Moggy Manure Mishap 16:34

Listen to me, you feculent feline fiends.


Should I EVER have the unfortunate luck to immerse any unclothed part of my body in your bum dirt EVER again, I'm coming looking for you and being dipped in defecation will be the least of your worries.

Capiche?

Standard silverware sorting sorrows 13:05

It's knife, fork, spoon isn't it? isn't it?
Left to right - Knife. Fork. Spoon.
I just want to know that i have your agreement here.

Further to my brush with the cutlery ninja (spoonless-in-spoon-filled-world), I find myself yet again in a rage over eating implements.

It seems that due to some bizarre twist of reality that someone at my place of work doesn't agree with the standard order of the universe and refuses to conform.

Upon opening the cutlery drawer at my place of work the other day I was not only surprised to find some cutlery actually in there (and not festering within the realms of the interior of the dishwasher) but I was confused, confounded and consternated by the vision before me.  The forks were on the left.  The knives were in the middle.  The spoons were in their normal place on the right hand side of the plastic retaining container (good old trustworthy spoons).

Furiously, I slammed the drawer closed, alerting all and sundry to my displeasure in this sorting aberration.
And that's when it all became clear.

There was a label on the drawer.  A small plastic label.

The label showed a fork, a knife and a spoon in that order.

You win label, you win.

Bran Flake Monkey 09:35

There has been some call for it.  So here it is - One monkey's dreams of escaping a washing up oppressed régime.

How to Calculate 'Gas Mark' 12:20

In general, the conversions between a Gas Mark temperature (TG) and a Fahrenheit temperature (TF) are given by


and


where kf = 275 °F.

I mean, seriously  - WTF?  WTF?  Who dreamed that one up?

Tom! 14:11

Tom Waits is just about to release his Glitter and Doom Live album
I went to see it in Edinburgh and just listened to the 8 free tracks he's giving away on his new website http://www.tomwaits.com/.  If the rest is as well recorded and hand picked as the preview tracks, then its well worth your hard earned banana skins.

The package comes with a second CD includes tom waits tall tales and musings.
Sunglasses that turn into a tricycle? - I thought so Tom.

Full review when the missus buys it me.

Optician 10:07

So I'm sitting in the optician's chair in the dark.

We've gone through the whole blowing air in my eyes and looking at the hot air balloon rigmarole and now she's turned the light off and is bending down in front of me shining lights in my eyes.

She stands up and informs me that the next part of the test will involve her getting very near to me and not to worry.

I start to worry.

She leans in with the speed of lunging emu and slowly walks around me. She's so close I can smell her skin.

"DON'T LICK THE OPTICIAN!" My brain screams.

"I wasn't even thinking of licking the optician!" I tell it.

"You were." It replies accusingly.

There is a short pause while I try to remember if I was thinking of licking the optician.  I can find no evidence of me ever wanting to put my tongue anywhere near the lady who is still peering into my left pupil.

"Look," I think, "there is no evidence that I was ever thinking of licking this optician"

I perceptibly nod towards her in order to point out to my own brain which optician I'm currently referring to.

"I believe that it was probably you that was thinking about licking the optician."

There is no reply.  I smile to myself knowing that I'm right and in the clear.

The optician has stood up and is looking concerned as I've just nodded towards her and I'm now smiling like a chimpanzee at her left breast.

I think about explaining what happened.

My brain sniggers quietly to itself.

Duck Eggs 00:21

I'm stepping out of my car and heading towards my house.
Some woman is walking down the road.

"Duck eggs." She says to me.

I look mildly concerned at her.

"Duck eggs," she repeats, "do you like them?"

Feeling mildly pressurised into answering in the affirmative, I nod slowly and she thrusts a box into my hand.

"Duck eggs." She explains and points up the road.
"Don't tell Ernie." She threatens.

I shake my head solemnly and seriously as if it would be the last thing on my mind to tell the infamous Ernie.

She continues on her way down the road.

The missus arrives home from work sometime later. I hand her the box. "Duck Eggs," I inform her, "don't tell Ernie".

Launchpad 11:08

I think actually I might actually need one of these, actually.
Spare £150 anyone?

Novation Launchpad

 

Playlist #1 17:54

Alright, Bit of a cheat for a post, but I been working on this.
Go, be funked.

spotify:user:deaddewd:playlist:2syusczlZdrpgC0Ppyk1H3