Monthly Archives: June 2004

bean update.

Good god! How much am I missing my little graphics family? Answer esta yes. Quite a lot. It’s come to my attention that ever since I’ve been ejaculating my drivel concentrated ponderings on here, I’ve never really mentioned the kids that I spend the majority of my time with. This is stoopid. And so, for your viewing pleasure, je presente:
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honorary onanists

It’s 4.57am and I’m sitting here at work babysitting the release which has gone OK from our end but something is up elsewhere. I’m out of here at 8am anyway, three hours to go… yawn.

One of the guys here just told me an interesting story which he’d read in yesterdays Daily Record. I told him that the story actually happened a few months ago and that the Record obviously needed to fill some column space so had printed an old story. Oh, how wrong I was…

Two inexplicably similar stories…

The one I was thinking of


another, which is funnier.


Nausea can be the worst feeling in the world.

Not five-tequila-nausea; not nerves-nausea. The clammy, sick, whole-body nausea that cannot be waited out; that doubles you up into a limp, sweating rag doll.

There’s a parallel with pain, and how we deal with it psychologically. When physical pain is steadily getting worse, or at a constant high pitch, it feels intolerable. But as soon as we feel it’s starting to fade, our threshold shifts; it becomes manageable. When the end is in sight, our threshold changes.

Likewise, the worst part of this nausea is the buildup. The steady, unstoppable progress up the foothills and slopes of misery leading to the gut-lurching peak.

Hence you’re lying in bed trying different positions to minimise your growing nausea, while it grows steadily more intense. And you hope in vain it’ll go away, but at the same time you know it’s inevitably, definitely going to reach the point where you have to muster enough courage to bite the bile bullet and run for the bathroom to retch until you can’t breathe through your spasm-locked throat and the capillaries are bursting around your eyes.

Nausea can be the worst feeling in the world.

last week/this week/lessons learned

- Enjoyed 15hrs DeathSleep ™ after PM’s birthday. Woke up and wondered what day it was.
- Worked my ass to the ground in persuit of holiday money, only to be taxed nearly a hundred quid. Status=low.
- Realised that the lighter you are, the higher you bounce, irrespective of springy shoes on my nephew’s trampoline.
- Decided that I just *don’t get* the mass obsession with football.
- Got hit on by a knee tremblingly gorgeous doctor girl. And was good. Despite my obvious weekness for anything weilding a stethoscope. Pathetic, yes we know this.
- Felt extremely small, as my boyfriend got promoted.
- Felt scared as my boyfriend jovially hinted at making me his missus.
- Said bye to Fredski, who’s off to America for summer, then Canada for next academic yr.
- Tried not to look at the cute girls in the changing room at the gym.
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big brother

Shock news in the seminal reality show as housemates are cynically manipulated into hating one another and subsequently fed booze until it all kicks off. Security and psychologists called in, chaos. Easily the funniest quote of the week though:

After Marco taunted Jason with a camp dance the furious Scot said: “I might decide to knock the fuck out of you. I will fucking kill you. I’ll fucking take your head off Gimp-boy Gollum – don’t dance in my face. Don’t fucking disrespect me.”

Fantastic impromptu abuse, I love it.

you know it’s been a successful stag do when…

…a month later you receive a bill for damages. Email excerpt below:

—–Original Message—–
From: Stish Nangle
Sent: 16 June 2004 19:28
Subject: Loch Tay Fine

hello boys,

got a call yesterday from loch tay … bad news!

they had to call in specialist cleaners for the ‘bell end’ lodge and are charging me £188 for damages.

so i would appreciate any ‘contributions’ (say £12 each?). i know some of you may feel slightly miffed at this as it wasn’t us who had thrown up on the carpet; however, we all trampled in the crisps, beer, burgers and mud i’m afraid. also, don’t have a clue how or from whom it was leaking but there was blood on the carpet too!

The lodge was actually called Bell Rock (arbroathian link there) but was predictably rechristened the ‘bell end’ lodge.