Monthly Archives: September 2003
The German fleet has returned to make a another desperate stand against local shipping BBC News: Danube Reveals It’s Metal Graveyard
I’ve gone home for a week to see my Bro who’s recently returned from doing laundry in Banff. Yes, he smelt that bad. It is actually sunny up here at the moment. I’m more used to grey sheets of rain. The countryside looked quite beautiful through the train window as I sped by. It’s great to have access to a fridge well stocked with all sorts of tasty food and drink and Sky and broadband to boot. Sad to say but its a treat to have many shelves in the fridge piled with things other than the obligatory Flora, eggs and jar of pasta sauce. My Mum bought me Coco Pops (good games there) and Pitta bread for specially for me. Yumm. Stuff just goes off too quickly in the micro fridge back in Reading or there’s no room. Everything begins to smell peculiar after a while; it gains a distinctive smell and taste that doesn’t match with anything atcully contained within. The Flora tastes of it, my OJ tastes of it; I don’t know what it is (or where it comes from) but it’s nasty. I think the fridge needs a good decontamination.
At the moment anyway it’s good to be back even if it is just for the amenities so to speak. It’s good to see my Bro. He looks well and has tales of vomit, the RCMP and moose (no, not that one) to tell. He does have really scary biceps from his laundering. He is still quite skinny and the rest of his arm is still the same but it’s his biceps- They look like apples have been stuffed under the skin. He brought me back a ‘Dentists don’t recommend hockey’ tee and best of all, an ‘I Am Canadian’ hockey jersey with nice maple leaves and molson signs on. Ver nice and most excellently Canadian. It all stems from the (in)famous advert that was aired back in 2000:
I’m not a lumberjack,
or a fur trader…
and I don’t live in an igloo
or eat blubber, or own a dogsled…
and I don’t know Jimmy, Sally or Suzy from Canada,
although I’m certain they’re really, really nice.
I have a Prime Minister,
not a President.
I speak English and French,
and I pronouce it ABOUT,
NOT A BOOT.
I can proudly sew my country’s flag on my backpack.
I believe in peace keeping, NOT policing.
DIVERSITY, NOT assimilation,
AND THAT THE BEAVER IS A TRULY PROUD AND NOBLE ANIMAL.
A TOQUE IS A HAT,
A CHESTERFIELD IS A COUCH,
AND IT IS PRONOUCED ‘ZED’ NOT ‘ZEE’, ‘ZED’!
CANADA IS THE SECOND LARGEST LANDMASS!
THE FIRST NATION OF HOCKEY!
AND THE BEST PART OF NORTH AMERICA!
MY NAME IS JOE!
AND I AM CANADIAN!
This caused much fuss when it was first released and has gone on to become a national icon of national identity.
Spongebob toys at Burger King! Patrick running in a bubble! Yay! Squidward! Boooooo! On the subject of junk food i thought of one of my favourite ‘desserts’ The Doughnut. To put it another way Donut, but i think that is a little crude. I imagine Homer would use that word as it’s few in letters and thus brain usage.
The Ultimate Donut Homepage
Nashville Doughnut Review
Krispy Kreme – This has really nice pictures to drool over
Shipley Donuts – My entrance into the vast and sometimes bewildering world of small cakes in, appropriately enough, Sugarland, Texas
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I got the geek at ITS to put me back on the network as I seem to have fallen off, of at least been a bit wonky. I’m now free to type and message from the confines of S@il, Soil or whatever this air conned place i’m sitting in now is called. Sadly, i’m only here until 5pm so ranting is limited. I have a tale of library espionage to tell you all and tales of bike riding and general stuff, as well as all the exciting things i haven’t really been getting up to over the Summer.
I think i’m going to get chucked out now, probably best to leave before security get here.
Hello World sorry i’ve fallen off it for a while. No internet access at the moment so here am i in the monument to brown brick that is Reading Central Library. Hopefully i’ll be back online in the next couple of weeks so those of you who were breathing a sigh of relief at not being assailed by Monky are just going to have to start deep dive breath holding (if you get good then you can do six lengths underwater).
I’ve moved house and have got a new smaller, yes messier room and i’m still riding around with my ghost pets in the back of my car. I’ve still not upacked everything and my room is a tip. It started out so well and has just disintegrated into chaos. I do have to live there i suppose.
I’ve been to the Festival, worked lots flogging pipecleaners to old ladies (and some who are just middle aged) and have generally not done much interesting. Went to wedding reception form hell but that’s another 30 minute booking entirely. I’ve booked myself in for a tattoo at the end of the month so fingers crossed i will have a beautiful tale of blood, pain and wrestling to tell you. One can hope.
Oh, I was called an Iceberg, which i am far too proud of being. Not so much the cold, icy, crumbly girl thing but only a small part of me is visable and the rest i hide away from the world. Quite poetic and beautiful i think. Better than being Goldberg whatever way you see it.
Anyway, off to surf i go, i will type soon