It's the wookies you see, I know they're cuddly female aimed teddy bear crap but to me i reckon they're the perfect example of Mr Lucas' bloody mindedness.
Everyone said they hated them the first time around, but old George he just sticks them right back in, because he can.
Now I'm all for creative freedom, after all it was his idea in the first place and all that.

Anyway, an interesting way to spend a few hours of your life, the FX are excellent, the acting appalling and the storyline spends so much time resolving itself there isn't really one at all.
Even a small child will get all the twists and turns, well;, except enemabagjones who did,'t understand that a pregnancy could miraculously end up with twins, this from a father of two...

There are several dodgy bits of definetly non-Jedi actions, specatularly the bit where Obi-one is watching his enemy burn to death after slicing off (in a very Pythonesque manner) various of his limbs.
Still, enjoyable for all that. And now hopefully, I'll never see another fucking light-sabre fight again.

I'm trying to resolve my own indolence with a spectacular urge to take up a new hobby. Luckily I haven't found anything that attracts me, except maybe amassing a large collection of beer bottle caps...
From where my desk is I can see two horses runing like fuck around a field being pursued by one of those large horsey women types, sort Penelope Keith on steroids, all hearty meals and back-slapping lesbianism. The horses, and who can blame them, look terrified. Maybe I should write a book about it, "The Horse Worrier"?
Ah well, off to try and create another bit of genius for clients to crap on. Toodle pip, may the farce be with you.


may the farce be with you.

Spent a few hours last night playing the love-song game... basically you involve yourself in serious alcohol or psychotropic drugs for a while then you take turns choosing titles of love songs and changing the love word to lunch, hence: I'm not in lunch... or lunch, lunch me do...
hmmm... I knew it would be an error trying to explain a game for fucked up people while sober. And you have to be of the generation that truly understands the singular beauty of a long, greek lunch.
you see the game started as another one where a main word in a title of a film or song was changed for the word Snatch. ie: one flew over the cuckoo's snatch... the italian snatch, etc...
ok, this isn't working.

My satellite thing has gone and fucked up so i'm digging out old cd's and tormenting myself trying to remember when i last played them, at the mo it's Republic by new order, what a pile of tosh... now why did i buy that?

Was looking after a friends young son the other day and decided a bit of shopping was in order... ho ho, kids, aren't they the best, hmmm. At the moment he has a "booby" fixation, admirable in a two year old, and one i suggest he won't be growing out of in a hurry.
So we go shopping and run into a young lady i know who happens to be the owner of a prodigious chest. Now, in 3 years i have avoided staring, drooling or even obliquely refering to this, the young lad, god bless him, has no such compunction.
"Boobies" he shouts, pointing at the lads, "boobies, boobies..."

She took it very well, a damn sight better than if i had shouted boobies i bet, although you must know that it was on my lips, as it were.
Anyway it gave me the chance to stare and drool without shame, after all i was merely following the lad's pointing finger, right?

But now it's out there you see, not only have i officially noticed her impressive chest, but she knows i have, and things could get awkward from here on in.
Kids...

The badgers got into the pool last night, showing off their impeccable backstroke, again.

Anyway, today i'm off to play unashamed film fan etc with enemabag and other scruffy tykes...
...ho hum....Snatch Wars 3 ... sorry.

...and so you're back from outer space... yep it's ........Jedi time.
Enemabagjones has procured tickets for Star Wars, (it's back and this time it's the end), for
tomorrow at the mega-fuck off screen down the road.
And I'm relieved, I had thought that after Return of the K there would be nothing worth watching. How I've been longing for an epic. Not that home-erotic crap like Troy or Alexander, which might appeal to San Francisco's hair dressing community, but something dark and exciting, with men in long black capes...hmmm.
Anyway, went out for some retail therapy with my MD yesterday. He toyed with some very expensive and attractive digi cams, then a very expensive stick called i believe, a fly rod, although it looked totally unsuitable for swatting flies.
Whilst he was toying with his er, toys, I was trying desperately to find some distraction. Inevitably i ended up with a pile of crap; a new set of clip on headphones for the ridiculous ipod, a watercolour sketch pad to annoy myself with in the long nights, and a set of 5 vacuum cleaner bags... I don't think i have the hang of this...
Well, must be off, got an ipod to reprogramme and i just saw a dust-mite begging for a vacuum...
Remember, Luke, i am your fajja...

well this is odd shit. when i leave the www off my blog address i get to my new look blog with it's zooty new colours etc... so http://peoplehater.blogspot.com is now my restful home...i think.
the world is odd, my younger bro has just had his first child, well, his charming wife did but I'm sure he was involved somewhere.
He has requested help with the naming of his sire, I have of course suggested solid names, George, anthony...oh and Doctor, the latter would negate the child having to study and do exams as he would already be a Doctor, mind he he actually becomes a doctor like his parents he would become Doctor, Doctor, which is just a little too blackadder for my liking.
Anyway, uncle again. Clever me. Not that anyone asked me of course, oh no, not so much as a by your leave, just lump me with another title. Like I don't have enough with Sir, and My Lord, and Cuntybollocks.
It was interesting to discover last night that badger spit is green.
Sad about young Kylie's breasts though, tsk, what a world.

It's may 16th. is this relevant? fuck knows.

My brain hurts. Or at least the space where my brain should reside is giving me trouble.
I had to stop going to see my therapist, mainly because I was beginning to tell her the truth and that seemed to be a place I definitely didn’t want to be.
Also because her response to my oft said "But doesn’t every normal person think that way?" Had migrated from, "it depends on your concept of normal", to "...er, No".

running your own agency has it's up-sides. I can show myself my work and not have some cretin change it. And there are no "suits" to deal with.
However, you have to rely upon your own judgement and that can be downright wobbly.
There's a girl I know, no really, she's rather cute, she wants me to start touching her, (her words), I have tried to but keep getting flashes of where such things have led in the past and thus distracted.
She thinks I'm playing hard to get, I reckon I'm playing impossible. Of course this means restricting my alcohol intake in her presence, just in case.
I just know that if I give in there'll be tampons in the bathroom cupboard in the morning and she'll need "just one drawer" in my bedroom... slippery, the slope of intercourse.

My pool is going green, again. It's reflecting my new Japanese garden. I was going to call it a Feng Shui garden but I can't pronounce it without making people laugh and having strangers cross rooms to slap me.
Anyway, Bush is in the whitehouse, blair in downing st, and Mbeki in a home for sad black people who think they can tie their own shoelaces then trip over them.

The badgers are frollicking in the jelly pit again and I haven't the stamina to lick them clean.