Voy Por Ustedes

I've joined this Twitter thing. Not sure why, seemed like the thing to do. My thingy is VoyPorUstedes. I've tweeted something about beans but I left it at that as I didn't really know what I was doing. I haven't added anyone nor noffin. I'll do that now.

My broadband connection will be disconnected tomorrow morning and although my phone line in the new place will be activated later tomorrow afternoon, my broadband connection will not be available for ten days according to the O2 people.

This seems silly to me. They explained why but I tuned out after the first few sentences so I don't understand the delay. It's a good job I have a cool iPhone or I'd feel completely cut off from the world. This is the consequence of existing almost entirely in a virtual world; when you have to return to the 'real' world naked and unvarnished, one feels vulnerable. I've had to spend this afternoon downloading roughly 3GB of porn and other cultural material to keep me company during my period of isolation.


I've just bought a rocking chair. Initially I'll sit in it and play my Ukulele, later in life I'll sit in it when I begin my descent into lunacy or deep eccentricity depending on how much money I have. I'll wear a gingham dress and my carer will try to feed me soup. Come on Rich, just one more spoonful she'll say.

Once I'm finished with this move I plan to celebrate with a delicious feast of several Subway sammiches. The new branch opens in Cartoon Town in early February. I can barely wait. Their meatball sammich is the nicest thing you can put in your mouth and that includes nipples.


Sport now and I found it ironic last night listening to a Bolton manager and various pundits complain about the rough treatment dealt out to Mark Davies by William Gallas. Over the years the football media have thoroughly enjoyed watching various Bolton teams roughing up Arsenal, but it takes just one tackle from Gallas for them all to call for his arrest and transportation to the colonies. Cesc Fabregas was subjected to worse than that just a few days ago in Bolton. In fact his life insurance policy doesn't even cover a fatality resulting from tackles from a Bolton player yet Owen Coyle has the nerve to cry about a single incident. I now hope Bolton are relegated and Burnley survive.

I have nothing else to report at this time. The blog will now take a temporary hiatus until I have access to the intrawebs again in my new place. Next time we speak I shall be wearing a pastel coloured cardigan and slip on shoes.

Labels: Football, Nonsense

Went over to the Fox last night. Was going OK until a final table confrontation with a certain farmer. With blinds at 500/1000, said farmer makes a standard bullshit raise to 4,000, I have 20,000 so I move all-in with Ace-Jack. Not a powerhouse holding by any stretch of the imagination, but I know I'm winning and I naively conclude that even a 16,000 raise will be enough to get my opponent off his hand.

Unfortunately the death knell sounded in the form of a standard Pickles speech when he chimes in with; "Siiiiiigh, I've got fuck all but I call."

He flips over the 10-4 off suit and I know I have no chance. According to the poker calculators I'm only a 68% favourite, so I'm already counting out my money at the cash table when the 4 hits on the river. Still, you've got to laugh.

Labels: Nonsense

Creme eggs, they're thinner these days aren't they? I'm sure back in the day the chocolate was much much thicker. I distinctly remember having to scratch away at the top of the shell with my teeth before it would crack and I would gain access to the fondanty goodness within. It was a long satisfying process. A simple, but pleasurable treat.

These days however, it takes hardly any pressure at all before the shell is breached. And not because my jaws can apply so much more pressure now than when I was seven years old.

I can eat a Creme Egg in about about six seconds now. It used to take me about fifteen minutes. Freud would seek a significant grant to research this.

This simple pleasure Cadbury are denying us is actually the genesis for social decline in this country in my humble opinion. When they started making Creme Eggs with thinner shells, we began the decent into the hell we live in now.

There's no going back of course. Kids these days don't have the patience to deal with the thicker shells even if Cadbury agreed to make them again. They want instant fondant, instant pleasure. It's enough to make you weep isn't it Sigmund.

Labels: Nonsense

In a moment of hijinx I decided to place a £10 double on Mark Selby (when 7-5 down) and the might of the New York Jets to over come those lazy bums in San Diego - 3/1 both prices.

A bet which as we speak is live again after looking as dead as Jimmy White when the boy O'Sullivan was 9-6 up and the Jets weren't producing noffin'.

Ooooh an interception for the Jets too just now. Hoorah.

Typically classy reaction from Ronnie at the end there. He has less control of his marbles than the Greeks.

Touchdown Jets!! I'll have more crumpets than my heart could desire if this comes in. I've never felt so alive.

Further update* another TD for the Jets, 17-7 up now. I've hedged. I've taken the 3/1 for the Chargers just in case something despicable occurs. Many crumpets secured though.

Labels: Betting, Sport

If there's something that creates turbulence in my insides more than a Frey Bentos chicken curry pie, it's listening to football journalists on the Sunday Supplement on Sky Sports talking absolute horse-hockey. I could be a football writer if all the qualifications you need are to have no rational justification for your opinions.

This morning the consensus view was that Arsenal can't win the league because they don't have a 25 goal a season striker. Now that of course is true as far as it goes with Bendtner both rubbish and injured and Van persie out for the season, but Arsenal are on course for 100 league goals this season. No team has ever scored 100 goals since the Premier League's conception. If the boys score 100 times and don't win the league it won't be because of a lack of a 25 goal striker, it'll be because our defense was rubbish.

You only need these goal scorers if the rest of your team doesn't produce goals no? Arsenal are one of the few teams who score goals from all over the shop. Even some of the tea ladies have gotten on the score sheet for us this season. Nonsense, pure nonsense.

The boys are top scorers yet the only player in the top 10 goal scorers from Arsenal is Cesc Fabregas with 10. They just don't like Johnny foreigner, that's all it is. They don't want us to win. They seemed to skate over the fact that Manchester United don't have one of these strikers either. In fact of all the teams who can realistically become champions this season it's only Chelsea who do.

They also said England can't win the World Cup if David James doesn't play!! Paul Merson said this very same thing yesterday, but Paul Merson has the same IQ has the chicken curry pies we mentioned earlier. For supposedly educated journos to repeat such bull-cookies is astonishing really. I wonder in fact if I have dreamt this and was asleep this morning after all.

These same journalists nicknamed him "calamity" James not so long ago and now they believe the England World Cup chances are dependent on his inclusion in the squad. This is almost as baffling as Emile Heskey's professional career. How do these things happen? I'm just glad I'm Mexican so I don't have to worry about this.

In other sporting news, I realised last night as I watched unenthusiastically as Baltimore's season fizzled out that a Superbowl win from the Ravens would have been worth £800 to me due to a Yankee wager placed many weeks ago. However, a Colts Superbowl win is worth £1,500 to me due to another wager I'd forgotten about so I was able to over come my initial disapointment at the 20-3 result. Arsenal and the Chicago Blackhawks also have to become Champions too but that's obviously not in doubt, so all I have to worry about now is what to spend my winnings on, which at this point looks like a long over due trip to New York.

In today's game I've had a wee double wager on Minnesota and New York. I don't like Dallas and don't trust southern Californian teams when it comes to progressing in the post-season of any north Mercan sport and that's more justification for a bet than any English sports journo will offer you. I've placed my bets, I'll bid you good day.

Labels: Betting, Football, Sport

I'll bet my stash of 10 crumpets that Benetiz's post-match interview this afternoon includes the following catchphrases:

"We were in control in the first half"

"We continue to make lots of chances"

"We did not have much luck"

"We should have had a penalty"

"We will continue to try to get better"

"I believe we will finish fourth"

"Would you like to see the dessert menu"

:

Labels: Football

My sojourn back into online pokering has come to an end. I was able to make a small profit and have not suffered emotionally. Phew. I will have to forego the opportunity of winning the $10 bonus for accumulating 750 playing points by December..I was so close too, only 500 more required, which I think is roughly another 2 cabillion $5 SnG's. But never mind. Back to the live game now with a possible trip to DTD on Sunday or, if I'm not up in time back to the Fox on Monday. I can only hope my online play has not soiled my live abilities which were obviously awesome before the snow came.

In other news, it was brass monkeys outside today yet my thermometer was telling me it was 4 English degrees! It felt colder to me though than when I had to go outside last week to wave my fist at an urchin when it was something like -9.

Have the temperatures become randomised while I wasn't looking? Has there been a memo sent round I haven't received? Has it now been decided that there will be no correlation between temperature and the Celsius and Fahrenheit scales?

Actually that's probably exactly what's happened. It's those global Warming fucks. They want to be able say it's hot when it's really cold. The history books will say it was 10 degrees in January but it was really -5. Bastards. You know it's their fault we don't have enough salt and grit too.

It's John Hirst's fault. I hate him more than most. He's the Met office chief exec now and ex-head of WWF-UK and that has nothing to do with wrestling. He's mad on this man-made global warming tosh, absolutely fanatical about it. So are everyone at the BBC and the councils. Every Council in this country has more global warming managers now than road gritters.

They forecast these mild winters and 'barbecue summers' even when they know it's going to be fucking freezing. They don't want to tell us the truth see...they don't want us to know the truth cause then they'd have to admit their AGW theories are as robust as a Haitian B&B.

They don't want to be seen to be ordering up tonnes of salt in the Autumn cause they think it'll make their global warming assertions and nonsense seem weak. Sooo irrationally and mentally and dangerously, they'd rather we all kill ourselves driving on ice rink type roads than face the possible questions about the legitimacy of their AGW theories.

The only other people on this god forseaken planet who exhibit such dogmatic mentalism are religious fucks who feel they must kill anyone who dares to question their faith. That's what this Anthropogenic Global Warming thing has become now you know, it's got noffin to do with science no mo', it's a faith now not a theory.

You know they call AGW skeptics "deniers" now. How scary is that? They'll be calling us blasphemers next. I'm scared kids. Today they're fucking around with our thermometers, tomorrow.....OUR MINDS!! Dear Gah they may have already got to me. Is it hot in here?? Seriously it's really hot in here. I better sell my car and buy a Sinclair C5 before it's too late. We're doomed. Doooooomed.

I failed in my first attempt to take delivery of a skip. No access you see. Damn you grass verge! Should have given that more thought in real terms. Can’t put it behind my house either cause it’s a public area and I’d need a permit. Can’t be doing with that.

Who knows how I’ll dispose of my unwanted toys possessions now.

Labels: Not Awesome

Mark McGwire took steroids!! I tell you what this surprises me..cause I thought he went from being something like 180lbs as a wee rookie with the Oakland Atheltics back in the late 1980's to that 230lb ginger monster that broke the home run record of Roger Maris in 1998 when he was with the St Louis Cardinals aaaaaaall from just eating his porridge and drinking lots of milk.

He's just completed the standard round of contrite press conferences, where his tearful apologies are accompanied by pleas for forgiveness. Same sort of stuff we've seen from that athletics fella..what was her name,.. Marion Jones and also the tennis woman Andrea Agassi and many others I can't recall at this time and many more to come no doubt.

It's all rather tedious but also unnecessary in my opinion. I've never had a problem with steroid "abuse." I think it's crazy they don't let them use performance enhancing drugs. I'm convinced it's a bigger risk to their long term health by insisting they only drink Lucozade and eat 'nanas.

But anyway, apart from that, sports men and women should always strive to improve their performances; for crying out loud it's even the Olympic motto - Citius, Altius, Fortius - Swifter, higher, stronger and since there's a limit to what the human body can produce it makes perfect sense to stretch these boundaries with chemicals and then there's no boundaries 'cause the pharmaceuticals will always improve.

Also, as a bi-product the 'equality in sport' issue would no longer be an issue as all the women would eventually evolve into men ...we're already seeing examples of this transmogrification in Africa with the "Is he or isn't she" athlete who won a women's race despite struggling with a full erection for the last 200m.


But anyway yes, no, ...ex-steroid abusers don't worry about confessing (unless you've a book to sell), what I'd like to see is someone who was really shit...say any retired English athlete or tennis player call a press conference and give a similar teary eyed confession because they never wanted to win enough to pump themselves full of growth hormones.

Those are the bastards who really do require our forgiveness because they caused us immeasurable humiliation in the post-Empire era where we were already struggling to maintain our status as most awesome country on the planet.

Tim Henman for example, now there's a dude who's only contact with drugs came when he licked the sweat from the seat of Andre Agassi's shorts. I'd like to see him break down in a press conference...full of remorse for the humiliation he has brought upon his family, his country and his irritating inbred fans on Henman Hill.

Fucking hate him still. Unbelievably wet. He could barely manage a few fist pumps during a narrow victory in a second round match let alone summon up the desire to do what was necessary to actually win a tournament. If you really wanted it Tim you'd have pumped so much of that Anabolic shit into your system you'd have grown a second set of bollocks. First time in his life he'd have had two sets under his belt.

So what if it wasn't fair. We didn't lay claim to a quarter of the globe by playing fair. Was it fair to engage in war with natives armed with sticks when we had cannons and the Martini-Henry rifle??

"There's such a thin line between losing and winning." -- John R. Tunis. Quite right, usually a white and powdery one.

:

Labels: Nonsense, Sport

I've been sifting through my junk today. Moving house is all rather tedious, but it's a cathartic process also. I've kept folders. Folders with all my various documents neatly contained neatly within. Bank statements, credit card statements, phone bills and so on.

These go back to 2003. Dear Laaard some of the things I bought back then, some of the people I called. I was a different person entirely. Sifting through these papers I hardly recognised myself. I also had a folder full of your more personal stuff. Your basic fun stuff. Your photo's, your letters and your what nots.

I found pictures of me with orange hair, black hair, blonde hair and no hair, cavorting with various Latina females I used to work with back in the US of States. I had letters also. Ahhhh..there was panging of the heart at reading these.

People just don't write letters anymore, not hand written letters that arrive in the post. Receiving letters is a wonderful thing. I'm going to email in to Obama about this. More letter writing should go on. We'd all be less angry if we received letters from friends at least once a week.

Ten years ago that was. Where does all the time go? Where where? It only seems like yesterday. That was the best time of my life. Clinton was President then. He was a good time Charlie. Bush ruined it all. My life got significantly more boring once Bush took over. Coincidence? I think not.

Labels: Random Post

Barry Hearn, I don't like him one little bit. He makes Harry Findlay look like Mr Dashwood in Sense and Sensibility. His answer to all of life's problems is walk-on music. Boxing, Darts, Snooker and I have even heard tell of an email from Barry sent to UN Secretary General Ban Ki-Moon suggesting walk-on music for delegates the next time the UN meet in New York - Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez has apparently requested Run to the Hills by Iron Maiden.

Had George W. Bush and Saddam Hussein hired Barry Hearn to ignite the war he'd have had an MC, a couple of semi-naked women walking them towards their respective weapons arsenals accompanied by "Two Tribes" by Frankie Goes to Hollywood and a live pissed up audience waving their arms up and down and holding bits of cardboard with amusing jokes written on them such as "I love Bush".

Ladies and Gentleman aaaare you ready...let's have waaaaar.

Cunt.

Labels: Not Awesome

This morning has been stressful. A reminder of why I've refrained from getting up in the morning these seven years past.

The online pokering has served up some rather unpleasant beats* today and my nervous tension compounded by numerous conversations with various customer services including Sky TV and BT.

My one consolation is that I'm not subject to a swear box tariff elsewise I'd not be able to afford the move in the first place.

The only panacea I can think off to relax my taut muscles is to go outside and to the sto..batman stylee. A sammich is needed and no mistake.

I'll need to quickly commandeer an urchin to clear the snow from my car, but that shouldn't be a problem as most of the pigeon toed, wheezey bastards are off school for the winter it seems.


When I get back I'll be shopping on the intrawebs for a couple of brown sofas and I make no apologies for that. I'll bid you good day.


*Bad beats: there has been some redress here.

Labels: Nonsense

Labels: Nonsense

Some kid..

Labels: Nonsense

I did something I haven't done since February 10th 2008 this morning. Not get up in the morning, no..I played online poker. I'm playing as we speak as it goes. I just executed an awesome bluff with the 8-3 off-suit. I've never felt so alive!

I struggled initially what with the beeps and the flashing graphics and the speed of the games. It's amazing how the kids can play 125 tables all at once. Unhealthy and depressing, but amazing nonetheless. It took me nearly 25 of your Earth minutes just to log-in as I had no idea what my ID was or my password.

I re-started my online pokering fully aware that I was almost certainly about to subject myself to some serious emotional trauma. I therefore deposited my £100 fully expecting never to see it again and abandoned any claim to it, therefore reducing my emotional investment in the game.

I dipped my big toe into a $5.50 9 runner SnG. After fumbling about with the buttons like a teenager attempting to unclothe his first girlfriend, I eventually found my feet and perhaps might have even won the thing had I not got over ambitious with the 9-7 suited at Heads-up stage. Second place though was an acceptable result.

I'm now playing with the big boys. A $22 9 seater SnG. As we speak we're at 15/30 blinds and one dude has already gone bust. I'd forgotten how quickly the internet kids like to distribute their chips amongst their opponents.

What has motivated me to re-launch my online pokering career? The snow. I may never leave my house again so I thought in the absence of proper poker I may as well give the virtual game a re-stab. I thought also perhaps with the conditions outside, the Pigeons game on Sunday may have to be brought online and I wanted to hit the ground running as it were. If I'm busting out first I want to make sure it's cause I played bad, not because I pressed the wrong button.

I've got 10's, I better go.

Labels: Poker

So in real terms I'd say the three most pressing issues facing the UK Kingdom of England and Great England are probably; the recession, the war in Afghanistan and currently, the freakin' weather, possibly in that order too.

Who do we have in our Government charged with steering us clear of danger on these three fronts? Come on now, hands up who can name the three Government Ministers in whom we have entrusted our monies, our military, our ability to drive to the shops....our very lives?

Alistair Darling is obviously Chancellor. That one's easy peasy. No need to worry there, we've got an Economic whizz snowed in at Number 11. Phewwwy. And if he gets stuck with his sums he can pop next door and ask the man who caused all this shit what he should do.

The next one's a bit more tricky. Who's the Defence Secretary now? Who have we got ensuring our boys are fully equipped, our weapons can be fired by the left-handed and our helicopters can be flown in hot weather? We've discussed him before on this blog. Think Trade Unionist. Think factory floor plodder.

Labels: Nonsense, Not Awesome, Politics

My Johnson appears to be OK now, I've had several urinations without problem these last two days and not shed a single tear. Smashing news, I'll probably raise a glass to toast the good health of my winky, although I'm not quite ready for a hand shandy yet. One step at a time.

I have just taken delivery of some food also so I am in good spirits. I won't have to go outside for at least two weeks now, which coincides nicely with my moving date. January 20th they're saying.

It's in a Cul-de-sac my new home. Sort of like the one in Ever Decreasing Circles, only different. Different in that it's all bungalows, and my neighbours were all sporting short trousers at a time when Hitler was only mildly irritated by Jews.

So not at all like the one in Ever Decreasing Circles really, but I will be buying some cardigans and pastel coloured shirts all the same. I'm also changing my name to Paul by deed poll, which might confuse things as far as the Witney inc. Carterton Mob goes if we're ever fitted for monogrammed suits, but necessary I think you'll agree.

I'm looking forward to getting on well with all my new neighbours - bar one,..a fastidious dude who'll tut at me when I get home late and wonder why I never leave the house before 4pm.

Labels: Random Post

Labels: Not Awesome

Labels: Nonsense

Lots of snow today, can't even see my car now. No sorry, was looking out of the wrong window. Still, a lot of snow though. I have a few boxes of Findus Crispy Pancakes to see me through this Siberian hell, I have discovered though that I only have two crumpets left.

"The worst has happened; All the day dreams must go, Great God! This is an awful place"-- Captain Scott

Labels: Not Awesome

We've known each for a long time now so I feel I can discuss a delicate issue with you, the long and short of it is ...I've got a penis injury of some kind. A painful painful injury. Just lately I've made noises like a dolphin giving birth whenever I've urinated.

I've always prided myself on having a high pain threshold, but this is beyond anything I've experienced before. What ever possessed the Lord our God and the father of the baby Jesus to invent pain of this degree?

Pissing razor blades is how I'd describe it. They say various STD's cause a similar sensation, but I've not had occasion recently to do the S part to receive the TD part.

Perhaps I should stop drinking my own piss? I heard that was good for you though? Whatever the cause, it is playing havoc with my sandwich life. I haven't been able to go to the sto' for a chicken tikka wrap since last week.

I won't lie to you, I'm hoping this clears up on its own. I don't want to have seek the advices of my GP - it's a delicate issue of course, but more than just the shame of it all, I'd like to avoid this just in case he's one of those dudes you read about in the specialist magazines who'll craftily attempt to wank me off in the name of medicine.


I will just drink normal water from now on and see what occurs. If it does clear up I'll more than likely give some thought to maybe whizzing up to the DTD's (what's the three letter thingys ending in TD at the mo?) for their £50, 10,000 chip thingy on Saturday.

That is of course if the weather can just naff off. I'm loathe to harp on about the temperatures, but it's currently 5°C colder outside than in my freezer. This is not necessary, big or clever. I'm saving money on electricity as my fish fingers and viennetta are outside, but this is besides the point.

I'm sick of it. I'm sick of it all. I want my penis to give me pleasure when I massage it and I want my frozen goods to thaw when I take them out of my freezer. Is this too much to ask? Is it? Is it really? I'm not asking to win the lottery or to be able to fly or turn invisible or to help Gary Anderson hit a double. Just tolerable living conditions.

Labels: Not Awesome

I had occasion to download an iPhone app called "Balloons." You write a message, tie it to a balloon and let it go and anyone in the galaxy with this same app can catch it and read it and reply and you can catch other people's balloons and so on. It's addictive. The first balloon I caught was sent by a beautiful creature in London, since then it's been mostly Germans.

Labels: Random Post

Labels: Sport