greenhamster.co.uk

November 27, 2003

Don't kid yourself

'Shoppers 'deluded' by misleading food labels': MPs want to put warning labels on junk food, similar to the ones on cigarette packets.

This is not a banana

They've been putting nutritional information on food for years. We just don't take time to read the small print.

November 26, 2003

'...girlfriend' 2 - Faking it

One of my friends once told me that if ever you have trouble finding something, you should try looking on eBay, because they have pretty much everything. I didn't quite believe this until yesterday, but being as I've got five weeks to find a girlfriend and haven't had a lot of luck recently, I had nothing to lose.

Sure enough, a search for 'girlfriend' on eBay uk...

'Imaginary online girlfriend'

This might be enough to fool some of my more gullible friends, but somehow I don't think Alice is the sort of girl who's going to take a few emails as proof of a relationship. Also, I don't see this charade holding on New Years Eve, as traditionally I don't take my laptop drinking with me. Still, an option if all else fails.

See: I will not be beaten.

November 24, 2003

'Dave, get a girlfriend.'

That statement came from one of my colleagues as I passed her in the lunch queue today. 'Hmm. Hello to you too.'

Where did this playful hostility come from? Well, those who know me know that I like to help out when I can. This obviously goes double when it involves something I enjoy doing. So when a friend asked me to Photoshop the winner and ultimate loser of the office rugby sweepstake into a scene from the World Cup, I was only too happy to oblige.

Most people found it very funny. Others were mildly amused. One person saw it as an opportunity to play upbeat lounge covers of Hanson songs on the tattered strings of my romantic life, accompanied by a jazz organ and two runners-up from Fame Academy. Mmmmm, nice. But that's OK, because it reminded me...

Last New Years Eve, Stuart's other half made a bet with me that involved me being in a relationship by that time next year. I don't recall the exact context or terms (probably because I got punched in the head on the way home that night) but here we are 328 days later and I'm no closer than I was when I woke up on the bathroom floor the following morning.

I'll have to check whether I'm supposed to be in a relationship or not by New Years, but at the time going against myself would probably have been a bad bet on my part (I win, but I'm still single).

Now, much as I hate (Hate, HATE) to lose, everyone knows that setting a goal like 'find a girlfriend' this close to the deadline will ultimately lead to failure.
It is in-ev-i-t-a-ble. That said, there's no harm in trying.

Stu says that relationships are simple. I'm going to prove him wrong.

Like Spam to a magnet

I've noticed that the majority of the comment spam I find myself deleting these days seems to gravitate toward one particular entry in the archives and dammit I want to know why.

The post itself isn't anything particularly outstanding, and certainly doesn't relate to life insurance, male 'enhancement' or any of the darker corners or the web that the urls lead to.

It could be the post number, the wording, the title or it could just be a scary coincidence. Lemme know if anyone else has noticed a similar pattern. We shall beat them at their evil game.

November 20, 2003

Whenever you're ready

The Jackson's family solicitor says that Michael will choose his own time and place to turn himself in. But that's OK, since according to the BBC 'the singer has been set an undisclosed deadline to turn himself in...'.

Undisclosed?

Jackson: 'When do I need to surrender by again?'
Solicitor: 'I don't know sir. They wouldn't say.'

This probably frustrates the hell out of British authorities. With the increase in sentences for 'grooming' children just this month, a man wearing sunglasses and a mask with a fairground in his back yard and a bunch of unrelated children wandering around would surely ring a few alarm bells over here.

Whether he's done anything wrong or not, anyone else accused of lewd conduct with a minor (not for the first time) and they'd be in shackles right now. But two days later and we're still waiting for him to show up at the police station of his own accord.

This isn't optional. No-one has the right to choose whether or not they feel like facing multiple child abuse charges. The $3 million bail alone indicates that this is the sort of man who has the means to run, run away and never return.

Just go and get him. Like, now.

Finding the level

I'll take the fact that almost everyone seems to be unmoved by the previous post of a demon-eyed bunny rabbit intent on unleashing havoc and misery upon the world as a fairly good indicator of what people consider to be normal around here.

Or is that just normal, period?

November 18, 2003

One of those days

That is all.

November 12, 2003

Mad for it

When a friend sends you a text from the pub saying 'pls hurry m8! get down here now!' it usually means one of two things:

1. He's concerned because the piece of work you're doing for him is taking longer than expected and you're still at the office.
2. He's the first one to arrive at the pub, and he's been ambushed by a crazy person.

Tonight, both were right.

Over the last two hours at the pub with three friends and a (proudly) certified and recently released crazy woman, I've been named Steve, Allen and Robin, been made fully aware of the dangers of toothbrushes in a confined space, and been informed (amongst other things) that

a) It's not unusual for a microwave to eat a kitten. No, really.
b) Suzuki are better than Yamaha, especially when it comes to keyboards and electric guitars.
c) That Jesus wasn't just a person: there were between 15 and 20 of him ('The Matrix is older than you know...').

My head hurts. I suspect it'll hurt even more in the morning.

November 10, 2003

What I did this weekend...

Since we all 'grew up' and moved away from home, schoolfriends like us only get to see each other once or twice a year. So when we do get together you'd think that we'd want to have a good weekend and some good memories to last until the next time we get together.

So why is it then that the first thing we do is merrily dance round the outskirts of drunken oblivion by way of double-digits of beer and bars, resulting in a hangover that feels like part of your brain got trapped in the taxi door and the minefield of embarassing amnesia that goes with it?

Perhaps it's so we have to do it all over again the next time. Good weekend guys!

Other features of the weekend included having a hand in this changing-rooms-style makeover for the Autoblography (which is the closest anyone in their right mind will ever let me get to a power tool) and the Matrix Revolutions, which appears to have prompted Stu to start talking like the Architect.

I suppose it was in-evit-able.

November 05, 2003

Celebrating Failure

Does anybody else find it bizarre that this country still feels that the most appropriate way to celebrate the thwarting of a plot to blow up the houses of parliament is by supplying it's unlicensed and untrained population with enough explosives to turn Cornwall into a Channel Island?

Yes friends, bonfire night is here again. As is traditional my suicidal neighbours are gleefully firing supermarket value brand rockets into the air right next to a sixty-foot live electricity pylon. It's making a very threatening hissing noise at the moment, the same way a snake does if you go too near it's nest, or cat does if you threaten it with a vacuum cleaner. Not a good sign.

November 03, 2003

Rings, robes and rubber

Visited the Lord of the Rings Exhibition in the Science Museum on Saturday. An enjoyable afternoon, but it's a bit like spending ninety minutes in a DVD bonus disc, one where you actually have to get up and walk between the documentaries.

Interesting points include the stand they have set up to demonstrate the 'forced perspective' technique they use to make hobbits small. Slightly gross points include a lovely glass wall filled with grubby, hairy, used prosthetics. Mmmmm.