Answers Arent At The Back

Thursday, March 13, 2008

Steve McQueens a Fag!

The Great Movie Check List...

Kung Fu and Swords Fights - CHECK
Kick-ass girlies dressed in PVC Catsuits being very bad - CHECK
A superlative Sounds Track (Rob Dougan will do very nicely thank you) - CHECK
Guns... Lot's of Guns - CHECK
Absolutely mind blowing Motorbikes stunts - CHECK

Needs Sound

Just thought I'd share :O)

The Stunt woman was Debbie Evans, incredible.

Ciao Ciao
Confused From Cambridge
I Blog There4 I Am

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

Afternoon

‘ello Blog, it’s been a while :o)

Something’s not quite right with my work life balance at the moment, to much work and not enough life balancing. Obviously ‘Life Balance’ translates into balancing my life on or off tarmac on a motorbike (Well I assume that’s where they got the phrase from anyway!), and when you read the latest safety stats for motorbikes you might well be right in interpreting it that way. Apparently, according to the Transport Select Committee, the average number of kilometers traveled by a passenger to be exposed to a one-in-a-million risk of being killed was 6,400 by rail, 400 by car, 29 by pedal cycle, 27 by pedestrian and 10 by two-wheeled motor vehicle (no statistics where available for unicycles, powered or not). Anyways, best not get me started on the Nanny State trying to outlaw everything from motorcycles to scrums in Rugby because they deem them to dangerous for us all to make informed choices on ourselves, tossers!

I digress :O)

Yes, work, lots on, it’s just not cricket! Am I allowed to mention the Cricket? Guess I can, as I’ve already mentioned Rugby. Rugby… Ummm… Bloody England. Sundays supposed treat for me, in between working, was to watch the Six Nations England match, what a sham. Honestly, I’d much prefer to lose but watch less gifted players play that understood they where representing their country and therefore gave it their all. But no, we were subjected to watching the humiliation of the presented squad of complete oxygen thieves, none of which were worthy of gracing the England colours last weekend (A little harsh? Then you didn’t watch the match, truly pathetic). Can you tell I wasn’t impressed? ;o)

Anyways, where was I? Work, oh yes, I’m busy, no honest! :O)

Look two keyboards being used simultaneously! ;O)

So, I’m taking a quick Lunch break, listening to a bit of Kate Bush and wondering how to synchronize communications with developers in England, Pakistan and New Zealand, without one or more suffering from jet lag.

So I hope you’re all cool out there in Blogsphere, sorry if you're one of those that I haven’t answered in my pile of emails worthy of responding to, I will get around to them I promise, but I’m busy you see, a lot of work on ;o)

Ciao Ciao
Confused from Cambridge
I Blog There4 I Am

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The Register - Biting the hand that feeds IT

"I know why you're here. I know what you've been doing... why you hardly sleep, why you live alone, and why night after night, you sit by your computer...."

**********

D: "Where is everybody, Hol?"
H: "They're dead, Dave."
D: "Who is?"
H: "Everybody, Dave."
D: "What, Captain Hollister?"
H: "Everybody's dead, Dave."
D: "What, Todhunter?"
H: "Everybody's dead, Dave."
D: "What, Selby?"
H: "They're all dead. Everybody's dead, Dave."
D: "Petersen isn't, is he?"
H: "Everybody is dead, Dave."
D: "Not Chen?"
H: "Gordon Bennett! Yes! Chen, everybody. Everybody's dead, Dave"
D: "Rimmer?"
H: "He's dead, Dave. Everybody's dead. Everybody is dead, Dave!"
D: "Wait. Are you trying to tell me everybody's dead?"
H: "I wish I'd never let him out in the first place."

**********

"I know most of you have been where I am tonight: the crash site of unrequited love. You've asked yourself, how did I get here? What was it about--was it her smile, Was it the way she crossed her legs, the turn of her ankle? The poignant vulnerability of her slender wrists? What are these elusive and ephemeral things that ignite passion in the human heart?...."

"That's an age-old question; it's perfect food for thought on a bright midsummer's night. Hey, you said it best, Will: "Love looks not with eyes but with the mind, And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind." Yeah....."

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"Well one day I was at home threatening the kids when I looks out through the hole in the wall and sees this tank pull up and out gets one of Dinsdale's boys, so he comes in nice and friendly and says Dinsdale wants to have a word with me, so he chains me to the back of the tank and takes me for a scrape round to Dinsdale's place and Dinsdale's there in the conversation pit with Doug and Charles Paisley, the baby crusher, and two film producers and a man they called 'Kierkegaard', who just sat there biting the heads of whippets and Dinsdale says 'I hear you've been a naughty boy Clement' and he splits me nostrils open and saws me leg off and pulls me liver out and I tell him my name's not Clement and then... he loses his temper and nails me head to the floor..."

**********

"If u hold back anything Ill kill ya. If u bend the truth or I think your bending the truth, Ill kill ya. If u forget anything Ill kill ya. In fact ur gonna have to work very hard to stay alive. Now do u understand everything Ive said? Because if u dont, Ill kill ya...."

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"The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the iniquities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he, who in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. "

**********

The details of my life are quite inconsequential... very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds- pretty standard really. At the age of twelve I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum... it's breathtaking- I highly suggest you try it.

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Love comes when manipulation stops. When you think more about the other person than about his or her reaction to you. When you dare to reveal yourself fully. When you dare to be vulnerable.

Thursday, March 13, 2008

Steve McQueens a Fag!

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

Afternoon

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