I've just got back from a little jaunt to the local Tesco (needed ham). A chap stopped Dave and I on the way back, asking for directions. It was really unfortunate, though, because he was right outside the place he was heading for. I feel so embarrassed for people when that happens. People have asked me for directions twice now whilst being outside the place they wanted to be. On that same road, in fact... I call conspiracy!
So, the credit crunch. We're all hearing about it, but, what are we doing about it? I've stopped taking change into work, so I won't buy lots of snacks and such. I know it's not a lot, but it's a start.
Are you guys tightening your belts?
This weekend was an interesting examination of my roots.
( Long-ish, click to enter )
Just a short one - want to get ready for the football.
Did my new gym routine for the first time today. Very hard. The cool down is ten minutes on the treadmill at 9km/h, for Pete's sake. I'd lost feeling in my left leg afterwards. Sexy.
Enjoying the gym generally, I must admit. The only problem area is, sadly, the spinning. The bikes themselves are better than in the spinning studio we went to previously; the tunes are better, too. The problem is that I can't hear the instructor for the majority of the time. Occasionally, "resistance" or "take it up" or something will come through, but the majority of the time... boy. She could be polishing her stand-up routine for all I know. It's frustrating. I asked, once, for her to turn up her mike. She didn't. Grr.
There's a gas bill on the left arm of the sofa. It asks, quite politely, that I pay the company £190.70. I know what's happened, though: they hadn't read the meter in ages, and were sending bills for £0.00, even though I was using the gas. Now that five quarters' worth of usage has caught up with me. Good timing, people! Imagine me rolling my eyes here.
Lastly, I'm applying for Carol Vorderman's job on Countdown. I am not making this up.
On Wednesday, I got texted by a complete stranger.
DIGRESSION ALERT: I know, it's a little after Wednesday. I've been a bit lethargic recently.
The message reads: "Hi mark. Its ron . Look fwd to having you and angie together" Now, not having a context to this makes my mind - all perfectly set up for innuendo, as you know, dear sweet reader - go to all sorts of strange places. Nonetheless, I bravely texted this back: "You've texted the wrong number, sir. This is [mynumber]." Looking at it now, it could be read as sarcastic, but I was trying to do the guy a favour. His response?
From the depths of my memory I've dredged up some stand-up's routine about picking up the phone and it being a wrong number... and the other person kind of blaming you for their mistake. He wrote: "Did we not just talk? Who is this then?" I said who I was, and he's not got back to me. Again, with this beautiful hindsight, maybe he wasn't being that rude. I was expecting something like "Ah, sorry mate!" All a bit unsettling.
So there I was, happily using the rowing machine in the gym.
DIGRESSION ALERT: I should try my hand at actual rowing one time, given the hours I've clocked up on rowing machines without ever being in a boat that you need to honestly row.
There were three or four minutes left when suddenly it started to rain. The roof was leaking onto the TV sets above the exercise bikes to my left. I kept on rowing, but the leak got worse. With about a minute left to go, I was getting splashed by spray as the drips hit the floor.
Obviously striving for realism with the rowing...
My new passport came today! Thus ends that saga... well, for ten years, at least. Hopefully.
Dave and I also put up the number for the house. No longer will I have to direct people by saying, "It's going to sound daft, but it's the one next to 61" - there's a number there for all to see. Excellent. I broke my screwdriver, though, which is a pain. Grr.
The other big news is A-Level results day. This year I'd taken a second-year class for the first time, but I was amazed by how little nerves I felt when I went in. Usually I'm something of a wreck on results days, having suffered a week or so of sleepless nights, but not this time. Maybe that was because the panic was saved for when I got in!
The results are usually put in the Head of Maths's pigeon-hole in one big stack of paper. However, she has retired, so they'd been put in the new Head's pigeon-hole instead. The wondrous reception girls told me where to find him, and I hurriedly copied down my classes' results. My second-year class had a 92.3% pass rate (one person failed, unfortunately), and my two first-year classes got 73.7% and 68.8% pass rates. I'm pretty happy with those, given that teachers weren't allowed to use our statistics-improving techniques (it's something to do with the greater good, we were told).
Next week we'll get the GCSE results. In the meantime, have great weekends, dear sweet readers.
Some sort of advert-spewing program has installed itself on my computer.
Crap.
According to this article on the BBC News website, a lecturer thinks that some common misspellings should be accepted as "variant spellings". Boy, that slope is slippery...
Got to get this down, or it'll all go away.
( Long, last weekend, click to enter )
I'd like to thank Eileen, for being a brilliant hostess and an even better driver; and anyone and everyone involved in the organisation of what was a monstrously good weekend.
I hold in my hand the fiver that ends my quest to find one that I've had in my wallet before! Its serial number, for the interested, is JE70 673320. It's a bit old-looking now - having two tears in it - but it's already in the list. You may remember this entry, where I first asked people to find fiver serial numbers for me. Well, I said to myself that when I found one I'd had already, I'd delete the spreadsheet.
It's... kind of a sad day.
Much bigger entry later.
It's always the same - everyone laughs at a fart joke (that's a link to the BBC News website, and it's more informative than I've made it sound!).
Things I've learned in the past month include:
o There's to be a film called Space Chimps shortly. I fear that Kung Fu Panda is to blame: they must have got the idea from picking words out of hats. One hat was marked "Cool Thing", the other "Animal". Some of the rejected ideas probably include Pirate Zebras, Gangster Manatees and Cowboy Sloths. Sheesh.
o You should never, ever lose your passport.
o People who wear glasses should remove them before they get their passport photo taken; otherwise, the glare will render them unusable.
o The person who signs your passport application - to prove it's really you - cannot be related to you, or living with you, and must also be someone of "standing in the community" that has known you for two years or more.
o Chimpanzees who have been taught sign language have used it to make puns and insult others. Also, rats can laugh.
o Men make poor conversationalists. I read it in an article.
o It costs more for one ticket to see a film in a Leicester Square cinema than it does for two tickets to see a film in a cinema in my home town.
o However, it did prove that both Wall-E and The Dark Knight are brilliant films.
o Cokes are supposed to be served with slices of lime, not lemon.
o The skin under a fingernail is a bit weird.
Film Review
The Dark Knight: Yes.
Don't believe me? They've even been making gags to that effect on Top Gear, for Pete's sake.
( Long, last weekend, click here to enter )
I'd like to thank Mr. Andy, for his skilful and wondrous driving, and the young Helen S, who organised a good portion of it. A good time was had by all!
Honestly, sandwich packaging these days. I've got into the daftly expensive habit of buying sandwiches from Marks & Spencer.
DIGRESSION ALERT: I want to know why the type of sandwich I like costs £2.65 in Edinburgh, but £2.30 in Derby and Stoke, though.
Getting into the thing is like a game from The Crystal Maze: "Congratulations, you've won 555 calories! Where next? The Industrial Zone? Right you are!" I pulled the tab, and it went nowhere. I spotted the perforations the tab was supposed to tear through, but they weren't much good. I had to resort to just tearing it apart. Silly thing.
In other news, the first cinema I ever went to is now a pile of rubble in the centre of town. I saw Fantasia with my brothers and uncle Andrew... I was thinking of getting onto the site and taking a brick, but I decided against. A bit too much.
Have good weekends, readers.
I started this earlier, but a power cut wiped it all away. Pants.
( Long, about the weekend, click to enter )
I'd like to thank Alison, who was very kind to me considering that was the second time we've met; Lisa, who invited me to Helene's party in the first place; and Caz and Matt, who both put me up and put up with me. I had a great time, y'all!
Awww man.
Lynx are at it again. I'm usually mildly appalled at the sexism of their ads -
DIGRESSION ALERT: To the point where I have an idea for a parody ad, whose slogan would be "Stynx - it won't get you laid, you know".
- but this time they've gone straight for my stomach with their recent ad. For those of you who've not seen it, the central character (if an advert can have one) moves his eyes independently to check if he's sweated through his clothes. The strong of stomach can click here (that's a YouTube link, and it's not the full thing, but you can get the gist). I'm quite squeamish about me eyes - which is why I've not got contact lenses - so I'm having to change the channel whenever I get a whiff that it might be on.
God, I hope I don't see it at the cinema. Brrrr.
Film Reviews
Wall-E: Yes.
It's a song, so I can have it!
On Tuesday I had cause to get on a bus. The prices for bus travel in the city have gone up, again. It's now £1.60 for a journey of about four miles. I'd just like to know - how much is it for a bus journey of a similar distance where you live?
Thanks.
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