New Camera

I just bought a new Contax off our friend Queenie. I love it. But the view finder is bigger than the area that actually goes on the film - if you catch my drift. So my fisrt few rolls are full of shit like these. WICKED!

Raw Eggs

Here is Mr Ben Rayner sharing his eggs with other hung over chaps and ladies. This led me to investigate the hang over qualities of the humble EGG. Turns out people are meant to eat eggs RAW to kill a hangover. This leads me to bring up this whole 'salmonella' issue... Is it just one big load of shite that raw eggs are bad for you? Because last time i checked body builders scoff raw eggs, egg nog is raw eggs and grannies down it, and now the Independent are telling me to eat them to kill my hangover. It is egg related madness. Apparently raw pork is great for headaches...

boredboredboredboredboredboredboredbored

I nearly didn’t post this because it’s so hard to get across through either an accompanying picture or youtube video the EXACT noise of what I’m talking about here, even though you’ll know just what I mean….

You know that noise when old people open their mouths, but it’s not just their mouth their opening, it’s like they’re licking the whole inside of their mouth, and it’s all really dry, but also really wet, all at the same time?? You know, the one that’s only beaten in the annoying stakes by when old people do it JUST before they talk, EVERY time they talk??

(my theory on it is that once old people start talking louder than the rest of society they must notice that everyone gets a shock when they start talking/shouting - which can’t be a very nice feeling - so I reckon they do this just to warn the world not to be alarmed by what’s about to happen)

Anyway, I’ve been pretty bored today and have started doing this before I talk, every time I talk, and personally I’ve found it hilarious. The next time I’m stuck next to someone I want to escape from I’m pretty sure this tactic will work a treat.

Sweet Reviews

Recently, people around me have been buying pick and mix sweets a lot, mainly my gf, who gets them every time she rents a movie (every night) and also my buddy Will, who gets them for the hour train journey back to his parent's house every time he goes there (I have a 'leaving London' ritual too, I always have a Macdonalds at Waterloo, like it's a last piece of London filth before the wholesome dinners my mother will make me when I get home). Choosing Pick and Mix can be a real minefield for the uninitiated though, so I thought I'd make a small selection and let you know how they taste and how much fun they are to play with before you eat them.

These are all dusty and blue, the blue flavour is gross and the dust gets all over your hands, it must be powdered sugar but it's still annoying, the rest of it is kind of chewy but ultimately dull. There's not much fun to be had with these ones either, I suppose you could throw them if you really had to. Not off to a great start, but there's still time...

These are teeth, which is great, as you can put them in your mouth and wear them as your own teeth, although they don't fit on perfectly, i would improve these by changing the mould in the factory to allow for someone to wear them, make them hollow. They taste fine but that's not the point with these ones.

These are bits of what seems to be tough marshmallow covered in a sort of strawberry flavoured sugar. They taste pretty good, all these sweets seem to have more emphasis on texture than taste though, the way the the marshmallow contrasts with the gritty sugar is where the real action is.

Like real eggs, the yolk is the tasty part, and the white is kind of just for texture but still intrinsic to the experience as a whole. The yolk is really tangy and would totally be too much on its own, the white acts as a sort of buffer that dilutes the flavours and has a softer, matt texture.

Black Jacks taste like shit, they're liquorice-y and bitter, Fruit Salads are way better, one half is pink and the other yellow but I couldn't work out if the two halves tasted different at all. the nice thing about these in terms of fun is that they are good to chew and get stuck in your teeth, also flattening out the waxy wrapping and making little paper aeroplanes is fun.

This is made of the same stuff as the fried egg, but it's bigger and looks like a skull, I bit the eyes out, which was fun, the eyes are really tangy like the egg yolks (except a bit more red tasting, if you get my meaning?) and again the skull/egg white stuff acted as a diluter. These and the fried eggs work like Muller Fruit Corners, as in, the yogurt is too bland on its own and the fruit is too tart on its own, but together they compliment each other perfectly.

I'm going to try this again when I get to a place with a bigger and more exotic Pick and Mix selection, this was all at some shop on Charing Cross Road that also sold bootleg London merchandise (is there even official London merchandise?) so it wasn't exactly specialist. Sometimes you have to make do though.

Gun Camera Footage

I am pretty sure this makes me either sad, or a bit sick, but i could watch this stuff all day:

Vanity Project

It's been a great week for me and A-list celebrities. I DJed with our buddy Ted (pictured below) at Push on Saturday night (I've moved on from playing the same four Capleton songs like I have done for the last three years now I've discovered downloading off blogs) which was cool because it was literally only us playing upstairs. None of the default human beings that go to that club liked our music so we played to no one, Ted drank all the free sauce he could (I'm on the wagon now) and we split the cash at the end, it was great.



However, the actual interesting thing about that night that Rhys Ifans' "band" was playing in the main room, and it was the worst thing I ever heard, total shit, but it was also totally brilliant, in that it had every hallmark of a vanity project that anyone could possibly think of. Let's look at the facts:

1. Someone who I think was his non-famous brother was onstage with him, hoping that finally his famous brother would provide a meal ticket and get him out of Bumfuckgthwainddwellthynlleth (or whichever Welsh shit-hole town he's forced to live in while his brother fucks babes and bathes in milk etc).

2. There were about 15 people onstage with him, and they were all really good at their instruments and obviously session gimps, but he mainly did nothing but copy Ian Brown badly.

3. He also barely sang, there was a black gospel singer and another bloke on guitar who did that, he mainly did the Ian Brown thing with a trilby pulled over his eyes like the lamest old-guy-being-indie you've ever seen in the Good Mixer.

4. There was 'friendly banter' onstage, but basically all the other musicians did was laugh nervously at Rhys's poor gags. More meal ticket behaviour all round.

5. Halfway through the set Rhys held up a piece of cardboard with 'NEED TO FIND PLACE TO STAY FOR 9 BAND MEMBERS TONIGHT'. Like he doesn't have a fucking place to stay in London and he's going to slum it with some douchebag who goes to Push on the regular.

6. The lyrics were laughable, sub-Oasis nursery rhyme shit that meant nothing at all and that could only have been approved if the people approving it were arse-licking yes-men who Rhys was buying coke for.

7. The music was really boring dad-rock that sounded like he'd gone to the head session guy "i want it to be a bit Primal Scream, a bit Stone Roses and a bit Super Furries, cos that's what I really love, I'm really into music, I always have been.." and the session guy was like "yeah, it'll take me an afternoon to knock it together, but first, where is the money?".

8. Rhys Ifans is a cunt.



The other thing was that the place was so empty that I could literally walk up to the stage, take these photos and stroll back upstairs without knocking into a single person at all. Because, the only people who like movie stars enough to go and see them do something that isn't a movie are dumb bitches who listen to top 40 music and the kind of people who listen to the music that Rhys Ifans thinks he's making think all movie stars are total fags. THIS ISN'T GOING TO WORK RHYS, GIVE UP NOW!

Way to completely lose it, guys

Reading through VideoThunder, I saw the videos of the Beastie Boys at Spring Break 1987 on MTV and it made me realise just how cool MTV used to be, and how completely shit it is these days. I'd entirely forgotten that MTV existed until this and I don't think I even know anyone who watches MTV apart from occassionally to perv on young girls on Sweet Sixteen. Anyway, as well as watching the videos on VideoThunder, there are some great moments on these two:


The guy at 3:06 on this one is fantastic.


This is so far from the shit MTV do now, like Cribs.

Big Poppa

I used to love watching The Grind on MTV when it was on years ago. It was like my dream party at the time; as if everyone from Saved by the Bell had scored some pills from Maxx's Diner and then started jacking at a rave on the beach. There are fuck all videos of it on youtube though.

Dogs that love to fly

Bernie and Julie


Buddy and James


Charlie, Danielle, Colleen


Charley (Pretty advanced, he likes to fly alone)

In Poland they make their own film posters

Critters


Old Yeller


Rosemary's Baby


M.A.S.H.


Apocalypse Now


Crocodile Dundee 2


Harry And The Hendersons


Never Ending Story


The Fly


Cool huh?

Banjo Time

If you ever wanted the creepy Banjo soundtrack to Deliverance, the ever amazing KICKTOKILL has it up there now: banjo stuff...

David Icke is a Liar

I've always found it hard to believe David Icke's theory that politicians and heads of industry are reptilian humanoids, mainly because I attended British public schools for much of my childhood and spent a lot of time hanging out with their retarded, chinless, pot smoking spawn.



A total, final debunking of this theory occurred this weekend when Chris and I went to this party in Hampshire that we probably didn't deserve to be at given our poor breeding, poor social skills and actual poorness. Prince Harry was there with his girlfriend, he had the shittest pirate costume (shitter than my substandard chicken costume- I was the cheapest looking of three chickens at the party) and he really just looked like a slightly chubby toff, he asked me for a lighter but I didn't have one, I could hear him talking about rugby, he didn't strike me as a smart kid at all. His girlfriend, on the other hand, is way hotter in real life than in photos, but she looked totally dead behind the eyes. She kept shouting at Harry that she wanted to dance, he wasn't interested so she danced on her own, will I get sued if I say she looked like maybe she'd been doing coke? I doubt they care about stupid bloggers -anyway, my point is they weren't reptiles they were dopey toffs like everyone else at the party, harmless in a kind of "...and what do you do?" (firm handshake/generous smile/look of genuine interest) "Oh, a plumber? Well done..." sort of way.

Pocari Sweat

I’m no guru on branding, but to me it seems like life’s pretty tough for guys who make soft drinks. First off, everyone drinks Coca Cola as the default choice anyway (or Irn Bru if you’re in Scotland), so getting people to buy your sickly sweet, inferior little brand is going to be an uphill struggle.

The two main vehicles to attract the eye of lay consumers like me is through the colour and the name. It’s so obvious. These guys must sit around all day coming up with the brightest mixtures of colours and words to try to pocket my 50p.

Witty, catchy names don’t interest me. That’s the reason I’ve never bought Snapple. It’s such a gay name, I couldn’t bring myself to be associated with it. Gatorade on the other hand… Now that’s a drink I want to be part of – a raid of alligators. It’s even turquoise, my favourite colour. And Um Bongo, god knows it tastes like shit, and I’m dead sure they don’t drink it in the Congo, but it’s the best. Lilt as well, I love that stuff, even though it’s so sweet that it makes me need to spit out the thickest chunks of saliva for hours after drinking just a small can. Although the adverts had milkmen in Jamaica delivering Lilt, it wasn’t even available to buy in Jamaica. The only reason I buy drinks is because I love being targeted and marketed towards. It makes me feel so special.

This whole deal makes launching a new drink pretty tricky too. That’s why beers have names like Cobra and Tiger, because they’re pretty vicious and exciting; exactly what you want from a beer. My favourite drink of all is Mountain Dew. It tastes so fresh; exactly like that feeling of waking up in a boiling tent and then opening the door to release the steam and being greeted by the sun shining directly into your eyes and a wet pair of shoes that you left outside. It even looks like water that’s been sat in a field for ages. Perfect name, perfect colour. Spot on guys!

So for a company to release a drink with a name like Pocari Sweat (a liquid with a cloudy hue that I haven’t seen since I saw a clip off a Japanese gameshow where they actually collected people’s sweat, and people competed to sweat more than the other contestants), it seems to go against the grain of everything I know about soft drinks. However, this drink tastes amazing and makes me feel great. I just really wanted to share that, and say how happy I am that I’ve found a shop in London that stocks it.

Fun Lovin' Silence

So the Fun Lovin' Criminals are playing a one-off 'silent disco' at the High Court in London, where punters will listen to the music through wireless headphones. WHAT THE FUCK. What the fuck is the world coming to? Why is there even a wireless disco in the High Courts? Why does a wireless disco even exist?

'Hi Adrian, what you up to this weekend? Fancy going to the silent disco, we can pick up loads of hot chicks apparently. Be a good chance for you to crack those white Havaiina's you been saving all summer, they'd look so funky with that straw hat you were wearing a Tabitha's dinner party last weekend.'

Sorry, but that's so fucking gay.

Apparently the sound is amplified through the headphones and not the speakers, meaning you can hear nothing without the headphones. The drummer is even going to be in a fucking soundproof box.

One question, why? What's the point? Do you know how fucking stupid you're gonna look dancing away to such hits as Scooby Snacks and Love Unlimited with headphones on? This is also means you could take off your headphones at any point to be greeted with the sound of 650 pairs of feet shuffling away to the sound of nothing. Just retarded.

It's a shame really cos I used to think that Huey was a pretty swell guy. He used to come in to size? when I worked there years ago to buy white on white 'Uptowns'. He would always come to see me because he thought I was jokes or something and no matter what time of day it was he was always high as a motherfucker. Guess times are hard huh. Or are they? Tickets are free and available from something really cool called 'Facebook'.

Well, well done world, you disgust me more and more, day by day. I'm off to invent a guitar that rapes dickheads.

"Eeh... Shardar"

It really does irk me that I can't listen to Sade:



Without thinking of this areshole making his nominations in the Big Brother diary room:



Especially when Sade's music is as good as this:

Sade - Hang on to your love (right-click to Save)

Tattooing

Once every six months or so I forget that what I really want in life is a respectable job, money and the ability to walk down a beach in swimming trunks unashamed when I'm fifty and I get another tattoo. Last night I went round this super friendly guy Liam's house and he outlined my new 'piece' (that's what you call them, you never, ever call them 'tats', it sounds retarded, but so does 'piece', so call them what you want I suppose). I always wait six months because it takes that long to forget that a) just before it starts I always get terrible anxiety about how this new tattoo will affect my life forever because it might change the way people view me or any potential future wives won't want their kids raised by a tattooed thug and I'll die poor and alone, b) getting a new tattoo always reminds me of my own mortality as I know this image will still be with me when I'm on my death bed, and then I just get thinking about how I've lived my life so far and I get a bit depressed and c) it FUCKING hurts, so, so, so fucking much, especially if it goes over a non-fleshy bit like this one did (it kind of goes onto my shin) and it's so close to being unbearable that I find myself planning unrelated excuses to leave, like pretending I just got a text saying my mother's died and running out. Anyway, Liam is colouring this in next week and doing an Elvis portrait on me as well, which will be cool. I am a retard and I wish I could grow up and spend my money more sensibly.

Dude...

... so I've spent pretty much the whole day arsing around different blogs, finding a bit of music here and there. For the most part, I've been searching for a song that I like and want to own, but can't be bothered to buy. Doing a Google search through 'Blogs' is really handy for this, and I've gotten hold of some good music as well as stumbled across a few really good blogs.


I've also come across a few horrors though, including this one which hosts more Coldplay recordings than I ever wanted to know existed. And more importantly, why do people say shit like this on the internet (in his Profile section):

"dr. Me? u may keeep discoverin all your life and still you may never ever know me... coz u were trying. not 'knowing', not 'feeling'. you see, im one of those loony people you see - you know the ones that roam around the planet as if they owned it. reach for the sky as if they had wings. the minute you try to hold them down, they just smile back and fly away. You think you'd clip their wings sometime... but they just break them off, patiently grow new ones and fly away again... to find their haven of faith in a world that chooses otherwise. Thats me. ... and if you look within, maybe, thats You too."

No, that is NOT me. I always walk down the street like I own it, but I have definitely never reached for the sky like I had wings and then flown off when someone tried to 'hold me down'. Seriously, all this anonymity gives the internet a bad name. The sooner we all know what each other's thinking, the better.

Until then, I'll take advantage of the situation to admit that I can't get enough of real shit music like this:

Real McCoy - Another Night

Hey DJ!

Years ago i used to always go up to DJs to find out thes track names and artists they were playing if i liked the music, then for some reason i got all coy and stopped.

Thankfully I've recently gotten over being so shy and as a result have been rewarded with some real treats:


Seidah Garrett - Do You Want It Right Now

I stole the upload from FUNXORS.blogspot, and it's got some pretty good music on it too, so check that out as well.

Also, Inner Life - I Like it Like That

There's a whole load of Inner Life stuff to download on this blog, I'd really recommend you do.

At work with Dylan

Dylan is on the team now, and he's got his own blog up too: www.afistinthefaceofgod.blogspot.com. Here he is at work with his peers:

Stream of Consciousness

This pretty much follows straight on from my last post (below). I thought it would make me look really clever to reference Dostoyevsky like I read Russian literature all the time (I actually do a bit, but only because I’m a really slow reader and it takes me forever to finish even the shortest of short stories).

I bought Iggy Pop’s album The Idiot at the weekend and stumbled upon this blog which goes into really minute detail about why The Idiot is the best album ever. It’s quite good, but I’m not sure I’d go as far as to say that… Maybe I need to give it a few more listens. I was quite bored, so I flicked through some books and saw the below passage about laziness, which is actually in Notes from the Underground, but still quite good. I think when Dostoyevsky was writing this, he probably didn’t imagine his ideas could be taken to the next level on a highflying blog like this…



I also watched Control on the same day, and saw Ian Curtis listening to The Idiot before he hanged himself, so it felt like through all this cross-referencing my whole life was really coming together. I’d hoped that in writing this blog post that all these different ideas would come together to form one big punchline like at the end of a Curb Your Enthusiasm episode, but it doesn’t really seem to have happened has it?