Needless to say, unless you are posting from w.bloggar or have your head down the toilet while the blogging page where I make my magic, and you make your crap loads up, you'd probably be aware that "Big Nice Search Engine Type Situation" Google has gone up to Pyra Labs (the blokes who make it easy for me to post my thoughts) and said "oooh, we like your crap, here's a large sum of money, and it's mine now. Right, lets go for a pint.".
Fortunately for Microsoft, the person who snuck into their headquarters in the dead of night and stuck a giant white pole in their front lawn was easily caught..
In summary, Google haven't pissed me off so far, so lets just wait and see what happens. If this deal means my blog is faster, archives don't screw up, and I get a pint from Google's head honcho..hey, more power to them
In Other News
Like a rabbit who only gets shagged 20 times a year, I'm not a happy bunny. Last night I did a fairly dumb thing in getting pissed while not going out until 2am. So I had a bugger trying to get to sleep. Also, some bastard's car alarm got set off at 6am this morning, and it went on for twenty fucking minutes. I'm sorry, but whenever I hear a car alarm, I don't think "ooh, some bad man is stealing someone's car, let's beat him with a stick.", I think "SHUT THE HELL UP!!" (one of my many talents is thinking in HTML code). For all you people out there who read this and work for someone like BMW, here's a tip:-
Car Alarms don't work, Flamethrowers Do....Right I'm off to prepare for this swanky meal.
Keep the Faith
More groaning than a dodgy Dutch porno flick....
I just bought myself a webcam, click here to see it!
Keep The Faith
Despite being top of the table, Arsenal fans have low self esteem. These actually want to be ginners!
Something I've noticed, there seems to be a inverse correlation between the amount of Ginner in someone's hair, and ear size. Every proper ginner people I've seen have had really small ears. Anybody got any other thoughts of this?
Okay, bear with me on this. Sod the cards and the flowers and the giant cuddly tiggers, as only birds getting shagged care about them, and beeline straight for the confectionary department. Go to somewhere like Thorntons and look for the heart shaped boxes. You will see that you get top shelf quality chocolate that if Willy Wonka Jr. would of made it, it would bring a proud tear to the eye of the senior (ie. the Continental range, or above) for rock bottom prices, that even us students can afford.
Of course, you could go forever for this, but there is abundance (not as much as after Easter, but it's nicer) of top notch chocolate now available dirt cheap. If you love choccys (like I do), it doesn't matter if they are in a heart shaped box, actually meant to be worn as underwear, or shaped like willies, eat it, it's all good.
Of course, when your mate comes into your room, that's when the problem starts:-
"Oh, you got a Valentine's gift?"
"Yeah, from a bird back home" (Make them struggle)
"Oh right, what does she look like?"
"You know, 6 foot, long blonde hair, big boobs, dad owns a pub. Y'know, the usual."
"YOU BOUGHT THOSE YOURSELF DIDN'T YOU!?!"
Humiliation from mates aside, it's chocolate, it's quality (not the shite you get in those little balls at Woolies pick and mix), and it's cheap. Check it out!
The Love Song Fright Train known to his drinking buddies as Lionel Richie
Tomorrow is going to be difficult. I'm having a formal dinner with wine in our halls. Unfortunately; me, alcohol and formality is like fat birds and thongs: they just don't go together. Etiquette isn't my strongest points, this was highlighted at the 6th Form dinner when a grand total of three forks were put in front of me. Luckily Danielle, a girl from back home who has the pleasure of been born the same day as me, ran me through the basics, so I didn't look like a tit.
Tomorrow however, I'll be alone. Multiple forks, academic gowns, and quite a number of bottles of plonk. I'm going to be bricking it!
The food promises to be good however, as we're now on Grade E meat. Grade E meat now consists of "rats and rejected Maccy D's Chicken Nuggets". Lucky us.
Keep the Faith
Keep the Faith
He's just a Skater Boy...she said 'I'll see ya later boy'....
And you thought I chose the title just for show...
I never thought it, but I'm following a fashion trend. Me, the leading fashion icon, following a trend? Get outta here. Unfortunately, it is true. I'm slowly, slowly becoming ever so slightly, to put it politely, 'Skater'.
Whether my emphatuation with Avril Lavigne is kicking in, or maybe me thinking Greenday is the greatest thing in music since Lionel Richie woke up one morning and rang up his manager and said "Listen to this, "You once...twice....three times a lady"", or maybe me staying up to some ungodly hour to watch UK Xtreme on Channel 5 (incedentally, the only thing on Channel 5 after 8 at night that isn't 15 year old porn. Ah well, that's minor channels for you). Or maybe some other reason.
Picture the scene, end of last year I recieved as a Christmas present a "Liverpool University" long sleeved T-shirt, you know the sort, the kind that Tony Hawk's wears (I'm not saying that Hawk's supports my uni....but still..). Unfortunately, my attempts to bring it back to the Uni went awry when, stupidly, I realised I couldn't fit in my bag. This meant it got left in Colwyn Bay.
Despite having a large scally population, and being Colwyn Bay closer to Liverpool than it is to Manchester, there is a majority of Man U fans there. Or maybe there isn't, it's just that the Man U fans are harder. So, going out in Colwyn Bay in a Liverpool Uni top may just of got me bludgened with a baseball bat, or summit.
Cue yesterday, about 8:00, and me getting a chill. The absolutely gorgeous weather we had took it's toll, as, once the sun when down, it went a bit parky. Not having a shirt, or any jumper. I needed something to wear more than a t-shirt, but was new. Something that was a bit, different. I grabbed my Liverpool Uni top, put it on, and then slipped one of my generic red t-shirts on over it. I looked a bit skater, but, bloody hell, it was comfortable.
You see, that's what sold it for me, comfort. I've not turned into one of those "I want to be different, so I'll dress exactly the bloody same as everybody else" skaters, or diehard skaters who can find a way to jump on their boards. I haven't even become a skater, I just wear a t-shirt over a long one. No biggie.
In other news
I've thoroughly enjoyed my weekend. I met people I haven't seen for yonks last night. And last night was worth coming home to, crashing the buffet was excellent and worthmissing Chesney Hawkes and Valentine's Day in Liverpool.
Which reminds me, I haven't actually checked my post from Friday, I may, may, just get lucky....
Keep the Faith
Yeah yeah, kiss my ass.
- We don't care about the FA Cup, we're concentrating on the League.
- We don't care about the FA Cup, we're concentrating on the Champions League.
- We don't care about the FA Cup, we're concentrating on the Worthington Cup.
- We don't care about the FA Cup, or the Worthington Cup, we just want to kick the scouser's arses.
- Wiltord needed a goal.
- Pires dived more than the Kursk.
- You got a lucky deflection.
- We wanted to give a couple of Arse-hole-nal fans a trip to Cardiff.
- Cardiff is full of League Of Wales shite.
- The ref was abysmal.
- We put out a weakened squad.
- Wenger bribed the official.
- I didn't have a bet on Arsenal.
- I did have a bet on Manchester United.
- It was their turn to win.
- We got further than Manchester City.
- We got further than Liverpool...
- ...and we don't lose to Crystal Fucking Palace.
- We wanted to be nice.
- Giggs wasn't on the best form of his life.
- You're team is full of bleeding foriegners.
- FA Cup is a crap cup.
- We'd thought we'd be nice.
- I missed half the game, sleeping (yeah sue me).
- We didn't have Eileen Drury.
- We didn't have Terry Henry.
- You didn't play fair.
- You smelled funny.
- You hurt Beckham.
- We had Gary Neville playing.
- We were shite.
Yeah yeah, I'm sorry. Get over it...
Despite the fact that Valentine's Day was shite, as I didn't go out (as promised), I did go out tonight. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, just saw Dimps, Nat and Sibley. Now, dispite the fact that I've already apologised, whilst arguing with Wiz, Nat's boyfriend that Lionel Richie is a quality artist (why, I don't know, we both don't need convincing that he is), for this to the big man himself, I need to do so here, as I said I would:-
This is a very public apology coming up. Some time last week I said, in a matter of words, that cricket is boring. I'm here to say that actually, it isn't. It's actually good fun to watch. What made me say this? Well, I've been watching the Cricket World Cup, and become quite addicted to it. I've even watched some of it streamed off the internet in some of my Computer-Based Lectures. Oh the wonder of University 100Mb/s connections. So, Sibley, and all the Cricket loving inhabitants of the world. I'm going to be a man, and say I'm very, very, sorry.
Now Golf...pfft....there's a poofy sport for you.
|EDIT| Oh fucking hell I'm getting a hangover...
Keep the Faith
Love Is Here
Cupid: Any more shit Valentine's Days from him and I'll shove that bleeding bow so far up his arse he won't know what hit him.
Happy Valentine's Day. Happy stupid shitty cheap way to make money Valentine's Day.
Also, I do set my standards a bit too high. I look at the birds and I say "Hmmmm...she's nice, but she's a minger/boring/poor/a lesbian/got a hard bloke/a sheepie". However, due to my naturally laid back stylee, I take this as one slight dink on my armour of greatness that is me, and get on with life. Until today.
Before anybody who's currently humping somebody shouts "It's Valentine's Day, get a bird and it'll all feel better", let me explain. I wouldn't normally be down on Valentine's Day, I just a chain of events that got me down. All occurring on Lime Street Station.
Ha ha! You stupid ginner
This got me a little depressed, for my ticket said "Adult Single". Thanks for that British Rail (or whoever's screwing up the system). Also, there were loads of people snogging. The worst one was some ginner. Not an attractive ginner like that bird from X-Files, no. A pure, bright red haired, ugly as a slapped arse ginner. And yet, she was snogging! Oh dear. The only hope for me is that, by God, if she can do it, then so can I.
Ah fuck it, I don't care no more. To all those who got a card, just get your coat, cos you've pulled. To all those who sent a card, you're tools of the multi million pound card making blokes. Finally, to all those who saved themselves a couple of quid by not buying a car, go down to your local boozer, and have a pint. For, although it's Valentine's Day, it's also a Friday Night. And, like every other normal Friday. I hopefully am going out and getting nicely toasted.
Keep the faith
A nice review, and on some big badass blogging site, all in a space of 24 hours. Well I'll be fucked (please, it is Valentine's Day after all).
And I'd like to point out that I did nothing to appear on that site (except from writing this blog, because it'd seem very stupid me appearing on a blog site if I didn't have a blog, now, would it?)
|EDIT| Credit for the above goes to...errr.....who was it again?
Keep the faith
Wait Ages For A Review....
...and then two come along at once. Yes, those nice nice blokes and birds at The Weblog Review have gotten around to review this site, in a way to fuel my ego once again. For those of you who would like to read it in full, then click here.
First lets start with moira's review. And bloddy hell, that bird's (I think, sorry if I'm wrong) got good taste.
"your host, Rhys Wynn, is Graham Norton on speed and too much fun to ignore."Forgiving the misspelt name and the comparison to a drugged up poofter, barely, I can compensate that with the fact that people don't ignore me. And no, it's not because of my 6'2", 160 pound-odd frame. It's my personality. Yeah.
"(I'm tempted to raise funds for him to get rid of the annoying Blogspot ad banner, though I suspect he'd put the money towards a pint.)"Damn straight I would. Send me money, send me beer, send it now.
Me and Channy boy: Like that
"it would star Jackie Chan - it's a rollercoaster of site, intensely personal and an addictive guilty pleasure."Now you really shouldn't of said that. Me and Jackie Chan are drinking buddies. We are two totally different people. Plus he's below me (violence is not the answer, every arguement should be settled with a drinking contest).
"Add to that Rhys' charming Welsh/Liverpudlian slang and you're hooked, ready to forgive the occasional assaults on traditional English."Ah, they deserve it. I love them really.
"It never overreaches or tries to be something it isn't - and more pointedly, it's ridiculously fun to read."There you go. All you doubters can kiss my ass. Or buy me a pint. Either way is good.
I really would love to pick up so much more out of that review, but I'm shit scared that the reviewer might somehow get onto this site and take offense. I really don't mean no offense. Honest.
The second review is by yz. It's not quite as praising as the one above, but, beggars can't be choosers, can they?
"Rhys's posts are actually quite a delight to read, what with his dramatic way of telling stories and usage of ample sarcasm."As if my ego needs more stroking.
"a glossary explaining names and locations that appear frequently in his blog (comes in handy, but I couldn't find Roland),"HA HA! You obviously don't make an impression.
"However if you enjoy Dave Barry-style rantings that causes you to read with an exasperated smile,"Thanks, but who's Dave Barry. This simile is like concorde, way, way way over my head (except when it was grounded).
In all fairness, props to yz and moira, as they were both very very nice towards me. I have this inflated ego because I truly believe this site is shite. So it's nice to know that it isn't, from time to time. I'm still going to be an egomaniac though.
Right, fuck this, I'm off to the boozer.
Keep the Faith
Everyday, I thank the Lord I'm Welsh
Before I talk about the Kieron Dyer state that the national game is in at the moment, I must say a few things to cover my back. I'm quite aware that a fairly weak Wales squad only managed a draw against Bosnia-Hertzosummitorother, and it is only a friendly, both games. Friendlies don't count for anything except national pride. If you want any more consellation, China managed to draw with Brazil yesterday. So, you lost, no biggie.
BIG JOHNNY HARTSON!
Your goalkeeping problems are terrible. However, hope may be on the way in Robinson. Admittedly, he let a goal in at the end, but, by God, he did play well. The goal wasn't really his fault. He went down, and it was just slotted through his legs. He did pull off some good saves. David James also had a few good saves, and he'd make a great reserve keeper. However, Robinson, I believe, is the way to go. With either James or Richard Wright on the bench.
There were some great points though in Wayne Rooney, Franny Jeffers and Jermaine Jenas. All had excellent games, as did most of the younger contingent. Rooney had something like 4 shots on goal, 4 on target. Now, if you are a manager, that's what you want in your strikers.
So where do England go from here? I don't know. Give Sven more time with the players, it's one of those club vs. country things. But if the national game is so important to England (and it most definitely is), I'd let Sven have everybody he needs for every games.
And the FA better keep their grubby mitts of Sparky Hughes, or I'll beat them with a stick.
Keep the Faith
Him out of Busted.
Election Fever has gripped The Guild! Well, it has, if your defenition of "gripped" is "mildly interested if you are involved, and annoying if you're not". Nevertheless, would be guild reps are walking around on our nights out, quite literally plastering us with badges, stickers and other paraphenalia so that we look like the proverbial human-13-year-old-girlie-teenager-who's-obsessed-with-him-out-of-Busted's-wall, in the hope that we may may vote for them.
I hate politics, so I'll be absinthe-ing (or whatever that word for 'not taking part' is). However, probably the best form of deciding the winner involves drink, and lots of it.
|Bush: Probably would win a drinking contest with Saddam.|
"Would you fight for me to stay in halls?"All questions asked to drunken candidates, none by me. Now, if we can only get Bush and Saddam to sit down with an endless supply of alcohol, we could probably solve the Middle East problems so easily.
"I want cheaper beer. I want it now."
"Two pints of Fosters and a pack of plain, and I'll vote for you." (didn't work)
"If I said 'I shagged your mammy/daddy/sheepie', how would you react?"
In Other, Non-Political Crap News
"LEADER! LEADER! LEADER!" was a familiar chant heard by members of my 10 strong group in the 'Let's get 200-odd people to make a website about Liverpool. It'll probably be crap, but we don't care.' COMP106 practical project. Why is there a leader chant? Well, like Moses to the Israelites (don't quote me on that, my bible knowledge is very sketchy at best), I have to lead the 'Art in Liverpool' to the 'ooh, their website is quite good, A++!' promised land.
So how did I get this role? I'd love to say it was because of my five year knowledge of the intricate working of these blighters, but I can't. It was a "lets pick some guy at random" type situation, and, grudgingly, I accepted the role.
So what does it involve? Well, I've got to not only do some research into 'Art in Liverpool', do some design work, and bring both together from the rest of the group in an orgy of design related shenanegans. And liase with the nerdy management group.
Charlotte from Ash. You happy now Roland?
- It's a bloody tricky song to sing.
- The bloke from Ash isn't a good singer in the first place.
Right, the bar's calling me. I deserve a results celabratory pint. There'll probably just be a small writing tomorrow. Don't complain, or I'll beat you with a stick.
Keep the Faith
Don't you know you've got your Daddy's eyes, Daddy was an Blogaholic.
Probably inspired by my bloody fantastic test scores, I'm *treating* you to so many titbits today, it's almost scary. Here's another one.
Kind of furthering strengthening the link to the almost symbiotic relationship of blogs and those wierd quizzes that go everywhere, there's now a "Are you a blogaholic?" one, asking you if, quite literally, you are the sort of person who spends more time writing to people than actually having stuff to write. Anyway, yours truly has taken this test, and here is the basic jist of my results.
Your Score: 72%
Average Score: 43.3%
What This Means: "You are a dedicated weblogger. You post frequently because you enjoy weblogging a lot, yet you still manage to have a social life. You're the best kind of weblogger. Way to go!"
There'll be one more post today, later on, where I typically highlight the days events. I bet you cannot wait. Everybody'll like it, as it'll have pictures. Not pretty pictures, but pictures nonetheless.
Keep the Faith
Look at you now you're all in my hands...toooniiiiiiggghhhhttt
Today I got my exam results for my degree (so far). After
no hard work, this is the day that I've been dreading for yonks. Would my abysmal handwriting haunt me? Would it fuck. If you are right now thinking "hmm....Rhys, what did you actually get? I do similar models, and whilst I undstand that Rhys can kick my ass at everything, I would like to see what he got in relation to mine in a comparison type situation." Well whooppee you! I have kindly provided this to you.
|Rhysie Boy's Official Test Scores 2002/2003||Subject||Score|
|Application of Computers + Professional Skills||76%|
|Multimedia, Concepts + Practice||82%|
So that's that done. Now I can go back to Kareoke, drinking, and all other shenanegans that us student blighters get upto.
Keep the faith
Behold! Possibly the most evil force in Professional Wrestling. Big Fat Welsh Bloke!
Special Move #1: He hides a naturally exploding sheepie in his mask, then when the referee's not looking, he throws it at his opponant, causing massive death + destruction.
Special Move #2: 'The Daffodill Drop'. He pulls out a daffodill from underneath the ring, then climbs the turnbuckle, and elbow drops the daffodil onto the opponant. Opponant never gets up from that.
Theme Music: Orchestral Piece beginning with: "He's big, he's fat, he thinks you are a twat. He's Big Fat Welsh Bloke!", sung by Tom Jones.
Naturally, you are very, very scared.
Props to some bloke for the link, who gave props to some bird for the link, who gave props to another bird for the link, who gave props to another bird for the link. As that bloke in that Disney film once sang, "It's a small world after all...".
|EDIT| I'm quite aware that some individuals (namely Roland) will say 'That Big Fat Welsh Bloke has changed'. The thing is, that he has. The other one was boring. Nevertheless, they'd both kick your ass.
Keep the Faith
Today, we had to queue for the toilet. Let me repeat that. Today, we had to queue too use a fucking toiliet. All the birds out there will be saying "so what?", but for us blokes, we are used to the in out and wash hands in three seconds. Flat. Two, if the wind's behind you. To wait for nearly 30 seconds for a wee wee is annoying. Males were given doodaa's so that we could come in, do your business (if you want to impress, make your business a sizable distance from the can) and leave, not pissing (no pun intended) about. Admittedly, sometimes the old brewer's droop kicks in, and a few people (not be) get intimidated into not going. Even so, it's 20 seconds, tops. Why am I complaining about it? I planned for a normal bloke tinkle, and got a queue a mile long, and missed the start of a lecture. Surely, if I can be excused for train failure, then I can be excused for toilet break irregularites, surely?
In Other News
Despite toilet trouble, I had a fairly good day. Nothing really special happened, except for the "Well it was funny for me type situation" involving 'heads'. Nothing really else to say about it. You may say "Rhys, that boring", I don't care.
Y'see my little blighters, I could use a few quiet days. My body, like most of the money in a bird's handbag at the start of another bleeding shopping trip, is spent. I need the quiet life. I need normality. I need fishing. I need cricket. I need everything that's boring, normal, and cheap. I need a break.
Keep the Faith
I'm on a bit of a roll today. Last night was my luckiest night I've had in ages. Won jackpot on the fruit machine, pulled, and got pissed-sans-hangouvere (as the frogs'd say). I cannot remember too much else about that night, so don't ask.
Lyrics of the moment (this came on the radio, and I thought it was kinda ironic):-
I don't care if Monday's blue,
Tuesday's grey and Wednesday too,
Thursday I don't care about you,
it's Friday I'm in love
The Cure - "Friday I'm in Love" (1997)
Today, shock horror, I actually had a funny Data Structures (no, I'm being serious..)! Yes, it was probably me, but we were talking about linked lists, another exciting way to store data. Anyway, each blob of data on the lists has something to tell you where it is, called a head. (can you see where this is going?). We had to create two functions, one to assign a 'head' to a data, the other to obtain a value of 'head'. Below is a (rough) transcript of the conversation:-
"We will need to functions, givehead() and gethead()."
"givehead(), that gives head to a data structure."
"it does yes."
A bigger update will probably come tonight.
Keep the faith
Should I stay or Should I go?
Suddenly, Leo realised that curry he had last night wasn't such a good idea.
Last night we went to check out 'Catch Me If You Can', the other film out at the moment starring Leonardo DeCraprio (or whatever his name is). For those of you who haven't seen it, here's the general jist of it: American bloke, mid teens, decides to become a pilot for the only reason is that they're loaded. Doesn't make it, but pretends that he does. Also becomes a doctor and lawyer bloke to get fat paydays. He is then chased by big nasty Tom Hanks guy all around the world for major fraud type situation, whilst shagging some bird called Brenda (who everybody assumed I fancied on the account that we both have braces). All in all: Top Spielberg based true story adaptation for family viewing!
In other news
Today, thanks to the afformentioned brace needing the ever so slight adjustment, I've been to the dentist. Fortunately, I missed Data Structures. I'm probably still going to have to write a grovelling letter though. Never mind.
As Nu-Metal Fathers Korn once sang "I'm here to Stay". Well, in Liverpool up until Friday (at the earliest). After Friday, I haven't a clue. Like everything, there are pros and cons (or "Costs and Benefits", if you're to be an Economic Twat) for both sides. Lets look at them shall we:-
Chesney Hawkes: Did he sing owt else?
- I may just get a Valentine's Day card (see more in the next bit).
- I get to see Chesney Hawkes (he sang student anthem "I am the One and Only", and not much else, if you needed to know).
- I don't miss Data Structures on Monday morning.
Reasons for Going
- Okay, let me be realistic, there is more chance of Elvis returning to Earth on a UFO that lands on the Loch Ness Monster's head than me getting a Valentine's Day card. I haven't exactly set anybody's life alight with my presence.
- The bar is playing a stupid game to get singletons like me together, and I really cannot be arsed with it.
- I miss Chesney Hawkes.
- I don't spend as much money.
- I miss Data Structures on Monday morning.
This week is going to be a busy week, so I'll decide later the time. I'll let you know [guitar solo] should I stay or should I go.
Right I'm off now, someone has walked into the computer room and he smells funny.
Keep The Faith
I suppose it had to happen
The two biggest communties on the net had to hit head on to one another now again. The blogging and pointless quizzes have met head on to form [drum roll] "Which Blogging Tool Are You!" [trumpet playing]. As I'm currently struggling for content. Here's my results.
|You are a very conservative and introverted person. You live in your own world and you're not very easy to approach.|
Which Blogging Tool Are You?
There we go. Another proof that I probably won't get a Valentines Card. Like I care. Expect to see similar boxes like the one above on a number of websites within the next 24 hours.
Keep the Faith
(Cue Drunken Slur) AND THERE I GOOO-OOOOH, JUST FAAAAALL IN LOVE AGAIN!!
Those older members members of the audience may say "oooh...the next line is 'just one look at you it happens every time'", which is correct. Unfortunately, this isn't that next line round on Never Mind The Buzzcocks. This also isn't the 1970's, and The Carpenters are, unfortunately, long gone. The title refers to a game, and me finding my love for it once again earlier on today.
Oooh, there's that wierd gothic bunt that has only annoyed me so far.
Final Fantasy 7 achieved the hardest feat in the world ever, it made turn-based RPG's popular in the Western World. Why? Well, it was totally different from most RPG's (the exception being FF6). The story was fantastic, the characters were brilliantly living, and there was enough distractions to keep you busy for a long long time. After 7, I kinda fell out of the series (I bought 8, but never got into it). I picked up Final Fantasy 10 today. It's fucking brilliant. I'm not going to give an explination why, as it just is, however, here's what I've noticed so far, after nearly two straight hours of playing:-
- 00 hours 10 minutes: First thing, what a cool way to enter your name?! Never thought that before. I chose the name that strikes fear into do-badders worldwide. Rhys.
- 00.30: First thing this game reminds me of is Futurama. Guess it's the whole bloke gets transported 1000 years into the future type situation that kicked it off. Or the guy's voice is Fry's of Futurama (interesting fact. There, don't say I'm not educational).
- 00.41: The game then takes me off to think about that Busted song. Especially the line "Well I've been to the Year 3000, not much has changed but they live underwater.". Probably cos we're in and around 2000, and (for all you mathemeticians out there) 2000+1000=3000. Also because that the lovingly named weird pants guy Rhys has spent more time in the water than the Colin Cod of the Cod Family. Right on two occasions.
- 00.50: Ooh, underwater battles.....LETSAVIT!
- 01.10: Blitzball, looks quite interesting. See so many links with the beautiful game. They are a) Everybody loves it; b) Rhys gets mobbed in a David Beckham type situation.
- 01.11: Another Link found! The anchovies (or whatever his team's called) bears more than a striking resemblence to Sheffield Wednesday. The reasons are:-
- They're crap.
- They don't play to win.
- They're crap.
- One of their blokes looks a lot like former Sheffield Wednesday 'great' Carlton Palmer.
- One of their blokes is as useful as former Sheffield Wednesday 'great' Carlton Palmer.
- They're crap.
- 01.30: Rhys-formally-known-as-Tidus is a selfish, annoying, twat. Rather like me!
- 01.41: Rhys-formally-known-as-Tidus has two women fighting over him. Unlike me, as I usually have errr...zero.
Anyway I've run out of things to say about FFX, but, by god, it's fantastic.
|EDIT| Dammit! This post was supposed to go up last night, but I got tired. Why? Was it because it was 1am? Was it because I spent all day in the
bookies swimming pool losing a few pounds? Or was it because at this time I was speaking to some bird, and she sent me to sleep?
Oooh decisions, decisions.
Keep the Faith
Rhys*Okay, admittedly Sonic and Street Fighter have slightly better games, however, each one is disjointed. FF series run nicely into each other.
The Art of Pushing
A Push Me Pull You: The only thing that remotely links to this post..
Like that Pirate Radio Station that operates on 10.4FM, very few people are on my wavelength. I can come across at being, to be polite, unique. Generally, and really quite fortunately, you son of a bitches just love me for it. In all seriousness, I do consider myself to be a bit out there sometimes, and come up with wierd and wonderful ways to have a night out. One of which is 'pushing'.
Pushing, quite simply, is the opposite of 'pulling'. I practice this art when some bird comes up to me and, let me be honest here, not really a picture. To avoid embarrassment for her by me saying "no", or for me by me saying "I'm flattered, but I'm gay", I practice 'Pushing'. To nail this art to a fine tuned piece of diplomatic workmanship, you have to lose all sense of pride and self-preservation to almost the levels of Steve-O.
This your bird? Practice The Art of Pushing!
You know with pulling that you have to make yourself look as appealing as possible to your possible bedded victim? Well, in pushing, you do the opposite! Make yourself look like the most vile, disgusting human being on the planet. Of course, I'm not talking about making yourself look like a serial killer or owt like that, just a bit disgusting. Words like "I vomitted twenty times last night!" work well, as does "Deoderant is against my religion". Soon enough he/she (it does work for birds, try it!) is so repulsed by you that she will dissappear into the sunset, leaving you with the evening to freely enjoy as you so may please.
Okay, so I don't do this all the time, as it's a bit of a fine art. Also, I don't want the whole pub/club/strip joint thinking I'm the bastard child of Rab C. Nesbitt and The Slobs. However, it has worked in the past, and it worked last night. Result!
And my mates wonder why I've never had a serious girlfriend. Or indeed any form of girl.
In other News
Anybody notice how steamingly hot it was last night (I'm talking in temperature, not friskyness)? Apparently little over a week after snow we have hit a bit of a day-long heatwave. Who said CFC's don't fuck us up?
If you are dumb, and couldn't tell from the line "it worked last night", you may be interested to know that last night, yes, I went out! Walkabout (as always) was the destination, and the band came from the "Nirvana? Greenday? Pfft, give me Queen and mid-80's posse" School of Covering Songs. This isn't a bad thing, just slightly narked me (as I was half expecting Nirvana). It was a good night, despite the fact that I didn't get to bed until 4am-ish.
|EDIT| Quick stupid story: As any person from Malbro cigarettes wouldn't testify, kids get into smoking. I'm beyond caring people young enough to be my kids (that saying I started puberty at 3) are smoking fags nowadays, but one of the funniest I saw today. Me and Richard (and a few of Richards 'mates', suprising as I thought he had none) were waiting for the bus at the hive of activity that is Colwyn Bay Station. All of a sudden, out of my peripheral vision was the most scruffiest kid smoking a fag. He was obviously embarrassed by his nicotine habit as he was hiding behind the bus stop. The only problem really was that the daft bastard didn't realise that the whole bus top was made from 100% transparent Perspex.
Okay, so this isn't my most "wow! that Rhysie bastard, man he can sure write" post, but I'm tired. Now bugger off.
Keep the Faith
Why am I really here?
In my utter bordemness experiencing at the moment, I took one of those 'Personality Tests: Hey, if you own a blog, you can fill it up all day with these, and 9 out of 10 stupid people cannot tell the difference". Anyway, here are my results of the "Are You a Goth, Trendy or Alternative":-
Conclusion: "Quite how you can be both trendy and alternative at the same time it's difficult to see, but, if the test is actually working properly (hah!), then you may be one of those popular kinds of people who pretend to be stupid just so they can cope with the inanity of their peers."
And there you have it, I'm "Trendily Alternative". Suppose that's a good thing.
To take the test, you know you want to, click here
I hopefully will have a bigger, more fun, post about fun stuff later (I've been inspired to write about some video games after reading Edge this lunchtime, so I may do that).
Keep the Faith
As of now, to use the technical term, I am properly bricking it. A few people have had their exam results back from their course, and I haven't. However, all I've heard is that some of the students in our course aren't fantastic, to say the least. However, this doesn't mean that this applies to me, but me, being a little worrying blighter, thinks that it does. Already I am running through my head where did I go wrong. Crap revision? Crap exam? Crap Lecturers? Crap Handwriting?
The sad thing is that I'm not to arsed about re-sitting really. It's just one of those things. I'm used to it. However, I have never, ever failed anything in my life. Not being arrogent (honest), but my record is flawless. Sure, I've had D's and E's before, no biggy, but never the dreaded 'F'. Maybe a failure would kick me up my ass to do better, or maybe it would lead me into a depression like no other.
I'm naturally laid back, and, to quote from Lionel Ritchie, I'm easy like Sunday Morning. The only thing I'm scared about is failure, and not living upto people's expectations. Nuclear war? Pfft...doesn't affect me one bit. However, failure does. I want to prove to everybody that I'm the best at everything I do. Some call me conceited in this thought, some call me competitive. I don't care really, it's just the way I am.
Keep the Faith
Whilst on the subject of annoying quizmasters from Liverpool...
I'll be brutally honest, I'm not stupid. However, I am prone for the occasional, to use a technical term, 'Cock-up'. The only problem is due to me hating all forms of current affairs, politics and historical facts, I'm not thr best person for pub quizzes. I know a bit (my knowledge of WWF 1989-2003 is unprecidented, as is my video game knowledge) to do okay in almost every pub quiz, but usually I just end up confused or stumped at questions. We have a pretty good team, unlike Sheffield Wednesday, who, like Sheffield Wednesday, haven't tasted glory for ages. However last night we should of won.
The round in question was a picture board round. We got ten famous cars (ie. Startsky + Hutch, Thunderbirds etc.) and we had to name the car makes. One of my mates' dad was a mechanic, and some of the knoweldge was passed on genetically to the child. Most wasn't. However, this was soon put right by a quick phone call to the afformented father. Oh the wonders of modern technology. It only turned out that including that round, by golly, we won.
However, it turned out that the competition were overly intelligent PE teachers, and they didn't understand the car round. The 'Quiz matser' did the only thing possible with 200-odd PE teachers with their hockey sticks and whistles charging at them, and cancelled the round.
Like half of the people down at Colwyn Bay station after 6pm, I was pissed. Quietly pissed, but pissed nontheless. However, some of my team wouldn't let it lie. Maybe because it was a just cause, or maybe, being students, they saw 50 quid, and they went all incensed. We didn't get our desicion overturned. Shame really, because we really, really could of used 50 notes.
In Other News
Today consisted of another Dull Data Structures and also a Software Development lecture. This was eye opening in the fact that we got a "Standerdised Lists Of Guidlines" piece of crap that we're supposed to adhere to if we are to write proffessional quality software. Unfortunately, I probably broken about three quarters of the rules on that piece of paper. Bugger.
IT'S SO UNFAIR!
Keep The Faith
What Musings should really mean..
Firstly, what the fuck does "Musings" mean? Whenever I think of the word Musings (What? Well what the hell else do I do in Data Structures then?) I usually think of that cheeky blighter Matt Bellamy of the band Muse in the center of a Hendrix-esque guitar solo or something to do with the band. Answers on a postcard please. Again, moving on, this post is quite literally a number of shorter posts compressed together for your blogging amusement.
If you couldn't tell already from a combination of reading the weekend's posts and using the kind of logic that would make Dr. Spock bow his Vulcan (**PJ: Alright Dickson!) head in shame, then you would know that I went home for the weekend, to experience all of home life's wonders. Incidentally, I set a record for the longest time I've ever been away from home before that (yeah, I'm a mammy's boy, kiss my arse), so, I did notice a lot of changes at home.
Admittedly not massive changes such as the house was painted pink or summit, just, y'know, the little things. The different coloured toothpaste, the new auction channel on Digital, the floor being fixed in my bedroom and everything smelling just peachy. Well, they did, until I readered my cider-stroke-vomit-stroke-unbathed-stench head. For those of you with the logic skills of the average Big Brother contestant, I'd like to mention that I am heading home this coming weekend, to have a checkup on my teeth.
After another "Dull as Data Structures" Data Structures lecture, I browsed the web as per norm. One thing I did notice, that would make That Bloke From Star Trek and The (Second) Best British Blogging Bloke roll over numerous times in excitement is that apparently those "It was cool until I wasn't nominated" awards were found to be a bit of a fix by, amongst others one Texan Bloke with a lot of mates and a lot of time on their hands asked his mates to all vote for him or else he would give a wedgie to them. Thus, the wedgie-fearing Texans voted in droves for this bloke, making him leader in almost all catagories. Texan's rigging elections? Sounds strangely familiar (ooh political).
One Big Sunday: AKA PAAAARRRTTYYY!!
So why do I mention this? Well, I overheard on the bus on the way back from Uni that this bloke had put his picture on it, and got a rather wiggly 3.7! And he didn't have a fat belly! Result!
Keep The Faith
**PJ stands for "Private Joke". As the word of this blog increases, a lot of people (usually the silent majority) who regularly visit this site are people who know me "know me". Basically, it's a joke that all you who have the priveledge of knowing me in real life would understand, so everybody else, tough, I'm not explaining it.
Losing My Religion
Despite making his name for being a manager for the scummy Liverpool (FC, not the Uni, or the city), I respect that the late Bill Shankly did have a great way in press handling. On the all time greatest quotes about fotty, ol' Willy features promenantly in the top ten. Two of my favourites are the following:-
Like many Brits up and down the country, football is almost a religion to me. Controversially, according to some readers, I am a Manchester United fan. However, as well as that, I also support my local team Colwyn Bay. However, after an unbelivably dismal performance today, I'm strongly considering stopping supporting actively one side.
Sure, I wouldn't be complaining if, like West Ham most of the season, Colwyn Bay have been performing. The fact is they are uninspired, indifferent individuals who made not a single passionate attack on goal. One thing I must point out is that I'm not fantastic at football. I'm awful in fact. However, I try. They didn't today. We lost in our biggest game (so far) of the season 2-0 to a team that, not only we haven't heard of them, but the town they came from we didn't even know. Not sure who they were, but they were chanting summit like "Come On Ebbw Vale". If they were Ebbw Vale in disguise, then they're could of been a bit of a kicking off type situation on the League of Wales scumbags by the Colwyn Bay faithful. Well, there would of been a few years ago. The "Colwyn Bay Faithful" now consists of me, couple of 70 year olds, the player's wives, and a dog called spanky who given half a chance would run on and hump the ref's leg.
Anyway, final score: Colwyn Bay a rather pants 0, some unknown team a "We go marching on in the cup" 2, immediately after the game, there was a bit of an arguement, complaining that we (the fans) show no commitment.
I think it works both ways lads.
Keep the Faith
**The above post may seem damning to C.P.D. Colwyn Bay. It's not intended to be. I will continue to support them. However, I am finding it hard to pay £3 (yes, I know, only £3) to watch a team that don't give us our money's worth.**
|EDIT| Shite, just heard about that shuttle crash. Sort of pales the above into insigifigence. My thoughts and prayers go out to those involved in this tragic accident.
Back So Soon?
I'm writing this against my will. Last few days I've been a little worse for wear, and my stomach, like my mates porno collection, is still a little dodgy. The only reason I'm writing this is regular-reader-stroke-totally-unfunny-brother Richard held me at gunpoint today, wanting an update. Being the caring son of a gun that I am, I'll let you know what I've been upto recently.
Dispite having a dicky stomach, I've had two nights out in the past two days. Wednesday night consisted with a sober (and I mean properly sober, I only drank water, due to my
t.A.T.u: This is not enough...apparently
cheapstake nature healthy new attitude) trip to Schooldisco.com night in the student's union. Now, for those of you who've never experienced one of these nights, the general jist is that someone with fantastic taste in music and probably a bloke (or a very kinky lesbian) thought "Hmmm...how about having a night whereby blokes and birds dress up in school uniform of some form, whereby we play old tunes that everybody likes, then have some people dressed up acting like morons, and get paid fantastically loads to put these nights on.". Well, it worked, and dispite the fact that anybody who works at the Daily Mail would have a field day there, due to unfeasibly short skirts, stockings and people wanting to look like those t.A.T.u birds, and also I cannot seem to remember a School Disco I went to where I wore my Pen-Y-Bryn school uniform, instead wore home clothes, it is a good night. However, I probably sweated more that night than my last two weeks on my exercise program, oh well, every little helps.
DIE EVIL FIEND!!
Today was the announcement of the website we are supposed to be making for COMP106. If you've just woken from a chocolate induced coma, there is a bit about it at the end of this post. In anyway, the subject of the "Rhys Wynne's time to shine" is Liverpool: European City of Culture. Now, as you pick yourselves off the floor after the shock and horror of such a quality project, you would probably see the kind of irony in the title. Nevertheless, I should own on this.
Keep the Faith
Welcome to Data Structures...hope you've all brought a sleeping bag?
Today has been quite a boring day. As this is my blog, it is my honour, nay, my duty to pass on information about my blog to you, my twenty million hits a day audience.
Firstly, Data Structures. Lucky us. It's probably the most boring thing that has ever existed (well, certainly now, now that "Scavengers: The second worst thing John Leslie's Done" went off the air). I bet when The Big Bloke Society for Stereotypical AssignmentTMwas looking down on Earth, and thought "How can we stereotypically label people who study computers?", I'll wager they were looking in on a Data Structures lecture, and thought "I know.....nerd! That'll teach the boring bastards". In the end, all I remember was while lecture bloke was ranting on in a semi-senile state about Arrays, I fell asleep. Not good, no, but anybody who has ever studied the fun fun fun world of Data Structures would sympathise with me. Whoever teaches it, whatever form you teach it in, even if you write it across a woman's knockers in felt tip, it would still be boring. Yes, it's essential. Yes, it's 80% exam. Yes, it's pants.
A bit of an embarrassing "I shouldn't be here" type situation also occurred in our usual block, the good ol' Leccy Engineering block. Now before I relate this tale of mirthful woe, that will have you rolling about on the floor in such a way only previously achieved by alcohol, I must tell you this:-
- One of the lifts, for the past few weeks, has been a bit poo. It's also been on the blink for the past few days, and today was the first day this week that it has been fixed.
- I hardly ever use the lifts, not now on my training programme.
- I got into the dodgier of the two lifts.
- The two main floors I use are the third (leading to the computer labs) and the ground (leading to the bar).
So, 1pm arrived. As it was the end of a long day, I decided that I would forsake my training programme, and go back to the ground floor using the masterful machine work commonly called the lift. I got in, the doors shut.
I waited a few seconds, still nothing. Was the pants lift not working again? Or was I forgetting something?
It actually turned out I was, I forgot to press the button. Oh, snooker loopy nuts are we.
Wait! This could be an intresting assignment! What's it in? Data Structures? Nah, forget it.
"Aha!" I hear you cry, "What's this 'It might be fantstic, it might be pants' site going to be all about?". Well, in truth, I don't have a bleeding clue. It's being kept a suprise until Friday. Us being pathetic gamblers of Michael Owen calibre, we've already taken bets on what it is going to be. Odds on favourite is German porn. Whatever it is, if somehow this site is fantasitc, and generates so much intrest from industry bigwigs that we can call fuck our degrees, and retire on £20 million and beautiful trophy wives, then you'll hear it here first! (unless if you are in the lecture, in which case you'll hear it here second).
Keep the Faith
PS. Four weeks until Feeder. You know you want it.
|EDIT| Due to me spending a long time down the Dovedale (a bar on Penny Lane) yesterday, I forgot to post this. So it's a case of switchy-roony with all "Today"'s to "yesterday"'s type situation. Now don't say I don't make you work for this fine piece of webrature.
HIS ASS IS MINE #2: Lance Armstrong. American bloke who can ride a bicycle like nobody's business
Yesterday, the "Training Programme" (as it's been so eliquently dubbed) continued. Swimming for another hour, followed by about 40 minutes on the exercise bike. However, quite suprisingly, I under-estimated my fitness. I proceeded to go on "Level 1" resistance. However, I hardly broke up a sweat. I did however cycled 16 miles (for all you geographers out there, that's the distance from me in Colwyn Bay to my nearest known website on GeoUrl) and burned off 170 calories (about half a pint). Result! Lance Storm will be quaking in his boots, fearing the king of the swimming pool and now the exercise bike.
I'm having a day off from "Training" today, because I just cannot be arsed.
Hi....I'm Bill Gates...and, uh..welcome to Jackass
Speaking on Computer Scientists. Apart from being so funny they make people that Dave Gorman bloke seem as funny as cholera, they also must ALL be wearing glasses. Their monitors have such huge text it's unbelievable. That, and beards. You must have a beard. I think it was COMP105: Beard Growth and Tweed Jacket Fashions.
I knew I had to slip on one module.
Keep the Faith
No wait, Liverpool wouldn't beat Crystal Palace.
Right, that's my last post for the day, I've spent so much time on this today, and I'm going for some tea.
Keep The Faith
Keep the Faith
Again, much to the unequivial delights of students of the "long posts? give me short sharp stories" school of blogging, another bitty post, with a few shorter posts compressed into one type situation for your ease of enjoyment.
The weekend in Liverpool (only my third) was good fun. Now, over the weekend I did have a bit of a row with my orangeade bottle wielding mum about last mondays events, which she read on this very site. So that all you reglar readers could be enlightened on the events of saturday, here it is:-
The night began in a bar at 8 O'Clock. After one or five drinks of Jack Daniels and coke, we were quite drunkenly happy. We later went to the guild due to their cheap drinks and rather expensive salad bar. I cannot remember, but shortly before 11 o'clock, we went to the Time Tunnel because it had a late licence and their music is fantastic. We arrived home at 2. After all, we had been drinking since 12, after spending under ten thousand pounds. When at home, we continued drinking before we fell into a deep, drunken sleep. I woke up at least 11 hours later allowing myself a little lie in because it was Sunday. And I was hungover.
Anyway, in all seriousness though, it was an excellent weekend. I had a really good laugh on Saturday (I really didn't drink that much. Honest!), and it didn't end too late.
I think I've become somewhat of a pioneer. No sooner did my swimming escapades hit this blog, that not one, not two, not even three oh no, four people immediately started swimming (in a pool, not just jumped into the nearest puddle or summit). This beats the previous trend-setting record of 3 people who started programming after I released Penalty Prize (the first one, not the one released this summer). Admittedly it's not quite Mahatma Gandhi levels of pioneer work, but Rome wasn't built in a day.
I've remained in the top 5 reader opinions on The Weblog Review for most of the weekend, beating my previous record of six seconds. A very nice review could soon be the order of the day, n'est pas (ooh top appealing to other cultures)?
Finally, I was intrested (no really, I was) reading the beginnings of a blog by Tom Barton, for the pure and simple reason that he went to the same school as me. Top Eirias posse type situation!
Keep The Faith
In town was pretty successful, to further advance "The Project" (mentioned above) I had a very healthy baked potato and beans from Spud-U-Like. Excellentay. I also got another Avril Lavigne poster and more importantly........DOOM! Not just Doom, oh no. Doom, Doom 2 and Final Doom. All together in an orgy of CD-ROM related DOS games type situation.
And finally, a big slap on the wrists goes to either Blogger or Blogspot for the fact that not only is my site (and a few others) slower than a paraplegic tortoise on 56k, but also the appearance of what could only be described as a pop up ad. Either that, or the Uni is watching me on this site.
Keep the Faith
And I don't Want to Miss A Thing
Rhys? You been lighting your farts again?
Yesterday was actually quite an important day for everybody on this Earth, yet nobody picked up on it. Y'see, yesterday, for the umpteenth time in the history of this planet, was supposed to be the end of the world.
For all those religious types don't go repenting just yet, as it's now th 25th, and I'm still here.
I remember one time when I was actually scared (and really convinced myself) it was the end of the world. The year is 1998, David Beckham became a national hate figure by booting over some Argentinan bloke, students were given a rough time by introducing tuition fees, and the Spice Girls dominated the charts with their blend of manufactured shenanegans, broken only by Boyzone and Aqua (remember them? I'm sure you don't want to). Anyway, there seemed to be a lot of hoo-haa whereby Nostradamus (some old bloke who predicted so much, that some of them were bound to come true) had predicted that the world was going to end on the upcoming Saturday, in an orgy of fire and blood and shite like that.
There was actually quite a bit of press coverage around that time for some reason, and all that (because you always believe everything you read in the press), along with me being a little depressed at the time, meant that I was seriously worried that Saturday was my last day on this plannet.
Nostradamus: If only the bugger predicted the winner at the 2:50 at Newmarket, then I'd be on easy street.
This actually was a pretty good meal, classic Fish and Chips and Peas, so that was pretty cool. Nevertheless, 8 o'clock rolled around, meant that there was just 4 hours left of planet Earth. Everybody who I hung around with went out to (I think) the local astroturf for a kickabout. However, what did I do? I spent twenty quid on two videos! I'll be damned if I didn't get to see them (although, looking at the way I lived my life, if it was the end of the world, I'd probably be damned anyway). So I sat down with a couple of beers and ended up watching about half of one video. I finished the beers off, and in a drunken state I fell to sleep on the couch.
Now, the fact that I'm still here sorta gives a bit of an indication that it wasn't the end of the world, I woke up on sunday by Mum, who had very kindly shifted me off into my proper bed (either that or sleepwalked), and had not very kindly decided to hoover at some ungodly hour in the morning.
"uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhh" was my rather generic reply.
"What's wrong?" said Mum, oblivious to the 24 hours of utter torture I'd put myself through.
"Drunk too much." I answered. This was the time where my liver was still in it's infancy, and only a couple of cans could test my wellbeing.
"Oh well, it's not the end of the world."
And there you have it, the only time I had actually be frightened that the world was going to end. In heinsight though, I can see (as a predominately scientific individual) that my reasoning behind this 'end of the world' was nonsense. Even when the new milennium, I wasn't at all bothered (as a lot of sane people were convincing themselves that the world was going to end). Never the less, we've got a long time to wait for the next world ending. Apparently note it down in your diaries, as it's sometime in 2450. I can hardly wait.
In other News
If you noticed the distinct lack of swearing in the last post, it's because we have a new reader of this blog (bringing the grand total to err one). My mum! Maybe it is the end of the world.
|EDIT| Added a GeoURL thing to the bottom of the site, but unfortunately I got the latitude and longitute the wrong way round. So instead of saying I was in a North Wales, I said I was somewhere near Nairobi. Oh we're snooker loopy nuts are we.
Keep the Faith
Right, which bugger had a camera on me swimming yesterday?
Since when I was knee high to a grass skirt, I have always shunned exercise. With the exception of Dancing Stage, Snooker and Darts, I have hated all forms of "working out" as it looks more trouble than it's worth. It shows as well, in primary school, people were collecting awards from sporting achievements in the school assembly. Being the arrogent bastard that I am, I was jealous but, being the lazy bastard that I am, I wasn't prepared to do owt about it. The other trade off is that I've got a rather large wasteline. Not massive, and a little unnoticable (due to baggy clothes) but it's there nonetheless. I've always avoided exercise, until now.
Yesterday was the first time I've been swimming since primary school, and the first piece of serious exercise for at least six months (excluding the old snooker and darts). I thought it was time to finally get myself into some sort of respectable shape.
As previously mentioned, the pool is massive. There are three lanes, slow, medium and fast. Despite the fact that I looked like Peter Kay, and noticed the safety risks of all the lifeguards were stationed at the shallow end of a pitiful 0.9 meters, and the fact that half the students in the pool were probably peeing due to the night before's alcohol, I decided to jump in.
Ian Thorpe: Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but one day...HIS ASS IS MINE!
After two hours of swimming around in circles at a speed that wouldn't make Ian Thorpe loose any sleep, I decided to leave.
Will I do it again? Course I will, the speed and the laughing at by half of Liverpool's under 12 contingent did nothing to hide the fact that it was a good time. However, I'll probably stick to something else, probably ride an exercise bike for a time. The reason's are:-
- They make me sweat (riding them).
- Like everything that is great in this life, I can do it sitting on my arse.
- I can go at my own pace, which is nice, because you could be going slow and people will think "Oh look, there's that Welsh bloke, he's going slow on an exercise bike, he's got it on mountain setting, what a bloke" type situation. It would also be technically correct. It'd be mountain setting, except going downhill.
Sey what you see...
Right I'm off, dunno what to do now, just piss about.
Keep the Faith
Rhys*Regular blog reader but hates to admit it Fl*tcher said to me last night "Now, if you write in your blog that you pulled today, then I'm going to do something." I want to see what that is, being the inquizitive little blighter that I am.
Manchester United 3 - 1 Blackburn Rovers. For those of you who didn't see it, Manchester United, with the help of Paul Scholes (2) and R.V.N. Anyway, we're through to the final to meet Liverpool.
To be honest, it'll be a great game, two of the most prestigeous clubs in the country meeting for the world's most un-prestigeous cup competition, in a stadium which is not even in the country of the cup's league. My, the English game is a little fucked.
Predictions for March 2nd (2 days before my 19th! Write it down in your diaries, with a yellow pen, and a blue box around it.)? Well, as far as Liverpool goes, they are struggling for European football after a Bruce and Kieron Dyer season so far. They'll hold back (as usual). Manchester United have nothing to gain except the Worthless Cup. They'll play a very attacking game with R.V.N., Olly, Scholesy and Diego. I can see them sneaking it.
In other News
Due to the catastropic bonding between joining the gym yesterday, and all my lectures have been unfortunately cancelled, I think I may just go swimming for a few hours. I'll grace the poolside with my fat, pale body that is seen nowhere else except, well, wherever you've got a large following of England fans.
Keep the Faith
Just When I've Bought A Snazzy New Jumper...
Now, one thing that I love about the site is that I distance myself from the news and current affairs. You'll never hear me talk about Iraq, Terrorism and shite like that because, quite frankly, it's a bit boring. However, the British Government anounced that we will have to pay 'top-up' fees to Universities in order to go. Well here's my take on it.
Right Lads...All together now.........FUUUUUUUUCCCCCKKKK!!!!
People take money from me. This is bad. I'm unhappy, and when I'm unhappy, I give people Chinese burns.
Metal Slug: Now appearing at your local sports centre (if that happens to be the one in Liverpool)
I have now signed up for a year at the Sports Centre at the University, hopefully to start swimming. Included with my £24 a year signup fee, I also got a free tour of the centre. Included in the sports centre are the following perks and niceities:-
Not sure when I can access it yet, when ever I get put 'on the system' (which sounds a bit dodgy). When I do, it's going to be bye bye to big belly (well, hopefully some of it anyway).
Right, I'm buggering off home. That's your lot today. If you want more of me, well check out here. This is my old blog. Five entries before I got bored. It's stale, it's got a pants layout, it's Livejournal but, what the hell, it's me.
|EDIT| Actually don't bother clicking on that link. It's a bit like one of those tapes of you in the Nactivity play. The more you look at it, the more you cringe. I was young, and I was foolish.
Keep the Faith