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Happy Blog-day to me!
Okay, I missed it, I admit it. Whilst I was busy trying to get Counter Strike to work again (thanks to Steam, meaning a lot of updating needs to be done), I missed a very important day yesterday: as two years ago yesterday, I started blogging.
Two years of my life I have recorded my thoughts, funny stories, and just general chitter chatter (plus the occasional knob gag thrown in), and - on the whole - this blog has been well recieved. However, if the first twelve months of this site was spent getting a foothold, and making blogging friends, the last twelve months I've become a bit of an inspiration to other people. Okay, mainly people in the bowling club, but just the fact that these people want to jump on the bandwagon (pun intended) just because of what I have achieved in the past two years, well, then, I'm chuffed to bits.
In the past two years I've seen blogs come and go, I remember starting out on Blogger when it wasn't owned by Google, and I've seen many good blogs just die. I won't lie, but at times it did hurt (especially bloggers such as Katie and Netshade, who just grew tired of blogging, as they were some of my early blogging buddies), however, you can pretty much guarentee that should there be a way to get onto the internet, I will still keep on blogging for the time being. Why? Because I - lack of a better word - love it.
Hey, call me arrogent, but I like the fact that share my life with everybody. I'm a poser, and I do believe that I have an interesting story to tell. Whether anybody listens is another matter. But that was the reason I started, but now I continue just for the fact I love it.
I like the fact that I have spoken to interesting people that I probably would never of met. I like the fact that lots of you thought this blog was good enough for a bloggie (a fact that I still go on about now). I like the fact that at times on a night out with the bowlers, they actually get insulted that I don't mention them on the blog. I like the fact that most of my mates at home at least tolerate my addiction (it's better than when I started: some flat out hated this website). I like the fact that my mum and pretty much all my immediate family, instead of ringing me, just check this site. I like the fact that AJ was nice enough to send me a christmas present, Viriginia sent me a Christmas Card, Lauren sent me a lovely message over easter (came at the right time, I was feeling down at the time), and Sam sent me a few DVD's off my wishlist (which has re-ignited my love for Red Dwarf). I like the fact that I get tons of e-mails for my birthday off readers, and just general aceness.
So what's for the next twelve months? Buggered if I know. Some of the biggest experiences of my life have occured here (leaving school, joining university, first time pulling, and so on). There's bound to be more, there's gotta be. All I know is that when even something remotely interesting happens, you'll hear it here first (or second, depending if I tell me mum).
Right I'm off to eat cake. Not like I have a birthday cake, but just because I want to eat cake.
Keep the faith
Rhys
The Day We Caught The Train
Last night was the Atheletics Union dinner, and quite possibly had my wierdest night of drunken adventures ever.
Despite that I am probably the least athletic person in the world, I still went to the dinner (though Ten Pin Bowling). I didn't know what to expect, as the only other formal dinner I've had was my leaver's do, and that was about two years ago. Also, ironically, I wore the same suit as I did that day than I do now. Actually, it's not irony, as I only have one suit (I look terrible dressed up, so I don't bother tarting myself up usually). The meal was £25, and that included a stater (Melon), main meal (Beef), Desert (Chocolate Cake) and coffee and mints and cheese. We also got two bottles of red wine and two bottles of white wine for the table.
Boy, were they gonna come back and haunt me.
As I was the only person who preferred white wine over red, I was given most of one bottle, and about half of another. Add on a couple of Stella Artois to the bill, then you've got a pretty screwed up evening. I've had tons of these, so I should be able to pull through this one.
So, imagine my suprise when I was woken at 6am outside Chester Station.
Chester Station! 50 Miles away! A whole friggin different county! As so many people say: "Pictures are worth a 1000 words...."
 As you can see on the right of the picture, Liverpool is miles away from Chester. |
As you can see, quite a journey to make. Surely I should remember some of it? But no! Not a single bit of it. The only way I remember the journey was a ticket which was from Liverpool to Colwyn Bay (I was planning on coming home, heaven only knows what would of happened if I completed my journey and turned up at my house. My mum would of killed me). For a period of time I spent thinking "what to do, what to do?", but I was lucky: I had my keys, wallet and phone, so I wasn't in that much trouble.
After gathering my bearings, I went to Subway and had a Bacon butty (the best bit of the whole ordeal, they taste gorgeous), and then headed to the train station, back to Liverpool, so I could clean myself up before heading home.
And, I'd be lying if, on the train home, I didn't think "Wow, this'd give me summit good to talk about on my blog."
Keep the faith
Rhys
You Know I find it frightning. How you change is as fast as lightening. - Ash, Shining Light
"And these are days you often say,
'There's nothing that we can't do'.
Beneath a canopy of stars,
I'd shed blood for you"
How appropriate. Last night I went to see Ash in the Liverpool Guild, and the gig was top class. All those who are Ash fans should already know that, but apart from Tim coming on the stage with his guitar on fire, there's only one other thing I'd like to mention about the gig.
 The lovely Charlotte. |
Or so I thought.
You see, halfway through Clones, I was standing at the edge, when a massive push lurched me forward. At exactly the same time, a guy who was in front of me got thrown back, with the bone of the elbow swinging back, straight into my nose. I grabbed it, and felt okay, so continue enjoying the rest of the gig.
It was during the next song (which, if my memory serves me correctly, was Sometimes) that there was an unpleasant taste at the back of my mouth, and a dripping of a visceral fluid onto my lips.
Oh bugger.
 The rest of Ash including the lovely Charlotte. |
From what I saw in the mirror, it was not just a bit of blood. Although the bleeding had stopped, the blood had dried in a sort of goatee like shape. Can't really describe it better than that. From then on, I had no problems. Even braved the mosh pit for the finale: Burn Baby Burn, and left slightly bloody, but happy.
One thing I will mention: I had more attention from the ladies blood soaked than anytime as clean, prim and proper. Okay, so I'm not going to (quote Mick Foley) get BUSTED. WIDE. OPEN every night out I have, just to pull, but interesting theory.
Leads me to believe one of two things about women:-
They are either very motherly, or blood sucking vampires.
Keep the faith.
Rhys
*And for a little game, name those fluids. Or not.
Pocketable Tourniquets
Sometime in October 2002, I started the "Know My Brother" Project, which - following an evening of internet surfing with me and my brother - was started. The premise behind it is that Rick was dissappointed with his web presence, and if a few people included his name on their blog, then he will shoot to the top of the google search for Richard Wynne (more details, including how to take part, is available here).
About three months into the project, I recieved an email from a reader (think it was Peter from Arkestra which said the following):-
"Do you know it's very similar to what Dave Gorman is doing?"
 The famous TAOR Googlewhack: Pocketable Tourniquets |
A few weeks later, I was watching TV one Sunday night, and saw a program that interested me: "Dave Gorman's Important Astrological Experiment", a bell rung in my head "That's what the Brother Project Is Like! I am like a fastly-approaching 30 ginger bloke!". Nevertheless, I was intrigued, and read his first book "Are You Dave Gorman?". I'd love to say that I've become a big, stalker-esque fan who has followed his every move....but I can't. In fact, it's actually more of a passive interest - and quite ironically - my brother is a huge fan (though not upto stalker-esque levels).
So, it was with great delight that I told him that I was going to see him last night on his Googlewhack Adventure.
Truth be told, I didn't go to see Mr. Gorman, I went because of the events of last week, and the discovery that this very site had a googlewhack. Anyway, onto the night.
I'd heard bits about the story, but here is the general jist. Dave Gorman had to find a link of 10 Googlewhacks (two words in Google that only produce one result) and meet them all in order. There's a book about it (which I'm half way through), but I stopped reading it because a mate of mine said it sort of kills the suspense.
And the suspense was what made it funny.
You see, despite being a ridiculous story, Gorman has a hell of a knack of telling it. His sense of humour not only appeals to me in a writing, but also in speech. Anyway, at times I can honestly say I had a knot in my stomach and felt his guilt, admittedly not the kind of guilt that you get from burning down an orphanage, but guilt nonetheless.
I don't want to give away too much about the story, but you also get a free badge at the gig (which says "Dave Whacked My Google": I wonder how many people can say they've had a Googlewhack and actually mean it). If that doesn't sell it to everybody, then by god, I don't know what does.
Keep the faith.
Rhys
Employee Of The Month?
Yesterday, I was told that I got a new job, working for this small business doing web pages and Flash-based projects, and I couldn't be happier.
 I know I don't mention it in the post, but I'm seeing Dave Gorman tonight. Who want's to touch me? |
So I'm probably not going to talk much about work beyond this post, out of respect for my job.
Anyway, it was the first interview I've ever had that I have actually got the job for (which is good, as one of my worst interviews I did I said this: "So, what are your weaknesses?", "Beer". Not good), so I am chuffed to bits (understandibly). Given my sagging confidence a much needed shot in the arm. Means I'm staying in Liverpool for most of the summer as well, and I've already got a few plans.
Last night I went to Double Vision for a bit, though it was pretty fun, I was far too sober to enjoy it. So I'll leave you in the capable hands of Peter Potter (another bowler), who also went, and who's entry is funnier than this one could ever be (it includes the word "Bugger" as well). While I'm at it, the opening line to Carlisle Twat's latest blog entry caused me to spit coffee all over my screen (that's a good thing).
I'm losing my touch.
Keep the faith
Rhys
Another Quick Update from the nWw I've finished exams! Yes, my exams are over, and went better than expected. I shouldn't really say that until I get my results, but in my opinion they went well. Anyway, we went to celebrate half arsedly on Friday and a full whack in Time Tunnel on Saturday (it was after the Students vs. Ex-Students match in bowling, so tons of new people were out, always good). One bit that did amuse me was that at various times during the night, we did that test the nation thingy that was on in various bars. Kind of ironic isn't? We've spent the last two weeks doing exams, and then we, on our first day of freedom chose to do another one. Incidentally, I did it this morning on the web, and got 117. My lowest one yet. Stupid me! Anyway, the night kind of fizzled out in the end. Besides scary enthusiasm during Bewitched's mid 90's "classic" - C'est La Vie, and a picture perfect dance during Saturday night which resulted in one girl show her appreciation by giving me the hokey two thumbs up, which she blantantly stole from me. Also, there was a guy with a t-shirt that said (rude slogan, highlight it to see it. Mum, please don't highlight it) girls who give blowjobs are fucked in the head, made me laugh.
On top of this, next week is going to be busy. First Monday and probably the last Double Vision of the year (for me, anyway), Tuesday I've got tickets to see Dave Gorman's Googlewhack Adventure in the Philharmonic Hall in Liverpool (Row G as well, pretty good seats). Thursday is going to be spent seeing Ash (if anybody is going to the gig, email me at my brand spanking new email address mini[at]liv10pin.co.uk, if you want to meet up), and Friday will be spent enjoying the culinary delights of the AU Dinner. Right, I was going to put pictures up, but my life has become more interesting in that a guy has just this second knocked on my door telling me that due to an ant problem in the kitchen, our building is going to have to be fumagated, and I'm not allowed back in until at least 9 tonight. Me offskies to pub then :) |Update| Okay, back in my room now (even though the fumagators hasn't been. Piss me off. So I'm taking it out on you lot and not posting a picture. Okay, maybe just one:-
Keep the faith. Rhys
As I haven't got the arsedness to launch into a funny story (and believe me, I've got tons), I'll just give a short update of my life, in a digestible pleasure.
Ruud Van Nistlerooy, the second most perfect hands that have touched the FA Cup. Who's the first then?
Oooh Young Man!
Last night, I lost trust with a fairly large percentage of the country.
I've always been nice to old women, helping them cross the road and all
that. If my cub scout days have tought me nothing else (and they
haven't), it's being nice to old ladies will get you get you
laid nothing, except a warm, tingly glow inside you.
Last night, that warm tingly glow (which later turned out to be the alcohol I drank) was lost forever.
 Dame Edna Everage. I hate her as well now! Okay, she's not old, or indeed a woman. But I hate her! |
The second one was a wiry haired woman in her mid to late sixties (for humour sake, I'm putting her age as '69'). Low slung jaw that suggested she was drunk, and a fashion sense worse than yours truly. She approached me and uttered the following:-
"Change please love?"
To which I replied I hadn't got any. I mean I did, but I figured that her "Buy a bottle of White Lightning" Fund was not as important as "The Increasing Of Rhys' Thighs by way of Americano Pizza with Extra Pepperoni" Fund. I had my rights, however Little Miss Oldlady didn't think so?"Bastard!" She yelled at yours truly.
"Cheeky Bitch." I replied, what I thought was under my breath. She heard.
"You call me a bitch?" She replied, her low slung jaw moving like the clappers, and she was spitting everywhere. She wasn't happy. "Want to fight about it?", she replied, swinging her handbag like David swung his slingshot before planting one on Goliath's noggin. I wish I was making this up.
I couldn't help but laugh. Here was a woman, 69 (snigger), who was built slight at best, challenging a 20 year old welshman, who - at 6'2" and 14.5 Stone - was like a giant compared to her. Should hell of broken loose, you could of seen who would of ended up on the cold, hard concrete floor.
Thankfully, I'm also as soft as shite, so I calmly used diplomatic skills that put Mahatma Gandhi to shame and said "Trust me, you don't want to fight.", giving my sternest but happiest (something about people smiling in times of conflict that really messes with me) look I could give her.
She then buggered off. But the damage was done.
I've now lost all faith in the pensioners of the United Kingdom. Bar my gran, my nain and Home Bargains (and associates), I'm now never going to trust old people again.
In retrospect, I should of coughed up 10 pence.
Keep the faith
Rhys
My Calling
I was walking home from the pub (don't worry, I only drank orange cordial) tonight, whereby I passed a pub called Blakes. Now, despite I can count on one hand how many times I've been in Blakes, I love the place. It has a few video games, and a brand new simpsons pinball machine. It also has about 5 or 10 big screens as well, showcasing the finest Premiership action (except for this one time I was in there). Basically, if I was an owner of a successful pub (and here's hoping), it would look something like Blakes.
Anyway, a further look into Blakes makes me feel even better, as they advertised something that was just...so...me!
 Beans on toast, the staple of the student diet. |
For anybody who knows me and ever seen me eat will know one thing: I am a fucking fast eater. Last Wednesday in McDonalds I ordered a Chicken Caprese, it was a good ten minutes late. Didn't stop me from finshing it off first. I can put down a foot long subway in short of about 10 minutes, and I once ate a pizza in 5 minutes. Basically, if you invite me out for dinner, don't expect it to take very long.
Dunno why this is, maybe my competitive spirit, fear of my food going cold, lack of parental contribution of "It's not a race!" at the dinner table and a throat as wide as the grand canyon have something to attest to this. Unfortuantely, it's a curse, as it can - and has done - make me ill, and has turned me into a fat bastard.
Now, this "skill" is finally - pun intended - pulling it's weight.
Will I enter the competition? Not sure. I don't want to be labelled as "Liverpool's Fastest Eater", and the competition is quite late at night. Plus I didn't grab what the prize was.
But my worst fear? The fact that you have to eat 3 cans of Hunger Breaks. Hunger Breaks are canned pasta, or - more commonly - canned beans with added extras. I ate a pasta one for my tea (I usually pick up loads of these tins and practically keep the company alive, I eat tons of the stuff). Anyway, the fact that the one's advertised we'll be eating - the big breakfast consisting of beans, bacon, sausage and scotch eggs - is least of my favourites. Plus by 10pm Saturday, I'll probably be drunk, due to it being both FA Cup Final Day and (officially) the last bowling of the year.
And, the fact that should I take the challenge, I'd of ingested shredded wheat, beers, sausage, scotch eggs, beans, and probably two takeaways as well.
Not the finest sensory experience to wake up to on sunday morning, is it?
Keep the faith.
Rhys
* I only mention this to see if they would send me some free ones. Please?
An Update
I've taken time out of my busy schedule of sitting on my arse watching Futurama, playing addiction solitaire on Yahoo, and generally doing anything to avoid revision, to give you all that's hip, hop and happening in the life of me.
Firstly, an explination for the last post. After a discussion on the IRC chatroom with a guy called....errr....ummm....Guy, we decided on another revision-avoiding technique: Googlewhacking.
Dave Gorman: Funny. And not even in a "ha ha you are funny because you are ginger" funny. |
Unfortunately, Googlewhacking is hard, and we entered territories for words that would basically kill a game of scrabble stone dead. Eventually, we came up with "pocketable tourniquets", hence the last post. As far as I know, it's a googlewhack, now we play the waiting game, for Google's Bot to gets it's fat arse around to my site.
Well, it's either that or revision.
No ex(ams) please, we're students
I am 2/3rds of my way through my exams this semester, and whilst they haven't been career altering, they haven't been too bad. The Management exam (which, ironically, I wasn't looking forward to) has been the better than the two, with a work breakdown structure which had 5 levels (one of the levels included Paying for goods = "go to checkout","make light conversation with checkout girl","hand over monetary items" - a thing that will have poor Professor Goodhew looking at my exam thinking "Okay, now you're just taking the piss") which I consider to be my finest ever work.
The only other thing of note is I've been sorta headhunted! A flash-based company (which, should they read their site, may I say that the company is a fantastic organisation) has asked me to go on an interview on Monday for a job over summer, saying that they are 'interested in me'. Wow! First time anybody, be it professionally or sexually, has been interested in me. I feel so loved.
So, please send me good karma, or failing that, a large cash sum.
Keep the faith
Rhys
Don't Ask, Don't Tell
To try and aid the procedure to stop bleeding in the mouth, pocketable tourniquets were introduced.
Don't Ask...
Keep the faith
Rhys
Head Down
I stand by my decision. More Hull related tomfoolery can be found here and here.
Well, see you after the exams! Keep the faith. Rhys
Like a few other bloggers I know, I've got university exams just around the corner, so that explains the lack of updates (well, that and the fact that bowling club has an IRC room - #liv10pin on quakenet, and that...well....I haven't had anything good to say). This is likely to continue for about two/three weeks, so I could post either one of two things: a long emotional tirade about my deepest innermost feelings, or a picture of me dressed as a schoolgirl from Hull....
Isn't she lovely?
Highway To Hull First and foremost, I looked absolutely fantastic. I was quite suprised how I think I managed to outdo the AU Disco pirate, but I looked amazing. Anyway, I wasn't the only one, as I got chatted up more times than being a bloke (unfortunately, it was by blokes). God, the men of Hull'd try anything. We even got honked at by a couple of cops as well, dirty rozzers! Nevertheless, despite the fact that two thirds of the Liverpool contingent had a distinct advantage of being schoolgirls by...errr...actually being girls, at least half of the male contingent (ie. me) actually passed as a pretty decent schoolgirls.
Hull weekend bowing in the Fancy Dress Trios was fun. Rather than giving a whole schebang of what happened, here's some observations/quirky events that occurred.
Just like the schoolgirls on a dodgy video my mate claims to have, we also got shit on. I didn't play abysmally (84, 95, 113 and 103 respecitvley), but unfortunately a lot of other teams were considerably better than us (we played against a team based on Xena: Warrior Princess, Team Blackadder, Team Liquorice Allsorts and another bunch of schoolgirls - jeez, where do they get their ideas from?). I would of done better, but - and this may suprise you - I haven't bowled in a skirt before.
Insert random picture of bowling here....
That, and the classic Home Bargains Never Fail Excuse For Abysmal Bowling PerformanceTM: "I blame The Oil".
After bowling and trying to find food in Hull (it'd be easier finding a nail in a haystack), we went on the lash. Whilst I started off as a schoolie, unfortuantely the people of Hull were not very welcoming of students (especially those dressed up as schoolies), and we got just a little bit of shite dressed up. So I went back to the hotel and changed.
One thing I do like about Hull is that they showed Smackdown in two pubs we were in! The only problem was that the sound was down, so Kurt Angle's emotional speech on how he'll never wrestle again wasn't quite so emotional when you...errr...couldn't actually hear it.
We hit a random nightclub which was located just outside our hotel (we got free entry due to that we were staying the hotel) at about midnight....and that's where it becomes a blur. Sure, I remember little things of the nighclub, I remember seeing a woman who quite frankly resembled a cube (she had a go at me for getting served before her, so I'm allowed say that), I remember being amazed at a mate's gin and tonic on the account it was flourescent blue, and I remember chatting to some Hull City fans on their recent promotion. That's about it really.
I left the club quite early at quarter to twelve and thinking "OOOH, I need a Kebab!". The problem is that Hull is shite for Kebabs, it really is. I walked 3 miles that isn't a patch on Mr. Chips in Liverpool. Such a dissappointment.
Yesterday was spent...er...sleeping pretty much the whole hangover off. Mainly in the car, the hotel and anywhere else I could catch 40 winks. We did go to the quiz when back in Liverpool, which we won a little action man guy thingy called Randy. It's ace.
Right, I'm off, as it's bank holiday bleeding monday, and I need something to do.
Keep the faith.
Rhys
