I've been staring at this ages and I still think it's a goal. I therefore conclude that where Totterington are concerned there is no need for goal line technology. Tee hee.
I know I know, I'm being childish. It's too important. Referees ruining the game. Sperz would not have lost 5-1 had that goal not stood etc etc. Bloody FA Luddites.
The ref has cost Sperz a more dignified 4-1 walloping and that is farcical. And all the 4th official had to do was look at a monitor. When are the FA going to drag the officiating of the game into the 21st century?
It's not every morning you find out you've been doing something wrong your whole life. Unless of course you're married and have a standard wife.
Apparently the best way to open a banana is to pinch the 'bottom' and peel, rather than dig your nail into the stem and peel, as I'm sure 99% of us have done our whole freakin' lives!
I think that means the top is actually the bottom too but I can't handle that at this time so I'll come back to that at a later date. For now, do try this. I just had a banana and it was so easy opening it from the 'bottom'.
Look, I don't know how to feel about this. Just....just go.
Processor wrong way round showing clearly this whole thing
is a load of old bullshit designed to make money from twats on Twitter
Twitter has yet again failed to understand how the Daily Mail works despite several subtle clues left by the newspaper in the photographs accompanying an article which only the most self righteous sandal wearing hummus eating Daily Mail loathers could possibly take seriously.
The Daily Mail run one particular story on their website. Just one. One that will irritate the hell out of people who use Twitter. People who patrol the site looking for something to be progressive and liberal about who will then launch Twitter and fire off a smug tweet along with the URL for the article and a demand to "RT" the tweet to all of their followers who then go and read the article, who then RT it to their followers and so on.
Samantha Brick's article yesterday about how her life is hell because she is so pretty was a gem. Whoever this woman is, she is borderline average for her age in the looks department. I would say a six pinter if she doesn't wear those silly Daily Mail frocks in real life and if she isn't reeking of garlic because of that comedy Frenchman.
She has the perfect appearance for this kind of article. Just about good looking enough for the reader to think she may be serious so she draws spiteful comments of being delusional rather than being so ugly people just laugh at her.
So of course millions of people flock to the article to ridicule her. She made £30,000 for the Daily Mail after the first article. And £40,000 today after writing another article claiming yesterday's abuse proves her point. Which was then branded so ironic by Twitterers, who still couldn't see the real irony, it could interfere with the space time continuum.
I imagine her real name is probably Helen and she works for the Daily Mail in accounts or something and has volunteered for this as she need a bit of extra cash and she knows no one will recognise her in a week or so precisely because her looks are so average.
For breaching over two hundred health and safety rules and regulations this can't even be shown on British telly let alone be actually performed here. We've got to lighten up a bit. I'd get a telly if this sort of stuff was on every evening.
Now that's more like it. You didn't have to be an Arsenal supporter to feel that life affirming warmth on Sunday watching a tax dodger's collection of overrated monkeys from the colonies and sexually indiscriminate parvenu's from all over the place receive an absolute pasting from a fine upstanding band of heterosexual family men.
Of course from an Arsenal perspective this result will mean nothing if the chaps return from the northern hellish lawless badlands of Merseyside next weekend without any points or hubcaps, but we can still allow ourselves at least for a day to drink in the misery of that infestation crawling around our stadium from N17 yesterday.
From these Star of David waving, circumcised cocked, Kosher food eating verminous celebrations..
28min: Arsenal 0-2 Tottenham
To this; who amongst us can't be both appalled and elated in equal measure by this ménage à trios of abject incestuous misery?
FT: Arsenal 5-2 Tottenham
Obviously there will never be a time when Arsenal's whole season is considered a success just because we have beaten Totterington. Those is the low standards of our entirely uncivilised neighbours from N17. Arsenal of course set a different standard. We do not launch celebratory DVDs for a single matches or consider one season from sixteen as proof that a shift in power has occurred.
However, we must be cautious. However absurd the notion, we must never entirely dismiss the possibility that Tottenham might finish above Arsenal this season. As they are only seven points ahead at the moment, that seems almost impossible, but we must still never take anything for granted.
Enjoy yesterday of course. But once this typically pointless international round of friendlies is over we must concentrate fully on putting Totterington exactly where they deserve to be. Sort of 12th.
Good man, get it out of your system for tomorrow we go to work
As it turned out I didn't have a good day yesterday. My bag of sand challenge was essentially over by half-time. Stupid sand. I might as well have another bash at it today however. It's the Superbowl and there's a cornucopia of opportunities to lose money.
I fancy the New York Giants. POssibly because when it comes to the New York v New England area rivalry I am firmly entrenched in the New York camp. The way they talk in New England especially Boston is just ridiculous and there are far too many fake Irish people up there. I mean I know New York has a load of them too, but not nearly as many.
I think instead of hiring a Ferrari for the weekend with my money I fancy I'm going to commission Joe Hill the anamorphic pavement artist to paint one of the walls of my living room. I quite like the idea of having a panoramic view of Vegas on my wall so it looks like I'm in a hotel room. Either Vegas or the shower room of the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders. I've not decided yet. I think it'll be pricey but now I've got a Onesie I don't really need anything else so why not? That's what I always say.
I just found I had an empty drawer in my kitchen! Been living here two years and I've only just noticed I had an entire drawer lying empty. It's these sorts of things that make life worth living.
I always just assumed it was one of those weird fake drawers you sometimes get in kitchens, but no. It was the real McCoy. I can't wait to start putting stuff in it. I've never felt so alive.
I wonder what compelled me to try and open it? There's a lesson in this for everyone. Nothing is ever as it seems. What you thought was decoration may be a genuine storage space, or metaphorically - trust no one!
It's every man for himself. Good luck everyone.
My cupboard doors as they were earlier this evening.
The doors in their opened aspect with what I
assumed to be a fake drawer in it's closed aspect.
Oh my God!! The "fake" drawer is revealed to be real after all as
something within me compels me to try and open it.
My regular readers will already be aware of my perpetual search for the ultimate in loungewear and it is this search that has motivated me this morning to fork out £140 for this awesome adults baby romper suit.
My Scandinavian readers will appreciate more than others how I can justify such an investment perhaps. Not because it's cold up there and they dress according to the conditions, but because they're mental and have the fashion sense of university students.
I hate students of course as much as the next man, but when it comes to loungewear they are streets ahead of everyone else mostly because they have no sense of shame.
The key to loungewear is comfort and if there's anything a student knows how to do it's make himself comfortable. A student will go outside wearing a bin liner full of decomposing rubbish if the alternative is to wash his even dirtier clothes.
I respect that. It's that completely uninhibited thinking that leads to adult baby clothes. I can't wait. I'm going to practice not going out so I get the full benefit from it. If this thing is as warm and comfortable as it looks I'll be wearing it outside and no mistake. I might just buy a couple more and never wear anything else ever again.
Who was it who did that? Was it Einstein? He had seven versions of the same suit so he never had to worry about what to wear? I must be as clever as him then? Smashing.
Lesbians are brilliant aren't they when they're nice looking like these two. I'd say nice looking lesbians shagging are in my top five aesthetically pleasing things along with an open fire, a clear starry night, a rough sea and a bombed out French city.
I still don't really 100% accept that lesbianists are for real. I think it's choice rather than biology. Essentially it's like being a vegetarian, you know like a phase, eventually all of them need some meat.
The only female friend I ever had who went through one of these phases managed about six months before she had to confess she missed cock. Those were her exact words..."I just...I missed cock too much."
She was gasping by the time she finally admitted it to herself and she was quite a big girl too..whoever it was who helped her relieve her frustrations her first time back must have had lungs like a racehorse.
I shouldn't think a natural genetic lesbian would join the Navy. A profession requiring her to spend months on end on a ship with about 300 needy cocks. She might insist she's just trying to make it in a mans world or striking a blow for lesbian sisterhood, but I should think it's more likely she just wants to be drenched in buckets of jizz.
Do you watch Dexter? Do you? I do. I loves it. Season 6 is getting mixed reviews but I think it's been briwyant. There's been a twist and everyone thinks it's terrible as it was predictable but I reckon they're being sold a dummy and there's a double twist.
I think it's Louis the intern who's been doing the killings and he wrote the message on Travis' wall with the hand from the Ice Truck Killer case. He's the nasty bastard in all this.
Did you want me to tell you that? Sorry if you haven't seen it yet. Tee hee.
Also, I reckon eventually we'll discover that young Deb has known all along that her brother is a serial killer. I fancy it would be very difficult as an inquisitive child to grow up in a house with a killer and not know about it. For my money she has known all along her brother likes to cut people up into little pieces and may have even become a cop to protect him.
You heard it here first. Now if you'll excuse me my crumpets are ready.
I wasn't going to blog about this as it's a bit unpleasant, but it's also fascinating so I'm gonna.
Now then, for those that are new to the blog, I canny breath no more due to my having Cystic Fibrosis. So I am connected to an oxygen thingy at all times, even when I just go to the sammich place or make a poo.
Now then, sometimes the nasal cannula I wear slips off at night. If I am asleep at this time this can cause me to feel very breathless or, on occasion, can cause me to actually stop breathing altogether and I wake up gasping as if I've just made love to a large woman.
Now then, this is the fascinating bit; what wakes me up are my dreams. When I'm in this condition my distress becomes manifest in my dreams in the form of really rather nasty death deaths.
For example, I will be drowning, or choking on a sammich. Or on one occasion, an unidentified man will put a pillow over my head. And as I struggle in the dream to free myself, I wake up. It is the struggle and the alarm I feel in the dream that wakes me. Brilliant!
I am then able to replace my nasal cannula when I wake up and return to a state of breathing. While this is obviously unpleasant, I find it also incredibly clever on the part of my brains. I wish I lived in a time when the science boffins had more of an understanding of how our brains work.
That our brains have a subconscious level that remains alert and awake while we sleep to keep us from succumbing in situations like this is very very clever. To be able to alert us via dreams is fantastic stuff. I find it amazing. How does it work though? How how?
How am I aware that I'm not breathing in the sort of corporeal world even though I'm asleep and then able to warn myself by making movie about it and showing it to myself straight away before it's too late?
Our dreams are so mysterious. They are clearly very important. It is for this reason I am alarmed that dream suppressants have been developed and prescribed to people. If I had taken any such medication I'd be a goner.
If any science boffins are reading this I suggest you stop making that kind of medication and focus more on tablets that make you feel like when they give you morphine only without the addictive aide effects.
Be careful with this site: http://bullseyecontestants.tumblr.com/ it's left me feeling nostalgic but has also resurrected disturbing memories from my childhood I would have preferred to have remained in the shadows of my subconscious. I've marked your card.
I actually do remember when old ladies looked exactly like this. I think they all did at that time. It's actually a miracle anyone who was brought up in the 70s and 80s can even talk. The horror!
This is beautiful and profoundly disturbing. The choking hairspray fumes even now are overpowering. Dude number 1 is wearing his best stuff, yet flanked by his parents on the left and his nan on the right his cool get up and perm are negated. Person number 2 is either asleep or incredibly well medicated. This couple (3) are awesome and they know it, but still...the horror!
