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.

Time filling ideas and the nasty beeping noise

Okeydokey, so here we are, back on the old blogerog. Well, in general terms it's actually quite new, but anyway you get my meaning. I hope. Let's move on.

So I'm back home after a fantastic week at this Christian camp called Soul Survivor. I've been once before and it's just amazing- as a Christian, I find it really refreshing to be around so many other young people with similar beliefs. Though by the end of it I didn't look too pretty:

Stunner.
Plus a few of us made an incredibly nerdy game involving a stack of plastic cups, a penguin torch and a pack of cards, which is really far too complex and bizzarre to explain in one post and will probably end up with me losing the thousands who follow this blog*.

Anyway, I'm back home with a few more weeks to kill until the new term and college (screams) begins, so I'm determined to use them well. I'll maybe learn a few new songs on the ukulele, do a bit of cooking here and there and perhaps if I'm desperate I'll try a bit of exercise. But here's the thing- that's not nearly enough. If anyone's got any ideas for me to try out, for example knit a sweater, learn portugese, try out bog snorkeling then lemme know yeah? I'm up for almost anything. Well, most things. Okay maybe a few, but I'll try my best.

One thing I have noticed since arriving home is that my parents have rented yet another boxset of 24. Now I'm in no position to criticise 24, as I've never actually watched it. But after about ten nights of constant beeping noises thundering out from the living room it becomes pretty unbearable to live with (you know what I mean if you've ever seen it- every few minutes some digital clock thing beeps in an annoying fashion that makes me want to violently run down to asda and purchase a pair of ear plugs). So as you can imagine I wasn't really jumping with joy when I saw this latest season sitting innocently on our shoe cupboard. The thing's evil I tell you**. But ahh well, maybe this time round I'll be mature enough to cope...

Forget it, someone burn my ears off.

*When I say 'thousands' I actually mean 7. Let's not get ahead of ourselves now eh?

**The 24 boxset, not our shoe cupboard.

getting a blog

Okay, so finally I'm here. After a holiday in France where bewilderingly everyone seemed to be dutch, I return home to find everyone's busy blogging their heart out. So being the natural sheep I've decided to follow suite. However, as I should have remembered, I have the internet skills of a caveman, so it's taken me a good hour to set up.

Firstly I spend 5 minutes trying to come up with a geeky-but-cool name and eventually settle with Dr Goofball which no doubt will want me to rip my face off with embarrassment in the future. Then I have to find a layout, which there only seem to be about 4 of to choose from. No doubt I'll find out later how naive I've been and that there are thousands to choose from.

Anyway, I finally sort out the ins and outs of my profile (finding a password a certain friend won't discover and use to destroy my popular base of followers) and try to figure out how to 'follow' people. In the end I end up accidentally following myself, which I doubt will allow my humble, modest persona to shine through. I click 'NEXT BLOG' in the vain hope that it will somehow lead me to a familiar blog of a friends. Instead I end up on 'Blonde Cow Photography's' page. Somewhat doubting I genuinely know this mysterious 'blonde cow' I decide it's probably better to try a different approach.

Anywhere so here I am with my blog don't you know, that is currently only followed by myself. Perhaps in a year or so I'll get the hang of it.