Well, That Was 2011

Good, wasn't it?

Back at the end of 2010 I was challenged to write a blog post every day for a year.  Well...  actually, it was suggested in passing that I could write down a 'thought of the day'.  I bet the person who suggested it doesn't even remember the conversation.

Anyway, I took up the challenge.  And completed it with flying colours, I think.  No-one ever said that the blog had to be good...

I thought, for my final post of the year, I would have a little retrospective of my favourite posts from the last 12 months.

Remember back in May, when Dexter was caught on CCTV committing murder?  No?  Here it is:

He did a lot of murdering.  Sometimes he tried to leave evidence to suggest that the victims were responsible for their own deaths.

Evil little f*cker, isn't he? And mass murder not his only crime. In April, he was caught red handed drinking from the toilet.  No, wait...  he was caught BLUE handed!

Moving on, I've done a number of useful diagrams:

Remember when I had to make the difference between me and the womenfolk clear?

Or when I had to explain how to use a toilet?

And the Pissy Chart

And there was that incredible diagram that explained why fish curry shouldn't exist.

While we're on the subject of food, the Food Chart was extremely informative:

Remember Veguary?  I've been asked a number of time whether I'll be repeating it in 2012.  I'm undecided.  What do you think?  Science suggests that maybe I shouldn't, as illustrated in this graph:

Back in February I had an important insight into public transport etiquette, which led to the need for this poster:

Meanwhile, in the office there was a controversial debate over the use of the word 'bugger'.  As everyone should know by now, it's very very rude, because it means:

Science established in July that I was far more handsome than Brad, Tom and George.

It also illustrated another of the many differences between men and women:

Then there was the Evil Cabal Of Evil.  It all kicked off in April, when I stole a cheese sandwich from Steve Jobs.

And they started a recruitment drive:

But eventually they had to give up and concede defeat!

In June, there were protests about stuff.  Some of it was quite important!

I went to some lovely places during the year.  Leicester and it's environs.  Chester.  Alton Towers.  Queueland...

After a while, I realised that I should use the awesome power of my blog for good.  So I produced a series of  public information guides:

How to make the most of of staying in a hotel.

Or maybe a useful guide to romance.

And of course some useful tips on how to look after your cat!

And there was so much more, but I've got bore... er... run out of time.

Only one thing left to mention. At the time of writing, my tea count was 2083. Two thousand and eighty three cups of tea in 2011.

Well, it's done now. As of now, I don't have to write a blog post every day.

The good news is that you don't get rid of me that easily, though.  I plan to continue the blog, albeit at a slightly lower rate.  One post a week should do it, I think.

See you next year!

The 10 Things Toastie

It is with great, stomach churning and rather queasy pleasure that I bring you this penultimate post of the year.

First a little history lesson:

Way, way back in the mists of time (historians believe it was around the very late eighties or early nineties), Dr K and her learned friend, Annette embarked upon a mighty crusade to make a truly disgusting snack.  They came up with what they called 'The Ten Things Toastie'.

This abomination consisted of such things as cold gravy, lemon curd, tomato sauce, custard, toothpaste, marmite and cheese spread.  Disgusting, I think you'll agree.

Fast-forward a couple of decades, and Dr K has challenged me to repeat the experience.  Obviously, common sense stepped in the way, but I quickly brushed it aside in favour of a bolder, more idiotic course of action!

First up, we had to choose what was going in the toastie. This is what we came up with:

1. Sliced Jalapeno Peppers
2. Pickled Onions
3. Tomato Sauce
4. Chocolate Spread
5. Beetroot Pickle
6. Cheese
7. An Egg
8. Apple Chutney
9. Salt and Vinegar Chipsticks
10, A Banana

That's right.  For your entertainment, I made and ate a jalapeno, onion, tomato sauce, chocolate, beetroot, cheese, egg, apple chutney, chipstick and banana toastie.  Yum yum.

Or not as it turned out.

There were a couple of moments towards the end that I thought I wasn't going to finish.  In fact there was one moment when I thought I was going to see the toastie again.

I'm pleased to report that, although I did this about 5 hours ago, my stomach is still churning.  I don't think I'll be sleeping well tonight.

Here's a video of the whole sordid affair:

Sausage Is Not A Euphemism.

You lot have filthy minds.

Beware The Sausage Fiend

Separate Beds

I've got something to say. It's not going to be easy to read, but I just have to get it off my chest.

I think we should get separate beds.

It's not that I don't love you any more. I do love you. You're ace.

But I just find sharing a bed with you far more trouble than it's worth. You hog the duvet. You make weird noises. You keep kicking me in your sleep - sometimes in the chest! You encroach on my side of the bed and drool on my pillow. I keep inhaling your hair. And your breath... it smells like a badger died of dysentery in your mouth.

It wouldn't be a problem if I coud lie in, but I have to get up really early and so I need a good nights sleep.

So from now on, I'd be really grateful if you could just go and find somewhere else to spend the night, so I can get my beauty sleep.

Thanks, cats. I knew you'd understand.

The Shelf Life Of Brownie Points

Wow, brownie points don't last long - if you can even accumulate enough to be worthwhile! It's like they're some sort of super-perishable soft fruit that goes mouldy before you even get them home from the supermarket.

Some examples:

Brownie points acquired from making a round of teas in the office last pretty much until the first sip of that round. No-one wants to return the favour when you get thirsty.

Brownie points acquired from preparing a sumptuous feast for your loved ones have neither the value nor the life expectancy to get a cup of tea made for you after said feast.

Brownie points gained from taking your mum Christmas shopping are actually reversed by the time you return home. By then, you owe your mum.

I've done a few (scientific) calculations and provide the following graph to illustrate how long you can expect your points to last:

From this we can take that you need to redeem your brownie points within thirty seconds of acquiring them. There's not much you can do with thirty seconds. I would suggest that carefully prepare your redemption plan well I. Advance. Here are some suggestions:

1. "Hello, darling. I've made you a cheese sandwich, do you mind signing this cheque/application/order-form."

2. "Hey, I bought you diamonds. Can I have a Lego Death Star?"

3. "Look, I've decorated the whole house for you. Oh and I may have killed your goldfish."

Boxing Day Blues

Boxing Day Blues can be a real problem. You might be a sufferer if you you feel down today on account of getting so damn excited about yesterday. You might also be a sufferer if you feel a bit down today because you got food poisoning from an undercooked turkey. Or maybe the Dr Who episode you'd been looking forward to for ages was underwhelming in almost every way. Or if there had been a Nazi invasion while you were eating your sprouts.

None of those things contributed to my blueness today. Well, maybe the Doctor Who thing. I think I just slept in way too late and never woke up properly. I haven't even bothered to get dressed. I'm pathetic, really.

All of that is my way of distracting you from the fact that I can't be arsed to write you a proper blog post. Instead I'm gonna palm you off with a bunch of photos from my Christmas:

Here's me and Dr K wearing Christmas jumpers. We had decided to get each other a hideous festive jumper to wear over the Christmas period. Unfortunately neither of us succeeded as we both look awesome in our Christmas jumpers.

Here's me right after I broke my mum's teapot. Oops.

I think there was a bit of a conspiracy going on this year, because everyone got me tea paraphernalia. From the bottom up, I got an awesome set of tea cuff links from my mother in law, a tea bell from my mum and dad, a tea submarine for... er... diving in tea from Dr K, a giant Batman mug from my mum and dad and, finally, an amazing tea making contraption from my brother. Brilliant!

And finally, because cat pictures are always cute, here is a photo of Rochester driving his new fire engine.

Right, I'm off to rescue the exploding chestnuts from the oven. Bye!

Merry Christmas!

Dinner

Today I thought I'd share a picture of my dinner with you. Here it is:

I'm off to my my mum's for dry turkey and overdone sprouts tomorrow, but tonight I will be feasting on roast beef. I can't promise that it won't be dry and that the sprouts won't be overdone, but they'll be MY dry beef and overdone sprouts.

Well, that's all.

With luck, next time you hear from me will be after I've finished building the £800 Lego Death Star that I've convinced myself Dr K has bought for me!

The Relative Horribleness Of Foreign Sweets #23: Morocco

I bet you thought that I'd given up on my mission to eat the world's sweets.

Well you were wrong.  I just hadn't persuaded any of my flunkies to get off their lazy arses and visit a new country for me.

What you see here are sweets from Morocco.  My younger brother visited with his girlfriend a couple of weeks ago.  The spent some days in Marrakesh, a few days on the beach and some more in the mountains, where they saw a goat in a tree and were a little put out that no-one was surprised.

But no-one cares about whether they had a good time or not.  You're here to read about their horrible sweets.  And read about their horrible sweets you will.

The bag on the left in the picture above contained some nutty nougat:

Looks a bit like stones, right?  I was briefly worried that my brother was playing some sort of lithiculinary prank on me, but I soon ascertained that they weren't bits of limestone through the scientific method of... well, putting them in my mouth.

It was okay.  I mean, I've had nougat before and this was definitely it.  If anything, it was bit sweeter than I'm used to.  It's not my favourite sweet.

The other bag was the usual mix of generic chewy and boiled sweets.  They were identical to every other generic bag of chewy and boiled sweets that I've had from around the world and I simply can't be bothered to write about them!

So, all in all, I think Morocco gets a three out of five.

Points for improvement:  maybe consider some sort of chocolate product.  Maybe with peanut butter in.

Here's the updated map:

You'll note that I've included the disputed Western Sahara area, which is administered by Morocco.  This is for no political reason, but rather because it makes  my map look fuller and more colourful.

Free The Nottingham One

Yesterday, my brother, Chris and his girlfriend, Lucy came down from Nottingham.

It was clear from the off that something was up. Chris was subdued and Lucy kept throwing him looks.

It was only when Chris and I went out to pick up the curry that the horrible truth came out. He was the victim of domestic abuse.

Not the physical kind. The mental kind, which is much, much worse and doesn't require you to bang your eye on doors.

It turns out that Lucy is a terrible bigot and, when Chris tried to stand up for moral decency, she launched a devastating verbal attack which destroyed him mentally and emotionally!

You see, it seems that Lucy can't stand raisins. Or sultanas. Or currants. Any mention of 'their kind' prompts a torrent of hateful vitriol.

As a result, Chris is denied the pleasures of fruit cake, mince pies and Christmas pudding. And should he mention that he wants one of these things, Lucy responds with 'Of course you can' with a not-so-subtle undertone of 'But if you do, I'll beat you to a pulp with it!'

So I beseech you to remember the raisin deprived this Christmas and all those people out there who are subjected to anti-dried-fruit prejudice of any kind.

Letter Of Defeat

Today I received a letter from the Evil Cabal Of Evil:

That's quite a relief. They've been a minor irritation to me for quite some time now. I can rest easy knowing that they're not gonna try and pull something stupid.

Maybe I'll even send them a Christmas card.

Daz Handling

After I found that Daz Management Guide at work, I asked Dr K her opinion. Turns out she has a list, too:

1. Give him a cuppa to shut him up. The big mugs are best.

2. Buy him toys to keep him occupied and out of trouble. These are an essential part of birthdays and Christmas presents and PS3 games are best because they last for a longer time.


3. Allow Dazza to be in main control of the skybox and what TV is viewed.


4. Buy the occasional Pepperami fire stick as a surprise.

5. Do not disturb Dazza when he's having poo time.

6. Do not come between Dazza and his pussy. Respect the Roach!


7. If Dazza wants curry for tea then curry is what you are having for tea.


8. Don't force Dazza to drive long distance. Offer to drive if he's looking tired or bored.

9. Never ever let Eastenders on the TV... even just the sound of it upsets Dazza's delicate constitution (Same can be said for cheesy pop music).

My Inner Monologue

I have a very active* inner monologue.

In the time it takes me to answer a simple question, my brain has a whole conversation with itself, often going off on strange and unexpected tangents. That's why I frequently appear to make no sense**.

Here's a couple of examples (click on them for larger versions):

On the other hand, sometimes my inner monologue doesn't even get a word in edgeways:

* (Much more active than me. If I was as active as my inner monologue, I'd be slim and fit. I am not active.)

** (Well, actually, it's about 50:50. Sometimes it's my inner monologue and the rest of the time I really am just not making any sense.)