Britney Spears is an anagram of “presbyterians”.
Archive for September, 2001
Today I decided I wanted to be someone different, and went to the US Census name generator to fetch myself a new name. The system provided me with the new identity of Leonard Perkins, whom I then looked up. Unfortunately, I’m not sure which Leonard Perkins I am. The one fired recently? The winner of the 100 meters in the 1998 special olympics? A recently departed miner? It’s very confusing. In an attempt to find myself some roots, I was at least able to discover my weblogger twin, who happens to be Caroline from Prolific, but she never writes, she never calls. Some sister. Then I spend the day reading about hybrid animals and why football is bad. It’s no wonder I’m confused,
Saturday morning shopping, and I run into a new member of the Kilburn nutter’s club. I’m waiting for the bus and he lurches towards me, bald head covered in globules of an unknown ointment that’s he’s neglected to rub in. He’s wearing an unbelievably grubby pair of shorts with the fly agape, and reaches out a hand in my direction, mouthing something in an unidentifiable language that may or may not be human, his mouth working overtime beneath frantically darting eyes. He’s looks helplessly dangerous. I see the bus coming, change direction smartly and jump the queue to avoid him. As we move off I glance out the window, where he appears to be miming sex with an abandoned shopping trolley.
Burglary update: I had to stay at home for most of the day, unable to clear up any of the mess because a Scene Of Crime Officer was due to visit and dust for fingerprints. After waiting all day I called the crime unit to discover that they’d been given the wrong address and one of my neighbours had had a note put through his door relating to the burglary of his flat. I then received a rather official sounding telephone message to call a number in reference to the crime, which I did. No-one answered, and there was no message apart from a recording of The Backstreet Boys’ As Long As You Love Me. I hesitate to critisise our brave boys in blue, but this is just nuts.
Back in the real world, Marcia managed to put a smile back on my face with her beautifully cruel National Online Decency Compliance Standard project.
It was all setting up to be a pretty good evening. A few beers, some old friends, some new friends, the right result followed by a decent band, then I stumble home and go to bed. Reality of course begs to differ, as I stumble home to find myself burgled. DVD player? Gone. PS2? Gone. 50 Playstation games? Gone. Digital Camera? Gone. Hand stiched from the finest Italian cloth and only worn twice Hugo Boss suit? Gone. Insured? Of course not. Fuck.
My name is Dale. I am
- 43 years young
- 5 feet, 7 inches (170 cm) tall
- 195 Pounds (88Kg)
- Pisces (as if it really matters)
- Short brown hair – turning to grey
- Green eyes
- Living alone (actually with four cats)
- Non-drug user
- fond of wearing skirts
Hooray for Dale.
So tonight I’m off to the BBC proms, for a little bit of Faur?, a pinch of Henri Dutilleux, a smidgen of Roussel, a flavour of Debussy, all whipped nicely into shape by head chef Vladimir Ashkenazy. I have no idea what to expect.
I hate black backgrounds on websites; they always seem so 1990’s, so cheap, so pornographic. Then today I find two sites in my referral logs which are both black, and both look just grand, thankyou very much. The first uses lurid green fonts and is really rather attractive, whilst the second uses lurid green fonts and is also rather attractive. Is this a trend? Also in the “friends of blogjam” section is bookless.org, which is the Spanish version of a feature on my old Dutch favourite, lubacov. Dave, who runs said site, is sadly suffering from RSI and won’t be posting for a while, and I’d suggest you e-mailed him with comforting words, but he can’t use his computer. Get well soon!