The Annals of Jimlad

Hard Times

2008-09-21T17:53:00.002+01:00

And so it has come to this. The recession. At first I didn't believe it was real, now I'm finding it stampeding into my home, turning over tables and throwing me out, homeless. Yes friends, the recession has brought about some changes and I am left with no choice but to give you the following announcement:

I can no longer afford to keep my home. I know, Google Blogger is supposed to be free but they never tell you about the extra costs involved, the electricity bills that rise every moment I spend writing here, expensive snacks that keep me happy enough to joke about life as I type, the drugs that inspire me. You call that free rent? You call that oh wait I just said that.

I'm going to live with my friend, well not so much a friend as a personality I can't get rid of, but he has given me my own little section on his site. With his impecible ability to annoy he has decided to very obnoxiously refer to my room as a category, like he has to categorise EVERYTHING, OMG. And by the way, G stands for goodness, or gosh, or anything but God, because I'm not even allowed to use certain phrases in every day use which he somehow manages to CATEGORISE as offensive. This is not good.

Here is his site: MR PERFECT. Please come and visit. You'll find I've already settled in. It isn't as high on the property market as here is, owing to the fact that he has lived there and not me up until now, but I'm hoping you'll bring the value up and we'll somehow beat the recession. You can visit me under the categories section on the right hand side, filed nicely between his archives and my address book. Click on "The Annals of Jimlad". Do not talk to him or click on any of the other categories. He will only piss you off.

What mighty exploits do we see here recorded?

2007-07-10T13:07:00.000+01:00

For the past five months, it has been my task to sit down and stare straight ahead, keeping my body still save for my tiny, perturbing fingers. The occasional twitch of the mouth is acceptable, lolling the head merrily from side to side less so and singing random hymns is frowned upon (yet another example of discrimination against the church).

Speaking of this, seeing that all was well amidst the brethren of one sacred society and that it was difficult for me to do more than supervise the unfolding of their plans to conquer an area far far away, I decided to bring my particular talents to bear to a more needy group close by my current residence. Being a man of action, I acted on this decision some time ago and since then I have transformed the Sunday's of this church. It is unlikely that others may have thought to do what I have done, but even if they had none could have succeeded. I have filled a place on a seat for the past months with a bottom that no one else can perfectly emulate. I have added a new voice to their music and specifically - it is my voice that has been added. I see the organist nodding to himself appreciatively as his ear singles my voice out from the masses. And how they thank me for my mere presence, marveling at my youth, prodding my eye-balls and nodding with smug satisfaction at the youthful rate of my reaction. "Ah, the passionate indignation of youth" they say.

And then there was the mighty battle with the corporation who sought to prevent me from visiting this virtual world that we know as the world, Wideweb. You may remember that I once disguised myself and infiltrated their dark tower for several months, leaving it a week or so before I found the ring and brought it on a journey to the Ottoman Empire (see Yeats' "Sailing to Byzantium") with my now famous companion, Curly Dee, where I threw it into the sea from whence it came not, looking up to the heavens in satisfaction as I saw the Death Star explode in a haze of mixed metaphors. From my prior espionage I had escaped with some inside information that stood me in good stead, and yet it took a full quarter of a year (even with the aid of Curly Dee) before the way was opened for full communication to be possible with Wideweb. Even now some pamphlets have come into my possession that display an attempted theft which I must counter before I finally allow traffic through. I am currently allowing vocal communications only to pass through the portal as this involves too little information to allow even half-lives through or facilitate bandits. To my faithful followers: I will visit you more frequently when the gateway is fully operational.

Slim Jim, an evil legacy of, em, evil
From now on, when we meet in public you are to call me Slim Jim. Lo! I was in a holy place and I felt god speaking to me, saying "Go forth in my name", so I said, "what is your name that I may go forth in it?", but I couldn't really hear what god was saying; the wishy (or was it washy? maybe both) feeling of being in his presence was giving way to nausea as I strained desperately to hear, and I thought I'd better stop asking questions in case god was annoyed with me. I thought well, he's given me a brain so he's obviously telling me I need to use it. So I thought about other recent revelations until it came to me.

I joined a gym (note: GYM not jim! I'm jim and the gym was in) and they had to measure my blood pressure because I wanted to do weights because they didn't take as long as other exercise even if they are boring. So. They said I had high blood pressure which I thought was strange because I am young yet and not vastly overweight. Hmm, the plot thickens. So I went to the doctor and he took some blood and tasted it, and then measured my blood pressure with a 24 hour thing and said my blood pressure was OK and the high blood pressure from the original test was because I didn't like getting my blood pressure taken, which made my blood pressure rise - sort of a Heisenberg uncertainty effect going on there (according to someone). But then he stopped and frowned. He licked his lips and ran his tongue around his mouth. "Uh.. I think.." he said, and held onto the desk. He started shuddering, slowly at first, then quickly until he was positively vibrating! Positively vibrating, not negatively mind because then he would have died of course. Then he shook himself and relaxed, and finally shifted to face me. I will never forget that look - eyes sharp and piercing, expression serious as he uttered the words that would change my life forever. "I taste high cholesterol" he spoke.

It turns out that this is my parent's fault. My father, along with most of his family are hereditary. That's what the doctor said anyway, and it means they generate more cholesterol than necessary, and apparently my father did this to me too. This is not the first time he has sought to control me from afar. He had the cheek to lend me money when I needed it in order to become a master (see He-man and the Masters of the Universe), and now I must consider the best way to give it back. Oh he says not to worry about it, but I know it is all part of a sinister plot. I know. So now I have to avoid cheese and full fat milk which I used to have every day. Apart from that I was fairly healthy but I believed in cheeses. They were my life. No chocolate either. And I have to become really active. That is why I have to become Slim Jim, not out of choice, but out of duty to my family.

It could have been worse. I was afraid that I might be turning into a diabetic at one point. I don't know what that is, but I know what diabolical is. I think it is a diabolical robot. It sounds cool but I'm in a different school. I rule. You mule. ~Eat Gruel, fool! cos I'm into maths just like Boole!

Anyway, I am going to take my considerable talent and transform the Christian Music scene by writing music that is relevant and rhymes, and is natural and living. Taking my music I will start a new type of Presbyterianism, a break-away that will be known as the Organic Presbyterians. We will state our outrage that the Westminster Catechism requires no good Christian to eat organic food and save the earth for Jesus. That is to say, it doesn't mention organic food and it should as this is moral. What new dangers will lie in wait around this corner? You will have to wait and see. I have done so much already in my short life. Now I am going forth. Slim Jim at your service.

Disclaimer: BBC have asked me to say that they have nothing to do with any embellishment of the truth here. They say they don't even know me, before anyone starts to question them to make them publicly renounce their alleged words so please, please just leave them alone. They also want to make a public statement that the explosion of the death star was coincidental to the loss of any wedding rings or any epic journey to dispose of a similarly fashioned ring, which also had nothing to do with telecommunications companies. The labels used in this piece were obviously carefully chosen to imply great adventure where there was none and the person who wrote it all is a sad, lonely man who has minimal impact on even local affairs, save that he gives the impression (by playing with phonetics) that the church is a conspiratorial society, and this has resulted in a major, baseless turn in public opinion which may shape the church of coming years. Also, typing at a computer daily is not considered an amazingly difficult task. And he doesn't even practice the piano enough, and he isn't slim. That is all the BBC have to say. Good evening.

Anything!

2007-06-18T13:41:00.000+01:00

Just leave your comment there.

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Hello!

2007-06-15T12:39:00.000+01:00

It's been months since you've left a comment. Come on, say something!

Sick of idiots like him

2007-02-24T17:31:00.000Z

I'm talking about this dude here. I know exactly what he's talking about, and all he had to say is: I tried out teaching, but it didn't suit me. Now I have a new job, feeling good about it. Instead he goes and makes a huge song and dance about it. Well, a maybe just a song ... ahem, without any music. That's cos he doesn't have my musical talent. He's always asking me to make up music to his lyrics, but he doesn't get it. I don't care about him. He's an idiot ... a religious idiot, in fact, who has to make even the most fun stuff in life into a tedius religious lesson. Did you know he won't even have sex with his wife? He says that marriage is about godly partnership. Not about gooey physical stuff. You never know who might be watching. Though, of course, he would say God is always watching. They make nice dinners together instead.

You know what else? This guy once annoyed me by suggesting an idea that I'd already thought of. I was having a conversation with my fan club where they were asking me what I'd do for my next blog title. That was before I ruined it all by my, "high-levels of kookoo and has nothing to do with me or my superb blog." according to Goodthink, the new face on the web who has clearly made it her goal to destroy me by her clever use of psychology. I still haven't forgotten that. And I'm not kookoo. My fan club still love me, even since that episode. They just don't know what to say anymore. They are too in awe of me to comment on any of my posts. You know, this morning, the moment I woke up, I clutched myself in glee and said, "Oooh, It's me!". That's how happy I am about being me, and you'll never bring me down. Never!

But anyway, I was saying... This Dave guy, he suggested I have a blog where I slag off another blog, which would in fact be also my blog. That would be funny, he said. As it happened, I'd already planned on doing that in my very next post, and then I couldn't, because it would be unoriginal. Grrr. Well I decided to leave it until everyone had forgotten that conversation, so that no one would realise I was stuck for ideas. Anyway, another of my fans, zoomtard, said in the same conversation, why didn't I slag off Dave on my website, by putting up a silly picture of him on it. Now, Dave is a dangerous guy to slag, and it seems kind of mean anyway, but sometimes if one wants to keep on being popular, when fiends like Goodthink are trying to bring you down, you just have to give the fans what they want. So I tried drawing Dave from memory. The tiny face in the middle was my first attempt.

It went downhill from there. So I decided to forget about his face. You see, I reckon Dave could take me to pieces given the chance, so I have to take him out in one go, by giving him the most offensive slagging ever. Ha ha. Here is the picture. I was able to do both!

The main point being of course, that Dave is in fact TALL! The poor guy. Also, he hates pigeons. That pretty much sums him up. And to add one final insult, Dave, I'll call you a sheep's bleeting noise. You're maaaaaaaaa. I've never understood that one, but that's what makes it so good. How can you make a comeback against an insult you don't understand? By repeating it back at the person who slagged you I suppose. That's what everyone in school did. Hopefully Dave won't think of that.

Anyway even if he does slag me back I don't care. I'll go hang out with my friends, who are all cool. We even have our own special sayings that only we understand. I'm going to talk to them right now in fact, cos they'll all comment on this page now that I've satisfied their desire for entertainment.

Please. Try to care a little more won't you?

2007-02-15T14:36:00.000Z

All right, I've got a few minutes. Here, take some. No no... I've plenty. Here, stigmund, do something good with them. I don't do anything these days (I got married), so I'm giving away my spare time. I'll keep a little for blogging, but I don't have anything to write about, besides teaching. And I'm giving that up so.. Yeah, giving it up, did you not hear? Yeah, that's life, isn't it. How are you doing anyway? Oh is that right? Yeah, same here. I find that I've so many difficult things to deal with. Gosh my life is such a struggle, it must be really important if I have to struggle this much. Since it's so important I'll continue to tell you about it for a while, no I should condescend to ask you how you are. How are you? Oh really? Yeah, I know exactly what that's like. Do you know I'm giving up my teaching job? Yeah I'm going into another job. It'll probably be even worse, but that's me, that's me, my life is important so I have to struggle no matter what.

Feck that, I'm going to play a computer game. Bye bye school. If anyone is wondering why there's no teacher in the next class, it's because Mr. Lad has given up on reality.

Too busy.

2007-01-24T15:04:00.000Z

Sorry, not now. I don't have time.

Things that iritate me

2006-11-18T17:48:00.000Z

Lately I've been getting quite irritable. Normally nothing much gets on my nerves. It must be my new job. For instance, every time I say, "This is about office tea cups" people think I've just said, "This is a bout of fisticuffs" and start punching at me, with me weaving back away and hitting my head off the wall. I'm getting paranoid now. I've started arranging to talk to people far away from any nearby walls when I need to say, "This is about office tea cups" to them, which is really difficult. The thing about nearby walls is, as soon as you go far away from them they aren't nearby walls any more. They morph in some really weird way that I can't describe or even understand so that they become instead distant walls, and then I have to go back to them and start again. I haven't figured it out yet because just as I'm starting to get my head around it (it always takes a few tenuous walks away, a few quick spurts and cautious returnings to the spot beside the wall) someone comes over and says, "What's this all about?" and I say... well you know what I say since you already know what it's about. I just don't know what to do. I don't even work in an office. I can't remember how the whole thing started. That's all that irritates me really, but it is very irritating.

Heh

2006-11-03T21:20:00.000Z

Heh. Still slightly amusing every time I think about it. Though it used to be a vibrant comedy in glorious technicolor, and now I have to squint to see a faded monochrome image, sort of a double image, like the original image made itself skinny and fat at the same time. Still makes me laugh though. Once I laughed at an unexpected but beautiful step in a maths derivation when I was driving myself crazy in fourth year trying not to fail. Try not to do that. It brings on low self esteem when someone normal rubs their normality in your face. Can't meet their eyes. They know I'm really strange. Weird. Why would I be that strange? Why would I laugh at a mathematical proof? Look at them, blinking at sociably acceptable rates with their eliptical eyes, eminating sound waves, reflecting electomagnetic radiation. I wish they'd stop doing that. I wish I wasn't here. Oh, I'm not. Well, goodbye.

Heh.

2006-07-20T13:19:00.000+01:00

Heh. Heh heh heh heh heh, HAAHaHAHAAhahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahHAHAHA Ha. Ha, haaa, aaaaaah. Ah.

Aaah, that was good. Here, this is going to be my funniest yet. No, sorry. Ok. Here you are:

This hahahahahahahaha HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAHAHAHAHA. HA HA HA HA HA HAHA HAHA HAHA hgghhhhhghhhhhghhh, ooargh, better stop myself, if there's one thing I hate it's self indulgent laughter that sounds like breathing difficulty, well, next to people who say, "loo" that is.

I'm sorry. You'll have to wait for my next entry. Hopefully it won't be as funny and you'll get to read it. Incidentally, I would have written one before now, but I've been writing about my travels to Punchestown whenever I have had a chance between housework, people and job hunting (people hunting is my favorite, housework is way too easy to hunt down and doesn't feel pain and jobs are way too hard and difficult to kill without repercussions). In the absence of photographs of Punchestown I have substituted thousands of words. If only I had more time to spend on pointless exercises. Writing is EVEN better than sliced bread regardless of the content. Soon I will put it on the internet and you can waste your HAHAHAHAHAHhhhaaaaaA, ahem, sorry the true subject of this blog just popped into my head again, time for a while too.

Not So Usual (a comment)

2006-06-09T17:02:00.000+01:00

So you thought you could stop people commenting on your blog by making your comments closed? You were wrong. Imagine my dissapointment when I went to comment and realised I couldn't. Mind you I only wanted to comment on the fact that the comments were closed, as I was asleep until the bit where you started talking about some guy called John wishing he was called Fiona.

However, the desire to comment on your website has given me the motivation to use hyperlinks on my blogger blog, an action I had been avoiding until now. I once knocked over a hyperlink in my rush to avoid the toilet, and the guilt had kept me clear of them till now. I might even get around to doing it properly on my serious blog. It needs a bit of work right enough, but I've been avoiding work. It tripped me up on my way over to sure-ality, and I've been on uncertain terms with it ever since. I'm actually trying to hunt it right now, and once I get it I'll grab Zoomtard and we'll make serious blogging sexy. yeah.

And guess what? You won't believe me, but I've actually found a friend's blog type thing that doesn't need an excuse to exist. The usual excuse goes something like, "eh, well, my friends like me and they read it.", or "it's funny" as if humour was ever IMPORTANT, or "I get to express my views. I also have an excuse for why my views are important, if you want to see. Because they are Christian. Yeah, I've got an excuse for Christianity here somewhere too. I've expressed it on my website, which I've got an excuse for.". Only a computer nerd would come up with a recursive excuse. pah. Only a Stigmund or a Liam would tell me that they don't need an excuse because the fact that they know that their website is great is enough. And then say, "enough" again, like an order to me. Is it a coincidence that the link for liam is invalid? I think not. Anyway, the worth of this girl's website is obvious. A picture tells a thousand words. Mind you I've always wondered which thousand words it tells. Are they random words, or is their worth intrinsic to how they are linked together? And what is the unit of a words worth? How many words did he write? How many drawings did lia-fail draw? The answer to this question may reveal Wordsworth's worth, relative to lia-fail's. hmm. deep questions.

Deep answers.

And don't ever ask me about parties again, Stigmund. Not after what you said the other day, bless you. No! I said blast you! Get your ears checked if you can't tell the difference between, "blast" and, "bless". For all the tea in China!

Actually...

2006-06-01T19:02:00.000+01:00

Anyone got any change for the bus? I'm too tired to walk. Cool, maybe someone has 5c. Cheers, alright, seeyez soon.

No, actually I'll hang around for a while.

2006-06-01T18:42:00.000+01:00

Ever feel like no matter what you do you'll bee aa a chocolate coated marshmallow? What? Sorry, I got distracted by a chocolate coated marshmallow. No, come back here! No! You can't leave me to go make a chocolate coated marshmallow. Come back! I am much more fulfilling. They're pretty good though, aren't they. You know you want one. Ah they've gone. It's just me and the lads now.

What I was saying is, women, right? They're, . Ah, no marshmallows in the cupboard? No chocolate. Ah well. There goes the topic for this blog. Too many women around. Speaking of topics, they aren't the best thing since sliced bread are they? I only eat them when there's no other Cadbury's Heroes left.

The thing about women is that the only time they can comfortably resist chocolate is when they think boys are going to talk about them while they are eating it. No, apparently that's not true anymore. That got them going. They wouldn't like us guys to think they cared about what we were talking about, would they? So actually, what were we talking about? I don't think it was about women at all was it?

The trouble with being tired is that random thoughts come much more easily and then you follow this train of thought that doesn't lead to where you wanted it to go. Ever feel like no matter what you do you'll be bored? When you feel like that, it means you are too tired and should go to sleep. That's where I wanted to go with this blog. That's why I didn't go to my wife and I didn't come back here to say anything to you.

'Night.

Marriage was better than blogging for a while.

2006-06-01T18:37:00.000+01:00

Then it got boring. Ho hum.

So I'm back :)

So, any news?

Pffff. I think I'll go back to my wife.

jimlad shakes hands with Babette.

2006-04-24T21:57:00.000+01:00

I was attempting to explore the accuracy of my first ever blog post, "loo" when I noticed that bathrooms remind me of heaven. Not that I've ever been to heaven, but I've seen enough films to recognise in the bathroom that same white light that bathes everything in calm optimism. For a moment I thought, "Amazing. Perhaps I was wrong in my previous appraisal of such matters." I said this a little too loudly, arousing some odd looks when I came downstairs for breakfast, but I take no notice of people who have the gall to form an opinion of my character.

I am never to be judged. I never make a mistake, for as I reached for the toilet paper I felt this horrid sinking feeling that would get one thrown out of a place as wonderful as heaven, where negative emotions are outlawed. As I reached for the toilet paper my world degenerated. As I reached for the toilet paper I noticed that it wasn't there. Have you ever been in that sort of position, where your nice innocent viewpoint is violently taken to pieces by harsh reality? Bathrooms are not heaven! They are not loos! They are rotten dungpots and I hate them!

Suddenly, as if things couldn't get any worse, this disappointment also used up the last of my stock of moral fibre. Suddenly, I realised that life is just one big disappointment. Finally, I realised that I was actually getting married in FIVE DAYS! Five days until marriage, which Zoomtard and Neuro both tell me is the biggest disappointment one will ever face.

Toilet's are evil places.

Avoid them.

jimlad has left the building.

2006-04-08T08:31:00.000+01:00

So..? Who cares? Anyway he is clearly still inside typing away at the computer, the big nerd. If he wasn't such a loser nerd he'd be outside enjoying the sun with a laptop instead of sitting in front of a state of the art computer from 1998. What does state of the art mean again? Oh, I see. I think the phrase I was looking for was solid state. No, this computer is not state of the art. I art stayeth over upon the lodgen time place of Curly Dee this past eve (eve the evening, not Eve the bridesmaid. The olden word usage is designed to encourage a sense of middle age prudency (not middle-aged prudency. we all know what those middle-aged people can get up to, right? (heh heh, yeah... (actually, what do they get up to? I don't actually know (it could be the same as young people got up to in the middle ages (in which case all this qualification is a waste of time and brackets.)))))). I miss programming sometimes, but teaching is much better, which brings me to my main point.

White curtains. Why? I could still be floating around my dreams if the curtains had been kind enough to filter out most of the light coming in from the sun. I enjoy a bit of brown or red light in the morning. It is sort of apologetic even when it does eventually wake you, but no! The curtains are not brown, not red, but glaring in yOuR FACE WHITE! I tell you. Such things are not the concern of Curly "I need to sleep :-(" Dee though. Ah well. The inspiration of many artists and writers comes out of terrible circumstances, so I suppose you should all be happy at getting to read my juicy thoughts as a result of her laziness. But I digress.

jimlad has finally left the school building after one whole enjoyable albeit slightly stressful week. I'm used to stress though (pause for sympathy) (Ok, I'm getting bored waiting), so I really loved it. Also it was a posh school and most of them wanted to do well anyway. Only it was an all girls school. I don't know what they were laughing at, unless they were all geniuses. Sometimes geniuses laugh at maths. They must have been really clever though because they were as giddy as school girls. Supergeniuses, if you will. As one of maybe five men in a school of about sixty teachers and many more schoolgirls I was something of a novelty. Some of the students had never been taught by a man before. The students gave me TWO lovely cards, TWO lovely easter eggs and wrote up nice things on my white board on Friday (Oh no. I think I forgot to wipe the board off when I left).

While I was touched YEAH, touched in the HEAD. Hah HAH Hah. Oh, very funny. While they touched me ALARM ALARM ALARM ALARM ALARM ALARM Stop that. While I was touched by their generosity, and I really like those kind students and would love to teach there again, I can't help worrying about my status as their teacher. It is hard to be strict when the students are so nice to me, but there is no choice in the matter. I am a softy but I will learn. Still, looking back, the main problem was that I was less confident when teaching geography. I knew exactly what I wanted when teaching maths, the subject I was qualified in, which means I knew exactly what I wanted the class to do, no messing. Well, not much messing anyway. I think I will be fine. Mind you, I have a feeling that I won't suffer from students being nice too often in my future stints. Maybe I will get to teach there again.

By the way, most of you probably haven't heard. A week and a half ago I handed in my notice in my customer care job and started one weeks substitute teaching last Monday. It was a posh school and most of them wanted to do well anyway. Only it was an all girls school. I don't know what they were laughing at, unless they were all geniuses. Sometimes geniuses laugh at maths. They must have been really clever though because they were as giddy as school girls. Supergeniuses, if you will. As one of maybe five men in a school of about sixty teachers and many more schoolgirls I was something of a novelty. Some of the students had never been taught by a man before. The students gave me TWO lovely cards, TWO lovely easter eggs and wrote up nice things on my white board on Friday (Oh no. I think I forgot to wipe the board off when I left).

While I was touched YEAH, touched in the HEAD. Hah HAH Hah. Oh, very funny. While they touched me ALARM ALARM ALARM ALARM ALARM ALARM Stop that. While I was touched by their generosity, and I really like those kind students and would love to teach there again, I can't help worrying about my status as their teacher. It is hard to be strict when the students are so nice to me, but there is no choice in the matter. I am a softy but I will learn. Still, looking back, the main problem was that I was less confident when teaching geography. I knew exactly what I wanted when teaching maths, the subject I was qualified in, which means I know exactly what I want the class to do, no messing. Well, not much messing anyway. I think I will be fine. Mind you, I have a feeling that I won't suffer from students being nice too often in my future stints. Maybe I will get to teach there again.

By the way, most of you probably haven't heard. A week and a half ago I handed in my notice in my customer care job and started one weeks substitute teaching last Monday. Aagh, somebody help me! I'm caught in a loop! Help! Help! Help! Help! Oh phew, I think I'm out of it. phew.

Gosh, I'm out of breath now. Okay, better go. Curly Dee has risen, but is apparently rushing off somewhere now. Goodbye.

jimlad in the workplace.

2006-03-15T16:12:00.000Z

Grrr. I can't think. grrrrrr. I have a head cold. My left nostril is leaking, as is my left eyeball, and I'm sure some of it is leaking into my left brain (I have at least two brains) , because I can't think so good.

I'm in work, sniffing into the phone at occasionaly abusive customers. The customer on the phone right now isn't talking for some reason, so I am taking advantage of the free time to write in my blog. Obviously no one cares about my cold. No one has commented on this blog entry yet so they obviously don't care. At least Goatfiend said awww when I told him my left eye had a cold. He is drinking coffee.

Oh, they've finally hung up. Woo hoo, they've rung up again. My left eye is crying. It makes me feel sorry for myself, in case you haven't noticed. My right eye is watering up now too. They still aren't talking. I wonder is there something wrong with my phone. I hope so. When will I be given a furious thinking blog? I have at least three brains! Zoomtard is supposed to email me about it. Furious thinking is an amazing group of people. Normally, a person who I consider to be cool has to be either aloof, elite or elect. Oh, they've hung up again. Grr. I have to talk to someone now.

Ah back to my blog. The aloof are those who scoff at anything that is trendy, pointing out the logical inconsistancies of the day. They include the musical aloof, such Liam McD, who scoff at NME. For example, the Strokes are a good band. You can tell they're great even if you don't like them by noting my opinion. However, they have also become trendy, so it's defenestration for them in Liamo's Tower. Furious thinkers are culturally aloof.

The elite are those who are genuinely great. Only, the aloof still consider them worthy of criticism. The elite ignore this because they are actually better than the aloof. Examples of the difference might be art historians like Curly Dee as opposed to artists like lots of people in the family I am leaving to be with her. Why am I leaving them then? Because I am also one of the aloof, and it is a lonely if lofty state. The aloof need someone to appreciate them, to make them feel elite, as it were, even if they are soft like a cushion. There are also examples of musical elite, such as people like Liam McD, who is much better even than good bands such as The Strokes. However, they are, Ah yes it's the end of the day. What a horrible day. I wonder how many lives I have messed up by being too stupid to do what customers wanted because of this cold.

The elect are those who don't have to be great and don't have to have an opinion. Their opinion is often formed for them. They know they are cool by default. They have been elected to be cool, which makes them cool, but they are neither hot nor cold and will get spitted out. Wait, no that's wrong. But anyway. Aaaaaargh. I want to sleep.

Don't bother reading this by the way. It's nonsense. Not even supposed to be funny. Sorry Stig, you should have realised, if it were funny, I would have said, "bottom" by now, or suchlike. No, this is just me dealing with being stupid for the day. I hate head colds. Furious thinkers are culturally aloof, intellectually elite and just plain elect, which is why I want to be one. Farts are funny.

So, hopefully somewhere along the way in my ramblings I have convinced you to stop picking your nose. And I can't stress enough how important it is that you see two great films, "Shawn of the Dead" and "Walk the Line", so I didn't bother mentioning them at all. In fact, I'll just reverse what I just said, so that you will really want to see them when you see that I couldn't stress seeing them at all! ."eniL eht klaW" dna "daed eht nwahS" ,smlif taerg owt ees uoy taht si ti tnatropmi woh hguone sserts t'nac I dnA There, I've deleted it. Bye. Hi, sorry. Forgot my phone. Now, bye really.

A dangerously acrostic occurance.

2006-03-09T13:15:00.000Z

Ambling beautifully, curly Dee emerged from Glendalough Hotel. I, jimlad kindly lent my new overcoat, positively quivering. Rotten sleet! Trotting urgently, valiantly we xcrified* yonder zone.

Oh dear. Whilst experimenting with language I seem to have inadvertantly given my fiancé a piggish persona. Well, since this is the first time I have named her online, she must henceforth be known as Curly Dee. She is however a bit sexier than Curly Wee, and in her defence she has never acted like a pig towards me yet.

But every great achievement requires sacrifice. If I have degraded the name of my beloved I have done so nobly, for behold! Two great discoveries have been made.

Firstly, we have found that by arranging a brief paragraph so that the words follow each other alphabetically, we automatically promote a sense of advance within the prose, even though when there is very little of note occurring. Incidentally, the text takes on a poetic note. Even though we are taught about acrostic poems in school, it is very easy to forget that it is just as powerful as rhyme is, albeit subtler.

Secondly, a new word has entered the english language, created by none other than jimlad himself!

* xcrify: to leave a place with such hurried abhorance that it is actually more true to say that the place is leaving you. As one exits, the situation is crucified in one's mind, and if one is to ever return there it must be resurrected from death.**

** Glendalough Hotel is a lovely place, but that sleet was no normal sleet. It was made of blood and guts! Not a nice experience, just stepping out of the door when VOOM, a sudden downpour of snow mixed with blood. I actually can't remember anything about it since we xcrified the area, but it must have happened seeing as I wrote about it just now.

Is anarchy compatible with humanity?

2006-02-23T13:15:00.001Z

Deos tihs bother yuo? Even wurs, dos it bodher yuo thate my lats post had only 1 spc afeter each full stop?

THIS IS A TEST!

Anarchists who are reading this are horrified to find that they are not truly anarchists, but humans! They used to believe that the order of society should be completely overthrown but now they realise that they hate the consequences that this has on the communicative aspect of society. This is how everyone would write if complete and utter anarchy occurred! Dreadful dreadful dreadful. Imagine how bad the effect would be on everything else, when you even hate the outcome of applying it to just one element of one element of society.

My dear post anarchist, don't worry. I will never write in the above manner again. Sometimes one has to be cruel to be kind. I may occasionally deliberately mis-spel a word, or format my prose incorrectly, but this is only to keep you aware of your humanity. Whoops!!! There goes the second space again! Now, not many people are extreme enough to be bothered about that one, so you should really consider becoming a little more sane.

The Teacher.

Loo

2006-02-17T17:02:00.000Z

I've been thinking.

This word is one of the great metaphors of life. Think about it. It represents the bubble of dreams, the curtain of falsehood, the rose-tinted eye patches, the stupifying self-deception through which we interpret everything. Yes, how stupid we all are. How stupid. Loo. What a great word.

Ponce: "I'm going to the loo"

jimlad: "I'm going to the shit pot get rid of this stinking mass of brown gunk that's been building up inside me."

Ponce: "May I use the loo?"

jimlad: "Do you want me to fill your sitting room with this stinking mass of brown gunk that's been been building up inside me or would is there a place for me to excrete it?"

Ponce: "Where is the loo?"

jimlad: "Where can I go to think in peace?"

The word, "toilet" is perfectly acceptable, as people know what goes on in a toilet. There is this hidden assumption in the phonetics of the word, "loo" that makes us feel ridiculously carefree about the whole matter, just like the word, "poo" does. Just like, "Woo! Look what I'm doing!".

I like to use the word waste too. It isn't a vulgar word, but an apt description all the same. Though I suppose shite can be useful as compost.

I don't like bathroom. One does not relieve oneself in the bath.