents feel the need to take the product of their natural bodily functions (i.e. childbirth) and show them round the office, eh?
Our reaction to children in the office should be the same as that to a turd or pool of sick in the office - i.e. "Ewwwww. Gross."
Monday, December 20, 2004
Keep It In The Family
We were supposed to be going down to Mum's on Saturday to see my younger brother. He's a nurse and desn't have time off over Christmas this year, so he's popping down to see Mum just beforehand. And we thought we'd catch him there, give him his pressies and so-on.
Unfortunately, after her Works Do on Friday night, Vic was somewhat poorly on Saturday morning. She'd actually be up all night, feeling quite ill and had retired to the sofa with a bucket (which, fortunately she didn't need to use). She swears it was the turkey or a stomach bug as she didn't have much to drink. Whilst I believe her on this score, it does leave her wide open for all sorts of jokes... an opportunity that I just can't pass up!
While the Vickster recuperated in bed I completed a couple of excrutiatingly difficult (well for me, anyway) missions on GTA (punctuated with lost of swearing and angry controller tossing - it helps, honestly!), then me'n Stead drove up to Yate (pronounced Yah-tay, for the uninitiated) for an inpromptu Full Monty All Day Breakfast in the greasy, greasy caff. Oh yeah.
So, anyway - we went down to Mum's on Sunday instead. Russ turned up, too, so the whole Morrissey gang were present and correct (well present, anyway). An amusing time was had by all - except, it seems, Mum, who objected to us mucking around at dinner and talking about things she knows nothing about. Little britain, Star Wars, Computers and so on. Just about anything that could be considered remotely interesting.
After dinner at the local Brewers Fayre (which was about as inspiring as you could expect), we went back to Mums, where she turned the central heating and the real flame gas fire up to maximum and went to sleep in front of some inane property programme. Whilst she did that, we looked up the Star Wars Gangsta Rap which took about half an hour to load on Dad's nasty slow dialup connection. It was worth it, though.
Anyways. We also saw Vic's Dad, who we've not seen since he moved to Yorkshire about 3 months ago (and stole 'my' laptop). Which was nice.
Finished the day with a quick visit to Vic's Mum.
That's it. Not a very exciting weekend in the grand scheme of things, but it keeps me off the street.
Unfortunately, after her Works Do on Friday night, Vic was somewhat poorly on Saturday morning. She'd actually be up all night, feeling quite ill and had retired to the sofa with a bucket (which, fortunately she didn't need to use). She swears it was the turkey or a stomach bug as she didn't have much to drink. Whilst I believe her on this score, it does leave her wide open for all sorts of jokes... an opportunity that I just can't pass up!
While the Vickster recuperated in bed I completed a couple of excrutiatingly difficult (well for me, anyway) missions on GTA (punctuated with lost of swearing and angry controller tossing - it helps, honestly!), then me'n Stead drove up to Yate (pronounced Yah-tay, for the uninitiated) for an inpromptu Full Monty All Day Breakfast in the greasy, greasy caff. Oh yeah.
So, anyway - we went down to Mum's on Sunday instead. Russ turned up, too, so the whole Morrissey gang were present and correct (well present, anyway). An amusing time was had by all - except, it seems, Mum, who objected to us mucking around at dinner and talking about things she knows nothing about. Little britain, Star Wars, Computers and so on. Just about anything that could be considered remotely interesting.
After dinner at the local Brewers Fayre (which was about as inspiring as you could expect), we went back to Mums, where she turned the central heating and the real flame gas fire up to maximum and went to sleep in front of some inane property programme. Whilst she did that, we looked up the Star Wars Gangsta Rap which took about half an hour to load on Dad's nasty slow dialup connection. It was worth it, though.
Anyways. We also saw Vic's Dad, who we've not seen since he moved to Yorkshire about 3 months ago (and stole 'my' laptop). Which was nice.
Finished the day with a quick visit to Vic's Mum.
That's it. Not a very exciting weekend in the grand scheme of things, but it keeps me off the street.
Friday, December 17, 2004
Tree
Vicster put up the Christmas tree the other night. I've been trying to post it here so that you can see it in all it's glory, but I can't get the damn thing to work.
The Festive Season
Cunning, my plan is. Exceedingly so.
I have decided that I am prepared to accept the current trend of celebrating of Christmas for up to six weeks before the main event itself. During this period, I will engage, without complaint or humbugocity, in the general christmas merriment, the partying, the buying of secret santa gifts, the overabundant issuing of pointless colourful bits of card and the labelling of anyone who does not start celebrating the festive season six weeks beforehand as a 'miserable b*stard'.
Yes. I will do this thing.
On one condition.
The same celebratory period should be assigned to my birthday. Therefore, I declare that the entire month of February and the first half of March should be designated as 'Darren's Birthday Season'. As is traditional on one's birthday, everyone must be extra nice to me during this period. Gifts should be given. Songs of celebration should be sung. A minimum of 3 parties a week should be held in my honour. Everybody should annonymously purchase me a gift, Secret Santa style. Festive decorations should be put up in my honour. Calendars with chocolate in should be issued to everybody. Anyone who does not engage in merriment and Darren worshipping during this tradtional festive season should be branded a 'miserable b*stard' and be castigated as often as possible.
Thank you.
You may continue about your business.
I have decided that I am prepared to accept the current trend of celebrating of Christmas for up to six weeks before the main event itself. During this period, I will engage, without complaint or humbugocity, in the general christmas merriment, the partying, the buying of secret santa gifts, the overabundant issuing of pointless colourful bits of card and the labelling of anyone who does not start celebrating the festive season six weeks beforehand as a 'miserable b*stard'.
Yes. I will do this thing.
On one condition.
The same celebratory period should be assigned to my birthday. Therefore, I declare that the entire month of February and the first half of March should be designated as 'Darren's Birthday Season'. As is traditional on one's birthday, everyone must be extra nice to me during this period. Gifts should be given. Songs of celebration should be sung. A minimum of 3 parties a week should be held in my honour. Everybody should annonymously purchase me a gift, Secret Santa style. Festive decorations should be put up in my honour. Calendars with chocolate in should be issued to everybody. Anyone who does not engage in merriment and Darren worshipping during this tradtional festive season should be branded a 'miserable b*stard' and be castigated as often as possible.
Thank you.
You may continue about your business.
Sunday, December 12, 2004
Awesome Recording Studio...
Stead has been recording the Official Jammie Dodger Bored Board Song over the last week or so. It's sounding pretty good. Anyway, he asked Vic and I to pop round to lend our talents to the proceedings. Vic provided a bit of violin and some backing vocals. For some reason, Stead thought that I might be able to shake his egg rattle thingie in time to the music. I couldn't. Ho hum. He did record a nice wookie noise from me though.
Shot over to Broderses for dinner last night, which was cool - probably haven't seen 'em for about 3 or 4 months. A good time was had by all.
Shot over to Broderses for dinner last night, which was cool - probably haven't seen 'em for about 3 or 4 months. A good time was had by all.
Friday, December 10, 2004
Christmas Do #1
Ahh. Last night I had the pleasure of attending my first Christmas Do of the year. And it wasn't bad! I hired a tux for the evening (probably the first time I've EVER worn one) and managed to persuade a good proportion of the other guys in the office to do the same. And I have pictures (albeit pretty awful ones - look, I don't get my new digital camera until AFTER Christmas, ok!):
Obviously, being the immature little tyke that I am, it was neccessary to force Vic to take pictures of me in a James Bond pose:
Damn, I look good!
For dinnder, I was wedged between one of the Senior Managers and my Head Of, both of whom were resonably entertaining. For some reason, everybody else were desperate to avoid sitting with anyone remotely resembling a boss, but my attitude is that these are the guys I need to get on with if I want a pay-rise or promotion. So where's the problem?
At one point, my bosses boss and the Head Of tried to physically drag me from my chair to the dance floor. I used a secret technique to dissuade them - one that I'm unable to reveal here. Oh... alright then. I said no. To my Head Of. Unheard of, I know, but there we have it!
Unfortunately I had to leave at 11 because I had to attand the half-yearly conference in the morning and needed to be resonably coherent.
With regards to the conference... it's amazinbg how many people sit in silence during break-out groups... just in case they're called upon to do any actual thinking. I did plenty and kinda had fun in a conferene break-out group sorta way. Made many good suggestions and, hopefully, some of 'em will get implemented.
Anyways - I had to leave that early as well, as I had to go to a post-funeral service at the church for one of Vic's friends. It was treated as a celebration of her life and went very well. Excellent. And I got fed. Cool.
Obviously, being the immature little tyke that I am, it was neccessary to force Vic to take pictures of me in a James Bond pose:
Damn, I look good!
For dinnder, I was wedged between one of the Senior Managers and my Head Of, both of whom were resonably entertaining. For some reason, everybody else were desperate to avoid sitting with anyone remotely resembling a boss, but my attitude is that these are the guys I need to get on with if I want a pay-rise or promotion. So where's the problem?
At one point, my bosses boss and the Head Of tried to physically drag me from my chair to the dance floor. I used a secret technique to dissuade them - one that I'm unable to reveal here. Oh... alright then. I said no. To my Head Of. Unheard of, I know, but there we have it!
Unfortunately I had to leave at 11 because I had to attand the half-yearly conference in the morning and needed to be resonably coherent.
With regards to the conference... it's amazinbg how many people sit in silence during break-out groups... just in case they're called upon to do any actual thinking. I did plenty and kinda had fun in a conferene break-out group sorta way. Made many good suggestions and, hopefully, some of 'em will get implemented.
Anyways - I had to leave that early as well, as I had to go to a post-funeral service at the church for one of Vic's friends. It was treated as a celebration of her life and went very well. Excellent. And I got fed. Cool.
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
Fatness
I'm currently watching the BBC News. Apparently, the less sleep you get, the more 'deranged' your hormones get and the fatter you are.
So now I have an excuse.
So now I have an excuse.
Monday, December 06, 2004
Dime
When I checked my change, having purchased a very tasty corned beef and salad sandwich (with a touch of salt and black pepper) from the canteen, I noticed that I had been given a dime rather than a 5 pence piece.
Todays exchange rate is $1.8429 to the Pound. That means that my dime is actually worth 13.6p. Which makes me 8.6p up on the deal.
Cool.
Todays exchange rate is $1.8429 to the Pound. That means that my dime is actually worth 13.6p. Which makes me 8.6p up on the deal.
Cool.
Sunday, December 05, 2004
Vic's Concert
Vic had another concert tonight. This time it was Tchaikovski's Sleeping Beauty Suite and Symphony Number 5. Aslo featured was a Dubussy clarinet concerto.
The two Tcaikovsky pieces were great. Vic, as usual, was the best one in her row.
The Debussy, however was... well... er... crap. The clarinetist (is that a real word?) kept giving the conductor significant looks (not surpising as they were a couple).
The two Tcaikovsky pieces were great. Vic, as usual, was the best one in her row.
The Debussy, however was... well... er... crap. The clarinetist (is that a real word?) kept giving the conductor significant looks (not surpising as they were a couple).
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
The Incredibles
Well Vic announced that she was going to see The Incredibles with some of her work buddies yesterday evening. Although she said it quite matter-of-factly with no apparent malice in the statement, I could tell that secretly, underneath that cool facade she was actully brimming with glee at the fact that she might get to see a cool movie before me.
So, bursting with jealousy I began to plot and scheme - I needed to find some way to foil her diabolical plan. In the end it was quite simple. Get some Henchmen (in this case Stead and Woolie) and head out to the cinema to see it ourselves. That way she wouldn't be one up on me.
Actually it seemed to be going well. It happened that we were going to see exactly the same time showing at the very same venue as the Vicster. Cunning as I am, I made no mention of this to Vic, intending to surprise her at the cinema. Little did I know just how phenomenally sucessful my plan would be.
Upon arriving at the cinema, we sneaked in quietly hoping to arrive unnoticed. We failed - Vic and her cronies were hanging out in the entrance and spotted us straight away. Gunfire was exchanged (actually I just made that bit up) and then Vic dropped the bombshell. Her mates had decided that they couldn't possibly wait an hour to see The Incredibles and decided to see The Forgotten instead. Awwww. What a shame.
So I got to see The Incredibles and Vicky didn't.
He he he he he.
The reason I'm so gleeful is that The Incredibles was the funniest and coolest movie I've seen all year. There was just nothing wrong with it. The story was corny and cool. The heroes were corny and cool. The jokes were corny and cool and the whole thing was just... cool! Cool I tell you.
Did I mention that Vic went to see The Forgotten instead. Apparently it was Ok.
He he he he he.
So, bursting with jealousy I began to plot and scheme - I needed to find some way to foil her diabolical plan. In the end it was quite simple. Get some Henchmen (in this case Stead and Woolie) and head out to the cinema to see it ourselves. That way she wouldn't be one up on me.
Actually it seemed to be going well. It happened that we were going to see exactly the same time showing at the very same venue as the Vicster. Cunning as I am, I made no mention of this to Vic, intending to surprise her at the cinema. Little did I know just how phenomenally sucessful my plan would be.
Upon arriving at the cinema, we sneaked in quietly hoping to arrive unnoticed. We failed - Vic and her cronies were hanging out in the entrance and spotted us straight away. Gunfire was exchanged (actually I just made that bit up) and then Vic dropped the bombshell. Her mates had decided that they couldn't possibly wait an hour to see The Incredibles and decided to see The Forgotten instead. Awwww. What a shame.
So I got to see The Incredibles and Vicky didn't.
He he he he he.
The reason I'm so gleeful is that The Incredibles was the funniest and coolest movie I've seen all year. There was just nothing wrong with it. The story was corny and cool. The heroes were corny and cool. The jokes were corny and cool and the whole thing was just... cool! Cool I tell you.
Did I mention that Vic went to see The Forgotten instead. Apparently it was Ok.
He he he he he.
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