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..]

Runner up in the best tagline catagory of 2004 Bloggies

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, July 30, 2003

Start Spreading The News, I'm Leaving Today
From now up until whenever I get back (pencilled date next friday), I will be updating this blog: Postcards from Haven. Seeing as how the holiday camp is a member of Haven, I'm quite pleased of the title. It'll be updated by WAP, so it'll be double post city. But nevermind.

Right, I'd better be off. It's 9:17 in the morning and I still haven't packed. Ta ra.

Keep the faith


Tuesday, July 29, 2003

Seven Days In The Sun
Today I was rudely awoken at six am by one of my dads customers. He's a milkman (so, nobody minds when my mum says "She's ran off with the Milkman"), and therefore it stands to assumption that all his family are therefore night owls. So, at six o clock, the bloody phone rang. As I was disorientated (I honestly thought I'd overslept, and it was work), I darted down the stairs, and would of got to the phone.

Instead, I fell the last few stairs with amount as much grace as the average 14 year old Toxteth resident shows when he goes about his daily bricking windows.

I tried and minimised the fall by trying to fall on the bearly standing anyway table at the bottom of the stairs, instead I landed heavily on my right shoulder, and my head hit the table, making matters worse. The phone was still ringing, so no let up, so I did get up and answer it. But at 6am, which a hurt shoulder and a bump on the noggin, I wasn't in a great mood.

"Hi, I am wondering why Alun (me ol' man) hasn't left me any milk this morning."
"I know, he's in Torquay that's why"

See that? That's me tomorrow. Knobbelly knees contests and all.
Tomorrow, I won't have to bother with that anymore, as I'll be off on my hols. Cannot wait. Off to sunny, sunny Torquay. We know the place (it's our 5th or 6th time visitng there, lost count) well, and the people we're staying with, so it won't turn into a scene akin to Fawlty Towers. In fact, what we're staying with is more like a gloryfied Butlins, by staying in a caravan. Yep, microblasted food, chemical toilets and Seagulls doing their version of Eiverdance at 4am in the morning greet me is the order of the day for the next couple of weeks.

And, do y'know what? I can hardly wait.

My last day in work was memorable for one reason. For the first time, I served a customer without speaking English. Pure Welsh. Not perfect Welsh, but she gave the right money, and didn't question owt (thank god, then I'd of been buggered). So, everybody was happy: her because she got her Curly Wurly and Callipo, and me practicing my fabled Welsh skills. Magic.

Anyway, I'd better get packing (it's half 9 in the evening, and I haven't started, and I've got a fair old list to do), and I'll see you all in 9 days, maybe even sooner (I'll try and find an Internet Cafe in Torquay).

Keep the faith


Monday, July 28, 2003

It works! It really works!
Yep, apparently too well. Despite the fact I only posted once, it appeared twice, but that's been sorted (thanks to the clicky of the delete). I can post from WAP which means I'll be able to give running commentry of my holiday (although, if this morning is anything to go by, it'll be double post city from here on in). No pictures or owt like that, but loads of fun frilled frolics from the beautiful town of Teignmouth. Bet you're so happy.

Work today was interesting. Well, no it weren't, but it's money nonetheless. Anyway, I've managed to blag Wednesday off work, so I can go to Torquay on Wednesday, instead of Thursday or Friday. It's a bit wierd now. As it's apparently, as Michael Fish says, pissed it down, leaving them to do sod all except play cards and color in stuff. I suggested getting something else to pass the time (like a Playstation), but they didn't accept.

The weather today: bloody awful.
Wheras I on the other hand am the complete opposite. Weather has been fair to middling, but I miss social company. I swear to god, in ten years time if I'm still single, I'm turning gay. Not because I want to or owt, just out of fear of dying alone. Or get a token bride from the Phillapines or summit (oh my mum'd so approve of that), and get her visa over here or summit. Hell, the place is full of asylum seekers, I'm sure one of the more attractive ones wouldn't mind getting a backhand, but legal, route into the country.

Anyway, I'm sure it wont go to that. At least I hope.

Back from my tangent. It's been quiet here. Very quiet. Work has been my one social outlet, where I get to see people. So, whilst the ice cream machine giving me RSI in my right arm and wrist from pulling the handle too much too often (story of my life), the odd annoying new kid working who pops up out of nowhere and the odd chicken nugget appearing in my coat pocket at the end of the day, I'm actually quite enjoying work at the moment. Which is peachy, as if you're going to get paid for doing something, you might as well enjoy what you do. Unless you'r self sadistic.

Still cannot wait to go on me hols though. Apparently speaking to Big Al on the phone, he said two people from the year before are back, and apparently, whilst not remembering himself and Richard, remember me. That is so cool, as it's nice that you've made an impact, unlike say Amma off Big Brother 2.

Och Noooo!
Speaking of BB, I watched the replay of the finale last night, and I must admit I was happy for the result. Basically, my thinking is that immediately after Big Bro, people containing the characteristics of the popular characters are generally more popular, get drinks bought for them, and get laid more. For example: at university, immediately after BB3, people who were slightly less intelligent tomboys like Jade (thankfully not to her level of general being a pig that Jade is) were generally liked more than before Big Brother (no names mentioned). Now, this year, the two most popular (which, by my reckoning) are Cameron and Jon. Cameron is a self-confessed virgin, and Jon is a geek. Now, thankfully, by sheer coincidence, I happen to possess both of those two qualities. Oh, let the good times roll.

Finally, a long time mate of mine called Jace has created this. He is a massive Transport Tycoon fan, and is going to try to get Atari to speed up the making of the sequel (there is one in the pipeline, just a bit of a way away). As a fan of the game myself, I'd love to see it brought kicking and screaming into the 00's. So, if you do as well, please sign it. It'll make him happy.

Keep the faith


Testing WAP posting. Wayhey! Free WAP rules! Shit a customer has come in. Gotta go!

Keep the faith


Sunday, July 27, 2003

The Next Delia Smith?
Well, that was interesting, wasn't it? Yep, I wrestled with the oven, and I won.

Pukka tukka? Stupid fukka, more like.
I cooked myself a nice meal consisting of fried chicken, a chip butty and a side salad and, whilst not upto Jamie Oliver standards, it was pretty good for a first bash. Admittedly, the chips were a bit cold, and the chicken wasn't the best, and my tooth started playing up half way through me butty, but it was still an alright meal. I've paid for worse, and I've seen people pay for worse **cough**Welsh Mountain Zoo**cough**.

Speaking of my lovely work, I rang them up today, and they said I was in tomorrow, but unsure of what time. Whilst I deliberated, I was treated to a version of Bohemians Rhapsody by one of the head chefs. Which was nice. Anyway, I think I may go in a ten tomorrow.

Me, choose to go in early? Well. Yeah. You see, the boredom's starting to kick in, especially how Richard explained in intricate details what the Arcade on the caravan site contained ("It's got Sega Decathelete. Y'know that one from Gamesmaster ages ago?), and I'm starting to miss them. Once your house, where you expect 5 people to be, drops down to being on yer todd, then it's noticable.

One good thing is that I'll probably drop a few pounds. You see, when you actually have to cook for yourself, you cannot be arsed. Well. Maybe not everybody, but I'm like this. I just cannot be arsed cooking. There. I said it. I want my mum to cook for me. She does a grand job.

Finally, I began work on a game that could be completed, but probably not. The actual premise of it is already in, but it's uglier than Elton John's wardrobe.

Keep the faith


Now they're gone, I'm sleeping with the light on
About an hour ago, my family left me for the annual Wynne visit to the South coast, and more specifically, Torquay. As I wanted a week off both at home (just so I can get my new, quite sexy design up), and I felt guilty taking 3 weeks off work. So I'm trying to look after myself at home. Has my Mum lost her mind?

I try to find some Home Alone Classic quotes to go here, but unfortunately there are no such things.
So, whilst in premise it's nothing like Home Alone, it could end up that way, as me left alone in a house, pretty much anything can happen. Well, besides me getting a girl to 'spend the night' at my house. Jeez, what are the chances of that? Anyway, anything could really happen between today and Friday, where I lock up + leave for Torquers, but probably ensume with me working, trying to cook, and maybe inviting a few friends over for a DVD.

Do I miss them? At the moment, no. It's nice having a place all to yourself, doing all the sorts of things you couldn't do normally. For example, weeing with the toilet door open. Okay, maybe not seems like much, but when you've done it once, it's quite liberating.

Another beauty is music. Generally my music tastes are mainstream, and not heavy rock/dance/rap. Nevertheless, I do try and turn the music down because my dad doesn't appreciate swearing in his life (although I'm sure he curses a blue streak in Welsh, just we cannot understand it. Hey, my Welsh isn't that good), and there's an occasional fuck. However, now I'm alone, I can, as they say on Ali G: Crank it up. Full volume this morning was the Reel Big Fish classic: You Don't Know, which begins probably better than any song ever:-

"Well first of all. I'd like to say 'fuck off'"
"Fuck off?"
"Fuck off."
I had a good giggle at that. I'm oh so mature like that.

Nevertheless, now that they're gone, I'm sure I'll regret living for myself the next couple of days. I mean, weeing with the door open and loud music will soon be outweighed by having to cook for myself (except if I live on sarnies, fat chance of that). I'm not a fantastic cook. Well, I haven't really been tested. Sure, I can microblast stuff, no problem. But anything more than microchips and beans on toast and I'm struggling. Oh well, I'm sure I'll learn, now I'm in the deep end.

Keep the faith


Friday, July 25, 2003

All Dressed Up and Nowhere To Go
(Written at 2:55pm, 25/07/2003)

Somedays working can be fun. Generally the people there are interesting and witty. Not as much as me, but interesting and witty nonetheless. Someday, the wittyness and interestingness doesn't shine through as we're rushed off our feet helping you, the common British public, until we have to phyically throw the customers out the door. Today has been a hard day, but the only reason why is that the Zoo has been less populated than an Anthea Turner Appreciation Night.

I am surprised how boredom strikes me. As my second name is Wynne, alphabetically I am always last or there abouts (damn you Yates' of the world!). in the pecking order - be it for school injections, baggage collections for cup scout camp, or seeing the Santa Claus down at the local Asda. Over time, I get used to waiting for my time, but boredom still strikes me today.

In the sweet shop, we are expected to be working from 10am right through to 5pm - 7 hours of solid grafting. However, today has been physically impossible to do so. There's only so much slush you can fill the machine with, there's only so much you can clean an always be a little dirty floor, and there's only so many sweets you can fill the display cabinet without it becoming a 5 foot chocolate version of Jenga.

Very little has occured that has been interesting, apart from the old bloke in a mid-green tank top and NHS glasses who spent half the time pacing up and down outside the shop like a caged animal, and eyeing up the old dears from the retirement home, all of which, may I say from a personal level, were out of his league.

But alas, he went back to the place from whence he came at about half one, and I'm back to boredom. Something, anything must happen soon or I'll go round the bend: a thunderstorn, a tiger on the loose, a kid falling off the slide and breaking their neck. Okay, maybe not that one, but somethings that could make today worth living.

Well, bar the 30 odd quid I've earnt, of course.

Keep the faith


Thursday, July 24, 2003

Much Ado About Nothing
Today has been noticable in it's absence. No, not in a hungover way, more of a just looked at my spaking atomic-clock syncronised clock on me desktop, and said "Jesus freaking Christ, it's half 9 already!" kinda way. So, with nothing worth blogging about. Instead, as is the fashion nowadays, I'm going to fit a few noticable bits into one post, for easy digestion and commenting.

One of many chats going on over MSN today, about 3pm:-

Roland Says: I've uploaded my new template, fool.
Rhys Says: Yey!!!
Frankie Says: Relax
Okay, I made that last bit up, but Roland has his new template up, and it's pretty nifty. Anyway, he's a bastard for doing a new template, as, because I have an ego problem, I have to have a new template. It'll take me a few weeks, and whilst not as complicated as Roly's, it's a hell of a lot better already, as it takes all the best bits from his, scribbles over the "Designed by R. Tomlinson" bit, and posts it back to you. Or maybe it's just a rehash of this one, but that's good enough, isn't it?

Anyway go and check it out (although I know most of you already have, as I get more traffic from him than Wales gets from England).

A little game I found today was Try To Hack. Basically, it's like a little hacking game, where you have to make it as far as possible. I managed level 3 before running out of hair to pull out. Anyway I'm pleased with level 3, it sorta means I'm "geeky enough to get it, cool enough to care". I dig that.

The Darkness: Would you trust your gran with these men?
Finally, the Mercury Music Awards came out a few days ago. Basically, I want either The Thrills or The Darkness to win. The Thrills because it's got a fantastic balence that doesn't resort to the depressingness of Radiohead or the utter blandness of David Gray. It's happy interesting music. The Darkness because, quite frankly, their first album (Permission To Land) has blown me away. Stadium Rock is back folks, and The Darkness are going to places only bands like Queen, Aerosmith, Bon Jovi and other stuff in your mum's CD collection have gone to.

Finally, here's what The New Empire Lounge has wrote about me:-

Anyhow, please return the favor and go visit my new friend Rhys (pronounced Reece) and his site – The Art of Rhysisms. It has some fun and games, great writing and plenty of English humor (or, humour, if you will). If you love Monty Python . . . go rent one of their videos. But, if you want to read a good website (instead of the drivel I put out everyday) please go see Rhys.
That's bloody nice of him, isn't it? So if you've come here from him. Two words: a and hem. Cheers.

Keep the faith


Wednesday, July 23, 2003

Fire In The Taco Bell
Today, amongst other things, was staff training. As we couldn't shut the zoo for a day, we did it at 5pm. Fair enough, as we got paid for it.

Me and my certificate (totally unrealistic mortarboard added for comedy effect).
Firstly we got a talk from some woman from the cleaning fluid company. Chemical Alison, as we later dubbed her, basically told us "If you get any heavy duty washing up liquid/degreaser/drain fluid in your eyes, consult your taps/doctor/mortician (respecively)". Whenever she said a phrase, she held a piece of paper with the title of the lecture on it. Reminding me of the Keith Lard "There's No Smoke Without Fire" lecture from Phoenix Nights, I burst into hysterics every time this happened. Afterwards, she made us sign a piece of paper. Not sure what it was, probably power of attorney or something. Anyway for sitting on our arse and making dubiously funny jokes we got a certificate, which is the easiest one I've ever got, and the second easiest one to get in the world (behind, of course, any Sociology degree).

We also got fire training. Pretty standard stuff (get the hell out in an orderly fashion) really. We also went through a that probably no other place has. An escaped animal procedure. Okay, the occasional guinea pig does get out, but what do we do when a tiger, or a boa gets out? Simple really, just get everybody indoors as fast as possible and lock the doors, while some guy goes round with a rifle. It's the exact opposite to the fire drill, except no rifle is involved in the fire drill.

This then begs the question: what happen if an dangerous animal escapes during a fire drill? Basically, to put it bluntly, we'll be fucked. Personally, I would adopt an "Every Man For Himself" drill, and run as fast as my stumpy little legs can carry me. Customers? Pfft. Couldn't give ones.

Today, we also got round to fitting the ice cream machine, it's remarkably simple to use. And soon I was pulling my handle, and dispensing cremy goodness to the customer in cones, for a small fee. However, later in the day, we found we could skip the cone, and our head could fit underneath the dispenser. At this point I dispensed creamy goodness straight into the mouths of my co workers.

Wow, totally innuendistic paragraphs rule.

Keep the faith


Tuesday, July 22, 2003

I've Missed You
Random thoughts in the life

I would of pulled a sickie yesterday to get out of work, but - unlike all of the sickies pulled ever - I was actually sick. I did do six hours of work, but it was very low impact, and wasn't rushed off my feet. Just did general jobs. I wasn't sure quite what was wrong with me, but I was definitely feeling a bit bleh. Anyway, I did get out of work two hours early, which was nice. So if you were wondering why I wasn't updating tomorrow, that's the reason. Not because I couldn't be arsed, oh no.

"Listen, I don't care, as long as I get to the beach before it starts rain....oh bugger."
Today, as I was feeling better, I went and bought Gran Turismo 3: A-Spec. It's quite wierd actually, I usually hate simulation driving/flying games like that. Arcade games? Yep. Mario Kart? Oh without a doubt. But anything that you cannot actually drive or throw koopa shells at, then I'm a bit shit at, and hate it. Somehow however, Gran Turismo is the exception. I don't know why. But I loved the first game, and the second game was just as good. Gran Turismo 2 is a member of an exclusive club (with Tekken 3, WWF Smackdown 1 and 4, Final Fantasy VII and Street Racer) that are games I bought on the day they were released. So I plonked down ?10 for the PS2 variant. Any good? Oh yes. I'm always a bit rusty when it comes to driving games, but I'm getting better at this one. The graphics are fantastic, and the music is great. It's got Feeder's best song on the soundtrack, for Christ sakes, how can it not get any better? Only Vice City, with it's untold amount's spent on licences, can rival the soundtrack.

More when I play it a bit more.

I was watching Graham Norton on the box last night, and a commercial for this came on. For those of you who are generally too lazy to click the link, let me enlighten you. Derren Brown is a bloke that can read people or something. He's done such cool things as reading minds, manipulating people, and the coolest, convincing a bookies that a losing ticket was a winning one (if only I could do that). Anyway, he's going to play Russian Roulette live on air with some random bloke/bird. I would enter it, but just imagine if you were picked, and he shot himself? Boom, you'll be sent down for assisted suicide. Sure, you're life would be pretty much over, but it would still make good telly.

My life is a bit boring at the moment, so I'll try and do something interesting. Incidentally, I'm going on me hols in just over a week (1st August-8th August) to sunny sunny Torquay, so if anybody wants a postcard, drop me an E-Meither with your address, or just chat to me on Yahoo (rhyswynne) or MSN (rhys_boy84).

Keep the faith


Sunday, July 20, 2003

But Now, I'm Drunk Again
Last night was the usual Weathers/Broadway combination. The evening began at about 8:30, after we gatecrashed some poor holiday makers table. Not contending to move, bless 'em, they just sat there and watched the lads drink themselves stupid over the course of two hours, including (but not for me) the four aftershocks each. Whilst this was going on, I was achieving levels of fame and fortune by, err, scoring over 1900 points on the 'Winning Lines' Quiz Machine, which meant I won a fiver and got my name plastered on the top of the high score table. Result!

To be fair, the holiday makers, from Stoke-on-Trent, were friendly towards us, and we were polite back. Well, as polite as 19 year old drunken lads can be. Half ten, we were on our way to Broadway, stumbling as only we can. This is where it gets interesting. Well, for me anyway.

For a long period of time, I was speaking to two birds, at completely different times. First one was nice, slightly taller than me, slim and quite attractive. Only problem was that speaking to her she turned out to be a walking insane asylum. She was absolutely mental. She had a strong Welsh accent, and one of our many conversations over the night was this:-
"You seen any Sci-Fi movies this year?"
"Yeah, saw X-2, and The new Matrix one."
"Oh, I've seen the Hulk, want to see my Hulk impression?"
The stuttering cost me, as then she did her Hulk. Except without the green skin. Or the top coming off, unfortunately. Basically, she just snarled and posed Hulk Hogan stylee for a bit, showcasing the kind of arms that make mine look like Scott Stiener's. She was officially mental. Or pissed. One of the two. She wasn't boring, or mean. She was acutally quite friendly and childlike in a non innocent kinda way. Just a bit, well, freaky.

If she was freaky then the other completely hadn't got a clue. I was speaking to her for a bit, after plonking myself on a chair beside her after dancing full pelt during the suprise song of the evening: James' "Sit Down". Anyway, we got chatting for a bit, and she came out of the blue and said "Oh Rhys, you look like Busta Rhymes.". Busta Rhymes!?!? Busta Bleeding Rhymes!?! I'm sorry, but I've been compared to some Celebrities. Some I like (Mick Foley, Graham Norton (ish), Justin Timberlake (ish)), some I hate (Bloke from 5ive, Graham Norton (ish), Justin Timberlake (ish)), but Busta Rhymes? Do I look like a rapper who hangs around with the dog formally known as Mariah Carey? Can I, put it explicitly, go "Gangsta"? Nope. I didn't think so.

Oh, and that bird I saw two weeks ago in a "Will She Won't She" type situation with me. Anyway, I saw her in the clear and day of soberness, and she was a dog.

Tonight I may be going bowling. I'm feeling a bit tender at the moment, especially, for some reason, my arse is sore (probably due to that kebab). So depending how I feel could mean I get humiliated in the alley, as I spend more time in the gutters than Oscar The Grouch.

Keep the faith


Saturday, July 19, 2003

Back To The Future
Despite what some people may say otherwise, I'm actually not half bad at my job. Occasional minor slip ups are part and parcel of a makeshift workforce, and I'm not going to deny that. However, some minor slip ups are less minor than others, and today was no exception.

Today, it seems, was one of those days. I actually got a lift to the zoo off some random people (I know it goes against every single "Don't go off with strangers" lesson I've ever had, but please, nobody would want to try it on with me) who wanted to know where the zoo was in exchange for a lift. The weather was nice. Not to hot, not too cold. Also it was relatively quiet, and I spoke a lot to the customers, and the regular zoo staff, as well as the catering lot I'm a part of. However, none of these facts could prevent me from fucking up. About half way through the day, a old gentleman came in, and asked me an unusual question.

"Excuse me sir, but I want to leave the zoo, can you direct me to the exit?"
"Sure, you know the road you came in on?"
"Just go down that, then fork off."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Sorry. There's a fork in the road, instead of going down the right road, go left."
"Oh right, I misheard you, thanks"
Yep, it's one of the oldest jokes in the book (behind the obvious "Fork in the road" gag), and it wasn't even original. A mate of mine was explaining to me the time where on a motorway, he told his parents to "fork off". I'm sure it's probably been used in comedy programs.

Avid Merrion: No wonder he's wierd, he's a ginner.
Speaking about comedy, on advice from my friends I decided to watch Bo Selecta!. Can I go on record and saying they have no taste in comedy, as quite frankly, it's one of the shittest things I've seen since that time Patrick Kielty presented his chat show with the squits.

Last night I decided to watch a bit of the shopping channel. You know that feeling where you know that's nothing is on, but you cannot stop watching television, I had it last night. I watched a good hour of QVC without actually realising I'd wasted an hour, 1/24th of my day, on sweet fuck all. Then again, it can be quite interesting television. You see these shops that sell just about anything, usually cheap immitations of well known products. Well, I say shops. I posh places they're usually parts of Monday Markets, but oop north, in a decrepid town that slowly is creeping back to the norm, they inhabit shops. Well known brands as Nestle, Coca-Cola and Panasonic are no places for these shops. Cooco-Cola, Panaramic are more the norm for these shops/markets, and QVC.

Track and Field is featured about 40 times on the average 80-in-1 system.
One such product was the legendary "80-in-1 home entertainment systems". These are literally gloryfied joypads with about half a dozen different games on them, all with slight 'variations' on them. However, this one advertised was different.

This one was pretty good.

It showcased about 15 games on it, and by god, some of them weren't half bad. There was Wonderboy, some Track + Field game, 1942 and a football game akin to the C64 classic "Emlyn Hughes' International Soccer". Hell, there was even a version of Street Fighter that could of given the NES version a run for it's money. "We'll take a look at the basketball one next", the voice on the box said. "Hell." I said to Rick, who was watching this drama unfold along with me, "If the TV screams 'Welcome to NBA Jam!', then get my credit card I'm going to buy it". NBA Jam is probably one of my favourite games ever, and craps all over "Sim" games as it's actually bloody good fun.

It didn't, and despite crashing 4 times, which showcased just why it was £24.99, it looked the fucking part. Best of the lot methinks.

This got me thinking. Why do these things even sell? The answer is that these games are still considered by many as classics. Okay, discounting MAME, a lot of people don't have access to these. I have a PS2, and only five games: Metal Gear Solid, Final Fantasy X, Marvel Vs. Capcom 2, GTA: Vice City and WWE Smackdown: Shut Your Mouth I have played two weeks after purchase. Ratchet And Clank, a game I started playing last Thursday, could very well be the sixth. Even so, 6 out of the 20 games we have owned at one time for the PS2 is not fantastic. Less than 2 weeks of entertainment for £40 a shot is not fantastic*, whereas these games (Bubble Bobble, Mario, Galaxian, T+F and the like) have proved to be fun for decades. The fact that mobile games (I've got Prince of Persia, that's still rock today) and the all conquering Game Boy Advance look like bucking the trend of crap games that are diluting the market at the moment, and I can hardly wait.

Then again, complaining about the past is a sure sign of getting old.

I bloody hope not.

Keep the faith


If anybody says "Rhys! You spend around £30-40 on a night out!" I swear I will kick your ass, as that's different

Thursday, July 17, 2003

When will I, will I be famous?
Work is monotonous at the moment, as it isn't really a challenge. I mean, there's only so may ways you can sell an ice cream. Short of tying my hands behind my back, work has reached the pinnacle of difficulty. So, at the moment, just grinding my way through work, with little to change it.

Look at Mr. Chips, what is he doing?
Yesterday was slightly different, and kinda linked to Choz's post from last week on famous people. I reguarly boast that I have met, as Brian Potter on Phoenix Night's would say "TV's own Roy Walker". I met Roy "Say what you see" Walker in Marks + Spencer when I was about 5 or some loser age like that. Anyway my mum walked straight over to him and said "It's Roy Walker!" and said summit like "This is Rhys and this is Richard, we're big fans of Catchphrase" and generally bullshitted with him for about 20 seconds before he buggered off. But he did say my name, which was so cool.

He's bloody tall as well.

Anyway, I digress. One of the most popular channels is S4C. Basically, (for Brits) it replaces Channel 4 for us with Welsh language programs, but shows some English programs as well, although at obscure times (ie. Eurotrash at about 6pm one time). Anyway, two programs I watch regularly are Sgorio (football program) and Restlo (wrestling magazine program, that is the only place to watch WWE on terrestrial T.V.). Both of these are flagship programs for S4C, as is a program called 'Rownd ac Rownd'. Basically, it's Welsh Dawson's Creek (to the best of my knowledge, I'm sure someone will correct me).

So how does this relate? Well, I'm sure one of the stars of that program walked into my sweet shop and bought 17 ice creams yesterday. Anyway, I'm only assuming this, but here's my twisted logic for this:-

  • She bought 17 ice creams, she must be loaded. The only people who are loaded in Wales are those who work for S4C, right?
  • She spoke fluent Welsh
  • She had a 'Rownd ac Rownd' (presumably) official bag. This is the important one. You cannot (to the best of my knowledge) buy these things. So she must of either won it in a competition or work for S4C.
  • And finally, how many of us would, in all seriousness, be seen wearing a bag that advertised a Welsh program? Unless of course you worked on it.
  • Okay, maybe not, but I can still add it to the list of famous people who have visited the sweet shop (currently at two, with Andy Crane in 1991 and her).

    Last night we had some totally cool thunderstorms. It lasted for about 3/4 of an hour, mostly when I was in the pub with a few friends. They were mainly over the Irish Sea, but I tried taking pictures of it, and failed miserably. Nevermind.

    Keep the faith


    Tuesday, July 15, 2003

    It's Getting Hot In Here
    It's official, yesterday was the hottest day of the year so far, and probably one of the hottest of the year. If you read the papers, they pretty much say that 'Millions of Brits were out enjoying the sun'. Not all of them.

    Lazy buggers...
    Firstly and foremostly, I don't react well to the heat. Layers of fat, a largely black + navy wardrobe and the fact that my body isn't really suited for sudden stripping to speedos mean that come the summer, I am usually found sweating like a horny nun. Sure, I keep a can of Lynx nearby so that you cannot nasally recognise that I'm perspiring, but by god, look at me in this weather, and I have an ambient glow that can give any 10 watt lightbulb a run for it's money.

    However, picture that scene, and put me not into the relative artic conditions of 30°C of North Wales coast, but into the over 40°C that occurred in my sweet shop, and dress me not in nothing more than a pair of speedos and a smile, but in black jeans and black t-shirt. Boy, I was melting faster than the chocolate that was also suffering a similar fate to me.

    There was a good thing that came out of yesterday: I lost two pounds in weight! Seriously. I weighed myself in the morning and I way ** Stone 6 lbs, and in the evening I weighed ** Stone 4 lbs. Sod the bleeding Atkin's Diet, as I had Sausage, Chips and Beans for dinner as well. The working in a sweet shop is making me lighter! Get in!

    The wierd thing (if you're an illogical being) was that it wasn't too busy there yesterday. Hell, I..ahem...the company made a couple of hundred, but I expected more. Logically looking at it (and I always do, I'm like Spock...'cept less creepy) it's obvious. The last thing I'd want to do on a hot day is walk. I want to sit in the garden, open a beer or ten, grab a burger or twenty off a barbecue, and chill.

    This, in turn, has affected my blogging, as in this weather, I cannot be arsed. I haven't been arsed about doing anything except reading, watching telly, drinking beer and laying on my arse. So I may be away for a few days.

    But then again, they're promising thunderstorms tomorrow. I haven't had a good thunderstorm in ages (discounting the one a couple of years back on holiday in Torquay, where I would of slept through it, if my mum hadn't come screaming into my room and shouting 'RHYS! IT'S THUNDER!', and woke me up for the rest of the night), so tomorrow may be very cool.

    Keep the faith


    Monday, July 14, 2003

    Heaven Must Be Missing An Angel
    Last night, I went to see Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle with a couple of mates. Basically it's a totally seperate story from the first one, but still more of the same. Noticable bits are the following:-

    • Bloody feminism kicking in again.
      Firstly, if you think you are going to get a not unbelievably unbelievable movie, within 10 minutes of the start, with 'the helicopter'. That pretty much sets the tone for the whole movie.
    • The story itself is quite a good one - Data (held in rings) for all the people in the world rehoused in a Witness Protection Scheme has been stolen, and going to be sell around the world. However, with hardly any twists, it's quite weakly played on, with the action, innuendo jokes and large amounts of flesh being the order of the day.
    • Seamus O'Grady (one of the bad guys) has quite possibly the worst Irish accent in the world ever. It's awful. However, bar him, the others in his posse are actually not that bad, although they didn't play too much on him.
    • Mixed with the worst Irish accent, there is abundance of special effects. However, they use bullet time a hell of a lot. Some of it's pretty cool (like the dirtbike scene), but it's overused. God almighty, The Matrix has got a lot to answer for.
    • Linked to this, some of the special effects, like The Matrix Reloaded, are obvious to spot. The screen in Charlie's Office is one of them. Maybe because I'm a Computer Engineering student (technically) it's easy to spot. I dunno.
    • And the end credits (in the car wash) are very cool. As were the scenes where they were walking through the sprinklers and the scene in the....ahem...'Gentlemen's Club'

    Anyway, it's not going to be my favourite movie ever, but it's watchable. Leave your brain at home, as it's pretty much a no brainer (the trailers being Hulk, some chick flick and Legally Blonde 2 sorta gave it away), but it makes easy watching. And there are no bits like the end of Matrix Reloaded that make your brain explode. Then again, it's not the end of the world if you miss it.

    In other news, I'd like to retract my statement about disliking "It's The Sun" by the Polyphonic Spree, and further adding that they are growing on me. I've also listened to "Light And Day" by them, and, despite sounding a hell of a lot like Puff: The Magic Dragon, it's pretty good song. Next thing to try and like: Bo Selecta. Why? All my mates were saying "It'll be proper Bo, I tell thee.", and, like so much in this life, I didn't get it.

    Keep the Faith


    Sunday, July 13, 2003

    It's Superficial I'm a Misfit, but Baby that's Okay
    Last night, once again, I went to Broadway with the boys. Quite wierdly, everything that made a night textbookidly shite was there, but it was a good night.

    The night began at about 9, after we missed the bus to Llandudno. We walked into Weathers some of us pissed, some of us blind stinkingly sober. I was the latter, and the drunken ones, after a few "Strawpedoes" (the art of drinking alcopops using a straw for air), were even more drunk. I kept my pace, as a night out is a marathon, not a sprint.

    Due to my pissedness buying of Phoenix Nights, not being paid for 6 weeks and crippling alcohol habit, it meant that today I hit my overdraft limit, and only £30 for the night. Okay, it seems a lot, but consider drinks are upto £3 in The Big House, and taxis are about £12. It soon goes.

    In The Big House, I was fairly far gone. Within about three seconds of entry, some bloke came upto me and said "Oi! You look different than everybody else!". I said, "So?". It's true. The shirt on the cam was the shirt I was wearing last night, and whilst cool, it didn't conform to the common-as-shite white with squares/lines shirts that are all the rage. So I'm a misfit, and I love it. Nat commented me on that "It shows up under the Purple Light!", which looked quite cool. Hell, I like being a bit different. Especially my chain, which serves no real purpose except to seemingly piss people off. I mean, why bother trying to fit in, when I was born to stand out?

    Through the course of the night, I had no chance of pulling. I wasn't really up for it mind, maybe my ravaging headache, maybe that hay fever season is most well and truly upon us, maybe that half way through the evening I got smacked in the todger and the little guy wasn't up for anything, or maybe it was this incident early on in the night.

    No! Not that one, the fat one!
    Me and a handful of the group (yes, not just the lads, as Nat and Clare joined us for most of the evening) were dancing on the floor. We were dancing on the edge of the dancefloor, where those unsure of themselves (generally the older generation) boogie the night away. In any rate, a group of girls, late 20's early 30's were dancing fairly near us. I was being nudged in the direction of one of them, and (this is going to sound so cruel) she looked like Gwyneth Paltrow.

    Before you say "Rhys! Why didn't you pull a bird that looked like Gwyneth Paltrow!", or words to that effect, let me finish the story. See, she looked like Gwyneth Paltrow in Shallow Hal, and not when Hal was hypnotised. Okay, that was a bit harsh. She wasn't fat, just. Big. Very big. She was a good few inches taller than yours truly, and probably same build. I wasn't going to pull her for the pure and simple reason that I was scared of her. Lets put it this way, I wouldn't spill her pint (yes, she drunk pints. Better than I can anyway).

    Another factor that could of made the night shite was that near the end of the night they played that god awful Satisfaction. For those of you who haven't heard it, imagine Stephen Hawking singing, and you're half way there. It's a shame because I like the video because. Well. It features women wearing very little operating power tools. I've never quite seen the beauty of disk sanders until seeing that video. As they said on Not the Nine O Clock News - "Nice video, shame about the song.".

    Off on a tangent, I downloaded a song by The Polyphonic Spree, after hearing so much about them. After 30 seconds of, I think "It's the Sun", I said "50 million members, and not a in tune note between them". I hated it. I really want to like the Spree, as it's the cool thing to do. However, after listening to them, I was so dissappointed. Any good songs?

    Back from the tangent. Headache, didn't pull, no money, shite music, got smacked full blown in the todger and sneezing constantly. So why did I love last night? I don't know. I spent very little is probably one excuse. However, I spoke to all my friends, and just was smiling having a blast last night. Always the way. The nights I think are going to be shite I really enjoy, and vice versa. I wasn't tired by the end of it. I ended up getting a taxi with two mates, and walking the last bit home. I crashed at about 3 am, sighed, looked up at my ceiling, and said "I'm Hardcore!"

    Keep the Faith


    Saturday, July 12, 2003

    Random Thoughtness
    Just a quick post today, as my mum, who in reality thinks that a web site is where spiders congregate, wanted to use the computer to speak to 'a friend in america'. She must think I'm bloody stupid. Anyway, she wanted me to make MSN Messenger work, but wouldn't let me in the vacinity of the computer, so the difficulty of it would be akin to a blind man doing keyhole surgery. Anyway, I cannot really slag off my mum, because, well, she is my mum.

    As Eric Bischoff's opening theme would say: I'm back, and I'm better than ever.
    Firstly, lets start with a bit of big brother news: Jon is thank the lord back in. Whilst slowly getting addicted to it, the last two weeks was quite possibly the two most boring weeks in the house. I actually was genuinely excited (which is a first for Big Brother) when I knew he was going back in, as in my opinion, he was by far the best.

    Of course, 99% of you haven't a clue what I'm going on about.

    Today I had my closest thing to a come-uppance in work today, where I was tricked into drinking 'coke'. The thing was, that not only was it coke, it was diet coke as well. On top of that, it was fanta and sprite. Imagine that concoction, when also consider that it had been lying at the bottom of a dirty bucket in a hot cafe for three hot days, and you could probably guess what my reaction was. For those of you who are shite at guessing, my reaction was something along the lines of "You fucking pricks! I could of been killed or summit! I knew it tasted funny. You are some sick tossers you are!" and the like. Nevertheless, we all had a laugh about it in a few hours, and will probably replace the fabled kitchen story of the "Chicken Nugget & Coke". Oh well, I actually didn't drink any of it, instead spat it out within about three seconds. But I could of swallowed a bit of it.

    Anyway, that's all that's remotely interesting that's happenning at the moment. I've got work in under 10 hours, so I'm going to get some kip.

    Keep the faith


    Thursday, July 10, 2003

    10 Rounds With Tyson
    Thanks for all your suggestions for the curry. Unfortunately, it has been postponed until further notice. Either that or the lads went without telling me. Bastards. Last night I had a pasty pea supper - none of yer noncy foreign stuff - whilst watching my brand spanking new DVD of what has now become my favourite program at the moment, Phoenix Nights.

    Can y'ear me now Paddy? Look, look, I'm on the bus!
    Yep, the shiny DVD plonked through the letter box yesterday morning. The bloody awful thing is that I don't actually remember ordering it. This can mean two things:-

    1. Someone bought it for me.
    2. I was pissed when I bought it.

    Anyway, I got a massive lecture off my mum because of it, something along the line of "You shouldn't be wasting money!" etc. Funny thing is that she's right. I'm ?150 in the red, and, if I don't get paid next week, I will raise hell.

    Phoenix Nights is the funniest thing I've seen in ages, and wo betide anybody come round to my house to watch a DVD, as that will undoubtedly be it. No questions asked.

    Today, I went to Llandudno and met a couple of mates there. However, it almost ended with me being banged up for GBH.

    Regular readers would know of my escapades, this time last week actually, with the keepie uppie game on the PS2 Gimmick known as the Eye-toy. For those of you who cannot be arsed to read that, lazy buggers, let me explain the eye toy. Basically it's a camera that makes you move in time with some simple games. Anyway, I got further experience with it when in an unnamed reputable multi-item store (oh, alright then, Woolie's in Llandudno) they had it on display. Instead of the relatively harmless keepie uppie game, the game on display was one called boxing champ. As I was with a couple of mates, I felt a little more confident in making a tit out of yourself. However, it wouldn't of been so bad, but you had to stand side-on to the screen, and punch into thin air. Simple.

    I did get a bit carried away, and almost lamped some poor old geezer. After nearly socking him one that Tyson would of been proud of, I apologized, and he smiled and went on our merry way. As did we. We joked about it for a time, most involving the phrase "What if he was our local clergyman? What if you connected? Well, after the assault charge was brought, you could of said you'd bashed yer bishop in front of the general public in Woolworths". Oh how we laughed.

    So, after a couple of pints, a zinger tower burger, and the mooching bastards reading my copy of this months FHM, we buggered off home, just catching the school rush on the bus home, which not only meant that we were buggered to get a seat, but one little madam had the nerve to call me a "Prick" when I got off. Bitch.

    Keep the faith


    Tuesday, July 08, 2003

    In the chair
    Today I went to the dentist. Unlike most of the population, I don't fear the dentist. Bar the brace, which was kinda awful for about a week, and a filling I had 10 years ago, my teeth have been in startling form. That was all in the past, as my diet of Zinger Tower Burgers, Kit Kat Chunkies and Carling soon made my teeth turn darker than an oil slick. Today, I was summoned for a filling. However, my ability for my right hand to absorb punishment should of worn off on the rest of the body, and I wasn't in too much pain for my first filling. Was I?

    Open Wide! No!
    I sat down in the chair, and god a needle poked into my gums. This needle was long (I only caught a glimpse of it), however, like so many things in this life, it went in and out with little discomfort. "See you in 10 minutes!" my dentist jovially said. Hell, I'm not blaming him. It's just one of those things. I on the other hand was running blind into the filling.

    God. I never knew how much they hurt! As mentioned, I don't mind a little pain, but this was awful. God knows what I've done to get my teeth in that sort of condition to deserve that. Anyway, if any of my mates were in there, my blokiness would of been in worse doubt than after the Page 3 incident. Seriously, I was expelling the blokey comments "IT HURTS!" and "OOWWWEEE!", and almost in tears. I stopped for a bit half way through, as I was in so much pain, calmed down, and returned.

    Anyway, he only put a tempory filling in. Whilst sensible (as if the proper one went in, and it went wrong then, boom. Herpes or summit), it means that in early September I have to go through it all over again. Well, probably not as bad (I hope), as today was just more cleaning gunk from my bomb stricken teeth. But it's still gotta hurt.

    Now, that's my type of "Dentist Chair".
    The ironic thing is that whilst the anasthetic provided by the needle didn't stop all the pain, the second I left the dentist chair, boy did it kick in. I was walking around with me tongue hanging out, and everything was right with the world for the next two hours. You could probably lamp me in the cheek and I wouldn't feel a thing.

    So, am I blaming the dentist for my pain? Hell no. He knows what he's doing. Am I scared of dentists now, like so many other people? Not just yet. It takes more than one incident to change my feelings for a place, although I will be apprehensive whence early September rolls around. However, I am aware that it's all for the best.

    Is it?

    As for the rest of the day, those with fillings will know: the stuff for a few hours tastes bloody awful. To combat this, I finished off a box of tic tacs pretty quickly. Now, that only 1.5 Calorie worth of minty freshness comes at a price, as in packet-in-an-hour quantities it is also a laxative. That's where the rest of my day went.

    Tomorrow, as if my stomach hasn't suffered enough, I may be going for an Indian. As this is my first, I need to know, how can I be wiened onto a mild, tasty curry? If such one exists.

    Keep the faith


    Monday, July 07, 2003

    Hang Your Head In Shame
    A few days at work doesn't do me too much harm. Sure, I'm usually knackered, my boss cannot stand me and it's usually very busy. Nevertheless, the customers, by and large are generally pretty friendly. However, we have been known to charge a fair bit for ice creams some times. Usually in the range of ?1.30 for the average frozen stick. Whilst you southern faries would say "Tally Ho! That is some shewed business my old fellow. As you cannot get pittance with ?1.30", oop north it's daylight bloody robbery, you could practically buy a house with it. Admittedly, often the people visiting the zoo don't really care, but some times they do.

    Will I be on Watchdog in regards the high price of Ice Cream? Yeah right.
    Saturday, an old lady came in to the sweet shop. Now, old dears are usually one of two kind. First are the sweet old ladies. The kind that are usually yer gran. Nice, kind, interesting, and beat my arse in the word games on Countdown* (though, I own her on the number games). The other are like Blanche from Corrie: Complain about anything.

    Guess what type I got?

    Yep, after wanting to purchase some Galaxy Caramels, and learning they were ?1.50 each, this woman kicked off and launched quite a tirade against everybody's favourite Welshman:-

    "?1.50. ?1.50?! You call yourselves fair? You should be ashamed of yourself, ripping off a poor old woman like this. Nothing is worse! You might as well take my handbag! You're a disgrace. You're a disgrace to your friends, you are a disgrace to your company, you're a disgrace to your country, and you are a disgrace to your mother!"
    That did it. I should of just slapped her after the mother comment. I did let it go however, and waved her on her way.

    Why does almost everybody assume that the guy on ?4.10 sets the price for all the crap in the shop. Do you really think that the average spotty kid behind the counter in Maccy D's could be trusted with the prices? Nope. So why am I different? Oh well.

    So there you have it. I'm a national disgrace.

    Tomorrow should be fun, I'm having some minor dental work being done, so I'll give you the results of which tomorrow.

    Keep the faith


    It's all Roland's fault!
    Yep, I'm nicking a post idea from him. But I do so under three reasons:-

    1. He's done it to me.
    2. I've got sweet fuck all else to write about.
    3. He'd probably nicked it from someone else.
    So here begins random questionsTM!
    your heritage: Born in St. Aseph to a Liverpudlian (okay, I admit it, despite hating the football team, I'm half scouse) Banker and Welsh Builder. Quickly moved from St. Aseph to Colwyn Bay, as I was bored.
    the shoes you wore today: Nike summitorother.
    your fears: Failure, snails (don't ask)
    your perfect pizza: Pepperoni or Ham + Pinapple
    goal you'd like to achieve: Super rich by 35 so I can retire. Either that or become WWE Champion.

    your most overused phrase in an online messenger: "LOL". If I say "LOL", I usually cannot be arsed listening.
    your thoughts first waking up: "How much did I drink last night?"
    your best physical feature: Hmmm....probably my lips, going on what certain people say
    your bedtime: 11-1:30 usually, though it can stretch to 4 in the morning. Usually when pissed.
    pepsi or coke: Pepsi
    mcdonald's or burger king: Burger King for burgers, Maccy D's for McFlurries. Burger King for chunky chips, Maccy D's for Sweet and Sour Sauce.
    single or group dates: Probably single, as I'd have a scary feeling that the bird will run off with the other bloke, and the other bird will end up being a lesbian. Or summit.
    adidas or nike: Nike, even though they make the dirty Arsenal kits 
    lipton ice tea or nestea: Proper tea.
    chocolate or vanilla: Chocolate. Please.
    cappuccino or coffee: Cappuccino, as you can put chocolate on it.

    do you...

    smoke: Fuck no.
    cuss: Fuck no.
    sing: Oh yes.
    take a shower everyday: Try to.
    have a crush(es): Not at the mo.
    think you've been in love: Cerainly not.
    want to go to college: Not want, you stupid person
    liked high school: Oh yes.
    want to get married: Eventually, I guess
    believe in yourself: Well, nobody else does.
    get motion sickness: Not really
    think you're attractive: See 'believe in yourself'
    think you're a health freak: Pffft.
    get along with your parent(s): Yep
    like thunderstorms: Oh hell yes.
    play an instrument: Guitar. Ish.

    in the past month...

    drank alcohol: What do you think?
    smoked: Nope.
    done a drug: Discounting Paracetamol, caffeine or alcohol, no.
    had sex: Yeah right.
    made out: If this what I think it means, then no.
    gone on a date: No way.
    gone to the mall: Yep
    eaten an entire box of oreos: Nope, but I have eaten a tub of Pringles. Before shouting "You fat bastard!" remember: It was Pringles 'lites'.
    eaten sushi: Nope
    made homemade cookies: Me? In the kitchen? With my reputation?
    dyed your hair: Nope. I'm not going grey, am I?


    played a game that required removal of clothing: Don't think so, although I did play badminton once, and when I wasn't playing, I put on a tracksuit. So yes. 
    if so, was it mixed company: Could of been.
    been trashed or extremely intoxicated: Oh yes. Couple of times mind when I've either been sick or passed out mind.
    gotten beaten up: Quite weird this one. I've never been beaten up, but was hit loads in school. This means that my arms and body are almost impervious to pain. So once when I did receive more than the odd punch, I got up, cleaned my nose, and walked away.

    how do you want to die: Die? I'm living forever.
    what do you want to be when you grow up: Anything that pays me for sitting on my arse all day. 
    what country would you most like to visit: United States

    in a girl...

    best eye color: Blue. Although no preference.
    best hair color: Oh ha hum. Probably blonde.
    short or long hair: Long. Probably.
    height: Not bigger than 6'2", because I'd be scared of them.
    best weight: No more than me, because they'd be **really** fat! But again, not too skinny.
    best articles of clothing: Don't care.
    best first date location: Don't care.
    best first kiss location: Don't care.

    number of cds that i own: Far too many.
    number of piercings: None.
    number of tattoos: Zip. But I wouldn't mind one.
    number of times my name has appeared in the newspaper: Thrice in local paper. One for being the "Largest Baby of The Week" in 1984. 1990 where I received a 1/2 page spread reviewing this "Recyclobus", and 2000 when I picked up my GCSE results. They wanted "prospective Oxbridge Students", but I just tagged along for the hell of it.
    number of scars on my body: 3 Chicken pox scars in various locations (one I'd rather not say where it is). 1 injection scars. Numerous scars on my forehead from my spotty teenager days, though those are barely noticable.
    number of things in my past that I regret: None.
    Coming up later: Why I am a disgrace. Honest.

    Keep the faith


    Sunday, July 06, 2003

    The Cerebral Puller

    "If you can't wake up in the morning, cause your bed lies vacant at night.
    If you're lost, hurt, tired or lonely, can't control it, try as you might.
    May you find that love never leave you, may you find it by the end of the day.
    You wont be lost, hurt, tired and lonely, something beautiful will come your way. "

    - Robbie Williams: "Something Beautiful", 2003

    Unlike some people I know, who operate a "Throw Shit into Fan, and see what sticks." method of pulling, I'm fairly maticulate, deliberate and maybe even cerebral. Okay, I admit, I haven't pulled too many times. However, I was proud to boast a try it on:pulling percentage of 100%. Until last night. Again, my shyness with the opposite sex comes into play here.

    The evening began quite late for me, my own stupidity and work were the reasons why. I got half way to Llandudno before realising 'Shit! I've forgot my shoes!'. So, after returning, and being dropped off on a urine soaked bus stop before getting the bus to Llandudno, it meant it was well gone half 8 before arriving in Llandudno.

    I was lagging behind the rest of the boys, who'd been drinking since 5pm. So, evening up the score, I downed about 3 pints very, very quickly. I carried on drinking most of the night, up until half 1. Which is amazing, because usually I either just die on my arse at one, or run out of money.

    So anyway, onto this incident. Basically, about half 12, these two birds were dancing pretty close to us (no, not the ones from last week, thank god), and one inparticular was moving in my general direction. Hell, she wasn't bad looking. Not totally stunning, but beggars can't be choosers, can they?

    And here she is! My Sha-"I've got an electric dynamo surgically implanted into my pelvis"-kira
    I had already broken FHM's two commandments of clubland etiquette:-
    1. Thou shalt not sing along to the songs (broken when that cover of "I'm all outta love" came on)
    2. Thou shalt not raise fists above shoulders (broken when Shakira came on, and I did a Shakira impression that only an overweight Welshman can do)
    So, not only was I off to clubbing hell (also known as Rhyl), but I wasn't going to pull now, would I? Well, I put up a fight. Kinda.

    After seemingly about half hour of dancing, and my mates (well, some of them) were egging me on, although I think it was more for their own entertainment, than for mine, I decided to take my chances.

    Needless to say, and unfortunately for me, she did a butt thrust that would make Rikishi proud, which remove my hand from her hip, and did one.

    Am I dissappointed? Yeah. Well, kinda. Despite this let down, I did have a pretty decent night. I stayed the distance, and was pretty happy all night.

    I'm feeling it at the moment though (the alcohol, that is). So, that's the basic jist of last night. More amusing tales to follow, including the fact that dispite being a proud Welshman, I am a disgrace to my country.

    Keep the faith


    Thursday, July 03, 2003

    Didn't We Have A Lovely Day The Day We Went To Bangor
    As you may be able to tell from the title, I went to Bangor today. Fears of being set upon by the locals were quickly eliminated as I was welcomed (with ease) into the city. Bliss.

    Milene Domingues is the world Keepie Uppie Champion. Probably would own on this PS2 game
    One of the coolest things to happen today was I saw in Dixons an Eyetoy. Basically, it's a camera that plugs into the back of your PS2 that, when linked with certain games, you can control said game using your body. As today was the first day of release, you got to test the blighter in Dixons. You could "ask" for a demonstration. But really, you could of played said game in Dixons without setting the alarm off, as you didn't have to touch anything. You stood there.

    Anyway, myself, not being adverse to looking like a tit, tried the game 'Keepie Uppie'. In it, you had to keep a ball in the air for as long as possible using your body. As my mates would know, I can keep a ball in the air for all of about 3 seconds, before either dropping it, or booting it in a technique from The "'ave it!" School of No Nonsense Football. However, this was far too easy, like keeping a baloon in the air for as long as possible. Eventually, showing about as much grace as a 15 stone man can be moving, I gave up, when a large crowd formed.

    There were other games, but they were all pretty standard stuff. The kinda stuff that you get with lightguns, that sort of crap. If they make a Tekken or a Police 24/7 variant for it, then I may consider buying it (hell, I love faddy controllers. I have 2 dancemats, for Christ sakes!).

    Henman's out - Simpsons fans rejoice.
    For all you who don't know, Tim Henman dropped out of Wimbeldon in his usual Wimpy fashion. Now, I love most sports, but (apart from the female game, for obvious reasons) tennis is one sport I cannot get into. I bloody hate it. I try and like it, but cannot. Why? Well, maybe it seems like such a middle class sport? No. Maybe I hate John MacEnroe? No. Maybe because for two weeks every July The Simpsons is cancelled? Yes.

    For those of you who are foreign and are lucky enough not to experience "Henmania", let me enlighten you. Tim Henman, nice bloke, is British Tennis' greatest hope of winning anything for ages, and unlike British/Canadian Greg Rudeski, he's as Blighty as Boddingtons Bitter. Anyway, for two weeks of the year, during Wimbledon, the whole country clambers onto poor Timothy's shoulders, wanting him to win. Why? Because we created tennis, then didn't invest enough in the sport, so only very few people are actually good enough to play in a National Championship, let alone Wimbledon. Face it, we're shit at Tennis. Henman's not a world class player. He's an excellent player, but compared to Hewitts and Agassi's of the world, he is not in their league. Sure, he does play well at Wimbledon, but it's false to think that he'll ever win it.

    Oooh, that was rather bitchy, wasn't it?

    Oh well, roll on September, when the football season kicks off again. Or, at least Monday, when Simpsons, Fresh Prince, Buffy, Malcolm in The Middle, and other quality American TV (and the shite Robot Wars) is back on the beeb.

    Keep the Faith


    Expliquez S'il Vous Plait
    As some of you may already be aware, last night I posted random drunkeness comments on people's messageboards or comments et al, before riding off into the drink-affected sunset. Wondering? Nah, didn't think you would. Nevertheless, here what happened:-

    Last night, instead of getting an early night for a hell of a day in work (not really want to talk about it, as it just was long, rather than interesting, although sometimes I wish I come in with a t-shirt saying "I Don't Care" written on the front), I got pissed with a bunch of friends in Weathers Colwyn Bay. Well, maybe pissed isn't the right word. Merry is probably more accurate. I also learned quite possibly the best drinking game ever: Snoop (I think).

    Drink looking boring? Then play this game! If still boring, see a psychiatrist.
    Players: More than 1.
    Drink: Lager is your friend here. Or suitable altenative (Bitter, Guiness, Stout). Any thing that can be poured as a pint.
    Premise: This is the basic rules, you can expand with stupid addons, but they confused us in the end, so here's the general jist:

    You go around the table by saying "1...2..." then a number. The number has to be a multiple of 5 but no more than the maximum number of people on the table multiplied by 5 (ie. if there's 6 of you, no more than 30). On the shouting of said number, you either hold your hand in a fist or showing all 5 fingers. Everybody else when the number is called does the same. You then go around the table counting the total number of fingers held out (not fists). If there is an equal number of fingers as the number you called you go out. The last one in downs a pint.

    What a brilliant drinking game, one of the best. As, unlike drink while you think, you're not drinking constantly.

    So, I got nicely toasted. Big deal. I wasn't too bad for work. Sure, little miserable, but that's due to the customers complaining. So technically not my own doing. Anyway, we finished work eventually, and I thought, I could walk home. But it's up a steep hill. So guess what I did? I feigned an ankle injury and got my dad to take me home. Yes, I can't drive. Yes, I'm lazy. But yes, it made my day just a bit better.

    Tomorrow I'm going to Bang Her. Sorry, Bangor, North Wales (just incase you get confused between the one in Ireland, and the one in Maine. God my Geography's sweet). For those of you who don't know their history, Bangor was my second choice for university, behind Liverpool as it's near and not half bad. Nevertheless, the fact that I snubbed them, and I half rip one of their students (who I work with) for going there and dispise the football club means that I probably be met with torches and pitchforks as we pass Penrhyn Castle.

    Well, not really, but I'd like to think so. I want to be notorious for once.

    Keep the faith


    Incidentally, did you know that Bangor was one of the first cities in the world to have a webcam over it? Yeah, in 1995 it installed what was known as a "Bang-Cam". After that sorta hinted at something pornographic a few years, the name was changed"The Camera over Bangor".

    Wednesday, July 02, 2003

    Spam, Spam, Baked Beans and Spam. And the Spam's off
    Today I got my first ever piece of junk mail. No, I'm not talking about the ones we all get asking us for a bank details for a share of a large amount of money or those selling pills to increase yer todger. The one's you get through the mail. Guess what it was?

    Bit blurred, but you get the jist.

    Yep, I got my first AOL CD, heavily promoting AOL 8. Just to prove that it was for me, look below:-

    Address removed to stop Roland firebombing my house.

    This got me thinking. Usually, post for me is pretty good. I don't pay no bills, and therefore post is either bank statements (bad) or stuff from Play (good). Now, I know that big faceless corporation have got my non-termtime details, so what's next? Betterware catalogues? "Shopper Surveys"? God, I feel so common.

    Hell, I probably brought it on myself. I do fill in those shopper surveys my dad gets. Often with stupid answers. No reason, just hoping to get a kick out of seeing "Sir Rhys Wynne" on the address.

    Anyway, I don't know what to do with my new AOL CD. A mate of mine had all sorts of wierd and wonderfully destructive ways of abusing said CD's (including, shock horror, installing the actual software!), but I have none. Any suggestions?

    Tonight I will explain my actions of the numerous drunken comments on the blogosphere.

    Keep the faith


    Tuesday, July 01, 2003

    You Dirty Dirty Dog
    Again, another one of those quizzy thingies, brought by you know who.

    What rating is your journal?

    brought to you by Quizilla

    Strongly Cautioned. Some material in your journal may be inappropriate to younger or close-minded people. This signifies that your journal is probobly inappropriate for pre-teens. people should be especially careful about adding you because they could possibly be offended. Rough or persistent violent talk is absent; sexually-oriented nudity is generally absent; some talk of drug use may be present from time to time in your journal; You may find a fair amount of sex talk here.

    By the way, I classed alcohol as a drug (which it is). In any rate: sex talk? Me? God, nobody would want that. Okay, I may make jokes about 'Golden Showers' (read the messageboard) and the occasional woman in a bikini. But I'm no Agony Aunt. I cannot solve sex problems, nor discuss it in a sensible manner. Hell, even if you mention "Blue Tits" (the birds, or the lesser known female genetic disorder) I'd be rolling about on the floor with laughter.

    Moral of the story? I talk to me about WWE, Computer Games, Drink, Glastonbury or which one of Scrubs could probably make the best doctor, and I'm fine. I hope you'll find me interesting. However, soon as the conversation turns a little blue, then expect me to be rolling about on the floor in fits of laughter.

    In Other News
    While I recieve e-mail after e-mail saying "Rhys! You ended up talking about sex, by not talking about sex.", in regards to the above paragraph, I'll mention what I've been doing for the past few days: sweet fuck all. My shoulder has been really bothering me the past few days. Probably pulled a muscle in it. Anyway, I'm gagging for some deep heat.

    Also, my dentist appointment was cancelled, so I had a nice lie in this morning.

    For those of you who don't want to know the winner, look away now...Bugger
    I also bought the 2001 Royal Rumble on DVD. I'm a sucker for Rumbles, I love 'em. Even if I don't watch any wrestling for the whole year, I will always ALWAYS watch the Rumble. 2001 was a goodun (not the best, but pretty smart), and I honestly didn't know who was going to win (some years it's pretty obvious, whereas with about 3 or 4 legitimate winners, and 1 more looking strong in the match), so it was no a dissappointment when the winner was announced.

    Right, enough on wrestling.

    I was half thinking about getting Tekken Tag Tounament for the PS2 as well. My brother got rid of his copy of Tekken 4 a few weeks back, and I was a little gutted. Nevertheless, 3T is probably better, as T4 introduced a whole lot of new ideas, some of which didn't settle too well with me. Instead I bought the Rumble.

    Sorry, this post is boring all of you, I cannot think of anything interesting to say at the moment. Bit drained. I'm sort of, as it's the fashion at the mo, thinking of modifying the site's design. Not a full on change, yet, as I cannot be arsed. To be honest, being motivated to even change one link on the sidebar is proving too much hassle. I really cannot be arsed changing it. I know it needs to be done, in my eyes, but I don't want to do it. No biggie mind. Just me being incredibly lazy. Far too lazy for my own good.

    Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible, when I go back to work tomorrow. In the mean time, check out the new Stong Wonnore email. Neverending sodaaahh ohhaaahh ohhhahhh ohaaahhh. Comedy genius.

    Keep the faith


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