Your Space, My Pass

You Are 0% Addicted to Myspace

Your Myspace addiction factor is: Very Low When it comes to Myspace, you don't know what the big deal is. Frankly, you think it's over hyped.

Are You Addicted to Myspace?

Oh and a big AMEN to that.

LIMITED TIME ONLY: 22 posts on this front page - because - guess which jerkoff managed to stop her site feed being published, what, 21 posts ago......... If you've only just returned - welcome back!

Snippets

"It is a human right not to have to sit down (to pee) like a girl."

"It is an illusion that the small dried fish cures impotent male” says Dr.G.Raja

"The longer the ring finger, then the more butch you are. But also you are more likely to die from heart disease."

"Dog starts car after eating chip"

Athletes complained of "big women with Adam's apples"

"He believes the bear, which was dressed in a yellow raincoat and hat at the time, is the first to have caused fatalities at the fish farm."

"Women don't come here so often, and they shouldn't eat testicles," says Nancy solemnly.

The Onion Of Confusion

You know all about the Onion of Confusion, Allium Dumfukium, surely. It turns up in all sorts of dishes regularly on the menu (if you happen to be me), such as the humble Stew of Humiliation or the more spectacular, crowd-drawing (crowd demanding) Credibility Flambe.

Sometimes it is a meal in its own right, but is mostly proferred as Possibility Surprise; a delicacy set upon a bed of desperation, that involves slowly peeling and consuming your very personal and large onion of confusion one pungent, eye watering layer at a time, in the sure knowledge that the entire thing is steeped in a marinade of faint hope and therefore may just contain a possibility. Possibilities are like fortune cookies; mostly hollow, more usually containing trite philosophies than anything remotely complimentary to said marinade; highly unlikely to come close to soothing the passage of the vicious root, and generally, if approached too swiftly, leave you with nothing but the taste of cheap paper (and lost possibilities, of course), and another good reason for chronic indigestion.

This is what is known to the gods of perplexity and mortification as a double-triple whammy with a cherry on the top*. It is a riddle more demonic than the whole chicken and egg thing and therefore pleases them immensely, even though it is based entirely on a stupid pun. See one might feel like a dumfukium having consumed said delicacy. One might also feel like a dumfukium having conversely been consumed by it, 'it' being confusion, after all - in other words between you and the onion, it doesn't matter which consumes the other, you still get to feel really incredibly stupid.
*No, there isn't really one at all. It just pleases them if your mind ends up so fried that you actually ask why you never got your cherry.

After all that (or more precisely before it), one has to take into account that free will exists, that consumption of such a meal (or, as established, consumption by it**) is a matter of choice, so that one could be said to 'feel like a dumfukium' , just as one might 'feel like a bite to eat', before actually coming into any sort of contact with the damnable bulb.
**Highly unlikely, which makes it inevitable. I mean, that's confusion for you.

It has to be said that one must surely be either mortally stupid or terminally confused to contemplate such an action, ergo the onion wins, having you in its grasp before you even know of its existence. In other words, confusion is a temporally resistant state which afflicts us all from the first moment of awareness. This would be a comfort if not for those who spend their lives trying to hide their condition through massive consumption of the Cola of hot air, the caviar of groundless superiority***, or cow pie.
***Of course groundless; this is fish eggs, people. I accept caviar as a symbol of gentility if you accept pigs trotters for the same reason. Q: If the trotters were also groundless, would they have to come from flying pigs?

My day today was one huge allium experience; one delicacy after another (although I think I just avoided the flambe on a technicality due to a deficiency in spectator numbers), each gulp drier than the one before. I'd like to say that's another story but it isn't, it's exactly the same one. I'm just too confused to tell you about it; OK?

See Me Play

I had fun!

I had fun HERE, thanks to a link I found via some lunatic alien egglayer. Honestly.

What would yours say?

Free Association #190

I Lurk at Le Laquet.

Thanks to Jo, there, I was reminded of Luna Nina's unconscious mutterings, which
I used to play every week, before this summer decided to sidetrack me.

Time to start again, I think. I am rusty. Blame the heart attack for making me that way, or if you resent me starting back up entirely, then blame Jo! Muahahahaha

Week 190


I say ... and you think ... ?

1. Bell :: School dinners. Over boiled cabbage. Please Sir. Ribbit ribbit (UK middle-aged 'in' joke)
2. Abuse :: a privelige (as in abusing a privelige, not abuse is....). Take the piss, basically.
3. Relief :: After mentioning piss, what else would I think off?
4. List :: mania. OK so its spelt wrong.
5. Concern :: Age. Age concern - they do great work in the UK but the image the name gives off is of insipid 'always had it easy' drippy socialwork types, holding their chins whilst making cooing noises and looking..... concerned. The sort, if I was old and in a wheelchair, that I would purposely run their toes over. DOUR.
6. Absolute :: beginners. I never saw the movie. I think that might be what is termed a 'good thing', possibly even a 'lucky escape'?
7. Cling :: Film. Thats UK ceram wrap. I wish they had to declare the thickness or the elasticity on the outside of the box. Some seem like a bargain until you open them and realise you might as well have bought a soap bubble or a wet paper bag.
8. Dump :: after two references to widdle, its just unfortunate that I have to explain that in the UK 'dump' is the term for a really large, heavy, satisfying, waistline reducing poop.
9. Terminate :: Seems to mean the same as exterminate, these days. It ought to mean end, like where the train line terminates, but now it gets used to mean destroy. God bless scriptwriters.
10. Wine :: squashed grapes. Whaddya want, a romantic association? The damn stuff is just too commonplace these days. Oh there you go, my associated word is: commonplace.

Wee Wee All The Way Home

Or piddle-I-fo.

Or Weeee, bang. Yup that's probably it.


Sorry, I am laughing myself silly at this article, even though I am a whole week late finding it.

See, what do you do (at least if you believe the movies), if you feel you will fail an essential urine test? Why, you scrounge a clean sample from someone else.

What do you do if said substance was handed over hours before you need to appear to produce? Obviously you find a way to warm it up to blood temperature.

However, asking the clerk at the roadside store to shove it in the hot food microwave is thoughtless and unhygeinic.

Hiding the liquid in a soft rubbery casing and microwaving the lot is plain stupid, and asking for a big mess.

When that 'casing' just happens to be a dildo/fake penis, then that's just begging for international mockery, (and it has to be said that hiring a defence attorney with a name like something out of the Rocky Horror Show smacks of looking for a book deal).

I have questions; I mean, are all fake do-wanglers toys, or are there also ornamental ones? Why would there be ornamental ones? (Don't answer.)

Why would a woman take her male friend's urine and smuggle it in to a clinic in a mock trouser snake? Was she aiming to waggle it from her fly and pretend, or was this just her idea of fun? Why am I asking these questions?

Iew.

Anthem for the Ordinary!

Rachel North has hit the nail on the head with a ditty that I feel is set to become an underground anthem.

Oh my dear God - The Underground Anthem - that's a WAY better title than the one above, don't you think? It is properly named by the chorus, 'The Rules Of The Game Have Changed'; see here where Rachel is encouraging people to contribute verses or a tune or suggest more links.

So, if anyone musical out there feels inspired to the point that the tune is itching to jump from their fingertips (and believe me, I am certain the tune already exists, it simply hasn't been written yet), then play your part! Join in!

Here we go:

We won't talk of causes, we'll talk of effects.
We'll whip up a horror of radical sects.
(We don't want to talk about why they are vexed)
The Rules of the Game Have Changed.

We'll tell you we're listening, but we don't want to hear.
We'll trash civil liberties, ramp up the fear,
(And, if after the PM's job, go up a gear)
The Rules of the Game Have Changed

You can march in your millions, protest if you dare -
As long as you don't go near Parliament Square
(The cries of your anger might be heard by us there).
And the Rules of the Game Have Changed

If we think you're a bomber, Osama's recruit
There's no time for questions, Jean Charles, we'll just shoot,
And the ''misinformed'' officers won't get the boot.
The Rules of the Game Have Changed.

We don't condone torture - 'least, not on our lands
For ''unlawful combatants'' / ''terrorist bands''
Though some say rendition leaves blood on our hands,
But the Rules of the Game Have Changed.

Your sons and your daughters must be under your gaze
Lest their young minds be fuddled by martyrdom's haze.
(Extremism's causes? Debate's been erased.)
The Rules of the Game Have Changed.

We're watching and logging you all, can't you see?
It's for your own good, it will keep you all free.
The cameras, wiretaps, biometric ID...
The Rules of the Game Have Changed

You think this sounds scary? You're starting to cry?
Armageddon is coming! The End Times are nigh!
We're ready for Rapture, to heaven-ward fly...
The Rules of the Game Have Changed.

So bring on the horror, the fear and alarm.
We won't rest til infidels all buy the farm,
God willing. Bush said so. 'Twil work like a charm!...
The Rules of the Game Have Changed.

And you think I'm joking? And well so you might.
You won't give up liberty without a fight?
Check our track record - we'll soon see who's right.
The Rules of the Game Have Changed.

RN 2006

I can do puzzles, me.

You Are Incredibly Logical

Move over Spock - you're the new master of logic You think rationally, clearly, and quickly. A seasoned problem solver, your mind is like a computer!

How Logical Are You?