The Art of Rhysisms

Rhysisms [Reece Is-ums]: Stupid, no meaning sentances. Created by Rhys Wynne [Reece Win] for his blog, The Art of Rhysisms. [more..]

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A Googlewhack for the words "Pocketable Tourniquets", which I created myself.

Support International Webloggers Day! July 9th, 2004
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Member of the New World Whore-der in the Liverpool University Ten Pin Bowling Club.

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Wednesday, April 30, 2003

Ding dong the witch is dead
Good evening sports fans! Due to (bar revision) me doing very very little today, this post is going to be a 12 (give or take a couple) hour update on "HOW RHYS' PS2 GAMING COMING ALONG!"

And, when they saw Maester Seymour coming, the Swindon Greatest Forhead Blood Vessells Development contest was all over.
DMC + MSG2: As you were.
FFX: Yes! Seymour is dead (again)! Thanks to the help given by Popdog...I got hammered once again (thanks anyway, it's the thought that counts eh?). It was only when I used a very slow, clumbersome but failsafe tactic of using Lulu's Bio attack and slowly wearing down Seymour. The problem with this mode is that you cannot attack during this. If you attack, when he reaches the 35000HP mark, he'll unleash the big nasty "Total Annielation" move. However, as this move is only activated a certain number of attacks, by not actually attacking him (letting him hit you and heal + defend), you can destroy him with Bio. Okay, it's long (1400HP/Turn rather than between 3000-14000HP/Turn), but it works.

Of course, most of you don't have a clue what I'm talking about. But, get FFX, and you can, as Seymour says with about as much conviction as a schoolgirl, "Share My Pain!"

Today was about 50% revision for my exams, and it's left me pretty tired now. So I cannot be arsed writing any more. The reasons are that, besides being tired, and my brain working about 3 seconds slower now, is that, really, you don't want to hear about my revision. I mean, I'm sure most of you didn't want to hear about my Final Fantasy X progress. Admittedly, it's a personal triumph, but I felt I had to share it with people. My revision I don't want to share, as you probably think it's all boring. Don't worry if you do, as I'd rather be doing something more fun. Nonetheless, it has to be done.

Keep the Fayth*


*Hee hee, see what I've done there? Course, 90% of people won't get it. Oh well, those who do, don't tell them.

Tuesday, April 29, 2003

Remember The Name
I'm hating my brother at the moment. Why? Read on.

Stereophonics: Headline One Big Weekend, and guess which relation is going?
You see, coming to Manchester on Sunday, is a number of bands. Stereophonics (who's Madame Helga is fast becoming the favourite thing they've done), Feeder, Badly Drawn Boy, The White Stripes, and a few more that escape me will play in a big tent as part of Radio 1's "One Big Weekend" (the Saturday being crappy dance music). "Oh ho!" I hear you say. "I bet that gig costs a packet, the kind of talent, all in one place? Not since Liveaid have so many bands been together in one place in an orgy of music-fest-ness.". To which I reply, that, unfortunately, no. It's all free, for 10,000 who could get tickets for the gig. These tickets are like goldust, and guess who managed to blag one?

Yep, bounding home yesterday in a fit excitement with the blue and red ticket grasped in his hand, my brother proceeded to repeat to me a few hundred times what the line-up was. Jittering like a little schoolgirl, I asked him how much he paid for it. He said £16, which is not bad, considering that on ebay one is going for as least £20, despite the fact that one of the auctions finish after the actual gig has taken place, which is quite humourous. Oh well, that's all I really want to talk about it, as I'm insanely jealous, and dispite many Wily E. Coyote-esque attempts to pinch the said ticket, they have all be unsuccessful. Rick's also planning on going to V as well, which I'm not to jealous about, as it's a good £100-odd to go, and I'm not a big festival fan. Actually, I'm not a big sitting-in-a-tent-in-a-field-with-cow-manure-everywhere fan. Y'see, I missed all that in the Cub Scouts and I couldn't be arsed with the Boy Scouts.

No wait Carol! You forgot to carry the one...
Most of today I spent in Weatherspoons with my mum. No, not drinking. Just had a spot of lunch...if you consider a 'spot' being considerably large. Fish, chips and peas followed by apple pie, which is quite a lot. Also, won a fair amount on the quiz machine based on the "Best After School/University program since Bad Influence went of the air": Countdown. Actually bearing little resembelence to the actual program (bar solving the odd anagram at the end), the machine gives you a chance to win upto £20 by answering questions correctly on a multitude of subjects. It really did suprise me just how much useless bits of knowledgable crap I've managed to absorb in the past 19 years on this earth, admittedly most on sport, but crap nonetheless. It's amazing really. Now, if I can only absorb the concept behind doubly linked lists and how to carry out immediate memory addressing, then I'd be laughing my way to a Class 1 degree. With honours nonetheless.

Finally, I'd like to talk about how my PS2 gaming's coming along, in a feature we'd like to call "HOW RHYS' PS2 GAMING COMING ALONG!"

Final Fantasy X: Seymour Flux is a bitch. He's is nigh on impossible to hammer on that mountain with all the snow on it. He's pissing me off so badly, and it actually gives me great pleasure switching off the console when my guys are nearly dead, screaming "AHA! I AM THE ULTIMATE POWER, YOU BLUE HAIRED BASTARD!" Sad, I know, but it does the trick. I cannot describe how hard this battle is, it's night on impossible. Unless I'm doing something completely wrong, which I know doubt am. Anybody played and got passed him?
Metal Gear Solid 2: Got to the bit where you have to difuse the semtex on the bridge between Shell 1 and Shell 2. Laughed hysterically when Mr X. introduced himself as 'Deepthroat'. Oh my sick perverted little mind. Retracted said laughter when I had to explain what the joke was to my brother, in a non "Birds and the Bees" kinda way.
Devil May Cry: Haven't started it. Yet.

Keep the Faith


Monday, April 28, 2003

Okay. Here goes Nothing
I couldn't be arsed typing, so I've done the latest post in a sound file. Hope you like it...

Keep the Faith


Sunday, April 27, 2003

Sons of Liberty
That's one of the greatest things about being a computer engineer is that when presented with a problem, we do the decent thing and nick the solution from somewhere. The victim today? A tutorial from some website. Don't say it doesn't happen. The trees from Magic Carpet were previously used in Populous, for example (as Andy Crane said with such conviction on Bad Influence one time).

Today was my last day in work for about a couple of months, as tomorrow I start my pretty extensive revision programme, followed by exams, followed by a couple of weeks off, because I deserve it. Am I going back to the Zoo? I'm not sure. If I can find somewhere else with better pay and not quite so hectic (I don't mind busy, but zoo it's unbelievably quiet one day, ridiculously busy the next) in earshot, then fine. If not, then no. Woudln't mind a job in Weathers mind, it's fairly steady custom. I think.

That's not to say I hate the zoo, just shopping around mind.

For Rhys, I demand one trillion dollars.
Most of today unworking and a bit of yesterday was spent playing Metal Gear Solid 2: Sons of Liberty. It is tenser than a piece of very strong stiff string holding a very fat man up. I mean, I'm not sure I like it like that. I'm very, very laid back, and tense-ness justs gets my heart racing. I'd be in deep crap if I was ever taken hostage, and the holders trillion ever see me alive again. I probably would end up crying like a baby. I'd be a bit like that bloke who's always in movies like this, you know, the crap hostage that doesn't really think too much, just wants to get out of there by any means neccessary. One of them. I'd be fucked if I was in any sort of rescue mission as well. The game itself is pretty good. Just very, very tense. Which I suppose for most normal people is a good thing. For freaky deaky Rhysie who behaves like a little girl: crap. Now golf games? Theres some nice games. It's quite wierd, as when I was young(er), I preferred that sort of games, stealthy and tactical. Now I'm into beat-em-ups, shoot-em-ups, sport games and to a lesser extent RPG's (which is more on character development than anything else). Oh well.

Oh, one more piece of good news to say to all you Arsenal Fans:-

Hello London? This is Manchester, the title's coming home...

    P GD PTS
1 Man Utd 35 34 74
2 Arsenal 34 35 71
3 Chelsea 35 30 63
4 Newcastle 35 1362
After Man Utd's victory over Spurs and Arsenal's slip up against Bolton, we are now in pole position to take the title, as the Cockneys require us to screw up along the way somehow. With two games left, it could happen. Champions League Chasing Everton last day of the season, with the form Wayne Rooney has been on at the moment, it could be tough. However, should we still be on top come last day of the season, then by god there will be nobody as gutted than old cockey wannabe cockney Arsene Wenger, and I for one couldn't be happier.

Now, if only the music chart could relfect the premiership chart, then Busted wouldn't be number one.

Keep the Faith


Saturday, April 26, 2003

Like A Bat Outta Hell
Oh. Hope I didn't suprise. One major flaw about this site has been that, like the average football player, it's a bit slow. Whilst being as attractive as me, this site has had trouble kickstarting. Mainly due to the nested tables more than anything. Anyway, this site, once as slow as a paraplegic tortoise in a funeral procession, is now so fast that it's broken the sound barrier. It also loads the pictures last of all, leaving you free to browse the site. Which is nice.

Any glaring problems with it (I'd like some new buttons, so if anybody knows how, using CSS, you can highlight table cells when your mouse is over it and link to pages) please let me know.

Nokia Bowling: Makes train journeys go quicker...except I haven't been on a train with my new phone.
If HAL of that 2001 film was my mobile, then it would of said today "I am completely operational and all my circuits are functioning perfectly." Yep, my phone, after a week and a kick up the arse by a lovely bird called Nikki who works for o2 Callcenter. I've finally got my phone to work. Happy days! After bunging a tenner on it, I spent most of the afternoon finding the joys of WAP. Yep, I'm still in the "It's a mobile, and it's internet, so it's still cool. It's not slow at all." phase of it all. Nevertheless, I've downloaded a few games, most notable being a pretty good conversion of Prince of Persia, and a bloody good Track + Field clone. Nothing else really of much note. Nokia Bowling is pretty good as well (as it was also free, so that's fantastic in my books). Still really getting used to it mind. But, unlike my mum, I understand technology. Well. Except for Particle Accelerators, which is a bit of a grey area.

Right, I'm off out fairly soon to a night on the tiles in Llandudno. Tomorrow is my last day in work before preparing for my exams, so I cannot really drink too much. Nevetheless, I'm sure I'll enjoy it. Or something.

Keep the faith


The Milkybars are on me
Today was another crappy day at work. However, it was not crappy for the normal reasons. Work was quiet, I couldn't put a foot wrong, and the kids today were not annoying little brats, but angelic little blighters that you all wish you had when you are lumped with those bastard two year olds (hey, I'm only speaking by what my mum said. I haven't got kids. Well, none that I know about, anyway).

So why was work so bad? My throat was sore. I mean, not sore as in 'minor tingly you get', I'm talking sore as in 'ezcema' sore. It hurt for me to speak, so the normally witty, happy-go-lucky sarcastic son of a gun was unusually quiet at work today. As I was put on a till, this was more painful than that time I thought there was that free bar, and then I drank a lot, then the next morning I woke up next to the manager, and she said that there was no free bar. With a hangover as well. That was so painful. Anyway, in the end I resorted to write my responses down on a long piece of paper...except that my handwriting is little to be desired. So major pain to be had by all.

Dom Joly: His missus visited the Zoo today. Well...I'd like to think so.
Anyway, a lady came in (ooerr) and whilst I was serving her (oooer) her Kit Kat Chunky and a Mivvi, her phone ring. Y'know, one of those crappy ones with monophonic ringtones. It's the sort that my phone could have in the fight. Anyway, it rang, and she answered it. I remember the conversation like it were yesterday (which shows how bad my memory was, as it were today):-
"Hello, yeah I'm in Colwyn Bay. Yeah, I'm in the Welsh Mountain Zoo. Nah it's rubbish! It's completely unsuitable for buggies. Not as good as our local Chester Zoo. Yeah, I gotta go, this attractive Welshman is serving me, see you."
Okay, I made that last bit up. Sorry if that sounds like Dom Joly, but that's what she was like. Anyway, I'm not ready to call myself an expert yet on anything, but surely if the zoo's known as the Welsh Mountain Zoo, I'll wager that it's not as flat as a three day old coke in Belgium. Yep, Chester folk aren't known for their intelligence.

The other interesting thing that happened to me was this guy from chocolate giant Nestle came in and did some "Market Research" towards me. As I was in their probable target audience: 18-65, male, British, a bit fleshy etc. and asked me a few questions like "What do you think of the Milkybar adverts?"

To be honest I cannot remember the advert off hand. I mean, I remember the one 10 years ago where they were in the Wild West where the Milkybar Kid turns up and everybody says "It's the Milkybar Kid!" (including kid dressed as French Maid, which you really couldn't get away with nowadays, and a horse, nonetheless. Man, those wild west days really were wild!). But apart from that, Milkybar adverts are very hard to remember. So I told him "I cannot rember it. In order for me to remember it, somehow using the chocolate, foil and paper slidy offy bit of the bar, immitate the Honda Accord advert, and you're laughing.". So, be on the watch for said advert, and when you see it, you'll know who to thank.

Keep the Faith


Thursday, April 24, 2003

7-6! We're gonna win 7-6!

Yeah, but you're still a goofy twat.

We lost over the two legs, but our heads are held high. Sure, we're not going through to the final. However, we beat Real Madrid 4-3 at home. No mean feat. If Ronaldo wasn't there, they didn't create too many chances, then by god, we could of gone through. Real Madrid were a different class. Sorry, Real Madrid's offense were a different class. Their defense (bar Casillas, who played a blinder) were shaky at best. At worst they were downright awful. Okay, conceding three goals isn't the best stand to criticise another team's defense, but they were abysmal. Though, like Brazil, they are an attacking side. Beckham scored a peach akin to my own efforts. As previously mentioned, there is no shame to going out of a competition against Real Madrid, it's when you get eliminated by Basle that's the stinker.

Today (a well deserved day off from my shitty job) consisted to a trip to a factory outlet this side of Liverpool called Cheshire Oaks. Basically, it's a dream place for those who like sportswear, and are in sizes S-L, as it's dead cheap. Unfortunately, I'm as wide as a door and as athletic as a door, so my XL frame just not quite fitted into most clothing. It made it a bit of a nightmare.

It may look okay on a scarf, but take your top off and wrap the scarf around your chest. Now go outside.
Actually, I kid, it was an interesting day out. Well, interesting not the right word. But you know what I mean when I talk about shopping trips. It's just that 99% of the male clothing at Cheshire Oaks is aimed at your average scally, with Tog24 and Vans being the only saviour. I mean, there's a fucking Burberry shop! Burberry is the world's most god-awful fashion, it makes leg warmers look decent. It's basically an awful sort of tartan that is akin to train seat covers (don't believe me? Travel Merseyrail). Anyway, in this Burberry shop it was on everything: hats, scarves, jackets and, the most repulsive thing ever, bikini's! I mean, scarves are okay, skirts are bearable, hats are bad, but bikini's?! Just imagine at what a tit (no pun intended) if you went to the beach in a Burberry Bikini?! I mean, it would suit fat people, or those with a noticable scar, and they want to take attention away from their attention seekers by wearing something a million times worse than both of those two put together, but for the average curvy female, it's a no-no. I know I'm not exactly Yves Saint Laurent, but I know what I like, and what is a mess, and burberry bikini's? God freaking awful.

Your mother was a pig and your father smelt of Elderberry. I fart in your general direction...
One of the better shops is a Virgin offshoot called XL. They basically cover music, video, DVD, and games. So from there I bought the slightly less funny, but more well known one of the Monty Python duo*: Monty Python and the Holy Grail. It's a great film, with actually a very weak storyline (akin to a porno) but it's so damn funny that you don't really care too much. The extras however are something else (I got it on DVD, incase you are stupid, and didn't already tell). The picks are the Camelot song made entirely of Lego, and the script rewritten "to please those who didn't like the first one". As well as that quality DVD, I also bought a drop-dead sexy Vans Royal Blue T-shirt, and a dirt cheap in price, but not in quality, Easter Egg, as nobody bought me one this year. Show me sympathy, or I'll come around to your house and cut you up. With a rusty razor. Twice.

I got a phone call off this guy from o2 while on my travels back from Cheshire Oaks. He basically tried to sell me stuff, and he's putting £4 on my phone soon. Which is nice. However, when I asked him about why my card is taking ages to work, he hung up. Afraid to answer my question? No. My mum, who was driving at the time, entered a tunnel. Bugger.

Anyway, I've got shitty work tomorrow and then two days off. After that? Well, I know I've got one more day in work at least, but I'll try to get as much time off as possible. As everybody seems to forget around here: I am still at university, and I need to pass these exams, despite what anybody says.

Keep the Faith


* And before anybody writes in and says "Ooh Rhys, there were three Python Movies." I know, but Meaning of Life was god awful, so nyeh.

Wednesday, April 23, 2003

Slave To The Wage
Before we begin....

Two words....GET IN!

Oh lordy me, 10000 hits. I'm so popular! Actually, discounting the odd 9500 that were either me or my mum, I'm quite pleased about hitting this milestone. I mean, 10000 people? That's like the population of a loser country. Like Belgium. I still think that a signifigant proportion of the visitors are me so, if you are not me, leave a comment. Please! This way, I can prove myself that I'm not the only one who likes this. This entry's staying on top for a while, so nyeh!

U.G.L.Y. you ain't no alibi, you're...actually very attractive. Bet you're as thick as shit though.
Work is becoming a bit unbearable at the moment. I'm sure the powers that be have something against me. Why? Well, because as they said in that god-awful chick flick watched a couple of summers back: "I'm sexy, I'm cute, I'm popular to boot". It's not that I am crap at the job, no. I just cannot see how one boss thinks I'm a hard working, pleasant and helpful individual and the other thinks I'm a layabout slacker. It's kinda like good cop, bad cop. Except not as fun.

One reason I don't like work is that it highlights everything that I'm crap at (manual labour), and hides everything that I'm bad at (mental ability, pub quizzes), couple that with nearly everybody's distinct lack of taste in good Feeder means I get a lot of grief. So I'll probably pack it in in a "Don't Call Me, I'll Call You" Only Stupid People Think I'm Coming Back Type Situation.

Right, rant over, onto the funnies. Or, at least the try to be funnies.

I was helping a bit in the sweet shop today, and a 2 year old walked in and was impressed with my fire extinguisher. There is not paedophillic sexual innuendos here, he was genuinely impressed with your bog standard chubb fire extinguisher. It must be nice to live your life in such a way that the mid height, metallic, red pressure hose can impress you. I mean, you could go through life and be in a constant state of impressedness, you wouldn't judge people at all, and be such a good worker that you'll end up loaded. You'll never be unsatisfied, everything's a bonus and you'll die happy.

Flimbo. Mario's not fit to hold a candle to him.
Also, I've found out why I've been unable to use my phone. Apparently you need to register your "E-Top Up" Card (card about the same dimensions as a credit card and you bung cash on it when you want to use your phone). This process takes 24 hours to do, and it began at 10am this morning. So all you chronologists out there will be saying "This means that at 10am tomorrow morning, you should get it.". You would be correct, but I cannot wait. I'm like a little kid when it comes to Christmas Day and got a bike but it's raining. I mean, where's the fun in that? Or, that time I got a Commodore 64 and it broke on Christmas Day. Man, that was tough times. However, I did make up with it, with spending the next year solidly on a handful of games. One of which being Flimbo's Quest: possibly one of the greatest games ever. For about 12 weeks after Christmas, in every "Show And Tell" in primary school, I used to bring in the Flimbo's Quest tape and talk about Flimbo for a good half hour before I was given an A+ and told to sit down. Oh, those were the days.

Keep the Faith


Tuesday, April 22, 2003

This time next year Rodders, we'll be Millionaires
Like (apparently) 20 million other people in the country, I was watching that program about that bloke who cheated his way to a Million squid on the old "Who Want's To Be A Millionaire?". To be honest, I reckon Stevie Wonder could of seen that they were cheating. I mean, you heard their partner in crime shout "No" when he suggested a wrong answer, for Christ sakes! It sticks out like a sore thumb. However, another part of me thought "Bloody Hell lads! This Millionaire mullarkey is a piece of piss!". I was so dissappointed with the £1m question. At least make it a little bit tricky:-

Q. What is the number one with one hundred zeros following known as?

A. Googol
B. Megatron
C. Gigabit
D. Nanomole
I mean, I'm severely dissapointed with that. I knew exactly what the other three are as well! I dunno. I guess it's the show's way of saying "Eh, they got this far. Just give them a million.", it's kinda a bit like your common-old-garden fruit machine. Very few people win the £10-£20 prizes, it's either £8 or below or the full blown jackpot.

What about you? Do you find it... wisible... when I say the name... 'Biggus'... ...'Dickus'?
A fun little site I found this morning was which lists towns and cities and what's good and bad about them. They got the description of The Bay spot on (almost, it's far too praising), and it was interesting to learn that Timothy Dalton (ex-Bond), Lemmy from Motorhead, Helen Willetts (Telly Weathergirl, knows my dad in some way) and Terry Jones all came from the old C.B.. Especially Terry Jones. He was in one of my favourite films ever, "Monty Python and the Life of Brian". That filmed contained one of the funniest couple of lines ever.
CENTURION: Well, no, sir. Umm, I think it's a joke, sir,... like, uh, 'Sillius Soddus' or... 'Biggus Dickus', sir.
PILATE: What's so... funny about 'Biggus Dickus'?
CENTURION: Well, it's a joke name, sir.
PILATE: I have a vewy gweat fwiend in Wome called 'Biggus Dickus'. One of the highest wanking officers in all of Wome!
Comedy genius.

I'd love to talk about me again, but sweet fuck all has happened to me that is remotely interesting. So, for the forseeable future, I'll bore you with what's on the telly and Monty Python gags, and that can't be bad.

Can it?

Keep the faith


Sunday, April 20, 2003

Don't you like it when things just....come together?
For those of you who haven't seen that Honda Advert: It's HERE! I think so anyway. After Quicktime somehow managed to screw up my computer for about a week in the Christmas period of 2000, I've been a bit wary of Apple's movie playing schenanegans. As my computer is now filled with important pornographic data that would be a tragedy to get rid of, I'm steering clear of any *.mov extensions like the plague. Unfortunately, that link leads to a *.mov file, so I can only assume that it is of the advert. Would I put money on it? Nope, well, not unless it was an each way bet, then yes.

Unless your Buddist, you will no doubt be aware that today is Easter Sunday. The day when the Easter bunny got ressurected or summit. Anyway, unlike most normal people, I had to serve the general public food at the Zoo today. I mean, haven't people got anything better to do on a religious holiday? I should of tried to skive really, but I don't think it would of worked, as I did work Good Friday, so, unless you can be converted from "Aethistic but like to think there is a God" to "Religious Bible Basher" in a space of around 36 hours, I don't think it would of worked. Anyway, long day, coupled with the fact that the hoover was on the blink, meant that I got out very late, and was not a happy bunny (no pun intended).

I cannot describe how busy it was. I mean, I worship religious holidays in my own unorthodox way - admittedly as a drinking competition - but it's better than nothing, isn't it? These people didn't seem too interested in taking just one day just doing sod all. Oh no. God forbid them actually resting for one day, just slacking. As Roland will probably testify with me: slacking is one of the most fantastic things in this world you can do. Working sucks. Chilling is very, very cool. It's also very healthy. Stress is an awful emotion, and screws up your ticker in ways you cannot imagine. I only get stressed in one place, and that's at the footie. Even so, 90 odd minutes a week is alright. I think.

Of course, those people at o2 are like every other normal person in the world, and have taken the weekend off. This means that my registration for my SIM card is 'still being processed', so I need to be careful how much I use my phone before Tuesday, otherwise I could be up the creek without a paddle (or, in this case, mobile).

After a pretty shitty Easter (except for the relatively funny e-mail I got from Tribal this morning, ta), I've been screwing about with the digicam today.

If me and my brothers formed an indie trio and took over the world in a way that only Coldplay can dare to imagine (and here's hoping), this would probably be our first album cover. Now, dispite the fact that my belly looks massive, I still think it's a cool photo. Click here for full size.

My new sexy phone (left), not to be confused with my shitty but cannot really say much about it as it was a gift phone (right).

My new sexy phone, proving that it's in glorious technicolour (or trying to, at least).

I'm sorry that my blog's been a bit crappy at the moment. Work has bleeded me dry of all my witty and creative juices, as well as that, nothing interesting happens to me at home. I need to head back to the wonderful world of Uni where I can drink, make witty retorts, play Halo and spent all my wages down the bookies. I love being a student.

Keep the Faith


Gonna get myself connected
Sorry for not updating the past few days. The reason being, well, I couldn't be arsed.

Today I got myself a new phone. It's a Nokia 3510i on o2. It cost me about 100 soverigns in Llandudno today, but it's well worth it. You see, it's so damn sexy and technically superb that if it was a human being it would probably be me. It's that damn sexy. Anyway, it's got all the latest trimmings: Colour Screen, polyphonic ringtones, Java, WAP, make a cuppa etc. so it was quite cheap for £100.

Incidentally, it's probably the most money I've ever spent in a day. Usually, the most I spend is £30 and the most I've ever spent in a day has been £40, and that was for Final Fantasy VII when it first came out. It's wierd that, you could probably pick up a copy of FFVII today for about a fiver, yet I bought it for £40. Oh well.

A thought that has been occuping my mind for the past few days: did The Netherlands (famous for it's red light district) realise that when calling it Holland it could be shortened to Ho Land?

Maybe I think to much.

As you may already tell, alcohol is talking too much for me. I went out tonight to Llandudno (birthplace of Rhys Wynne #2: my mobile phone) and got absolutely wankered. Today was late closing (the reason being last night was early closing because of Good Friday, so they had to even it out, somehow) so we had plenty of time. It feels wierd going into Llandudno (officiallly, the place to be on a night out in North Wales) and getting served straight away at about half 11, though I'm not complaining. Now all I need to do is to arrange a lock-in in Weathers now and I'm on merry street.

Oh fucking hell, I'm going to be wrecked in the morning: and I've got work. Bugger.

Keep the Faith


Thursday, April 17, 2003

Master/Slave concept
Work is getting better. Now that I've got over the student "I really can't be arsed" attitude, it's something that's gotta be done. Admittedly, I'd rather spend the day out in the sunshine or doing something stupidly un-productive in front of the computer, but until I get a research grant charting the affects of doing such a thing, I guess I'll have to juggle work and studying for my degree. So shut up, make a few witty observations, laugh at that god-awful Streets song on Radio 1, and collect the odd £220 paycheque, I should soon return to the sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll lifestyle of the avearge, but attractive student.

Again, another classic Strong Bad moment inspired by me (although I don't wear a mask, duh)
One perk is that, being one of the older members of the floor staff, I can boss the little ones around. A few new people have joined, and some assumed the position as being my personal assistant. Yes, I tell them to do something, and they do it. I'd be like, "Stiny! Get me a Danish!", and they'd do it. Okay, maybe not that far, but you get the jist of it.

Again, the only major problem (hey, I like complaining, I'm like a 19 year old, more attractive, male and less ginner version of Anne Robinson) is you lot: the general freaking public. Generally the worst are the elderly, and hormonal mothers. I hate them. Kids are alright, as are any males who have been dragged out on a 'family visit' where they'd rather be in the pub watching the footy. I can relate to them. If my mum says that we're going to go to Cemaes Bay* once more on a 'family visit', then I'm likely to shoot myself (although she hasn't been for 8 years, thank god).

As you could probably tell from the post below, I watched the Arsenal - Man U match last night. Afterwards I watch a program on MTV called Dirty Sanchez. For those of you (I'm not sure if it's in America yet) who don't know what it is, it's basically three Welsh blokes and a poncy English bloke who basically take Jackass to a rather disturbing new level. Some of it's slapstick funny (the game of 'slaps' where instead of hitting hands, you hit face, free kicks in the nads), and it's quite funny hearing the Welsh bloke's reaction ("AAAAHHHHH! I've just pierced me nads! I'm a fucking idiot!") to the pain. However, it is actually quite disturbing in parts as well, and sets the course of Welsh cultural dignity back to the same levels that Helen from Big Brother 2** knocked us down to. And we were recovering as well, thanks to the Welsh boys in the footy, outshining all their home nation rivals.

As for would I reccommend watching it? If you wince in Jackass, nope. If you wince at the gross bits in Jackass, nope. If you can take Jackass well, then give it a shot, although not on a full stomach.

Keep the Faith


* Cemaes Bay is a town on Anglesey which I've been to twice. I can honestly say that nothing of interest happened on both occasions. The 'High Street' consists of an Art shop, a newsagents and a chippy. For more Cemaes related fun, click here
**Helen: Dippy Welsh bird who entered the reality TV show "Big Brother UK". She nearly won it on being dippy, and having a relationship with fellow contestant Paul, a boring brummie bloke. Shows what appeals to the British public. Frowned upon by her countrymen for being dippy.

Shit On The Arsenal

Cheating Cockney Bastards

For all intents and purposes, the championship should be coming back to Old Trafford, it's spiritual home. For all intents and purposes, we should be six points clear. For all intents and purposes, we should of won.

Instead of taking the full three points back home, we took one. 2-2 was the final score, with Ruud scoring one of the goals of the season, then Arsenal, scored a goal that, literally, came of Thierry Henry's arse. Then the lucky French bastard got one that was light years offside. However, the greatest moment of the game when Giggsy, who missed an absolute sitter against Arsenal in the FA Cup, scored about 20 seconds later. This made the sluggish brutes of the Arsenal angry, and then went in recklessly on all our players, culminating in a sending off.

Yeah, the sending off. Alan Shearer (who himself is such a fine swinger of the elbow) said 'you're going to get elbows in football, it's just a fact'. Sorry, but I don't run with elbows in the air. And, if it states that in the rulebook (and it does) that an elbow in the face constitutes a sending off, then by god, there should be a sending off. Arsenal haven't got a leg to freaking stand on here. So what are they complaining about?

Exibit Two: Henry (far left) is as offside as offside can be.....

Have we still got a shot on the title? Absolutely. Am I happy at the moment. Reasonably. Whilst we're still top, but with a slightly worse goal difference, and one less game. They could very easily (without Campbell and Viera) slip up against someone like Middlesborough or Bolton. The title race is still on, and it's up in the air at the moment. Will Fergie play psycological games with Arsenal, and make them slip? Or will Wenger's cool approach to the beautiful game land him the second Premiership title in two years? Only time will tell.

Keep the Faith


Wednesday, April 16, 2003

You work all day, for some old man, sweating breaks your back
If anybody here is a goth, I want to know: How do you do it? What am I talking about? Don't you always. Read on.

In this sort of weather, it must really suck being a sheep...
My uniform consists of black airtex top and a black pair of jeans. It's presumably to hide all the stains that you get from the kitchen (well, apart from chocolate, mashed potato and white emulsion, as I've found out. The white emulsion one on my jeans made me the butt of a few jokes that day...), and it's generally okay.

The only problem comes when in the summer (which, coincidentally, being a zoo, is when there are the most people out) as it hits a stifling 20°C. At this point, the sweet shop is literally like a blast furnace. It's mental. Of course, all you physicists out there will know that black absorbs light: light contains heat: Rhys is 75% fat: Rhys will roast. I sweated so much in work today, it wasn't even funny. If there wasn't child protection laws against it, I probably would of walked around in my boxers all day, I was that hot. And not hot in a good way, hot as in actually getting poached alive in my sweat bath.

It's bloddy sunny. But just wait until Saturday, it'll be gone before you could say "Helen Willetts"
Anyway, whilst on my so hard five hour shift, a goth walks in. A petite blonde thing, undoubtebly much younger than yours truly (she's the sort of bird you see hanging around MASE in Llandudno on the third Tuesday of every month), walked in. She was covered from head to toe with black, except for her blonde hair and heavy white makeup. As well as being black, she also had a Marylin Manson hoodie. She ordered a slush puppie. Yet she wasn't sweaty or anything. I can only think of three explinations of this:-

  • Heavy white makeup created an aura around the girl, causing the light to relfect to her.
  • She'd been secretly attatched to a slush drip underneath her Manson top.
  • She had less fat too burn.
  • So any goths out there give me a good explination? Please?

    Look at it! Pure evil!
    In other work-related-Shenanegans
    I hate Slush Puppie. Less tasty than Maccy D's and more annoying than Microsoft, Slush Puppie is the devil's advocate. It's awful stuff. If you spill it, you smell for the rest of the day, the machine's a bugger to fill, and it tastes of cheap manufactured crap. If I ever became Undisputed Lord Master of the Universe (and, here's hoping), then my first duty as Master would be to take the Slush Puppie corp. out of business.

    However, one funny Slush Puppie story happened to me today at work. I was filling up the said machine, and the top fell off, causing an almighty clatter, and making me spill some of the diluted crap over my top. As a natural instinct, I shouted "Bollocks!" at the top of my voice, forgetting that a group of primary school kids were in the shop. I mean, they were impossible to miss, they were running around, but for a split second, I did, the word came out, and left the supervisor the rather delightful task of explating to little Jimmy in a totally innocent way what I just said, and why he should never say it again.

    Well, not until he hits secondary school.

    Another funny customer was this guy who came in and asked for some Iced Tea. When I said we didn't have any, he wanted me to make it. Excuse me? Iced Tea? Where do you think we are, Sussex? We're in North Wales, a group of people who like their cars fast, their men hard and their Tea piping freaking hot.

    Oh well, guess I wasn't meant to work with the public.

    Finally, my Rhysism of the day:-

    "Wow, Mexico City has like 26 Million people! That's enough people to fill a 26 Million seater stadium."
    Comedy genius, I think you'll find.

    Keep the Faith


    Tuesday, April 15, 2003

    Snooker Loopy Nuts Are We
    Update on the possible "it'll probably be pants, but I don't care, as I'm me" audio post. Well, I do have a microphone, but unfortunately it's the one from my Kareoke set, and therefore it's far too big to fit in the socket (ooerr mussis). Anyway, so I'll probably do it, just to jump on the bandwagon like. Just not yet, well, until I get a microphone.

    A Spider: Watch all the girlies get scared...
    Yesterday I went to play snooker with a few of my mates. To say that I was good would be a gross overstatement. I was utter bollocks. I reckon snooker should be banned, because the guys on the telly make it look far easier than it does. Anyway, I ended up losing all four of my games by considerable margins, although in all four of them I was either equal or ahead at a late stage, then the bastards fluked a whole bunch of impossible shots to play, which I couldn't get out off even if I was the bastard child of Ronnie O'Sullivan and Jimmy White, and somehow had my genes spliced with those of Steven Hendry and Steve Davis' bastard child genes.

    Theres a lovely picture for you.

    Incidentally, we played in a club in Llandudno. Anyway, about a month ago, a snooker tournament came to North Wales, featuring the country's best players. Anyway, Jimmy White (who is probably the best player never to win a world title) asked to get a bit of practice in a club that is opposite the one we were in, and got refused, due to the club not being open for another two hours! Nice to see the ol' Llandudno boys keep to their principles.

    Anyway, I don't mind playing snooker, I'm just shite. I generally am pants at pretty much all sports, that's why I want Counter Strike in the Olympics, I mean, who really practices Rhytmic Gymnastics? Surely if CS was in the Olympics, and you got rid of the lag, and cheating, and all the good players, then I could give Sir Steven Redgrave a run for his money as the greatest British Olympian of all time.

    Blue Peter badges: Pfft...give me Olympic gold anyday
    Or, at least get one. Please. I mean, an Olympic Gold. I need one of them. It could get you into more places than one of those freaking Blue Peter badges? I mean, how many nightclubs can they get you into? None! It's just crappy things like the Anglesey Sea Zoo and places like that. If they Connie, Liz, Matt and the other one could pull a few arms with the people in Walkabout, then I may spend more time writing a letter to Blue Peter, instead of rushing out letters of why George the Blue Peter tortoise should be on Bush's "Axis of Evil", for no other reason that he is a tortoise, and anything with a shell is evil beyond a shadow of a doubt.

    Keep the Faith


    Monday, April 14, 2003

    Life's a bitch
    Why cannot all my 56k downloads be this fast. It was upto a steady 15kb/s at one point.

    Like a bat outta hell...

    Now, if I can get those sort of speeds on the old Counter Strike then I can tell Barry Broadband and his Broadband army that he can stick his Cable modem with two filters straight where the sun don't shine.

    Davina McCall: Could be Julia from tATu much older sister?!?!
    Also, does anybody reckon that that tATu bird in the last post bares more than a passing resembelence to Davina "I'm the only reason people watch Big Brother" McCall? For all you telly loving yankees out there, I think she's the bird that does American Idol, but don't quote me on that.

    Coolest thing at the moment has gotta be this post on Cyn's Blog*. Audioblogging, to give it it's proper name, is probably going to be the next step in Blogging. Will I take it? Well, it'll dispel a few myths about me with one post:-

  • I have an accent.
  • I am interesting.
  • Also, my ample sarcasm would get across well. The only trouble is that I'm a very good speaker, here's probably what my post'll end up like:-

    "Errr...hello guys and gals. Today I went to Data Structures. Boring Lesson. RICK WILL YOU JUST FUCK OFF! Oh great, now look what you made me say. Imagine all the little kids. Errr...while I've said a swear, lets continue. Arsenal are shite. Templegate's a wanker. 100-1 good price on David Duval? Get outta here. He's shite! Right lads, I've said enough. Bye."
    Now, what would be good if I recorded myself speaking whilst pissed. That'd be fantastic Anybody willing to buy me a microphone and a crate of beer, and I will.

    Finally, Strong Bad is very funny this week. "Clear the launch way man, we're taking this baby TO THE MOON!!" Comedy genius.

    Keep the Faith


    * Incidentally, Cyn has the pleasure of being the first person to ever to speak to my mum over the internet. I left my Yahoo! Messenger on and my mum was checking her e-mails. Anyway, she IM'ed expecting to get me. Instead she got my mum! True Story.

    Sometimes you gotta sacrifice the things you like. That I was born to try.....
    Okay, semi pissed post lads. Lets see if we get through this.

    Today was my first day in work for god knows how long. About 7 months, methinks. Working in the old Sweetshop in The Welsh Mountain Zoo. As I had a grand total of zero regular readers at that time (bloody blogging politics) you may like to refresh yourselves with the escapades last summer by clicking here and here.

    Read it? Good. Now, as they say on Jackenory, 'Let Us Begin'.

    Well, worked in the Sweet shop again, as per norm. Worked 11 to 4. You may think 'hmmm....that's a Mickey Mouse shift'. Aha! You're wrong. A lot of intersting stuff happened during that shift.

    Julia: The fitter, less ginner one of tATu.
    The coolest thing that happened today was, I swear down, my first customer was the fitter one of tATu. Seriously guys. Even her less attractive, but wouldn't say no lesbian lover would of probably been mistaken her for the real deal. Anyway, she got a slush puppie and a Nestle Cream (which I found pretty funny for some unknown reason.).

    Anyway, I think that are a large number of 7-years-and-under population are genuinely scared of me. Why I don't know. Anyway, they are. They run a freaking mile when I ask for £2:20 for two Callipo's and a Mars Bar. Any suggestions on how to appeal to the Tellytubby generation?

    If you cheat on me I do you say....crush you...
    The other funny person to come in was someone from everybody's favourite former member of the USSR: Kazakstan. Well, I assummed he was Kazakstani. He sounded a bit like Borat off Ali G. So I kinda put two and two together (and got twenty-seven).

    Tonight (and this might explain my drunken spellings) I went out and had a few drinks. Not enough to get me pissed mind, but enough to have a good night. I didn't spend much as well, so happy days ensured for all, especially me.

    To finish off (and to make content, I'm good like that), these are my 'of the week' thingies, although the chances of it lasting beyond this week are slim...but still:

    Blog Title of the Week: Pave France: The British Need More Parking

    "We want a wave of traffic on public opinion, so we'll create a loosely themed website" of the Week: We Love The Iraqi Information

    Song of the Week: White Stripes - "Seven Nation Army".

    Song video most likely to screw your freaking mind up: White Stripes - "Seven Nation Army".

    Day of the Week: Thursday

    Quote of the Week: "Wouldn't it be funny to go into like, a specialist chess board shop, and buy a really expensive chess set, then say 'do you take a cheque mate?'".

    Fitter one of tATu of the week: Julia

    Former member of the USSR of the Week: Kazakstan.

    Okay, I'm done, I'll come quietly (ooerrr)

    Keep the Faith


    Saturday, April 12, 2003

    It's Just Like Watching Brazil

    Six Goals. SIX GOALS! That's like two more we scored against Liverpool, and six more than Emile Heskey scores in a season...

    Now, some teams are liked in this sport more than others. Everybody hates us, Arsenal aren't really liked, and Liverpool is hated by the blue side of Everton. However, some teams are admired for their passion. West Ham, for example. Newcastle falls into the second catagory, as you cannot hate Bobby Robson. However, it didn't mean that it hurt us demolishing them 6-2. Scholesy hat-trick, Ruud with a penalty, Olly and Giggsy ment that we are top, for a bit anyway. Arsenal's on the horizon, and if I was Henry, Pires and co, I'd be dumping loads into my French knickers.

    In Other News
    Last night I had a nightmare. It's a recurring one. I would love to tell you about it, but I reckon it'd make a really good movie. I can remember it like it was last night (that's because it was), so I'll write it down the general jist of it, and keep it too myself. It does actually feature me in it in some part, so if it does make the big screen, I guess someone like Russell Crowe will take the part as me. I guess. Anyway, I'm keeping it a secret, as I don't want the sneaky freaking bastard Steven Spielberg skanking my idea. Again.*

    Tomorrow I have to cover for my brother in my regained job at The Welsh Mountain Zoo. As tonight is a Saturday night, I'm not best pleased that I have to wake up at some ungodly hour to serve happy holiday makers. Either that, or clean muck off plates.

    I guess I should be thankful. As Gerrard Houllier says whenever we give Liverpool a tanking: "It's a blessing in disguise". I have been whinging that I have no money, and until belly button fluff becomes legal tender, I'm going to need to work for my upkeep. Oh, and I need a new mobile phone, as the button 5 has bust on my current one. You may say "Big deal, it's only 'j', 'k' and 'l'.". However, you must remember, I'm Welsh. I'm (fairly) fluent in Welsh. Our language contains words with more 'L's than you can shake a stick at. The past few weeks I've been telling my friends to meet me in "Y'r Pa'adium in 'andudno", heaven only knows where they end up, it's freaking screwed. Anyway, the one I'm eyeing up is one of those fancy ones with colour screens, Java Enabled and polyphonic ringtones. It's everything I need. Except it won't help me pull. But really, anybody who needs to show off their mobile phone to pull is one sad freaking moron.

    Keep the Faith


    * Yep. Jaws is based on a pet shark I once owned and I fed it lost Chinese tourists. Honest.

    Friday, April 11, 2003

    You Don't Care About Us
    Holy. Freaking. Crap. Three words to sum up Placebo. It was incredible. Nothing like I've ever seen before. As a person who didn't think too highly of them a few weeks ago, I needed conversion. I got it.

    Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster: A Disaster.
    The gig began at about 8:30. On came The Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster. Of all they can say about them, I cannot sue them for being called 'The Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster'. If I were to sue them, you'd have to call them 'The Eighties Matchbox B-Line Brilliant Band', or summit, as they were freaking abysmal. The lead singer, who bared more than a passing resembalence to WWE mainstay RhYno. Only a hell of a lot thinner, of course. And the lead guitarist looked like he was off the Young Ones. Either way, they weren't as talented as either Rhyno or that bloke off the Young Ones.

    The lead singer spent half his set looking around and acting like a ponce, and the other half making sure that he had a sore voice in the morning, by screaming as loud as he could down his microphone, whilst his band of misfits played music.

    The thing about screaming that I don't seem to understand is that rock has taken great pride in it's lyrics, being powerful and from the heart, unlike it's pop equivalents. Screaming in songs (be it Linkin Park, Green Day or even, yes, Marylin Manson) is good, if you do it in such a way that you can hear those lyrics. Eighties Soapbox T-Shirt Disaster, or whatever they're called, suffered the fate that you couldn't hear the lyrics, and it sounded all exactly the freaking same. Even the anti-war, supposedly a powerful song, was nothing new to what I'd already heard.

    After half an hour, I buggered off to the bar, and Placebo owed me big.

    Thank goodness they delivered then.

    Placebo: Dark, but oh so good.
    I cannot really describe the gig in too much detail. It was pure, powerful rock. The lead guy (Brian summit-or-other) actually was a breath of fresh air as being actually quite unoffensive (for a rock front man). He drank tea, and he wished us a safe journey home. Not sure if it's someone I'd show my Gran, but he seemed harmless.

    The absolute only problem with the gig was that it was pure rock for the first half, and I was just going mental. This meant, that I was knackered after half way and was bathed in sweat. Lovely!

    So, begs the question, was it as good as Feeder? I'd say no, but wasn't their fault. Before last night, I didn't really know much of their stuff. At Feeder, bless me, I was singing my little cotton socks off to all songs, and was breathless after the gig. I was rocking in the old Placebo gig, but not going mental.

    But there were two encores, so someone must of thought they were pretty good.

    So in summary - TEMBBLD: A Disaster, Placebo: The cure for the disaster (see what I've done there?)

    Keep the Faith


    Thursday, April 10, 2003

    Open Season

    Okay, you've survived gunfire, bombs and 20 years of cruel rule, but don't you think standing underneath a half fallen 20 tonne solid bronze statue is not the best way to ensure you to see next week?

    Now, I really couldn't care about The Bore, but watching that statue come down on telly was bloody cool. I mean, it was pure destruction on the telly. And finally, to all those people who were stopping me from getting home from University that time because they thought the Iraqi's didn't want to be liberated. To quote The Hives: "Hate To Say I Told You So".

    Admittedly, I couldn't care either way, didn't affect me. But it's a bonus they are liberated now.

    Hey! It's better than wanting Saddamm in power, like many people in this country did.

    Now, I join the protesters in saying "Get our troops arses back home ASAP!".

    Right, onto more about me.

    Essential Student Grub
    Today was Open Day at Liverpool University. It's the day that we tell prospective students that University Life isn't sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll, and it's closer to sleep, bookies and pot noodles. Still, despite being the uni's biggest asset, I wasn't asked to do any talk or anything. Bastards.

    That didn't stop some prospective students gatecrashing a massive tournament on that Decathlon Game on the beeb website, whilst the entire Computer And Multimedia Systems class were fighting for the title of "Undisputed Lord Master of the Universe". Oh no. Usually, lecturer's don't give a damn what you're doing on the computer (not unless Sheep Midget porn is your thing), as long as you do your work. Today was different. I spent all day flicking between Racing Post and my Flash work, which a few of the tour guides were looking at along with prospective student. Some girl, who had a dead cool Sonic 2 top on (which shows how mainstream video games have become, a few years back I had Sonic + Knuckles PJ's, and was laughed out of the ballet club....but I digress), asked me a few questions, at which point I totally brown nosed the uni:-

    Yeah, the University is great.
    Yeah, the University will help me develop.
    Yeah, you'll get laid.

    Okay, scratch the last one, but those were the responses given to almost any prospective student, about anything. Ever.

    There seemed to be a lot of fine ladies on the tour as well. Although hopelessly outnumbered by geeky blokes and the Chinese.

    Hell, I remember those days. You just was sheparded around on some predefined tour, with processed food. You try desperately to see what everybody's doing on their computer, and return home not knowing a damn about the course.

    Liverpool I chose just out of the blue one day, didn't really give too much thought about it. As long as I was doing something about computers, then I was happy.

    Now, I am so glad I didn't choose Computer Science, as it would of bored the bollocks off of me.

    Life changes in so many ways. Don't it?

    Keep the Faith


    Wednesday, April 09, 2003

    It's Just Like Watching Brazil! Oh ho!

    Yeah so what?

    Hey, I can be humble. So we lost 3-1. Big whoop. When you look at the billions of pounds worth of talent on Real Madrid's side (they're funded by the King of Spain for God's sake!), we achieved the important away goal, giving us a bit of hope at Old Trafford in two weeks.

    Real Madrid are, even without legendary Steve McManaman, the best footballing side in the world, and we were lucky to come away as well as we did. Barthez had a few "Oh dear God" moments, and nobody (with the exception of Ruud and - shock horror Gary Neville) was anywhere near their best.

    What'll happen in two weeks? Well, if we played like we did last night, we'll get hammered. If however we play a fast paced, English, grit and determination game, with Seba Veron (missing last night) controlling the midfield, then we could just clinch it.

    Stranger things have happenned.

    Has anybody seen those Honda Accord adverts? Basically, it's a bit like Mousetrap (the board game, that was also turned into a quality TV Game show on pre-SM:TV saturday morning TV Kids Show Motor Mouth), using car bits, and it's a thing of total and utter beauty. No doubt UK'ers will see it in the next few weeks.

    Richard Wynne

    Support the "Know my brother" project at The Art of Rhys-isms.
    Oh, and it's my brother's birthday today. He's hit the big 17. Why don't you please him and increase his web presence by participating in the Know My Brother Project. Trust me, he'd appreciate it more than a fondue set. Only barely though.

    Bet of the day: David Duval £2 Each Way at Billy Hill. It's 100-1 shot, which is obvious. He won't win it, but he's been in the top 6 for the last 4 years, and is rated in the top 5 golfers in the world. It's an absolute steal, and I cannot believe it. Oh well, their loss is my (hopeful) gain.

    Placebo tomorrow: You know you need it.

    Couple of Links to help you through the day:
    Discussion Topic: Let me know your thoughts. I care*
    If I was "gangsta"....

    Well...I did say a couple.

    Keep the Faith


    *Yeah Right

    Tuesday, April 08, 2003

    I'm off the wagon and I'm Hitchin' a Ride
    Today, amongst a few other things for the (soon to be) birthday boy, I picked up Green Day's "International Superhits" for the low, low price of five English soverigns, and I've been listening to it for a good few hours. It's fantastic. I've loved Green Day for yonks, only the average student budget has been keeping me from getting one (or more) of their albums. Anyway, it's 21 songs (yes, 21 freaking songs) of the finest punk out there - and when I say 'punk', I'm talking about 'proper punk', not the indie punk crap out there (The Vines, I'm looking in your general direction).


    Indie (cool) + Punk (cool) = Indie Punk (utter bollocks)
    Yey! I've disproved it! BOW DOWN BEFORE ME, FOR I, YES I, AM YOUR KING!

    The 10th at Augusta. What a beauty.
    Another fact that will piss Roland off even more is that 24 is being pulled by the beeb for coverage of the U.S. Masters, the greatest Stroke Play Golf tournament* the world has ever known. I'm happy because I'm probably the only person in the whole wide world who has not got into 24. It's passed me straight over like all the B52's over Iraq. I just didn't get into it at the beginning, and it's *far* too late for me to get into it now. So, vive le resistance sportif!

    I've now officially finished term! Tomorrow starts two days of doing sod all before Placebo and brother coming up to visit me, then finally home for easter. Still, next term is a nice, wriggly, 2 weeks. Hardly worth bothering eh? Well yeah, as it's two weeks of exams. So that's a pain in the neck.

    I've only ever bought two copies NME's in my life (the second one being today), and they've both had The White Stripes on the front. Coincidence? No. However, they have both contained glossy prints of Avril Lavigne. Is that a coincidence? As Gamblor would say: Ooooohyes.

    Oh, and I did something I'm not proud on today, but I'll speak about it on Friday, due to reasons beyond my control, and it'll sort of give something away.

    Keep the Faith


    * I'm not sure if it's stroke play or match play. I think it's stroke, but don't hold me on it.

    "You are beautiful, in every single way.."
    That's how old Christina woke me up this morning. Before you say "Bloddy Hell Rhys, you are a hit with the ladies! You pull that Christina bird in Double Vision last night?"

    Christina Aguilera: So much better than Britney it really is a bit unfair....
    I must disappoint you. I didn't pull Christina Aguilera, and, in a completely unrelated incident, unhappy. Here is why:-
    I'm writing this a 2am in the morning (although, due to lack of internetedness in my room, it's probably posted at around 10am) as it's fresh in my mind. However, I'm knackered, and here's why.

    The year is 2005, Arsenal, after a poor run of form by leading striker Jamie Moreno lie bottom of the Premiership. Manchester United are mid-table, but, after Alex Ferguson bombed it at the end of the 2001/02 season, the fans are happy. Fergie has gone, and a young upstart, who previously guided Conference outfit Colwyn Bay into Europe via the FA Cup, has taken over. Welshman Rhys Wynne rebuilt Manchester United, with Paolo Di Canio, James Beattie, and England internationals Justin Bray and Sol Cambell. Manchester United are on their way back, and are favourites to put a stop on Dino Baggio led Chelsea's dominance.

    No, that is relevant. That is my Championship Manager game as of an hour ago. The time was 1am. British Hackers were planning on which major departmental store's website they want to strike, Liverpool students are still going strong in Double Vision, and I was planning, after a hard day's working, to get a good night sleep, followed by heartily breakfast tomorrow morning.

    "Fuck me Gregory, that's huge."

    What. WHAT? Gregory? Huge? It cannot be, can it? Surely there must be some explination for this. Can there?

    Unfortunately, my fears were confirmed in about 10 seconds later with kissing noises, giggling and Westlife coming over the hi-fi.

    Yep. Two people, living in the vacinity of my room, were participating in an activity associated with a students. And I am not talking about drinking, eating pot noodles, or watching endless episodes of Columbo.

    As much as I could go into graphic detail, I won't. For God's sake, my Mum reads this! But, for those of you who are really, really desperate, let it put it to you this way: they moaned, groaned and shouted the 'f' word more times than a room full of people did on Saturday, when Chives, Youlneverwalkalone and Ad Hoc, three outright favourites, fell all around the same time in the National. Anyway, thankfully, they've stopped now, so I'm off to bed.

    And there you have it. My restless night. Not as bad as the one's I had almost every night in M Block, but a shock to the system. I've been deliberating whether or not to post it this morning as:-

  • It's a cheap way to get hits.
  • It's a bit crude.
  • I don't like talking about things which I cannot relate to.
  • It's a bit unfair on Gregory and his missus.
  • But then I thought "No, if they wanted it be secret, they wouldn't of put Westlife on, and kept it quiet.".

    Hell, I'm not angry at them. I mean, it's as natural as taking a crap. However, I am angry that I've still got two more lectures (both in shitty Data Structures) before I finish term on Wednesday, and two more pieces of coursework to hand in. A few of my mates are going to Blackpool tomorrow, and I'm so jealous. As donkeys, amusement arcades and the Pepsi Max Big One has a hell of a lot more appeal than My freaking SQL.

    Oh well, it'll make the hols a hell of a lot more sweeter, as (a date for your diaries) May the 13th. Mark it down. For on that day, as Feeder once sang, "I'll be Home for Summer".

    Keep the Faith


    Sunday, April 06, 2003

    Bend It Like Beckham
    A trade off from my looks, wit (apparently), singing ability, ease of drunkeness and being pretty damn good at almost everything is my distinct lack of football skills. "What!", I hear you cry, "Someone with as much love for the beautiful game with no skills in it whatsoever. Where's the passion?". The answer is "I do have passion, just in front of the TV.".

    Bobby Carlos would of been proud of my effort.
    Today was a different story altogether.

    Four of us, went out for a kickabout on a Sunday afternoon. Due to the distinct lack of arsed-ness for people to come out, we thought that a 2 v 2 game was out of the question. So we played a variation: All Rounder.

    In All Rounder you have to complete complete four rounds of football skills. First, free kicks from left and right sides of the box, a 1v1 with a defender, and a penalty kick. Possible time to shine maybe? Oh, definitely.

    I could describe in detail the goal, but (thanks to Sensible World of Soccer), I've photoshopped up a piccy to show just how unbelievably awesome my shot was.

    My Peach*

    It was the kind of shot that could bring a tear to the eye of professional bender (of free kicks, and when playing for England against Wales) David Beckham. It really was something. The ball flew like a eagle into the top corner, dipping just under the bar. Whilst a similar goal was scored by Haywood (the one on the left of the wall, in the England top), it was not upto my effort. Why? Well, mine was unexpected. Sure, I caught the proverbial valve** and just the right welly on the connection, but nobody has ever seen a free kick like that before.

    And on the strength of my last two free kicks (one that almost knocked poor Haywood out and the other which would of probably gone for a throw in, if we were playing a proper game), we probably will never again.

    Keep the faith


    *After showing the piccy to people, I've made a glaring error. The ball went to the NEAR post, not the far (I scored in the other corner), this is EVEN HARDER to score, as you have to chip it over, or curl it around the wall.

    **The valve is where some players like to look for when taking a free kick. Some people think they can get more control if they strike the slightly flatter panel of the football which contains the valve on it (the valve used for pumping the ball up). I however think that's utter bollocks.

    Saturday, April 05, 2003

    I knew that it was now or never. Those were the best days of my life
    I've been playing this univsersity lark for a good few months now, and whilst it's been good, I wouldn't rank it as my best time of my life. Last night changed all that.

    F Block Lads: Last Night
    Last night was the "Masquerade Ball" (which was a freaking joke to be honest as nobody actaully wore the mask), and began at a later than advertised 9:00. All 8 of us, dressed in all black suits, walking around like those blokes in Oceans Eleven, looked the part. We tried to give names to all of us, who was George Clooney and such. I however was given the slightly less glorious title of "What David Brent would look like if he was in Ocean's Eleven.". Was I annoyed? I really couldn't care less.

    After the first few rounds of drinks we decided to hit one of the advertised amenities: Quasar. At this point nobody was really drunk, although it didn't subtract anything from the total awesomeness of the game. It was only a small maze (9 sectors, with each sector about the size of your average Uni room), but bloody good fun. Two teams of three. It was in that small inflatable orgy of lasers and flashing-LED's that I suffered my only loss of the night, but I put that down to some of the opposite team using every single counter strike trick in the book (I'm sure sombody had an aimbot). I wasn't really a happy bunny

    After Quasar, another few rounds of the amber nectar, and laughing at some crazy-go-nuts bloke trying to pull a bird who was way out of his league, we went to play casino.

    The casino, as it was not licensed, meant you didn't actually win any real money (which, for my mates, was probably a good thing). You got given about £150 in Monopoly money, and you could only play Roulette and Blackjack. I stuck to Blackjack, and was on such a roll that it was unfair. I ended up £1580 up after little over half hour play (although last hand was double or bust). This meant that I won a prize: a cheap bottle of plonk. So that was pretty cool. A few of my mates refused to hand over the money, in the vain hope that one day Monopoly money becomes legal tender.

    It would of been nice to win some money. The first two days of Aintree weren't a rip-roaring success thanks a lot to the conspiring bastard Johnathan freaking Templegate. The Sun's Top Tipster? My arse he is. Anyway a saviour would come in a fruit machine, where I won the millionaire making jackpot of a fiver off of 50p. When it roll in, I was jumping up and down like a freaking yo-yo man. It was amazing.

    So the final question needs to be asked: did I make it a perfect night, and pulled? The answer is, unfortunately, no. The potential was there, but as I've said it before, and I'll say it again - "Potential won't buy you breakfast.". I'm really not arsed. Sure, it would be nice to pull some sexually frustrated page 3 stunner who's dad owns a pub and a racehorse. But it didn't happen.

    Monty's Pass: Won the National with relative ease.
    Onto today, and the final day at Aintree culminating in the biggest horse race in the world: The Grand National. I had money on a few horses in that race, and a few on the rest of the days event. I won the 2nd, 3rd and 5th race, getting me about 14 quid. So that wasn't too bad. In the National itself I had Bindaree and I'm not sure if I get anything back (some bookies offered money for upto 6th place, though not sure about Billy Hill), but the worst thing was that in the sweepstake I actually picked out Monty's Pass (the winner), but didn't pay up. That would of won me an extra £25. Bugger.

    However, on the form I've been on recently, if I was a racehorse, I probably would of won the National by about 20 lengths.

    And really, the day wouldn't be complete without mentioning the great football results (well, for Man U anyway)

    Yep, the footy was good. Old Ruud with two penalties (the first was clear cut, not too sure about the 2nd though), Giggsy and Olly all getting on the scoresheet. Whilst it is so damn good beating Liverpool, it probably wasn't a fair result. They played well after the first goal and the sending off, and if the second penalty wasn't awarded, then we may have faltered. But a lot of kudos to Darius Vassell's Villa, who were stunning against Arsenal, and did us a big, big favour. Meaning that Arsenal are still top now, but only on goal difference. Suddenly, old Arsehole Wanker is wishing he wasn't so cocky earlier on in the season.

    Keep the Faith


    Friday, April 04, 2003

    Bad to the Bone
    You know, they don't call me "Rebellious Rhys" for nothing. They just don't call me "Rebellious Rhys". However, maybe I could just about adopt that nickname.

    Strong Bad: Taught Him Everything He knows
    You see, I'm not without my rebellious side. You know that Strong Bad episode where Strong Bad and The Cheat pull a caper? Well, that all spawned from an E-mail I sent:-
    Dear Strong Bad,

    Today, I was walking through F Block at the middle of the night, and I broke into a so-called friend's room, and nicked all his crosswords, and knocked over his cow lamp. Anyway, I'm thinking, as you are creatively inept, how about nicking that story? How about saying instead of nicking the crosswords, the jumbles instead. Have a catchy tune, and include The Cheat as your sidekick. That'd be cool. Then write the e-mail from some bloke from Detroit, or something. Just give me credit, or a Ferrari or summit.

    Yours in Crappiness

    Rhys, UK.

    And lo-and-behold, it's there. Although Ferrari is still to arrive mind.

    So, you can see, I'm bad to the bone, so what did I pull off today. Well, not only did I swim in the 'Intermediate' section of the swimming pool, but also swam clockwise as well (as opposed as the signs that say "swim anti-clockwise").

    Don't you just dream you are me?

    In little over half an hour, I've got my last lecture of term. Show me some loving!

    I'm not betting on Aintree today after yesterdays losses, plus I'm negotiating to get Johnathan freaking Templegate strung up on a pole, and beaten with a stick.

    However, tonight there is a casino table at our "Masquerade" ball, whilst I'm sure I'll end up on it (literally - the amount I'm going to drink), I'm sure Quasar whilst in an inflatable maze will no doubt take priority. I've never actually played anything like that, after chickening out of it on the now incinerated Quasar on Rhyl prom on my 10th birthday, and going to play Street Fighter instead. However, I'm sure my "21st best clan in the country" skills on TFC will no doubt stand me in good stead.

    One thing for sure is that it's going to be a hell of a night, and I'm going to wake up tomorrow with a hangover, if I'm lucky.

    Keep the Faith


    Thursday, April 03, 2003

    Wayne's World

    Rooney. Not bad, for an ugly twat
    Okay, I was wrong, dead wrong. I was cock sure that Turkey would outclass a poor form England side, and they didn't. England, even as a neutral-going-on-anti, had a brilliant game. Excellent performances by Beckham, James and, yes, even Rooney sealed a hard earned victory. So I lost 50p. Big deal.

    What was a big deal was Temple-freaking-Gate in The Sun, who I'm personally holding responsible for a loss of £3 on Aintree. Usually I try and read a bit into the form to try and pick my horses. Today, what with work and such, I didn't have the time. So I picked up my copy of the paper and looked who punter Templegate (who actually had a really good Cheltenham festival) had picked, and copied three of his picks at £1 each: Valley Henry (his dead certainty), Log on Intersky and Fairwood Heart. Not one came in. It was so depressing it was almost funny. However, in his defence, it was a good day for the bookies, as a lot of outside lucky shots came in.

    Still think he's a bastard. It's a freaking conspiracy, that's what.

    Thanks to Roland, I can answer Where Is Katie? The answer is that she's buggered off to Japan. As a direct result, I can exclusively announce that I've answered another question that's been plaguing the world:-

    Q.Where is Raed?
    A. He's in Iraq.
    Didn't take me too much to work that out.

    Firstly, I've noticed I've appeared on Still in it's infancy, this blog writes "For some reason The Art of Rhys-isms is the first one, nice site - hell of a lot going, he's running a campaign to help his brother's web presence problem, I'm sorry though that's nothing compared to my web presence 'problem'... my second name is 'Smith'.", so I'll take that as a compliment. As a 9 month blog writer, can I give you this advice: buy my t-shirt, endless plug my site, and you cannot go wrong.

    No, seriously guys, you can't.

    This guy thinks so much like me it's scary, even if he's only been going the best part of two days.

    Jordan: Like Chewing Gum. Except not as tasty. Or bendable. And you cannot stick it behind your ear for future chewing.
    Do you know what I learnt today - chewing gum and braces don't mix. Although you get a much sustained minty freshness, chewing gum is a bugger to remove from braces, as, like Jordan, it gets everywhere.

    Today, I finally bought my mask for the "Masquerade Ball" (ie. wear a mask, or get a kicking). After nearly two weeks of searching for a mask shop, I found one opposite my local bookies, what are the chances of that? Anyway, I bought a black one, which only purpose it'll serve will be to get through the door. I got the bus home, and as I got of the bus, I walked round the bus and I noticed that advertising on the back of the bus was "Scandals", a semi-famous shop in Birkenhead selling...ahem...'Marital Aids'. To sell the shop is a woman, wearing little more than her underwear and a smile and a few of the aids on show. Unfortunately, covered all over her face is a mask that bears more than a passing resembelence to my little £2.50 number. My mate, who was on the bus and noticed it at the same time, called my mask the 'Kinky Black Thing' and said 'You never know, you may pull in that.' which kinda throws the whole evening of enjoyment out of the window. I'm not setting out to pull, I'm setting out to play the casino and quasar. Sure, if it happens, then I won't complain, but that isn't the main task of the evening.

    Plus: fat, but attractive bloke with a kinky, but girly, mask = possible pull, but from sexually frustrated women (and, lets be honest, we're in freaking University here, to be polite: you don't get many of them to the pound).

    Keep the Faith


    Wednesday, April 02, 2003

    Don't wanna be you-who. Don't wanna be just like you. What I'm saying is "This Is The Anthem, throw all your hands up."
    Where is Raed? That is the question that seems to be fixating the blogging community at the moment. For those not in the know, the bloke who wrote it lives in Baghdad and writes out his thoughts on the war etc. Anyway, with it all kicking off recently so has interest in his blog, and the rest, as they say, is histroy. Present day history, but history nonetheless. Anyway, bugger "Where Is Raed?", I want to ask "Where Is Katie?". She's seemingly disappeared! See, I care about my regular readers.

    Anyway, moving on, glad to say that my brother is fit and well after his op, and happy birthday Mummy!

    Tomorrow, Wheatus are playing a gig somewhere in Liverpool. When I first heard it, it got me thinking: what will be the teen anthem for the year?" The teen anthem is the pop/rock/punk song, released sometime between March and October, which sticks in your head. Lets look at past "Teen Anthems".

    Year Song Artist
    2002 "Complicated" Avril Lavigne
    2001 "Teenage Dirtbag" Wheatus
    2000 "All The Small Things" Blink 182
    1999 "Pretty Fly (For a White Guy)" The Offspring

    Throw into the mix songs such as "Smell's Like Teen Spirit", "Basket Case", "Fat Lip" etc. and you'll see that Teen Anthem is a title took very seriously.

    So begs the question: who'll win it this year, the prestgious one. As it's my last year as a by-definition teenager?

    Get a real job, or so they said to me.
    Well, I haven't a clue, but one of my personal favourites is a song coming out soon called, ironically, "The Anthem" by Good Charlotte, it's been recieving heavy airplay on Kerrang, NME and Q radio (well, while I've been listening to it, anyway), and it's come across as one of my favourite songs at the moment. It's got everything that makes a good anthem. Strong guitars, good intro, and, most importantly, great chorous. So, take a listen. Please. For the good of humanity.

    Tomorrow, three day event at Aintree kicks off. For those of you too dumb, it's houses the biggest race since I said to my mates "First one back to F Block is a rotten egg" - The Grand National. The problem with the national is that you've got a snowball's chance in Hell of winning, but you still have a flutter. Everybody has a few quid on a horse on the National, including some people who read this. So, who is my pick? Well, I haven't a clue really. However, I've picked Chives. It ran exceptionally well in the Gold Cup, can jump, can last the distance, and (if the weather we've been having in Liverpool is anything to go by) should be good on the ground. Bung a few bob on that one.

    However, if you want a low risk/high return bet investment, have a few pounds on a Turkey win tonight. That is a money in the freaking bank investment.

    Keep the Faith


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