I'm in the Sky Tonight, There I can Keep By Your Side, Watching the Wide Whole Riot And Hiding Out, I'll Be Coming Home Next Year So, the review of 2003 will probably come mid 2005. Ah well, your loss. Happy new year everybody! Keep the faith Rhys
Hello! Usually this time of year I provide a year in review thingy whereby I look back over the last twelve months and decide whether they've been stunning or not. However, the following things have happened, or going to happen, which sort of throw a spanner in the works:-
So, the review of 2003 will probably come mid 2005. Ah well, your loss.
Happy new year everybody!
Keep the faith
Said Lilac T-Shirt. Although it looks better on me (as I have sleeves)
Now - like any woman who watches wrestling - I'm a big Hardy Boyz fan. So, you could probably take a dog crap, wrap it up in a WWE: Matt Hardy license, and I'd probably still buy it. So, seeing tons of Matt Hardy T-shirts in the crowd made something trigger in my brain "hmm, that's pretty cool.". The second I got home I placed an order for that very T-shirt. "I'm going to look spiffing!" I thought to myself.
Christmas morning came around, and - with the excitement of seeing the WWE died down - my limited fashion sense has kicked in.
"Christ on a bike this T-shirt's lilac!"
Now, despite all this, I've worn it around the house for a few days. May break it in gently on a night out, you know? Start with around the house, then outside under a jumper, then to a 'sleepover', then it will move into my 'regular' pile.
Of course, I've got that 'weining in' a hell of a lot quicker by posting a picture with it on posting a picture with it the internet. Why? Because it says to the world "My name is Rhys Wynne, and I'm so comfortable with my masculinity that I can wear a Lilac T-shirt". However, the fact that I'm wearing a ridiculous hat sort of takes away from the effect.
Oh well. I still think I'm cool.
Keep the faith
What the hell do you think this is. Mastermind?
Okay, I've nicked this from Cyn. Half is a good score (as half my questions will be for my website readers, half are for my mates).
An Alternative, Alternative Christmas Message
Hello possums! As the Queen's was boring, the Wife Swap one on Channel 4 was boring, and I didn't catch MTV's one, I've thought "Hell, if some random bird can do a Christmas Message wearing something silly on her head, then by god so can I.".
Merry Christmas from Rhys, with his new Lilac top!!
loyal subjects, potential drinking buddies, hear ye, hear ye. Christmas - like those who only shag on New Years Eve - comes but once a year. It's a time where every child lights up with the mention of "Santa Claus", every mother's credit card maxes out, and every father collapses in front of the Ghostbusters repeat after a big turkey dinner, and falls asleep. But, at this festive time of year, it's important to remember those who are far less fortunate than us.
There is a group of people especially who's effort goes unnoticed at Christmas. These people happily give up days at this festive season to work for your benefit. These people will take the last remaining slithers of turkey and Ferrero Rochiers when the rest of the family are finished with it, even if it's weeks, nay, months out of date. For these people, "leftovers" isn't a word (but "hangover" is, unfortunately) These people work hard all year so that the future can be safe and secure, and never get a thanks. Instead, they get called "Tax Dodgers", "Mooching Bastards", and "Smart Arses".
These people are students.
These good hearted people will be our future doctors, dentists and (if you study "Cultural Signifigence of Art") shelf stackers. Money is tight, and they are getting lumbered with so much debt that the thought of buying their families and friends Christmas presents on money which could go on their weekly shop pains them, so they give up their Christmas so you can have yours, scraping together enough money to provide a thoughtful gift for their mother.
So next time you see a student out, mine's a pint of Guiness.
Keep the faith.
The Blogging Capital of the World.
Rhys Wynne invited his blogging buddies,
To a party for boys and girls.
Arrived first was Roland,
"Hello", said I.
"I brought vodka!" Said Roland,
"Now where's my young Jedi?"
"Over there..." Said Rhysie,
Pointing at Britt
"Rhys, where's the Guiness?" She questioned,
"Roland's Dubai vodka tastes of shit!"
Next to arrive was Cyn,
The party girls to have a ball.
She enter through the door? Oh no..
She Cynja Chopped the wall!
Next to arrive was Max,
One of Guardian winners in 2003.
"Wayhey!" Said he, "Liverpool for Premiership..."
"And the Milkybars are on me!"
"No way!" Said Rhys.
"Manchester United's the winners, see?"
"Arsenal, you arses!" Came a voice, lo and behold
It was Scary-duck-kee.
Liz arrived on the scene,
Wearing some of her fabulous jewelry/
Bracelets, necklaces and earings all present
With an eye-patch made out of a pastie.
Lauren came next, on Elvis
Alas, not was what it seems.
Lauren and Elvis were wearing ice skates.
It wasn't quite Torvill and Dean.
"Blaady 'ell" said Adam,
"It's like a blaady gale!"
"I would start with pommy crap,"
"But your from blaady Wales!"
And so Midnight hits, Christmas is here
And Santa appears in sight.
He gives out presents to all,
And pops upstairs for a shite.
"I would stay longer." Says Santa.
"But you can all understand my plight.
"So have a bloody good Chrimbo."
"And to all, an arsing good night!"
Merry Christmas to all my readers.
Keep the faith
Injury of the Week
Dunno whether I mentioned this over the past few days (don't think I did, but I cannot be arsed checking), I played football for the first time in ages on Tuesday. More accustomed to watching the beautiful game than playing, I'm not a great football player. Nevertheless, I showed passion on that indoor pitch not seen since those two students broke into the sports centre after a night out. Unfortunately, my football skill was not upto much, and after going in weakly in a tackle, I fell awkwardly. And after about 2 minutes of lying flat on my back, in agony, I hobbled off the pitch. I had twisted an ankle, and pulled a ligament in my foot. For 24 hours walking was difficult, and it was throbbing intensely (my ankle). Okay, it wasn't upto David Buust unfortunate injury against Manchester United (those of a weak stomach may not like to click that link), but I was in so much agony it was unbelievable. I can take external pain okay (I've had a few beatings), but anything internal (toothache, pulled muscle) and I scream and winge like a crybaby.
My playing partners at the time thought I was faking it (or maybe that was my meta-perspective thinking at the time - YES!!! Sorry, one of my mates o bet me that I couldn't use the word meta-perspective in my blog), and so they didn't rush to help me. In order to show the agony I was in, I posted a picture to the messageboard of a few days later, where I could physically get into a position whereby I could use a camera to take a picture of my foot, to show I wasn't doing a cheap prostitute (ie faking it).
And guess what I'm going to show you now.
Yes, in it's purple heavily painful glory, here is my foot! Show some damn sympathy!
I'm going to submit it to "Injury of the Month" in FHM, although I really don't think gangrenous penises, clubbed feet, and anything impaled will have anything to worry about.
Still, I could get £20!
Keep the faith
Please Come Home For Christmas
As hinted from my last post, I am now in Colwyn Bay for the duration of my Christmas holidays. Whilst the past 24 hours since returning haven't been the best (couple of family problems I don't really want to delve into), I'm sorta managing. Maybe last night was the first night I hadn't gone out in any way, shape or form for 9 days. Either that or that I'm beginning to miss the university life.
Aye, tis true, nobody cooks like your mother. Of course, if your mother happens to be Delia Smith, you knew this from about the age of 5, when, going to your mates for tea, you got Fish Cakes and Chips, instead of roasted duck with a creme freche sauce. Of course, I'm not going to slate my mum, she's sound, and is a great cook.
One of the problems I've noticed for being a student is that the quality of food you can afford is awful. I'm a great cook! Well, not really, but I work on Simpson time - bung frozen chips and fish onto a baking tray, switch on oven, watch Simpsons, then serve. But the food itself? Aldi this, Lidl that, Netto t'other. Hell, I've become so much of a skinflint that I try and ask for as many different sauce sachets as possible when in Maccy D's so I can add a bit of flavour to my chips. Of course, I'm naturally like this: Guiness don't come cheap, so any money saved anywhere is good.
At home however? I stuff my face. I'm probably going to put on so much weight over Christmas (though I've lost loads, so no biggie) due to the amount I eat. It's always there though, that's what the great thing about it is. It's kinda like the Sims, when you open the fridge, there's food. You don't know how it got there, just that it's there. Yes, I'm selfish, but my mum don't mind. Plus I've got her something nice for Christmas.
Right, I'm off for a job interview at 4, so I'd better shoot off and get ready. Another fact about home life which is great - hot running water.
Keep the faith
Nothing But The Truth
Occasionally, I must admit, I embelish the truth. Usually when I'm slaughtered or when it'd make good reading, I sometimes add little things to stories that, well, may not of happenned. 100 times out of 100 the stories happen, it's just the odd things - conversations, observations and accommodations - that may not of happened. However, as the following convosation happened literally 10 minutes ago, this scene of events is totally true.
After saying goodbye to my Ten Pin Bowling Buddies last night on the last night out before Crimbo - and the last time I get to see them before early 2004 - I wandered home, a little drunk. Lo and behold I came across an acquaitance (wouldn't go so far as saying a friend) from Computer + Multimedia Systems. We stopped and chatted:-
"Alright mate"Ah balls to that. Still, it'd make good reading. Anybody know if Muslims celebrate Christmas? I'm pretty sure they don't, but just to be sure.
"Alright, how you doing. Aint seen you much this year"
"Nah, I'm fucked for this year!" (Note to Parents: This was him who said that, not me)
"Yeah, not done any work. You pissed?"
"Meh, I've had a few."
"Yeah, well, I've gotta shoot off. Have a good Christmas."
"Errr....yeah, and you to."
The two CMMS people part, to which Rhys realises why the stuttering to the Christmas line.
"Fuck, he's Muslim."
Anyway, said goodbye to almost all of my TPB buddies for Christmas. This semester has probably been the best since I've been in uni, as I've felt I've hit a hell of a balance between work and play, which I'm happy with. Hopefully my exams will go well, and the second semester will be pretty much the same.
The Winner Takes It All
Congratulations especially to regular reader (man, I'm so proud to saying that) Max Munton, who's blog A Teenager Blogs quite literally wiped the floor with the competition in the under-18 Catagories, scooping up the half grand prize.
But he's still a dirty scouse fan.
Incidentally, I did enter myself, to the best design and best written catagories, with the winners going to The Big Smoker and Belle De Jour respecively. Bitter? Me? Nah. I've got an award that nobody else has got. Well, not quite. I was ejected from the Liverpool University Ten Pin Bowling - Sexiest Male Bowler competition because I would of hammered everybody.
Keep the faith
Roll Of The Dice
Last night was our Ten Pin Bowling society's Christmas do. After a few drinks, a lovely meal (I skipped the Turkey, going for a more me Scampi + Chips. I'm not a big fan of turkey, probably stemming from the fact that my dad used to farm them), and about an hours clubbing, we headed off to a casino.
Now, before my mum and dad have a heart attack, don't worry. The drinks were a hell of a lot cheaper than expected, and I ended up spending most of my time in the bar - so much so that I calculated I lost about £2 on the tables, tops.
Oh, and the other good thing that my parents will be pleased to hear - I bloody hate the places.
I guess I was expecting far too much. I was expecting Vegas-esque establishments with shows with white tigers, well turned out individuals, white wine spritzers served at regular intervals and roller coasters. Instead there was a couple of dimly lit tables, with very dodgy looking people poorly turned out gambling away. Almost all were Far Eastern origin (I asked a friend of mine, from Indonesia, whether this is pretty standard. She confirmed it was, saying that whilst drinking and smoking aren't commonplace, gambling is. Looks like Banzai has proved to be educational). To this I got so depressed about it. There were no windows in the building, no complementary drinks (only people taking around the most poofy drink in the world - lemon ice tea. Bleaugh), no white tigers mauling Germans, no nothing. Just a lot of people throwing away money like it was used loo rolls.
Okay, maybe I'm not the best to talk about it. That couple of quid lost was the first gambling I've done in about 3 weeks (that's discounting quiz machines, as those are technically skill), but I've known to do a lot in my time. Not a massive amount of cash lost, just a little here and there. Nevertheless, these places are depressing to be in, so much so that I'm never going to one in this country again (I'd still go to one in Vegas or Monte Carlo, for the simple reason that should that opportunity arise, I'd be well off anyway
So, to the bit that my dad is dying to hear - what did my £2 get lost on? Blackjack. Basically, I've played it on Yahoo, and done okay. Hell, when we had the Easter Ball, I won a bottle of plonk on Blackjack. Of course, now I was in the big leagues now. With 50p stake minimum, I did win a couple of games, but nothing super. Of course, when it's not real money, you take risks, I forgot it was real money. Bah.
Anyway, call me boring, but I find it's more fun when it's not real money.
Keep the faith
If those two birds from "How Clean Is Your House" or, worse, my mum was to see the state of my room, they'd probably have a stroke. I'm a bloke, it's a tip, I'm happy that's it's dirty. I've yet to see people "humourously" write "If only my girlfriend/boyfriend/wife/dog was a dirty as my room" in the dust, but - with little chance of me doing housework - there's still time, right?
Hoovering Sucks.....boom boom
Why did it take forever? Hoovering. I hate hoovering - it once took my an hour and a half once do hoover the carpet in the zoo. I expect the hoover to be the be all and end all of household appliences, a black hole, whereby everything is sucked into the wildly devoid, so no matter the size of the object: forks, straws, salt sachets, children are all I've attempted to get into my hoover (well, except the last one). However much frustration is had whenever a chicken bone doesn't fit, no matter how many attempts at dislodging it are made.
The second thing is that after Mr. Dyson's wonder machine does it's magic, my floor should be perfect, without a single speck of dust on it. I have a hawkeye for dust, and am gutted when - even after a half hour hoover job - it's still present.
The final problem I have is that the hoover we've got in Uni sucks. When I say "suck" I don't mean "sucks in a good way like what hoovers should do", I mean it in the "dude, that sucks" skater way of saying it. It's a pain in the arse. It does the job, but - like a man who is already excited - it takes two or three strokes to do it's. My room is only small, but it's taken me the best part of an hour to clean it. Bah.
Still, today I've learnt a valuable lesson: the second I settle down, get married, and have a house of my own, I'm getting laminate flooring.
Keep the faith
Wow! A Dog With A Ham! This I Gotta See!!
|EDIT| To understand this, I am assuming the British definition of Pasties, which are savoury snacks of meat and potato, wrapped in pastery, not the Yankenite definition of some tasselly undergarment. Thank you.
They're already gettin' enuff! Free bingo an'a pasty pea supper*
Firstly, I was in town, and had a case for the munchies. I made a beeline for Sayers. Now, for those of you unaware, Sayers serves sandwiches, sausage rolls and pasties.
Now, remembering what Liz (who thinks now I'm "sweaty". Don't worry Liz, you're not as bad as my brother, who also screws up words. I make a joke with him that his favourite book is Alice in Sunderland.) had said about pasties making good eyepatches, you just try and stop me sunshine!
So, removing the meat and potato pastie from the wrapper and looking into the glass windows at tescos, I put it up agains my eye. And, it kinda worked.
Only problem? About half a second later, I remembered that pasties are bloody hot. Couple that to my freezing "Middle of December and forgot my fleece" face, and I ended up with a small irritation on my cheek.
And the worst thing? It only says on the packet "Be careful when eating, contents hot.". I'm suing.
Call that a pirate??
That being said, last night it was AU night, and my much promised debut as a pirate. Despite a few minor hiccups (being approached by a hooker asking me if she could polish my cutlass) I was the belle of the ball (albeit the attractive, if slightly overweight, decidely blokey bell). Anyway, couple of things happened of note.
Firstly was the second experiment. Someone on the Ten Pin Bowling Messageboard mentioned that "To be a bloke, you need to go to the loo, pee, flush half way through, and race the flush.". I did this last night for the first time. Bloody good fun, if slightly painful. I lost, although I put in a personal best.
I was on my wandering around the club (Edwards in Liverpool, stunning club) and there was a bird who I saw on more than one occasion that was a spitting image to Britt. Okay, not quite. But you know when you think you see someone, and you know it can't be them, it's quite unnerving in a way. Probably the fact it was dark made it seem more believable. And the large quantity of alcohol sloshing in my stomach also added to it.
Funny who you bump into (in my state last night, almost everybody).
Keep the faith
* Big respect to anybody guess what TV show that line comes from.
You Beauty #2
Some people are born great. Others have greatness thrusted into or onto them, others achieve greatness. Myself? I have no greatness, except for the odd glimour of greatness now and then. When such events occur, I share them on this site, and milk them for all they're worth.
Such an event happened last night.
The night was an unexpected night, whereby after I couldn't be arsed bowling, I bumped into a few mates of mine and they were off to a local. Being a pisshead, I couldn't say no. After a few beers in The Flute, we headed to "Kiss The Red: Passion Lounge". Yes, we headed to a....errr....pool hall.
Despite winning the award for "I never would of guessed it wasn't a strip club", Kiss The Red is actually a pool/snooker hall (geddit? Kiss the Red?), and a stunner at that. Nice tables, solid cues, and balls that provide a nice klink when they hit each other. Plus it's nice and cheap there.
We played doubles, winner-stays-on version of 9 Ball Pool. 9 Ball Pool is so called because if you pot the 9 Ball, you win the game. Simple. Most average person knock 1 through to 8 in, before teeing up a shot on the 9 ball.
But when was I ever average?
Below, loving recreated using graphics from Yahoo Pool, is my winning shot from one of the games: -
Get in there!
Of course, my partner had to arse up the next game. But. Meh.
Back in the Habit
After proudly claiming on my last post that I'd kicked fruit machines into touch, I must now report I'm back on them after last night. Well. Not techinically.
Yes, I gambled last night. Undeniably. However, it wasn't my money. A friend wanted me to play a machine for her, and I did. Did I win her money? A little. Did I get a thank you? Yes. Did I take risks that I wouldn't of took if it was my money? Oh yes.
Christmas Is Coming
Head over to Cyn's site to see her card from me! Okay, it was 99p for 20 from an Esso, but it's the thought that counts, right? Nice to see they come so quick (how many times do you hear that said?). Also, Randi and Lauren got theirs for certain. I'm also offering a transcription service. Anybody who cannot read the card please mail me a copy of the writing, and I'll do my best to read it.
Ahar Me Harties. There's an abuncance of Seamen in these 'ere Parts
Speaking of Lauren, she will undoubtedly be pleased to hear that for my AU Disco tomorrow I'm going as the type of pirate that could give Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom a run for their money. Pictures to follow.
Keep the faith
Sir Winston Churchill....did you see that? Your Boys Are Gonna Take One Helluva Beating!!
I could talk about my last few days (they've been pretty hectic, and I will get onto them later), but first and foremost, Jesus H Christ did you see that today? The footie World Cup was drawn earlier today, and Wales was not only in the same group as Northern Ireland, but also the same group as the English. Balls to the World Cup, if we can stop England qualifying, or just beat them, then I will be a happy happy man. It's handy I've know a few Northern Irish individuals, so that could be interesting as well. All I can say is bring on the bastards!
You're going down, you're going down, you're going....
Every Silver Lining Has A Cloud....
Last couple of days have been a bit hectic. I've finished my CGI Project, and had two nights out. Also, I've been walking on air (not literally) the past few days, as even when bad things happen, they are cancelled out almost immediately by good things happening. Okay, it maybe just me speaking crap, but here's what's happened: -
Bad Thing: I commando rolled over a barrier outside my halls of residence, breaking my skater esque belt in the process...Anyway, I'm currently at home for a few days in a desperate attempt to save money (I'd spend more in Liverpool over a weekend), as Game haven't got back in touch with me, so I don't know if I'll be working over Crimbo or not. Even if they don't, it's not the end of the world, as I'll have at least ?1,600 to last me to Easter (including Christmas and me twentieth).
Good Thing: I had another belt, which is a standard belt, and in the 6 months I've worn it, I've dropped two notches on it! Bad Thing: In attempt to recreate the famous White Stripes video of "I Just Don't Know What To Do With Myself" (the one with Kate Moss pole dancing on it), I pulled a ligament in my knee.
Good Thing: First thing I've pulled in ages! Bad Thing: Manchester United are out of the Carling Cup...
Good Thing: ..so are Liverpool! Bad Thing: I've stopped gambling....
Good Thing: I've...errr....stopped gambling!
Blink And You'll Miss It
Yes I know it's a bit dodgy, but still, my usually about as responsive as Sudocrem to treat heart disease brother thought this was impressive. What am I talking about? That guy completing Super Mario 3 in 11 minutes. Click here to download it.
Keep the faith
When Will I, Will I Be Famous
I was watching this program last night on fame. No, not the film, the...well...thing. Anyway, it's been pretty good that has broken the monotony that Tuesday's are (everybody's hungover on said day, but because I do a proper course not pissin' History of Art or something like that, I cannot go out on Monday. So I kill time by vegetating in front of the internet, and - with the aid of Mr. Picasso Head - I made this). What suprised me was two things, firstly the shallowness of these individuals, and the distinct lack of talent they had.
Sure, it's easy for me to criticise, and that's what I was doing. "I don't think I'd like to be famous." I thought to myself, "Sure, if I'm recognised, that'd be nice.". Then the program spoke:-
"Most people subconciously want to be in some form famous.""Okay." I thought. "This is really me. Right then, I do feel I have something to offer the world, what with my unique personality.". Then the program spoke again:-
"Many people who want to be famous have no real talent."
"Ah balls to you." I thought, as I turned the channel.
Oooh, I'm just like that Yank Bird
For all you UK, full-time, 18-65 year olds who are coughing up taxes to send me through university (and that's including my mum and dad), you may be pleased to see this, sure it's ugly, sure it doesn't work unless you enter 'GH46' in the course field, but by god I made it. It's my baby, and - like Rob is experiencing with his bundle of joy - I think it's the most attractive thing on planet Earth.
I also spent a lecture writing these wonderful, wonderful people Christmas cards, and debating with myself whether my nails are long for a bloke (although, they're not quite the length that I can double as Wolverine as parties).
No advent calender report today, as I cannot be arsed.
Keep the faith.
Our Time Is Running Out
Yankenites, you have until the end of the week (Friday) to get your Christmas Card requests to me. Should I recieve any requests from outside the UK then you may not get it before Crimbo.
How do you get some festive cheer from the world's favourite welshman? Well, E-Mail Me your address.
Anybody who already requested a card (with the exception of A.J., who's request I got today) I have posted. I stood in a queue for half a freaking hour, but they are posted.It'll be Proper bo I tell thee...
After a hard week, I settled down with a few of my new beverage of choice Guiness on Friday night. It was late, so I was knackered. I drunk myself a bit silly on my own, as anybody who talked to me on MSN would know. Still, I wouldn't have to get up in the morning, right?
"RHYS! We're going to York today! Get up!"
Half 6 in the pissing morning, my mum screamed those words out. Still reeking of Guiness, I crawled downstairs and boarded the coach for the journey to York.
So, in light of my recent visit to Yorkshire, here are things that I've noticed about Yorksharians (the people who live there). Max, if you find any of these offensive, I'm sorry: -
So, I heard a lot of "T'pub's chuffin' grand.".
I also have been eating a lot, mainly due to me buying £5 worth of the most gorgeous Jack Daniels flavoured fudge whilst in York. Utter bliss.
Heskey Pissin' Scored. There's hope for us all yet...
As it was a dismal weekend of football (meaning I couldn't sing "You got Hundred Ten Million, and you're still shite, you're Chelski football club" chant to my mate), I've consoled myself with these two funnies. First from Blogfc:-
*Emile Heskey is set for an honorary doctorate from Liverpool University for proving the law of averages once and for all. Play him enough times and he has to score sooner or later.And I read this on a message board:-
*Emile Heskey and Michael Own are set to appear on a special Christmas celebrity version of Ready Steady Cook. Michael Owen brought in some meat, potatoes, gravy granules and herbs. Michael slaved away and made a very nice shepards pie. Emile Heskey brougt in a baby quail only and made the most fantastic roast quail christmas dinner. Ainsley Harriot was impressed, and after the results were announced. Ainsley Harriot went over to speak to Michael.Comedy Genius!
"You were beaten by your strike partner today, how do you feel?"
"To be honest Ainsley, I'm not dissappointed, as I expected Emile to win. After all, he's used to making a meal out of the tiniest fowl."
Action Advent Calender News Report is Back! Read last year's most exciting countdown here, but here is today's report!
(Advent Calendar Report: Bell Shaped chocolate.Next Mars Bar in: 4 Days)Keep the faith