All day.

That’s how long it took me to realise I couldn’t do what I wanted with regards to my website.

Well maybe not do what I wanted, maybe more I still don’t know how to do it. Either way it swings it still took me all day to get right here, right where I was this morning, only now I’m tired and a day older with little to show for it other than having lost enthusiasm for the ‘really cool’ thing I was going to do.

Tomorrow I’m taking a mountain bike up into the hills, if I don’t get a story out of this I shall be most disappointed.

Highlight of the day – discovering a Ctrl + Alt + Z shortcut.
Lowlight of the day – realising that the days highlight was discovering a Ctrl + Alt + Z shortcut.

Did you ever listen in French class???

If so could you please check this out and let me know what they are on about. There is a link to this site and I have no idea what they are on about.

If you can help it would be greatly appreciated, I tried translating it with Google but I'm still non the wiser!

Stupitidy knows no bounds.

There are three things about today’s television which annoyed me. I shall present them in the order I was subjected to them.

Article 1.

Humberside police authority break the law.

David Blunkett – authority figure – tells his minions to do something. They don’t because they don’t agree with him, but in doing so break the law.
Well what a great message to be sending out. Police chiefs don’t agree with something and so knowingly break the law so they don’t have to do it. Well this really makes me want to keep on abiding by all the laws that get in my way, but do you know why I stick to them, because they are THE LAW.
They whole point of the law is that you shouldn’t pick and choose which to follow. We all do, but the police are the police, they should be above this. I don’t mind them not agreeing with Blunketts decision but they should have found a legal way to get around it. Or gone through with it and then made him look like a fool by showing what a rash decision it was, then lobbying for re-enstatement. All the standing up I do for the police force of this country and then they go and pull this. The guy I felt most sorry for was one of the Constables who voted to get rid of him and looked disgusted as he said that his peers had broken the law. The poor guy was being interviewed and looked as let down as I felt.

Article 2.

Peter Tatchell on Channel 4 news.

Now this isn’t anything against Peter. Personally I think the guy deserves an MBE. This is the guy who tried to place Robert Mugabe under citizens arrest and got smacked in the head by a bodyguard for his troubles. He is a ledged, and there he was on the news saying that he was trying to get Beenie Man banned from his UK tour because of this anti-gay lyrics. Also taking part in the interview was some black guy ( cant remember his name ) who was there to represent rap music. Now, the black guy started attacked Tatchell because he – wrongly – thought that Tatchell was picking on black rap artists. It was bizarre, then when Tatchell said that they should be working together to rid all anti-minority material from the arts, and reiterated that he had also tried to get Eminem banned, he just got brushed off.
I have rarely seen someone being interviewed so openly not understand the subject. It detracted from the real story and just looked childish.

Article 3.

Vanessa being interviewed by Davina after eviction.

She said - and this isn’t in the transcript – that she didn’t like the food fight because she’s from Africa and people are dying of starvation over there.

I could go on about this for 3000 words, but I shall spare you. However, she’s not winning my favour by making generic statements about a subject she blatantly knows nothing about for the self righteous purpose of making herself look less boring and more caring.
You didn’t join in the food fight because you’re dull. Eating the food instead of throwing it around is not going to help anyone in Africa. I know Nadia looks like she eats for two but that’s not what Oxfam mean when they say “Sponsor A Child”.

I’m sure she was stood there thinking, “Good gracious, that trifle would make a better meal for a family of four than it would a projectile.”

I’m also sure the starving Africans are overjoyed that you care so badly about them that you won’t join in a food fight. Why, that knowledge alone should sustain them for a few weeks longer yet!

I’m stopping now because I get a bee in my bonnet about things like this.

I’m going (skate) longboarding tomorrow so it’s time to say hello to bruised knees and elbows. I’ll post the full damage report when my hands have healed.

Back from the drink.

It’s been a while people. Some may say too long. But now I’m back in my rightful place in front of a computer, the world is at ease.
I have spent the last week chilling out. It has been the most relaxing week of the past year. There is something cool about waking up and thinking “I’m not going to do anything constructive today.” I know some of you will read this and think, “Wow, that guy is just wasting his life.” And this may be true, but it is in these times that you amass knowledge. Not facts and figures and opinion and conjuncture like at university, but real life skills.
For example, I now know that the word “Pony” which I used virulently in my second year, comes from Cockney rhyming slang, I know that playing draughts (checkers for the Yanks) with shot glasses leads to impromptu nights out, and I learnt how to easily open a banana.

- I know, how hard can opening a banana be, but trust me on this one, I was amazed –

So tonight, like every night this week, when I go to bed, I will sleep easy. I will sleep the sleep of a man who knows no troubles.
I’m going to start looking for a job in a week.
I have seven days of peace left.

Lets hope they last.

Seeya Bye!

I’m going to be gone for a couple of days. It’s my last exam tomorrow. My final final exam. The end of my degree. The culmination of three years labour comes to an abrupt end.

After the exam I’m going to party for a couple of days, then I’m going home, then I’m moving house.

The next time I post I will be a graduate.

Scary.

Dinnertime Blues.

All I have to say today is . . . don’t eat undercooked chicken.

Hair worries a thing of the past.

So I’m growing my hair. You may have heard me talk about this before. And there I was, trying to get a ‘style’ out of what can only be described as a curly frizzy mop, when I saw a guy on telly wearing a sweat band. I know I thought, whey don’t I use a sweat band to hold my hair up so it doesn’t curl in on itself. And you know what, it looks gooood.

Well I say gooood.
It looks different.

I think once my hair has grown a bit I will like it more. And I need to get a good sweatband. The one I have at the moment is the neck I cut off the polo neck featured about a few posts back. Once I’m back home I’m gonna buy material and make ones that not only look cool but fits as well. This one is a bit tight. The kind of tight that is ok for a while, but then you realise you have pins and needles in your forehead. It kind of creeps up on you before you notice it hurts.

However, I’m almost convinced that with a touch longer hair, I will be able to pull this off.

Come on hair, grow faster damn you.

( if this does not work, and even with longer hair I look stupid, rest easy, you will be the first to know)

Beckham and his boyfriends in last minute bungle.

Tomorrow sees me start my last week of exams. But I’ve gone on about them for what seems like an eternity so I shall digress.

We lost the football today.
I say this in the same tone of voice that I would say “I nearly trod on a wet tissue today.” Or “I asked for a JD and Diet coke, but regular will be fine.”

I don’t do football. Never did. All through school I just never got into it. I was the kid that was always in defence because I wasn’t popular enough to be a striker but then again wasn’t so unpopular that I couldn’t play. I just used to kick the ball forward as hard as I could whenever I had the rare pleasure of getting near it. I didn’t really have a team so I picked one of the local ones. Between the two choices I went for the one with the best logo.

When we lose I shrug and am slightly unhappy. Not because we lost, but because I know that throughout this tournament if I want to go to a bar and the football is on I will be surrounded by guys who will whoop and moan in unison. They will cheer and laugh like a group of pirates and if we lose they will go to the streets and fight. If we win, they will go to the streets and fight. They will fight. They will be drunk. They will fight drunkenly.

I would give anything to be a riot cop during these times.

Cars cars, everywhere I shall look.

Tonight I’m making my merry way to the University Degree Show. I will be surrounded by mullets and people that think wearing an “American Style” truckers cap makes them cool. I will be wearing clothes that are torn and faded though being old. The rips in my clothes tell a story about a part of my life, the stains and the dirt shall be my own. My clothes are the result of my life. Their clothes are the result of people recognising that people like me inherently look good in clothes that have been worn. Do you want me to tell you why I look good in my clothes, it’s because I’m comfortable in them. They are like old friends to me. They have been with me though the good and the bad times of my life. My clothes have seen it all. Sometimes I buy clothes that don’t fit that well but I don’t care cause I like them. I draw on my clothes, I make them fit through ripping and stitching. I tear arms of shirts, I cut trouser legs to make them go over boots, I do not spend more than £20 on clothes, ever. If I am forced to for such necessities as coats or smart stuff for interviews, it makes me sweat, there are such better things I could spend my money on. Like a night out.

So tonight there will be people wearing “anti-fit” jeans and faux ripped jeans, t shirts with “fake” bleach stains (just bleach your hair while wearing a shirt, worked for me), their shirts will be “easy crease” or “distressed”. They will look at me and I wont fit it. The difference is that their clothes are expensive and made to look shitty. My clothes just look shitty. Somehow they will know that they spent up to 10 times more than me to end up looking just as shitty. They will look at me with anhorrence and pretend it’s because I’m not wearing the “fashionable” stuff. I will not be wearing Diesel or Reiss. I will take their looks and each time I get one it will make me feel better. Every time one of the fancy assed designers swings past me wearing too many rings and bracelets, sipping from a champagne glass, each time they look at me and visibly size me up, I will not despair. For while they try and pretend they are somehow better than me, I know the truth.

They are not looking down on me with disgust.
They are looking up at me with envy.

Of all the stupid places to stand.

This is an accurate representation of what I felt like when I left my exam today.

Been day dreaming again today about what my house will be like. I’ve decided I’m having the Space Invaders rug that can be found at this place. Probably along with everything else they do. Expensive but nice.

Today must have been the annual scumbag outing. They were everywhere. It would seem that walking right down the middle of the pavement and knocking people out the way is really cool.
As cool as the tracksuit you’re wearing mate. . . probably not eh!
I’m going to get one of these beauties. I will own the streets. I will own any bar I’m in. Scum bags will not annoy me. They will become a source of amusement.

Today was a comedy of errors while trying to revise this evening. First half way to the library the guy I was with realised he had forgotten his ID card so we would have to talk our way past reception. Then when we got there it was way too hot inside so we decided to sit on the grass instead. So we sit down, I open my bag, and I’ve forgotten the one book I needed to read. So we walk all the way home again, take the kitchen table into the garden, sit down, and it starts raining.
We give up, and go to our respective rooms. Mine is like a sauna. I change into a pair of shorts and read while topless. This is no way to live.

Wanadoo - Search Results

This is blatently a smack in the face to all the people who say I don't live 'on the edge'.

I put the ME, in EXTREME!

What the Doctor ordered.

Just had a very long and very refreshing conversation with one of my friends from back home. Was a well needed break from thinking about revision, which gets onto thinking about exams, which makes you feel guilty for not revising enough, which gets you worried about the exams, revision, exams, revision . . .

So while I write this ( in which time I could be revising!!! There it is again. ) he is making plans to break into the world of fashion. Having already earned himself more column inches and television appearances than I will ever have, even if I did start an inexplicable relationship with Rik Waller, he is now planning the small steps he has to take that will get him where he rightfully deserves to be. His latest newsworthy work and collaboration with Manchester’s leading art agency, Article Star, will hopefully lead on to great things.

So tonight, instead of being worried about myself. I can be happy for a friend.

It’s a much better feeling.

Sorry maam, I’m going to have to see your license.

I just returned my hair to all its – I’m a ten year old boy who doesn’t care what my hair looks like – glory.
This involved a thorough wash and dry followed by using a brush for the first time in years to brush it all back and give me the ridiculous wavy semi afro that I grew up with.
Then I put on some aviator glasses and looked so porn star 70’s cool that my resolve to grow my hair is stronger than ever.

Well I say I looked cool, this may be a bit of an overstatement, the likes of which haven’t been seen since Willam Shatner was told to “Act harder”. However, for the simple hope that I might get invited to a fancy dress party in the next year or so, I shall continue to grow it. And also find somewhere I can hire American police uniforms.

Then again, if that all goes to pot, I can always turn up in one of these.

Oh yeah, Wardy knows how to party!

Charity shops.

I love them. They force you to wear things that are a bit different. You cant come out of a charity shop with clothes that make you look like every other mulleted loser walking the streets.
Admittedly sometimes you end up looking like the regular kind of loser, but on a sliding scale, you still win.

Yesterday in the charity shops I bagged myself a fully French red roll neck top with white horizontal strips that shall shortly be attacked with a pair of scissors to make what I’m hoping will become ‘quasi cool’.
Put that with the Harris Tweed jacket that I picked up for £3.50 and you are looking in the eyes of Bargain Central.

There is a brand new BMW 6 series parked around the corner from my house. Drug Money – I can’t imagine how they managed to afford that – Drug Money – must have a really sweet job – Drug Money – maybe it’s just on really long term credit – Drug Money.

I have two weeks today of university left.
I predict that until this time you will have to abide with posts which contain nothing more exciting that the colour of my hair or how many staples I used that day.

Two weeks. Not even enough time to finish a course of antibiotics.

Porn links to my site.

Someone got here from a French porn site. It's of a very low quality and something pops up when you access to 'warn' you or something. I don't really know, it's in French.
I did German.
And failed.

It’s Saturday, I’m revising. Tomorrow is Sunday, I’ll be revising.

Good luck Coqui.

hmmmmm

Google-Suche: neonazis coventry

This is hardly the kind of thing that I wanted to point to my site. Hello to the guy from Germany, and sorry you didn't find what you were looking for.

I want my own house.

While this may come as no surprise to many, I really cant wait till the day I have my own house. I want, for just once, to not be confined to one room in which I live my life. Up to this point in my life my bedroom has been the room I entertain, work and sleep in. Everything I do revolves around my room. I want a house with a study, and a games room with a bar. My bedroom shall contain only a bed. I shall have a separate dressing room. I shall have nothing in my bedroom other than an alarm clock. I shall not enter my bedroom unless I intend to use it for that which it is named. I shall work in one room and when I feel like a break I shall not turn my chair so I face a different direction, I shall leave the room and take a break in a whole separate, non work and sleep related room.

My house shall have a name, not a number. It shall be called Council.

More ways to Wardy.

Google Search: "maid marrian and her merry men" them tune

Must admit, I'm quite proud of this one!