Stephen King's face

Ohh dear it's been far too long since my last post. 14 days would you believe it, and this is mainly down to the fact that my life really isn't that interesting. I know right? I was shocked too. But don't worry, hopefully the lengthy gaps will mean you stay marginally interested. At least, um, that's what I'm hoping.

Anyway, due to my lack of inspiration I'm going to get a little bit of help. I'm just about to ask my friend Carlo http://carloprinzi.blogspot.com/ if he has any ideas on a theme. Back in a minute...

"Do a blog about how odd Stephen King's face is."

Umm, well, top marks for originality. For those of you who don't know, Stephen King is an American author of contemporary horror, suspense, science fiction and fantasy fiction. Cheers wikipedia!

But now that I've actually seen his face I understand exactly what Carlo means.



It looks like some square-headed robot had tried to squeeze a much-too-small face over it's head. His eyes are far too small through those glasses and the skin around them is a different shade too the rest of his face. One eyebrow is half-an-inch higher than the other. The two stray hairs on his face look like some weird radar interceptors. And he has a butt crack on his forehead.

Let me repeat that.

He has a buttcrack on his forehead.

In conclusion, Stephen King is not human. He is, however, an American author of contemporary horror, suspense, science fiction and fantasy fiction. Essay completed.

Scary Shops

Afternoon all, it's been a while- I decided to leave it long enough so that you don't get too carried away by the sheer brilliance of my blog, and so, like Christmas it only comes around every so often and is usually awesome. Usually.

Anyway I thought I'd share with you the utterly terrifying experience I had the other day at the shops. I had decided, in that testosterone fuelled manner that it was time to go clothes shopping. This wasn't some spontaenious and flamboyant fashion trip mind- I did need some new clothes for college. Just had to add that excuse in to ensure my masculine reputation isn't tarnished.

So I'm mooching around the shops in the town centre trying to look cool and carefree; I am a young, independant soon-to-be college student off to buy some new clothing. The only problem is the rain is falling out of the sky like, well, like rain does, and I have no coat and no umbrella. Regrettably I have to speed up my cool nochalant walk which makes me look like some kind of injured war veteran. People start staring, so I switch to a crazy-rain-avoider run to blend in with everyone else.

I walk past a shop called 'John Anthony'. The clothing in the window looks nice and it's not too busy, so in my naivety I decide to walk in.

I soon find out why it's so empty. John Anthony may as well be rebranded 'Tory clothing ltd.' The price tags are ridiculous. I wander over to a rack of nice looking polo shirts and casually flip up a price label. £75. My palms start to sweat- I need to leave. But as the sole customer I now have the undivided attention of the posh-designer-stubble-shopping-assistant-don't-you-know, who is glaring at me with a "your way too poor for this shop, boy" type glare.

This is like some insane battle of the classes. I must make it look like price doesn't matter. I drift over to varius items of clothing and pretend I'm interested in buying them. Sauntering over to a pile of jeans, I rifle through them tastefully, nodding and raising my eyebrows at how good they are and what a dignified jeans expert I am. Deciding that I've probably won the shop assistant over, I hastily trot to the entrance and practically leap out the door. Never again will I enter that terrifying shop.

So there it was, my horribly awkward visit to John Anthony. Hope I didn't play it up too much. Anyway, next blog I'm sure I'll be back to ranting about all of the annoying things in my life such as this:

Now I'm all for fun, kooky facebook groups but this is just too far my friend. It's cheesiness (or rather it's toastiness hardy-har) makes me want to never eat toast again in protest. When I go online I do useful things like answering emails, playing pacman, and writing witty popular blogs. Not to share my 'toasty love' with the world. Arrrgh. G'night.