Sometimes I wonder if my wife really loves me. Oh sure she says it everyday & gives me a kiss as I leave far too early in the morning for work, but it's those little things (as Alisha's Attic once sung) that make me doubt her intentions are pure.
Take yesterday (when I should've written this blog). It was a sunny day, and Freya told me that it was rather warm and as I get headaches when it's hot I was advised to wear shorts and a t-shirt.
Except it turned out it was also very windy so I got chilly about two minutes into our trip into town. This meant we then had to try to walk in the sun and out of the shade so that I would complain as little as possible.
Of course now I'm writing this blog I think it's pretty obvious that that tactic failed. I reckon she does love me really, but is bad at taking wind chill into account. I guess I should have put that in my wedding vows. I'll remember this next time I get married.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Commuter Love
I've tried to keep my stories of my fellow commuters at a minimum, but something that happened the other day made me realise at how rude some people could be.
When I first started commuting last July there were a few people that I recognised every few journeys. There was the girl with pixie hair, the guy with the indie feather cut and a few people I recognised from my old job who had also taken up jobs in the industrial hotbed of Leeds. But by about September these people had disappeared to be replaced by incidental behind men that I couldn't pick out of a police line up if I tried.
I have no idea where the previous people went. Was I just getting different trains to them? Quite likely as I realised if I got the 17.28 train it would take longer to get back to York, but I would have the advantage of a guaranteed seat and wouldn't have to go over the bridge to leave York station. Or did they get annoyed with seeing me on the train & decided to change their schedule to avoid seeing me? Either suggestion sounds likely.
However, in the past few weeks I've started seeing some faces again and again. There's the woman with the fold up bike and subtle nose piercing, the guy who wears running gear to the station, gets changed in the train toilets and then changes his contact lenses on the train floor (rather grim), the woman with really blonde hair who if you squint looks like Brea Grant and the girl with really flattened hair.
And then there's the guy who seems to think he's in a race with me to get to the train in the morning. I don't know why but he thinks he has to cross the road before the actual crossing part & is almost speed walking. I think you would class him as an alpha male, which would also mean you would class him as a tit.
Particularly as when he strode past me whilst hugging the edge of the pavement despite there being the whole rest of the pavement to walk down. But, who's this coming in the other direction? It's another a.m/t who is also hugging the edge of the pavement! One of them is going to have to move to the side, or perhaps both will, laugh, say sorry to each other (even though there's nothing to apologise for) and then carry on to their workplace laughing at the slightly amusing thing that just happened.
Or they could both be consumed with their own self importance, assume that the other person will move out of the way, then walk into each other then turn round to call each other an 'arsehole' or an 'idiot'. Yes, that could be a likely outcome.
I'm only ashamed that I was so in shock at the event of both a.m/ts getting so angry at each other (in order to prevent themselves realising that their lives have become so petty to get angry at someone walking into them) that I didn't laugh out loud. Ah well, I'm sure it will happen again at some point.
When I first started commuting last July there were a few people that I recognised every few journeys. There was the girl with pixie hair, the guy with the indie feather cut and a few people I recognised from my old job who had also taken up jobs in the industrial hotbed of Leeds. But by about September these people had disappeared to be replaced by incidental behind men that I couldn't pick out of a police line up if I tried.
I have no idea where the previous people went. Was I just getting different trains to them? Quite likely as I realised if I got the 17.28 train it would take longer to get back to York, but I would have the advantage of a guaranteed seat and wouldn't have to go over the bridge to leave York station. Or did they get annoyed with seeing me on the train & decided to change their schedule to avoid seeing me? Either suggestion sounds likely.
However, in the past few weeks I've started seeing some faces again and again. There's the woman with the fold up bike and subtle nose piercing, the guy who wears running gear to the station, gets changed in the train toilets and then changes his contact lenses on the train floor (rather grim), the woman with really blonde hair who if you squint looks like Brea Grant and the girl with really flattened hair.
And then there's the guy who seems to think he's in a race with me to get to the train in the morning. I don't know why but he thinks he has to cross the road before the actual crossing part & is almost speed walking. I think you would class him as an alpha male, which would also mean you would class him as a tit.
Particularly as when he strode past me whilst hugging the edge of the pavement despite there being the whole rest of the pavement to walk down. But, who's this coming in the other direction? It's another a.m/t who is also hugging the edge of the pavement! One of them is going to have to move to the side, or perhaps both will, laugh, say sorry to each other (even though there's nothing to apologise for) and then carry on to their workplace laughing at the slightly amusing thing that just happened.
Or they could both be consumed with their own self importance, assume that the other person will move out of the way, then walk into each other then turn round to call each other an 'arsehole' or an 'idiot'. Yes, that could be a likely outcome.
I'm only ashamed that I was so in shock at the event of both a.m/ts getting so angry at each other (in order to prevent themselves realising that their lives have become so petty to get angry at someone walking into them) that I didn't laugh out loud. Ah well, I'm sure it will happen again at some point.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Sofa's Edge
According to Karen Chu, British Gas have been inspired by Little Big Planet for their latest set of adverts. Unfortunately this wasn't mentioned as an inspiration by the advertising in the away day that we recently held (as part of my role in a well known British based Gas company). That doesn't necessarily mean it wasn't an inspiration, just that advertising man didn't want to incriminate himself.
In his defence, the British Gas doesn't totally steal from LBP. Whilst parts of it evoke the feel of the game, it doesn't look exactly like it. It also doesn't have an annoyingly floaty jump.
CSL sofas don't really have the 'inspired by' defence. It's entirely stolen from the first level of Mirror's Edge that made everyone fall in love with it (and then fall out with it because the combat was not intuitive).
The problem is I don't see how a distopian future on the roofs of high rise buildings makes you think 'Sofas'. If anyone can answer this for me I would be most appreciative.
In his defence, the British Gas doesn't totally steal from LBP. Whilst parts of it evoke the feel of the game, it doesn't look exactly like it. It also doesn't have an annoyingly floaty jump.
CSL sofas don't really have the 'inspired by' defence. It's entirely stolen from the first level of Mirror's Edge that made everyone fall in love with it (and then fall out with it because the combat was not intuitive).
The problem is I don't see how a distopian future on the roofs of high rise buildings makes you think 'Sofas'. If anyone can answer this for me I would be most appreciative.
Saturday, March 07, 2009
Street life
I was in Nottingham today going to see my Grandma, and to waste some time I went to Lee Rosy's to see if the FME and DHK approved waitress was as hott as I was led to believe.
Unfortunately as I got there before 10am, it was shut and I felt it would have been rude to stare through the window so just glanced in and saw a dark-haired girl. I had no idea if she was hott, but the place did look very nice.
And all the time I was walking around I knew I was in Nottingham. Which sounds silly, but everyone else says all high streets are the same due to homogenised shops and health 'n' safety* causing anything original to be removed.
But even if Selectadisc closed**, and the Brian Clough statue was removed I'd know exactly where I was. And if I was dumped in York, Mansfield, Manchester, Swinging London or Scarborough I would know immediately where I was. And then run towards the Police Station to inform them I had been kidnapped.
Because the high street is more than the shops that it contains. It's the buildings that they're in, with the clocks that have been outside them for ages. It's the little hill you have to go up before seeing that Lee Rosy's is shut. It's the little alleyways and snickets you know you can cut through before you get to Cube hairdressers. It's that they're not all set in blocks like in America (or at least, what I think of America - please inform me if I'm wrong former colonialists!). It's the trams in Manchester going towards Altringham.
Although the fact that they all seem to have big wheels is very silly.
* The a and n were removed in case a kid fell and bumped their head on them
** Which it is. I bought my Olivia Tremor Control album there, along with the cool see through Sleater-Kinney single (I think it was You're No Rock And Roll Fun). Bye bye Selectadisc, you were a girl record store
Unfortunately as I got there before 10am, it was shut and I felt it would have been rude to stare through the window so just glanced in and saw a dark-haired girl. I had no idea if she was hott, but the place did look very nice.
And all the time I was walking around I knew I was in Nottingham. Which sounds silly, but everyone else says all high streets are the same due to homogenised shops and health 'n' safety* causing anything original to be removed.
But even if Selectadisc closed**, and the Brian Clough statue was removed I'd know exactly where I was. And if I was dumped in York, Mansfield, Manchester, Swinging London or Scarborough I would know immediately where I was. And then run towards the Police Station to inform them I had been kidnapped.
Because the high street is more than the shops that it contains. It's the buildings that they're in, with the clocks that have been outside them for ages. It's the little hill you have to go up before seeing that Lee Rosy's is shut. It's the little alleyways and snickets you know you can cut through before you get to Cube hairdressers. It's that they're not all set in blocks like in America (or at least, what I think of America - please inform me if I'm wrong former colonialists!). It's the trams in Manchester going towards Altringham.
Although the fact that they all seem to have big wheels is very silly.
* The a and n were removed in case a kid fell and bumped their head on them
** Which it is. I bought my Olivia Tremor Control album there, along with the cool see through Sleater-Kinney single (I think it was You're No Rock And Roll Fun). Bye bye Selectadisc, you were a girl record store
Sunday, March 01, 2009
Witness the fitness
As befits someone who recently got married I have let myself go a bit. Whereas I was previously a slim, weak man with a bit of a pot belly I am now a slim, weak man with a bit of a pot belly and a beard. This obviously makes a huge difference to my lifestyle, which consists of sitting around playing videogames and eating chicken goujons with reggae reggae sauce.
I think my body works fine from the waist down as I walk to work (excluding the 25 minute train I catch in between walking to and from the stations) and don't get out of breath. Sometimes I do get a little sweaty, but that's mostly due to me wearing a big coat in anticipation of cold weather & the Sun deciding to boil me slightly.
No, it's always been my arms & belly that require the most work. My belly seems to attract all the spare weight I have, but my arms get thinner and thinner in comparison.
So I got the Wii Fit board out of storage and decided to give it a go. After being gently chided for not going on it for over 100 days I started playing the put-the-balls-in-the-holes game as a warm up.
Then I did some squat thrusts which weren't too bad, so I decided to do some jacknifes to work on my belly. Easy peasy. At least for the first few jacks, then for some weird reason my lardy belly thought that it didn't like doing this & it started to hurt. Lots. The worst thing was that the gym trainer lady was late for the session due to sleeping in too late and seemed to be taking it out on me. "Keep at it. I may be hungover, but seeing you in pain is making me feel lots better."
I hate that woman. She never cuts you any slack. Much like a trainer in a real gym.
I decided to finish with a press up session. Now I really hate the Wii Fit press ups. Not only do they make you do it really slowly, but they also make you move onto one arm in an attempt to prolong the agony. So I gave up.
The woman gave me some grief, but I didn't really care as I could see her do the press ups and noticed that her top was really scary. You could see her cleavage, but it was perfectly covered by her top. Not like it was a lycra top, but more like it was painted over like those women they occasionally have in Sports Illustrated issues.
The gym lady scares me. I would choose the man, but he is also scarier and I worry about what I will see when I do the squat thrusts.
I think my body works fine from the waist down as I walk to work (excluding the 25 minute train I catch in between walking to and from the stations) and don't get out of breath. Sometimes I do get a little sweaty, but that's mostly due to me wearing a big coat in anticipation of cold weather & the Sun deciding to boil me slightly.
No, it's always been my arms & belly that require the most work. My belly seems to attract all the spare weight I have, but my arms get thinner and thinner in comparison.
So I got the Wii Fit board out of storage and decided to give it a go. After being gently chided for not going on it for over 100 days I started playing the put-the-balls-in-the-holes game as a warm up.
Then I did some squat thrusts which weren't too bad, so I decided to do some jacknifes to work on my belly. Easy peasy. At least for the first few jacks, then for some weird reason my lardy belly thought that it didn't like doing this & it started to hurt. Lots. The worst thing was that the gym trainer lady was late for the session due to sleeping in too late and seemed to be taking it out on me. "Keep at it. I may be hungover, but seeing you in pain is making me feel lots better."
I hate that woman. She never cuts you any slack. Much like a trainer in a real gym.
I decided to finish with a press up session. Now I really hate the Wii Fit press ups. Not only do they make you do it really slowly, but they also make you move onto one arm in an attempt to prolong the agony. So I gave up.
The woman gave me some grief, but I didn't really care as I could see her do the press ups and noticed that her top was really scary. You could see her cleavage, but it was perfectly covered by her top. Not like it was a lycra top, but more like it was painted over like those women they occasionally have in Sports Illustrated issues.
The gym lady scares me. I would choose the man, but he is also scarier and I worry about what I will see when I do the squat thrusts.
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