There are times when I truly want to strangle both our animals. This morning was a case in point.
Having been repeatedly kept awake by Hound drinking from her bottle during the night, I got up at my normal time of 5.30. Oh, lucky me. Stumble into the kitchen, where there’s Hound wanting to be let out, and Psycho Cat wanting to be let in. He must finally be settling in – that’s twice in the last few days where he’s gone out at night. But normally the window’s open, so he comes back in as and when he wants during the night – except last night Herself closed it. So Psycho Cat is pissed off.
Straight away, he starts yowling away, wanting food. It won’t stop ’til the food’s down, so that’s the first job. All the while accompanied by yowls. He literally won’t shut up ’til the food is placed in front of him, even when the mouthy little shit can see that I’m doing it.
And then as soon as the cat’s been done, the fucking dog starts up. It’s not fair, the cat’s been fed and I haven’t. Wah wah wah. So she gets her happy pills next (homeopathic pills that stop her from being quite such an irritating fuckbag most of the time) before I can even begin to think about my own breakfast.
When I’ve done my toast, I get tracked into the living room by Hound, who sits waiting for me to finish each slice of toast so she can have her last little corner of each slice. (Yeah, yeah, I know, we should wait ’til we’ve completely finished before giving her anything. Hey ho. Rod for our own backs, although it was put in place way before I came on the scene, although admittedly I’ve continued the tradition) Then she’s still hungry, so I feed her the half-bowl of dog biscuits that weren’t eaten last night.
Finally, when that’s done, Hound’s still hungry. So I get up to top up the bowl, during which the irritating little ballbag barks incessantly until told to sit down and shut up. Which, in fairness, she does.
Only then, because I’ve told her off, she decides she’s no longer hungry, and wanders off into the garden, with that look of “Ha! That’ll teach you, human.” in her face.
Bastards.
Blimey, there’s a whisky distillery just down the road from where we live. Who knew?
I even see the place every day when I travel on the train. Fantastic. Now I may have to go and visit at some point – even if none of the whisky will be sold before the end of 2009…
What can you say about the Transformers film? It’s loud, hyperfast, utterly ridiculous, with dollops of American sentimentality that leave you choking, they’re so bad. The speed of the action makes you come out feeling like you’ve spent 90 minutes on the world’s fastest rollercoaster. Insanely fast, in fact.
But then again, what else did you expect from a film directed by Michael Bay, and based on a cartoon in the first place?
However, it’s also two and a half hours of pretty much non-stop action alongside some of the best special effects I’ve seen in ages. The robots don’t look like they’re computer generated – and it’s all done so well that you actually do suspend disbelief (well, until you’re given the chance to think about it, anyway) – it feels like the robots were just filmed as part of the action. And that’s impressive, however you look at it, and however you feel about American action films.
Mind you, it’s also interesting, seeing the way that some films now seem to be showing the law-enforcement agencies as being not always the good guys. Mind you, the person playing the part of the lead FBI-faction agency should’ve been shot at birth. He is awful, and the ‘performance’ (if you can call it that) jars with pretty much the rest of the film.
All told though, it’s a fantastic film, far more fun than either Spiderman 3 or Pirates 3 – both of which should have been fun, but weren’t. Both of those films felt far longer than their actual running time, whereas Transformers managed to feel like 90 minutes while actually being an hour longer than that.
So yes, I’m signed up with the BBC’s iPlayer TV on demand. I’ve tried the Channel 4 version, 4oD, which is OK, so I thought I’d give the BBC one a go too.
And so far it seems to be OK. The “zoom” doesn’t work on my machine, leaving you with just ‘diddy’ screen or full screen, but one assumes that’s a bug fix that’ll come along soon. The actual playback quality is pretty impressive, and while the library of available programmes isn’t currently all that great, it’s not bad either. And of course there’ll be more stuff as time goes on.
All told, an interesting idea. Now it just remains to be seen whether I’ll actually use it…
You really have to wonder about some people, don’t you?
Not content with taking a shit out in public, this guy apparently made a habit of it, ‘regularly’ getting caught short. Sorry, but if it’s a regular occurrence, then be prepared for it, you know?
I think this story about a guy cycling the Tour de France on his own, with backup from his mum is utterly fantastic. He’s riding each stage one day before the main Tour does it, but all the same, he’s doing the full Tour.
Quite, quite barmy – but utterly fantastic too. Particularly in light of all the stories this year about ‘professional’ riders failing drugs tests left, right and centre and who have massive dollops of support and sponsorship, while this amateur cyclist – who’s only been cycling for a year – is doing the entire thing for a current spend of less than £2000, no sponsorship, and really for the sheer hell of it.
All power to his wheels, in my opinion.
As I’ve mentioned before this week, a couple of weeks ago we ordered a couple of water-butts from Greenfingers.com. Because they were likely to be delivered while we were both out at work, I also left a note in their “special instructions” part of the order process to say that if we were out, then it was fine to leave them in the garden behind the house. All well and good.
Anyway, I got a call from Greenfingers, telling me they were going to send the butts out the next day. Again, all well and good. After that, though, it all got a little bit surreal.
“Now, sir, you’ve added a note telling us that if no-one’s in, the order can be left at the back of the house”
“Yes, that’s correct”
“Well, can you also write the same thing on a piece of paper, and tape it to your front door? Our couriers need to have permission before they’ll leave anything at a property”
“But I’ve already authorised that to happen, by adding the special delivery comments”
“Ah, but the courier needs authorisation from yourself”
“He’s got it. I’ve given it to you, and thus by proxy to the courier”
“Well all the same, can you leave a note taped to your front door?”
“Let me get this right. You want me to advertise to all and sundry that a) I’m going to be out all day, and that the house is empty, and b) that there’s a good chance there might be some good stuff out the back. Do you want me to leave the door open for the courier as well, just to make sure?”
“Is that a ‘no’, sir?”
Now tell me, what’s the point of passing on a special request like that, if it’s not going to make it to the people who’re doing the delivery? And what’s the point of leaving a notice like that on my door?
As it turned out, the water butts did get delivered, and did get dealt with just fine. Even without a note on the bloody door.
Amazingly, D4D™ now contains no less than 890,631 words.
I was asked by the owner of Arena Flowers for a link to them. So here it is, a link to Arena Flowers. Who are, apparently, lovely and professional.
