Getting Things Off My Chest, Getting Off My Face
What I said in the wee small hours was incredibly good for me to say. Okay, I think I overreacted quite a bit (only inhaled once, and it really isn't that much of a big deal) but it's nice to know that everybody now knows. Spoke to a bunch of my mates this morning, and they didn't realise for the better part of 4 months I occasionally smoked.
In the clear light of my hungover day, I know what I did was a mistake. My mouth tastes like an ashtray this morning, making everything that I eat taste just horrid. It's not a nice feeling, which is a good thing, as I will not do it again. How I did 4 months of this is totally beyond me.
Thanks for the kind words for all who gave me them. I don't like fishing for complements, as I don't really know how to react when I get them, but last night I did want some sympathy, with mates away, my family asleep, and not really in the league to ring the Samaritans, I turned to my blog. Thanks.
That being said, incident aside, I had a fucking great night. We went to the Aussie bar Walkabout located in town. Saw a bunch of my mates who I haven't seen in a long, long time (it's quite criminal) and a lot has happened to many of them, so just caught up with them and met tons of people I never knew before (like new girlfriends and such), a few mates from back home also came upto Liverpool so I spoke to them in length, exchanged answers on the football quiz (more on that later), cracked Little Britain gags, discussed the latest music (again, more on that later) and generally had a really good time.
Liz Phair. Yes, she's attractive, but she's the business end of the thirties. Get a grip son!
Song of the moment for me is Liz Phair's "Why Can't I?". I sorta discovered it by complete chance when it came onto my Launch station. Since then, I've been whistling away, and disturbed the guy next to me in the Library on Friday when I sang "Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you". I really shouldn't like it, it's phenomonally pop that would have some readers shaking their heads in disgust. The song makes me smile, which is very rare for a song (often only Radiohead songs make me smile, which they really shouldn't). Still, it's my reccommendation, do what you will with it.
Since When Did Daniele Dichio play for Derby?
A mate of mine sent me this file over the weekend, and it's been pissing me off for the past two days. Basically, it's guess the footballer from their transfer history. Despite some atrocious spelling on the part of the maker of it (Jay-Jay Okocha for me doesn't come up on one of the answers, even though I know it's right), it's incredibly good fun to do if you've got a spare minute, and my mates have been discussing it all weekend. The score that I'm on at the moment is 29. The best I've heard is 45. Adam so far is on 3, with my help.
Keep the faith
I Just Don't Know What To Do With Myself
This will probably be the hardest blog entry I'm going to write. I try to keep my innermost feelings hidden behind the old 'went out last night, try to pull' routiene. However, tonight I did something which I really am not proud of.
I took a drag.
Okay, took a drag, puffed a half, whatever way you look at it. I smoked a cigarette.
Half of you are looking now and thinking "what's the big deal?". For those (mainly my non-knowing what I was like before Ten Pin Bowling Readers), let me explain.
For about 3 months last year (October-December 2002), I smoked like a chimney. Approximately 5-10 a day (depending on the day). I kept this really well hidden. Last year's resolution, to co-incide with ex blogger's Katie New year's resolution, I gave up my habit of smoking.
Why did I start? Simple, everybody seemingly in the university did so. I never dragged in public, but when I returned to my room, I smoked like a chimney. Primarily because it relaxed me. This was the time whereby I was in my shitty M block room, before I moved to the mighty F block. After I moved to my F block who were fitness fanatics, I stopped. Simple as that.
I smoked a cigarette on my birthday last year, just to remind myself of the world I left behind, and I thought it was disgusting. My 3 month clean lungs were soon filled with tobacco, and I really didn't like it. That was what I thought was the end.
My, how wrong could I of been.
Tonight, I took a puff on some random bird's ciggie, and - even in my pissed state - I'm not proud of myself.
I know half of you are looking at me saying "Oh Rhys, you are complaining about nothing.". Please don't think that. To me, this is once again trying to quit the deamons (okay, I have alcohol and drinking deamons, but those aren't as important) that posses me. One rule that my dad lay down is 'You can do whatever you want, but please don't smoke.'. Not like I listen to my dad much, but that rule I respect. I was brought up in a family whereby the only filthy habit is smoking. To break that, I feel so dirty, so evil, so disgusted with myself.
So please, give me words of support through this - acutally quite traumatic - time I'm having with myself. I hope my mum reads this, so it's out in the open. I'm not proud of myself. I hope that with the support garnered through this website - added with the support of my mates I'll see over the weekend - I'll destroy this niggling problem that is inside me.
Keep the faith.
Anyway, Monday night I went with a few mates to Double Vision for a bit. First time in a long time (which is kind of idiotic for me, as I'm sometimes on the guestlist, due to my ten pin bowling ability - or lack thereof). Nothing really special happened (which is why I haven't blogged about it sooner) but it had one top quality moment.
"You see, if you put my student loan in a high interest ISA......you fallen asleep?"
"Yeah, I saw Feeder last Feburary in the Royal-Court."Bonus. Nobody ever, EVER, buys me a drink (well, except for birthdays, and my mum). Being both a pathetic alcyholic and broke, I milked it, just a bit:-
"Saw them at Glastonbury last year. Fucking amazing. Listen, can I buy you a drink?"
"Triple Jack Daniels Coke please."Fair play to the kid, she bought it (and probably slipped a couple of roofies in them as well) so I decided to keep my end of the bargain up (as it were) and sat down to talk to her, for all of about 3 minutes.
She reminded me a bit of my dad, and talked to me about finance. Now, I am close to my dad of course, but if I was to list "Qualities in a Woman I like", I don't think "Reminds me scarily like my dad" would not be terribly high. Anyway, she complained a lot about "Having a lack of money".
Ummm.....then why did you buy me a drink?
Last night was fun upto a point. To be honest, I have only myself to blame. Went for a nice meal at some Greek restaurant (whereby I pushed the boat out and had a Chicken Kebab) and then off into town whereby I was miserable. No apparent reason for it, just very, very miserable. My friends were pretty cool about it though, and tried to get me in the mood, but I was having none of it.
The worst thing was I had no reason to be miserable. Only lame-o excuse I could give was that it was the first time in RSVP since Little Miss Short. Alas, no luck since then. Even then, that's a pretty Kieron Dyer excuse to use.
I'm like that though. The downside to being witty and pretty sociable and friendly most of the time (other people's words, before you call me an arrogent fucker) is I get inexplicably miserable at random times. Usually wears off at about a day. Maybe it's because I generally don't show my emotions. Maybe I'm just wierd. Maybe the depressant effects of alcohol kicked in 24 hours later than expected.
Right, I'll stop ranting, I don't want this website to be emotional and whiny, do I?
Anyway, I'm fine this morning. Probably in COMP204 today we were talking about fork() calls and fork() queues. Nothing like a bit of innuendoes to get a smile on my face.
Oh, and I keep referring to a certain self-satisfactory act as Killing Kittens at the moment. That's about it.
Keep the faith
And We'll Really Shake Them Up... Monday Rowing, Tuesday Badminton, Dancing on a Friday Night The place? The Krazyhouse, Liverpool. Despite the "ooh, we're hard, we deliberately spell our name with a K as we are like Mortal Kombat" mentality of the owners, it got it where it should be: fun, and having it thereof.
As this weekend is FA Cup Weekend, I thought I'd show you this, from last Tuesday's events:-
A important piece of British Cultural History....and the FA Cup. (apolgies on the quality. I tried using my scanner to scan it in, but that's broke, so I took a picture of it with my webcam)
Friday Night, in my honest opinion, would probably go down as one of the best nights out I've ever had. I dunno why, but it's up there with all those nights I've pulled, all the gigs I've been to, and the night that this website was born. As far as memorable things happened, there weren't actually that many, but it was just such a cool night. The exams were over (thanks to all of you who wished me good luck in them!), I was awake, and I had been abstaining from alcohol for the better part of two weeks.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with the place, it is pretty much a rock club. It has three floors: bottom is headbanging death metal, second is quality indie rock, and top is cheese. We spent most of the time on K2 (that's floor two, not the big whackoff mountain in Nepal). Primarily because of the quality music (how many clubs can you name that play 4 Feeder songs in a night?) but that they also have Pool tables on this floor. Anyway, I crashed home at 4am without much incident but smiling like I'd taken a shedload of Morphene.
Note To Self: If walls are pink, then they're not blokes....
Monday Rowing, Tuesday Badminton, Dancing on a Friday Night
The place? The Krazyhouse, Liverpool. Despite the "ooh, we're hard, we deliberately spell our name with a K as we are like Mortal Kombat" mentality of the owners, it got it where it should be: fun, and having it thereof.
One incident (which, I still maintain was the Kray's [Krazyhouse's] fault) that occurred was a certain trip to the bathroom. Basically, above the toilets they have neon signs that tell you if you are allowed to do your business in it. They say "His", or "Hers". I thought that "Hers" said "Mens". So, when nature called, I toddled in, and was halfway undoing me flies when I turned the corner and noticed something strange:-
"Hmm...these loos are awfully clean. Now, where are the urinals.....uh oh, not again!"My fears were confirmed when there were two scally goths (there's an oxymoron for you) with thier thick-black makeup covered eyes went as wide as dinner plates. Okay, luckily nobody saw anything, poor little guy, does nobody love him?
Luckily, and to save my blushes, a guy did exactly the same thing about two minutes later, so we had a bit of a "fucking disgrace, confusing us, women hijack our loos, why can't we?" rant in the bloke bogs when we finally found them.
He went to bed and Knocked his Head, and couldn't get up in the morning
This post was going to be posted yesterday, but unfortunately on the way home from the Kray, I fell and knocked the back of my head on my bed. Seriously, yesterday morning when speaking to my family I couldn't concentrate for more than about 10 seconds without me switching off. Was it a hangover, general tiredness, or a mild concussion? I don't know, but when I checked it in the mirror, my head was purple and throbbing (that's the one on my shoulders, pervert).
Keep the faith
Jay Jay Okatcha, so good they named him twice!
So, this is where it gets wierd. First my mates try and set me up with this bird, and although I suppose she was attractive, I really couldn't be arsed. I was knackered, she didn't seem interested, and that was it. Not even calls from her mate saying "She's a fresher, she needs breaking in!" could set up even so much as a wink (yes, wink) in her general direction. The words were falling on deaf ears (literally, I mean, the music was loud, and my mind was switched off from a hard morning's revision). It was not meant to be.
So, after that brief cuffaffle, and the Little Britain esque "Oh Rhysie! You bloody idiot think of all the cock you could of gave her then?", a freaky thing happened.
A woman appeared, who - a lot of people thought (myself included) - bared more than a passing resembelence to me.
I cannot really describe it. Okay, she had (debatably) a bigger chest and longer hair, but even so, it was kinda freaky. Also, it must be said that it wouldn't be what I'd look like if I had the op, as I'd still bear some male features (as in face line, idiot). If I had of had another X chromosome, and was actually born a woman, it would of been what I looked like. A mate of mine has seen his doppleganger, and he said it was quite freaky.
Sorry if this is going to be a shitty blogging entry (because it is, I cannot describe what I'm feeling, and I'm knacked. I would write it in the morning, but I'd forget), but there's going to be one question that has to be asked.
Did I like my female me?
Actally, she wasn't too bad. A friend said "She's pretty!", which - in a kinda roundabout way - is a complement. They say that if you could find your female opposite, then they're supposed to be your perfect partner.
Anyway, the good thing is that those two interesting events have been the closest thing to pulling in ages, which sorta says that the lucky charm I got (a Native Amercian lucky pendant I got as a present) is pulling it's weight already.
Now, if it can do the same in the exam tomorrow, I'm sorted.
Keep the faith
We're on The Way To Wembley
You know what I love about being a student? Just the randomness of it all. It's the part of your life whereby you're not ruled by set hours, and - should you be able to manage your time effectively - nobody'll give a damn.
Unfortunately, I can't.
I couldn't find a picture of a decent team holding the FA Cup, so you'll have to make do with the dirty Aresnal. Sorry.
"Come hold the FA Cup!"For those of you who have a sod all idea on football, here's the jist of it. The FA Cup is the oldest cup competition in the world, and - despite the recent years where it hasn't been as important as the premiership - it's still up there with the greatest cups in the world. Think of it like the Stanley Cup, but for football.
Now, I haven't held THE FA Cup before (the Charity Shield is the best I've done, although I have held the North Wales Coast FA Cup - which is an exact replica), and I don't know if any of my mates had. One had the chance in a shop in Cheshire Oaks, but his missus was buying shoes, so - being the caring son of a gun that he was - he forsaked his chance to brag to his mates.
And so, I toddled off to capitalise on his mistake.
I joined a relatively short queue, and was soon let into an enclosed area. Security guards lined the outside of the booth, and a quick polaroid of me was taken, I was ushered out. That's it. The historic moment of the first Welshman to ever hold the FA Cup was over.
One thing I did notice in my brief 10 second of football glory was how bloddy light the thing is. Sure, it appears all metallic, but I've lifted heavier feathers. It almost caused an embarrasing moment whereby I picked it up with almost too much force, nearly causing the top to come crashing down from it's lofty perch.
Nevertheless, second I can find a scanner I'll scan it in. Sure, it's not the best picture of me in existance (the one on the sidebar takes that crown), but I don't care, as standing next to me is a piece of history. It's amazing how little things can brighten up a wet Tuesday in Liverpool.
I mean, it's not like the FA Cup is going back to Liverpool again in a hurry, is it?
Keep the faith
PS. Vote Rhysisms!
Oooh, It's Just Like The Oscars, Part 2
Well bugger me sideways. It appears that I'm up for a Bloggie. I know a few of you voted for me in various catagories, but I'm only up for one, and it's "The Best Tagline" one for the inspired by a certain day in November: "Stealing Traffic Cones From the Information Superhighway since 2002". And would you Adam and Eve it, I've been shoving the url for the site along with the words 'Vote Rhys' down people's throats all day.
Look! That's me that is!
One casualty of this quite unexpected news has been my revision. Such the "OH MY GOD I'M NOMINATED!" reaction this morning and the subsequent e-mailing of mates/bloggers/my mum meant that any attempt to perform constructive Software Engineering revision would be in vain.
Bugger eh?Super Successful Matching Program!
Being an insociable arse at the moment, I am currently lacking two main ingredients for a student lifestyle:-
- A girlfriend (or at least a 'shag', as one of my mates puts it. It confused me for ages, I thought he was a carpet enthusiast....)
- An abundance of text messages
"Over 150, and 739 divorces from mobilelove! Text blah blah to summit!"Now, I'm sorry, but if I ever woke up one morning in the not too distant future and thought "Okay. This whole lack of girlfriend thing is getting beyond a joke, I'm going to put something right about it.", the last thing I'd do is advertise myself in a singles website/texting thingy, and if I was, the last thing I'd do is to advertise myself in one with a 20% success rate. I mean, if 66% of marriages succeed, why pay for a service that has a 20% success rate? Seems a little odd thing to advertise.
Oh well, Keep the faith
Looking To The Sky To Save Me...
Yesterday, for the first time in half a week (which, for a mummy's boy like me, is a long time) I spoke to my mum. She mentioned that herslef and my dad want to put myself and my brothers through the driving test.
And guess what? I'm first.
I mean, obviosuly she's not going to drag me by the earlobe to the testing center and force me at gunpoint to perform three point turns, reversing around corners and the like, and I did agree to it. However, doubts soon began to surface.
Bugger, there goes my no-claim bonus.
I'm going to be a shite driver.
Hell, I am probably the only bloke on this planet to not make the old "women drivers" jokes, because, deep down inside, I know that I am going to be terrible. Unless you point something out to me, I'll probably miss it, and last nights escapades on Gran Turismo also suggested that even going in a straight line I have problems. Still, I suppose that's why you learn. To become good?
I suppose. However, as my mum, Sibley and a few of my Liverpool buddies will no doubt testify, I can be a bit of a backseat driver, and complain about everything on the road. So, imagine if you will, this rage, with about half a ton of machine in it's grasp? There will be trouble.
What I'd probably look like with "Mug" written across my forhead.
And guess what? I don't want to be one of these people.
I think I'll find it hard hitting a balance between not being a tight arse, not driving and been chauffered here, there and everywhere, and not having "mug" etched on my forhead.
I'm just complaining, to be honest. Learning to drive I've heard is the best thing to do with your life, I just reckon I'll be shite at it.
Christ, not pulling since August and admitting I'm shite at something. Ladies and gentlemen, I'm developing an inferiority complex. Who'd of thunked it?
Look At The Stars, Look How They Shine On You...
Big ups to my brother, who used his General Studies paper to do something amazing. He managed to sneak 13 Coldplay titles into one essay. However, he can only remember 11 of them, and I'm not counting Politik. Still pretty impressive though, and gives me something to aim at for my Networking And Multimedia Exam on Thursday..
Keep the faith
Ay! Calm Down!
Ryan Perry put this on his blog today, and immediately I e-mailed my mates. Why? Because it's a hilarious story? Well, it is, but that's not the reason. The reason is that it sounded a hell of a lot similar to a certain story in my past.
The year is 1999. Arguably the best year for films in recent memory with Matrix, Fight Club and Lock Stock hit the screens. Arguably also the worst year for music in recent memory with the birth of UK Garbage...err...Garage music. Football wise my love for Colwyn Bay football club was tested heavily with a bad run of results that made Leeds United's recent form seem like championship winning run. Reluctantly, I trudged to Llanelian Road, expecting another defeat. This one was slightly different though, it was in the Cup.
Ten minutes gone, and we were one down with a typical Unibond League scrappy goal. This was going to be another hammering. Us sheddites were once again having our faith questioned with diabolical defending, miserable midfielding and shitty striking.
Then, a miricle akin to Moses parting the red sea occurred.
Deiniol Graham, our squad's leading scorer with...errr...2 at the time was brought down by Stafford Rangers' keeper in the box. Sure fire penalty was awarded. Luck would have it, as the ref sent off the keeper. In the premiership, a substitution is usually made at this point to bring on a sub keeper. However, in lower league football, most teams only have one keeper in the team (as you're only allowed 3 subs), and Stafford had no keeper, so - in a fantastic tactical decision - they put the smallest most unmobile player in goal. Deiniol Graham stepped up against the Barry Scouse lookalike.
We were front row, behind the goal, and so close to the pitch. So, let the mocking begin!
"Oi! Barry Scouse! He used to play for United! He's deadly! D'yhear, DEADLY!"A voice from behind us spoke up. Behind us, an old bloke, mid 60's-ish, wearing Stafford colours. We, being testosterone-fuelled 16 year olds, questioned our elders.
"He is not going to score."
"What makes you so sure of it? I mean....JESUS CHRIST ALMIGHTY HE'S GOT A HOOK!"Sure enough, petruding from his right jacket sleeve was a hook, a spitting image of the ones you see in pirate films the world over.
However, no amount of spiritual hook power could stop Deiniol slotting a quality penalty away.
We cheered, then we legged it.
Speak Up Son!
I've put up a chatterbox on the sidebar. You may spam at will.
Keep the faith
Due to a screwup somewhere between Colwyn Bay and Liverpool, my tution fee payment has been lost somewhere. Therefore I'm not techically part of Liverpool Uni. Anyway, updates for the next week or so will be few and far between, due to the problems.
Normal service will be resumed just as soon as I give the Conwy LEA a Bollocking.
Keep the faith
Seriously though, AJ's "The Chinaman" DVD is fantastic (so good that I'm nicking half the jokes to use on my mates. What? Not like they'll have a copy of the DVD), and those who don't own it can purchase it here
People of America: I'm not even going to bother explaining this, so don't bother asking.
Did I vote? No. But I'm still allowed my opinion, aren't I?
If it is true, then Rudedski should release a cover of The Verve's "The Drugs Don't Work, they just make you worse.". By god, he'll know it better than everybody.
Still, could be worse, could be my fantasy football team, languishing somewhere near the bottom of "The Colwyn Bay Superleague".
Keep the faith
Rhys Wynne: Cam Whore?
Contrary to popular belief, I don't really have the boobs to front a webcam version of this site. Mention the world "webcam" and "chat" to me, and images of a wide range of attractiveness women doing unmentionables to a camera so that a couple of people who live in Bolton can get a hardone over it spring to mind. Too much dignity and a body that could make you vomit at 30 paces meant that for ages I didn't have a webcam.
Should I ever switch on my camera again, this is probably what you're most likely to get....
Over time, I've got used to bunging my mug on this place, and now I really don't mind putting up a photo. However, one of my mates asked me to do something I thought I'd never do:-
"Switch on your webcam mate, I wanna see you."I switched on my webcam, and had a chat on it. My, this was exciting. Sure enough, I could see my mate sitting in front of the computer, and he could see me sitting in front of the computer. And. That's pretty much it. You may catch a smile, or the shake of the head, or readjusting oneself in the chair. Alas, whilst the words I type can have it's moments of comedy gee-nee-us, my body language radiates as much personality as a picture frame. We spoke for a while, before he said the following:-
"Rhys, stop scratching your arse!"About three seconds later I closed the connection. Nobody tells me what I can and cannot do in front of a computer.
Which, if the rumours are true, are the main source of why Cam Whore's are so popular. That and exposing boobs, I suppose.
Keep the faith
Like Leonardo Di Caprio in the "Man In The Iron Mask", I have been held back from my full pulling potential for over a year now due to a metallic object. Whilst he had his mask, I had a brace. Of course, my face wasn't covered up completely by an Iron Mask, but you just try speaking to a girl and your metallic mouthpiece launches wads of spit like cannonballs towards your date. Add on the fact that I didn't have any Musketeers aiding me, and I'm sure you agree. DiCaprio had it easy.
Here it is. Sacrificed my first year at uni for this, am I so vain?
So, imagine my happy-happy-joy-joy suprise when, after about 5 seconds, the dentist says "You might as well take it out, it's not going in any further.". Resisting the urge to do a naughty joke, I said summit like "Wow.", fully displaying my wide range of conversational abilities. I was actually quite disappointed, the tooth still leaves a small gap now where you could possibly squeeze a tooth in. If you're lucky. With the wind behind you.
He then said "You can keep the brace, a keepsake, as it's no use to us now.". So, with my brace in my pocket, I left the surgery with a spring in my step. Then finally confusion.
An artist's rendition of my mouth now.
I've thought about a lot of things since that joyous occasion at around 3:15 GMT, destroy it in some blokey way? Give it to someone as the ultimate gift (Valentine's Day is just around the corner. Oh come on, nothing says "I love you" quite like a used dental mouthpiece...)? Sell it on eBay? With the last one taking my eye the most (could earn myself a packet exploiting my Blogging Z-List Celebrity Status), I'm still not sold.
So, I'm throwing over to you guys. What in God's name should I do with my brace?
Winning idea will be implemented, if I can be arsed, and it don't cost me money.
Keep the faith
Despite my mathmatical roots, I'm okay with words. Writing a blog, watching Countdown regularly, former Scrabble champion and my love of crosswords would suggest this. Okay, my spelling is a little off - anybody who reads this will know, but I usally get there in the end.
Oh, Mr. Bookworm. Your days are numbered
It's kind of hard to explain this game, but it's a cracker. Also, it's become the game of choice at The Varsity in Liverpool for us ten pin bowlers, as we can win humungous sums of money (for students, we've dropped £12 out of it in one game. For me, that's three weeks worth of food - I only wish I was lying). Oh the fools, the fools. When we go back, it's going to be massacared.
So, as Neil Buchanan said for every non-Big Art Attack he's ever done, try it yourself. That is all.
21 604800 Seconds To Go....
Well, give or take a few hundered or so. Anyway, the clock is ticking for my first exam - Digital Electronics. Displaying the kind of slackness not seen since Pavarotti said "Hell, I'm going commando from now on, the elastic snaps too quickly", I have done sod all revision. I was going to start today, but old Bookworm got in the way (it's an evil bitch like that). Nevertheless, tomorrow I hit the books to start a 6 day swot-a-thon so that I don't have to resit the year (primarily because I cannot afford to. Meh). It's just so tempting being around the internet and the PS2 (got arsing Joypad thumb from SSX 3 earlier today). Sure I'll survive though.
Ooh it's Just Like The Oscars.
The 2004 Bloggies have started to accept nominations. Large cash sums*, sexual favours**, and/or one million*** will be offered to anybody who nominates me. Ta.
Not like I care. Honest.
Keep the faith
Rhys* Such as - £1909090909090 + £489278491730941270. God I'm funny.
** If your female and fit, and don't mind cooking me tea.
*** Of punches in the face.
And In the Darkness, Bind Them...
Yesterday (well, technically, the day before yesterday, but you're just being predantic) I went to watch Lord of The Rings: The Return of the King in Llandudno. I've heard only one review about it, and this was my mate said "Not putting anything on it, but this is the greatest film ever.". So I went in with exceedingly high expectations.
Ugly bugger aint he?
Nope, it is a stunning film of it, and one which I enjoyed immensely, but it's not the best film, in the world, ever. Best film this year? Yes. Better than the last two? At a push, yes. Epic? Without at doubt. But the best film ever? Nope.
Nitpicking aside, before seeing the film, I read Britt's blog, and a point in one of her posts was "In order to piss people off during ROTK, say 'Mr. Anderson' after every single sentance Elrond speaks.". My brother can now testify that it is annoying. Immature, yes. But I don't care.
So, what of the film itself? Stunning, and wrapped it up nicely (I've never read the books). It is the Star Wars of our times (Matrix is our Back To The Future of our times), in that it's an epic. Peter Jackson has undoubtedly done a great job including most of the book into the movie, and it's stunningly filmed, it's well acted and Gollum is a work of genius. It manages to combine action, romance, tragedy comedy and a little bit of cheesiness (oh come on, that "You're right, no man can kill you. But I am a woman!" line almost made me vomit in the cheesiness) in a way like no other. Well, not since Shakespeare.
The problem? The film was so bloody long! Okay, I understand it's controversial point, but I had trouble keeping track towards the end. Of course, being spoon fed one the greatest battle ever witnessed in filmmaking history for two hours sorta sedated my brain cells, so when I actually had to follow the film, I was struggling.
That, and the fact that I was dying for a wee, caused me to kinda switch off.
Nevertheless, you're well and truly a gimboid should you miss this film. It needs to be watched in a cinema. Nowhere else. I've yet to watch The Two Towers at home, at fear of spoiling it forever. I probably will end up doing so, but not when all three come out together. Then just watch me snap it up, grab a beer and a pack of Doritos, and be totally insociable for 10 hours straight.
Keep the faith
Keep the faith
Review Of 2003
Happy new year bargain hunters! New Year for me was unspectacular, but still pretty fun (nothing out of the ordinary happened. The usual drinking, Auld Lang Syne at midnight, party poppers, kebab, vomit and hangover combination as is the norm on New Years Eve/Day).
Before I go on, one of the lines in Auld Lang Syne is "Let old acquaintances be forgot.". Basically, it saying "You know your friends? Your old, long time dear friends? Fuck them.". Bit harsh aint it?
Onto the year review. In true Channel 4 fashion, I'll include the Top 10 of everything fashion. There'll probably be about 5 or 6 of these, I aint decided:-
Day of the Year
Usually, these aren't converted well into posts, as I don't do them justice. Nevertheless, these are my personal favourite days of the year.
- Seeing the WWE for the first time. What else can I say? It was stunningly good. Of course, I'm a massive WWE fan, so I would say that.
- Seeing Feeder. Only my second gig, and shited all over the excellent JJ72 that it's just unfair. How good was it? Well, I was out of breath by the end of it, and I didn't even stand.
- Results Day. Okay, I didn't talk too much about it on my blog, but by god did I shite myself before they came out.
- Bowling For The First Time (at Liverpool Uni). First sentimental moment comes in at number 4! Okay, it wasn't really the first time that was fun, just the general fact that everybody in the Ten Pin Bowling Club has become a very close friend of mine (except for Skinny. Only joking! I only say that because I know he reads this. Everybody else I'm not sure of, and I don't want to be considered harsh). Plus my average score has increased by about 20 pins since the beginning. Must be doing summit right, then.
- My Birthday. No particular reason, just that I like being the centre of attention.
- The Doves in Llandudno. The Doves announce a secret gig in Llandudno for under a tenner. 500 people show up. It's the stuff dreams are made of.
- Placebo. Would of been higher but of Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster support screaming down the microphone.
- Lifehouse. Again, would of been higher, but Wales lost the same day.
- That Night At The Quiz. Despite not winning the money on a technicality, I had a hell of a night mind. Plus I'm running out of ideas. Oh well. Top 5 from now on!
- Becoming one half of the BWF Tag Champions: Okay. Not a life-altering event. But I was running out of ideas, and Rob said he'd job me to Spike Dudley if I didn't inlcude him in this list. So. Meh.
Stories which I've put on this blog that I've liked.
- Twas The Night Before Christmas
- The Page 3 Story: A lot of people have asked me. Yes, I swear down it's true.
- Clocks Go Back: Proof that losing an hour of sleep could be worth it.
- My Audio Post. Oh Come on, I speak!
- Dyslexic. A mirthful tale about one of my mates. Don't worry, it's not shady. So I'm not going to hell. Yet. Follows on from my first hate mail!
Take a guess. I don't listen to many albums, so this is just for songs:-
- Evanesence - My Immortal
- Gary Jules - Mad World
- Darkness - Growing On Me
- Thrills - Big Sur
- Muse - Time is Running Out
- Tom McCrae - End of The World
- Damien Rice - Cannonball
- REM - Bad Day
- Sheryl Crow - First Cut is the Deepest
- Amy Studt - Misfit
- Maroon 5 - Harder To Breathe
- Keane - This is The Last Time
- Snow Patrol - Run
- The Delays - Long Time Coming
- Amy Studt - All I Wanna Do
As far as this place goes? This blog'll continue, but I'll probably wait for a while before updating again. Truth be told is that I've really done much that's worth blogging about, and I've got a few exams coming up, so I'll probably not update as frequently now. Plus my social life is really kicking off, so that'll take priority!
Keep the faith