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.

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Member of the New World Whore-der in the Liverpool University Ten Pin Bowling Club.

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Monday, June 28, 2004

Two Down, One To Go
I can probably officially say I've finished my second year at University now (62.6% average, get in!), so I guess I should just give my thoughts. Hell, I'm a 2004 Bloggie Award Nominee, I should give my thoughts!

Get in!
Well, this year I was worried, as I went into the year pretty much blind, having to stand on my own to feet like some fat, Welsh Bambi. Boy, have I done well. Beginning of this year I lived in an area of town with nobody I knew, a fairly good average, and a prospect of returning to the Welsh Mountain Zoo. Nine months later I'm a member of the bowling club, made lots of new friends, a slightly worse but still decent average, and working 9-5:30 days doing something I actually want to do. Yes, life is fine.

I have pulled more times this year than any year before, and whilst not dating anybody, I am relatively happy. Sure, I'd be lying if I said it didn't bother me slightly that nobody I know has ever thought "Y'know that Rhys, I wouldn't mind going out with him, he's lovely.", but I don't let it rule my life.

One thing I always say about anybody who asks me "What's University like?", I say "It's not what you expect it to be, but it's better.". Sure, when I first thought about going to uni, I thought I was going to get laid every night, get on with everybody, everybody will have a decent taste in music, and roll out of bed at midday every day. Two years on I'm still a virgin, I've had my share of arguements (read: first 3 months of university), I've seen blokes proudly state that they love Blue and I've been up early most days. As a mate of mine said last year "Didn't you think that when you came to university, it'd be sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll? Instead you got beer, bookies and watching top gear?". When I recieved my Athletic Union Club Colours for Ten Pin Bowling this year I had a realisation: anything can happen in University.

Which makes my predictions for next year a bit crap. Y'see, I have no idea what's going to happen in the next twelve months. If you had said to me twelve months ago "this is where you're going to be now", I would of kicked you in the nuts and called you a liar. If you were a woman and said to me twelve months ago "this is where you're going to be now" I probably would of got a surgeon to graft on a pair of bollocks so I could kick you in them. I really have no idea what I will be like in 12 months time. Married? Tee Total? Lesbian? (okay, may be not the last one, and the other two seem a little far fetched). All I know, is that it should be fun finding out!

Keep the faith.


Friday, June 25, 2004

Oh How We Laughed

You're going home, you're going. England's going home.

At the risk of being bottled, may I just say that I am pleased to see England go out of the tournament. Not for the football mind, but as a 'principality' (which I think is bollocks, we're a country!), we don't have to suffer the following for at least another two years:-

A real boy wonder.
  • Deluded Englishmen saying that "This is Our Year" Bullshit. Sorry, but you're not as good as you think you are. Us Welsh and Scots know we're crap, but we don't care. It makes victories all the sweeter.
  • Car Flags.
  • Vindaloo.
  • Being told a million times what "the star means"....
  • All those women who pretend to like football.
  • All those men who pretend to like football.
  • Comparisons between them and 1966.
  • Hell, just 1966 in general.
  • How, come the inevitable departure from the tournament, how everybody is to blame, except for themselves.
  • Now, this post may be constituted as being a bit harsh, hell, I was sort of neutral, going for England (on the account I had a free £5 bet, and was going to put it on a quarter final exit for England. Instead, I put it on a 2-1 victory for England against France. Yes, even I can be deluded at times.), but I don't care.

    Looking forward to 2006 World cup (which, as you English fans have told me, "is exactly 40 years since 66....IT'S AN OMEN!!" bollocks), with England and Wales in the same group. England vs. Wales: a team that cannot hold onto a lead against a team that cannot make a comback. A team that can make comebacks against one that has never lost a game when they take the lead in the past 10 years. The irristable force against an immovable object. I cannot wait.

    Keep the faith.


    PS. Incidentally, if you are one of those English types who have to blame somebody (except, of course, yourself), you may like to visit the referee, Urs Meier's website. You may spam at will.

    Tuesday, June 22, 2004

    Workin' 9 to 5
    I'm afraid that my life hasn't changed much recently, it's pretty much "as you were" since the last update. One thing that has occurred is a mate's (not going to mention his name, but it's an anagram of Stewart) birthday, and England vs. Croatia.

    Not going to delve into too much detail of mate-who's-name-is-an-anagram-of-Stewart's birthday party, but I got very drunk. Unfortunately, not in the first place I went to - Bar Havanah, which is the posh, non studenty area of Liverpool. You see, they seem to adopt a "no trainer" policy which - pardon my French = is utter bollocks. I understand most things: nuclear physics, particle motion, why I am still unlaid at 20 years of age, but for the life of me I cannot understand why a club would adopt a no-trainer policy: arguably the most popular shoe in Liverpool. Okay, I understand it in Llandudno - one club, so they can choose who gets in and who doesn't, but Liverpool, where - on a saturday night - the already small population is split amongst a number of clubs. Sure, Bar Havanah would let in drug dealers, pimps and god knows what else no problem, but heaven forbid a bloke walk in wearing trainers.

    Incidentally, the troops we're rallied and headed off to Walkabout.

    Nice to see that Mr. Beckham and Mr. Rooney have resorted to their own way of bypassing Sven's ban on sex before big games.
    Which is funny, as Walkabout was where we ended up to watch the footy, despite the usual crap of "Are you Wales in disguise?" during England pressure play, I had a good laugh, and the atmosphere was great. However, I'm still not convinced with England, and to show this, I will use a scene from the Motion hit picture - "The Matrix".

    On one hand, you are shitty England, passionless against weak sides, and prone to letting in soft goals. You're back four have more holes in it than a Hollyoaks plot about Swiss Cheese. This side would lose to Wales in the World Cup Qualifiers, by a considerable margin, and would make a certain blogger very, very happy, and would cause him to ring around all his mates to say "you fucking losers!".

    On the other hand, you are strong England, you have a strong forward who cannot seem to stop scoring goals, and....errr....not really much else. But this forward is the best player in the tournament so far.

    If you wear the white shirt, you will become the latter team, with all chance of going all the way, with your supporters having upto 25 carflags on their Fiat Panda. If you chose the stupid red shirt with the white crosses on the shoulder, you will forever only have one star on your shirt, indicating the only tournament you've ever won - almost 40 years ago.

    And so on. Tonight, England played great. However, they are not the best, and still bottle it against weak sides.

    Anyway, better go and get some kip, got work in the morning, and I've drunk a fair whack. Bugger eh?

    Keep the faith.


    Saturday, June 19, 2004

    A Hard Days Night....
    It's been a busy week for everybody's favourite Welshie, so that explains the lack of updates. Here's what has been "goin' down".

    Who ate all the pies?
    Monday I started my job and am beginning to enjoy it. Okay, to quote a Boomtown Rats song "I don't like Mondays", plus three weeks of arsing around followed by a days work doesn't put you in a great routine, but I think I've settled well and working well.

    As well as this, I've been watching the fotty loads. I did finish work early for the Swiss/England game, and I was so dissappointed. Sure, I'm a staunch Welshman, and therefore hate the FA, but still I wanted to see a good game, and I didn't. What's funny is that the English now seem to think "woah! 3-0! We played excellently!". Bollocks you did. Ah well, enough ranting. Euro fever has grabbed me by the testicles as I have bought the new Wales shirt online.

    Yesterday was fun however, I went out on a bit of a gambling binge using all the change I spent the day collecting. We were doing okay up until the Irish pub, then we played the Van Helsig machine and took fifty quid out of it. Result!

    Anyway, that's all I gotta say for now, I know this entry has been shite, but I have been busy. I'll find some time to update soon.

    Keep the faith.


    Monday, June 14, 2004

    Sir Winston Churchill, can you hear me.....

    Okay, let's get one thing straight. I was a neutral, I couldn't care less about the result. I applauded good England play, and booed the French at times. I chanted with the English fans (but that was to avoid getting bottled after the game so I'm not a traitor). However, it was brilliant to see the arrogent fuckers brought down a notch :).

    Keep the faith.


    Friday, June 11, 2004

    Back Home, We'll Be Thinking About You, When We Are On Our Way
    Tomorrow, Euro 2004 begins, and although Wales failed to qualify (thanks to some cheating Rushkies), I should enjoy it. Why? Not only that Fantasy Football has returned, and I have around a tenner placed on various matches, but also due to that I love international football over the Premiership. It just feels more real: no money, to season ticket plans, no Malaysian Businessmen, just people saying around the world "these eleven men are the best we have to offer, so come on world.".

    It starts tomorrow!
    Admittedly, Wales has been on the losing end for most of the years, but even so, I have huge national pride, and even though we are not there, I'm proud of our country's achievements, and I'm looking foreward to a few weeks of quality football.

    That, and also the fact I will be drinking huge amounts of alcohol during the tournament.

    Jake The Peg...
    I watched a fairly interesting program last night: Human Mutants. Okay, my curiosity for the maccarb got the better than me, so I watched and (in a guilty way) enjoyed it. It was all about - suprise suprise - mutants. Unfortunately, it wasn't cool X-Men stylee mutants, but things like Mermaid Syndrome (where they were born with the two legs fused together into one) and conjoined twins. None of which proved to be useful. However, one which I could see as a use was this guy who was born with two fully working willies (he also had an extra leg, but was not fully formed).

    It was - the program said - caused by a Sonic Hedgehog (yes, named after the computer game) acid, which if there is two much, extra limbs grow, and too little cause stunted growth. Anyway, depending on the location of the extra Sonic Hegdehog in the embryo, depends on what extra item is grown. It was lucky for him that it was where penises grew.

    Could you imagine that though? It would be ace, you could take up two urinals in the bogs, freaking people out. But can you imagine how he told his mates?

    "Alright mates, just want to tell you something."
    "I have three legs."
    "No way."
    "Yeah. And two penises."
    "Yep, four of them."
    Still, I suppose it's ultimate bragging rights.

    Dribs and Drabs
    As it Euro 2004 for the next few weeks, and that I start my new job on Monday, it will probably mean that my life will not be as exciting as it usually is. Therefore, whilst there should still be entries, they will probably be weekend ones, either way, I'll keep you posted on what I'm planning to do. One thing's for sure, even if I only update once a week for a few weeks, I will not shut this site down.

    Keep the faith.


    Wednesday, June 09, 2004

    The Good, the bad and the ugly
    At the risk of soundling like every other blog on the planet, today has been boring. However, what separates this site from the rest (despite the fact that the blogger on this site is the world's most handsome man) is that whilst today has been pretty much boring, there has been a good thing, a bad thing, and an ugly thing. In no particular order, I'll talk about it. It's bitty yes, but I've got far more important things to do:-

    So that's where Enique Englasias' mole went.
    The Interesting Thing
    I've never been so obsessed with a black dot before. Unless you live underground, or on the West Coast of the US (sorry Cyn) you would know what I'm talking about. For my Pacific North West Readers, I'm talking about the Transit of Venus, which involved Venus moving across the sun, causing a black dot. Despite it not being as impressive as the totally (no pun intended) ace Total Eclipse in 1999, it was still pretty cool. Can't really describe it. Sure, I'm a bit of a closet geek, and I'm easily pleased, but seeing something that I'll never see again is impressive. It's only ever happened once before in my life, and that was in 1990, when Liverpool last won the league.

    Ba dum tish!

    The Bad Thing
    Okay, today (out of curiousity, honest) I watched Big Brother. I say it every year, but I'm not interested.

    However, I probably will get hooked. So, in the unfortunate event that I do, then you have it on record that I find this year boring.

    The Ugly Thing
    The Bowling Club have become (at least in part) obsessed with Ganguro Girl 1.5(not safe for work)! Basically, it's all the hassle of a relationship, without the fun of getting drunk and making out! Needless to say, with the amount of testosterone that's oozing from the club, all the lads (and, disturbingly, some of the girls) have had to prove themselves on their pulling abilities. Myself being one of them.

    Oh dear.

    You see, you can add to the list I posted a few days ago: "totally inept at pulling". I'm shite, seriously. I cannot even pull in a computer game! First time I played I made it through 100 days without getting so much as a tap on the shoulder. Second time I did better, but I only managed to get laid after I spent a cool $70,000. Seventy grand! Even when I was cyber-shagging, the cyber-missus said I wasn't "charming enough".

    Story of my life.

    Okay, I actually had a hell of a lot more to write, but right now I cannot be arsed. I'm going for some kip.

    Keep the faith


    Monday, June 07, 2004

    Flying at half mast
    Certain things really get my goat. A troll, for one. But - apart from that - I'm proud that unlike many people my age, I don't need to prove myself by having scraps every Friday and Saturday night. Nothing, not even a very annoying person, angers me.

    However, one thing that is around in the UK that is beginning to piss me off, and that is those arsing car flags.

    English Car Flags, probably would devalue a Bentley
    How unbelievably sickly patriotic that every three cars you see, I'll bet your arse you'll see two flags. I'm all for being proud of your country, but there's being proud, and being tacky. Those car flags fall into the tacky. Only white van men and people from the scally end of Rock Ferry would even consider them for the world cup. Now? Everybody's got them. Grannies, mothers, people who haven't a clue with football, the Welsh.

    Yes, even in Wales, a country who unfortunately didn't make it to Euro 2004 thanks to cheating bastard Russians, have cars with English flags on them. Now, I'm not saying that there aren't any English people in Wales, but I am saying that 90% of the population are England fans. Wonder what it'd be like if the Welsh made it. Would there be more Welsh flags on cars? Sorry to stick my head out, but no. There would be Welsh flags, but nowhere near as many as the England flags.

    Hell, I'm going to show my hypocritical nature by saying that if Wales qualify for a major final, and if I have a car, then yeah, I'll put a Welsh flag on it. However, it'd only be for the duration of the tournament. Sure, I'm proud of my country, but there comes a limit. Proudly placing upon my automobile an item an item that says "Oh, guess what! I spent three weeks collecting tokens from the Sun to get this, therefore I am ace" is beyond it. They are like those three ducks you put on your wall, those garden knomes that are taking a leak and those, and those kiss me quick hats. It's tackiness than can only exist in Blackpool, and maybe possibly Scarborough.

    Right, I'm off to buy a tub of black paint, and a tub of yellow paint, and paint a black stripe and a yellow stripe on all the England car flags I find, so that they appear as German flags, thus creating a civil war of England fans against England fans, which will result in a lot of broken headlights.

    That'll teach the smug buggers.

    Keep the faith.


    |UPDATE| Apparently they are now banned in some areas of the country. There is a god! And he's Welsh

    Saturday, June 05, 2004

    The Birds and The Bees
    I was out with friends of friends on Wednesday night, and what better way to get acquainted than playing drinking games. One of them that crops up (and, for purposes of me being a lazy bastard, the one we played on Wednesday night, as the one that we did play was fucking complicated for the amount I involved a deck of cards - but in essence was the same game) in the bowling circles is "I have never". Basically, it involves saying "I have never" to something, then getting people to drink if they have. For example, if someone says "I have never been to a football match" and you have, you drink. Simple. Of course, the questions are usually a hell of a lot more sexual in nature. If there is a period of me drinking a lot (due to people knowing about my....ahem....tastes, kidding!) I've always got a trump card. I played that same question every single time, just to hit back at....well....everybody, and I played it on Wednesday.

    "I have never had sex."

    Clone, robot, or long lost twin? Taking all bets! I also offer video poker!*
    Sure enough, everybody on the table drank. I felt kinda good about myself, probably because I hit jackpot on the fruit machine a few minutes before that, but nonetheless, I felt good. However, one of the group took me to one side, and had a word:-
    "You know, you're supposed to do things you've never done."
    "I know."
    "You said you haven't have sex."
    "I haven't."
    That's one reaction I'm used to getting. Okay, it's not usually as blunt as that, but some people think that being a virgin at 20 seems to be...I dunno...a foreign concept. I suppose it is in a way, after all, this fair land has the highest teen pregnancy rate in the western world, and one in ten teenagers have carried (or are carrying) an STD. I am in the minority, but - to quote greenday - do I wanna be in the minority?

    Ho, Ha, Hum. Difficult question. Up until about 2 months ago (or my twentieth), I would of said no - hence the pulling spree ( my standards) coming up to my double decade. However, since then I've sort of been kind of contended. Sure, I said to my work colleagues I had left the V-Club, but that was to get them off my back (which, in hindsight, seemed to be a bad move. The hormonal work mates then wanted to know everything, facts that I didn't want to divulge because, well, I didn't know them myself), when I did - I felt guilt. No, not guilt that I lied, but I wanted to be something I wasn't.

    I'm not going to say "Oh, I'm too ugly to get laid", nor am I going to say "I've had offers, but turned them down.". The truth lies somewhere in the middle. The reason I don't believe I've gotten laid is, I just can't be arsed. If women come upto me and talk to me, then fine. But I just can't be bothered going upto them and trying to start something from nothing. It just seems like far too much grief than it's worth (trust me, I've seen it in a lot of people: they become obsessed with it). If it don't come looking for me, fine. If it does, it does. That's fine. However, I'm not going to beat myself up (no pun intended) about it, as I'm enjoying my freedom. I've done things in the last two years that I've never done before (including bowl a 150 game), I've got a great group of friends dotted about everywhere, and I've got a job set up that I can look forward to going to. Ask any married man what they'd like. No doubt they would say Carmen Electra the freedom that they can go to the pub whenever they want, with whoever they want.

    Sure, if a certain attractive young lady with a nice car personality takes a fancy in a certain Hunka-Hunka-Burnin-Welshman, then I'm not going to say no. But, at the moment, I'll keep playing that trump card in drinking games, and also enjoying my sexual freedom.

    The freedom to not be forced into doing something sexual, that is.

    Keep the faith


    *Unrelated I know, but it's my favourite quote of the week. A cyber hug if you know where it came from.

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    This site is (C) Rhys Wynne 2002. All copyrights are registered trademarks of their respective owners. I cannot be responsible for any of my software not working on anybody else's computer, and any actions carried out by third parties as a result of anything read on this site. Everything written on this blog is true. However, all these events are recalled from memory, and some of the events may have been altered by my mind or alcohol. So some experiences (usually the ones involving drink) are exaggerated.

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