10 minutes to go

And I am wasting my time (and yours) with a count down.
FREEDOM! The Weekend is upon me!

Brushes with celebrity

Someone who looks a little like Rolf Harris just walked past me in the library.
I feel gratitude to him, for livening up an interminable afternoon

Hasselhoff

I may be reaching saturation point for David Hasselhoff today. First I received a Knight Rider annual as a belated birthday present, and then I read this snippet about his career plans. I am particularly distressed by the thought that his daughters may be turned into pop stars also. Well, I guess we'll see how well they do here and in the states, but they will undoubtedly be a smash in Germany.
Incidentally, I just have to remark upon the kind of artists that make it big in New Zealand, often before making it in other parts of the world. Ben Harper, Jack Johnson, that Rocco De Luca chap. Stoner surfie music seems to get us every time, especially when it is really really boring. For Shame! We should not be encouraging rugbyhead date rapists to strum their guitars. Pah!
Lucky, time to move. Moving will ensure that I do not type myself into a still bigger hole.

Carnivale

I always feel a deep sense of emptiness when I finish watching a good TV series, and I have just finished the second season of Carnivale. I will always feel affection for that show, if only because I can titter every time I say managament referring to the powers taht be at the library. The other show I can say that about is Little Britain - which made returning copies of the magazine "The Lady" a joy.

Done gone rapture

There's something strange going on in town today - no-one has come into the library at all. Whenever there is a marked lack of people about I assume that armageddon is occuring, the chosen have been beamed up by Jesus and I await the coming of the antichrist.

Show yourself foul being!

Can't wait for the whore of Babylon, I bet it is either Britney Spears or Lindsay Lohan, with Fergie in the running too.

Gunther! Samantha! OMG!

I first discovered Gunther when searching for Fabio tracks online. Along with Randy Savage they have produced some pretty damn titanic bad albums. You can read about them here. Alternately you can experience a double whammy. Gunther and Samantha Fox. Together, in one ridiculously over sexed video.
While I was looking for it, I found a frightening review. I like to think it refers to Fabio the male model, but even if it does not the use of the genre "Epic Metal" pleases me greatly.



Look at them all. Complete Eurotrash with fiddler moustache and mullet. Special mention goes to the dog pile of people with severe lace chafing.

I'm getting ahead of myself.

This is all topsy turvey - but I want post number 150 to be REALLY REALLY special. So stay tuned for an update on this one
************************************************************************************
I think I made 150 ROOLLY SPECIAL so I can rest proud in the knowledge of a job well done. What a shame it was to the detriment of other chores that needed doing - school work, *ahem* business correspondence and catching up on general email business. I'm also trying to upload a whole lot of CDs so I don't need to own them any more. By hook or by crook I am determined to evacuate more than one pathway through my room. Its going slowly, but not as slowly as it was this afternoon when my computer was trying to explain to me that I did not have a disk drive at all.
But anyway, I am currently agonising over the right way to open a formal letter, and close it without sounding obsequious or downright dull. Who's got nifty solutions? I know damn well you're all a lot more professional than I am, so I shall be on tenterhooks until I get an influx of email.
What a shame these letters aren't speeches, in which case I could just write something about Jesus, God and America and perhaps the bald eagle to cover all my bases.

I think we used to have a Samantha Fox poster from an RTR magazine

Here's something to educate the young 'uns anyway.

A slightly delayed reaction

Bu I finally got to open a birthday present today. You will all be jealous. Well, you ought to be.





















Deep Breath...

Oh, those teenagers

I had made a solemn vow to myself that I would try to be out of public duties at the library by the time the teen section moved up to the AV floor. In spite of all my moaning and whinging about the bad interview I've done it! Hoorah! Goodbye public! Goodbye quibbles over extended loan charges! Goodbye unfortunate reminders of my uncouth accent in the guise of saucy foreigners! Goodbye triumphal return stats & goodbye to a very nice bunch of people (though we will still be in the same building). Goodbye weirdo public...and I'll miss you most of all flasher.

Children of the Stones is getting pretty exciting now

and I am waiting for the Dunedin villagers to gather round my flat and start singing in unusual discordant harmonies, a song about choosing a candidate for the Cargill Ward. It would take some pretty heavy duty supernatural intervention to convince me to vote for any of the candidates I have seen thus far.

Well, that elicited a reaction

I was reinforcing and mending a whole load of large print westerns today. Often readers will leave their mark on the book, intials, circling the fifth letter on the first paragraph of the first page, a special symbol. Usually fairly benign, even if misguided: we get multiple copies of the same book, and editions that may have differing covers and titles depending on country of origin.
Sometimes a book will inspire a special reaction. Like the Rolling Stone magazine cover of Billy-Joe Armstrong on which someone scrawled "Sexy Biotch". Today, leafing through the books I found someone had been roused by "Black Jo of the Pecos" by Jeff Blaine. The reaction was swift and negative. Pure Rubbish. Don't bother reading it.
I had to rip out and replace the page, which is now housed in the Bindery Annals.

Going through the motions

Its nice to see Britney Spears [Shitney Smears] is back on the conversation agenda; so all those people getting married out there, make sure her name is at the top of the topics list on the reverse of the table name cards. I have not seen her new video, but it was described to me in lurid detail with particular reference to her trashy bikini outfit, and dancing. I believe the phrase "Lazily gyrating" was used, which I think is just brilliant. I immediately thought of her half heartedly swingig on a pole in front of a bored audience, while carrying out a conversation on post dance activities with a friend, off stage. "Yeah, I'll just finish up here and we can pick up 3 crates of bacardi breezers and maybe some archer's aqua schnapps. I really like the citris one, it makes my spew really invigorating and Sean Preston thinks it tickles.
I perused some sites with opinion on Britney's new look, but was sidetracked by the names of people posting. I wish I'd thought of calling myself Piglet Baldwin, though I would never make the typo or the statement "Koncking me out with those American thighs".
I suppose if I thought I looked good I'd dress as trashily as Britney, but thats another post entirely.
So Britney's dance was lacklustre, without the joie de vivre evident in say, Madonna humping her boom box. Cursory, bored, out of it?
I too was going through the motions today, but I was not lazily gyrating. You better believe that if I were gyrating it would be with frenetic enthusiasm. No, I had a job interview. I had a job interview, being interviewed by people who have interviewed me about five times before, and never given me a job. I get to wondering what the point is, and what is wrong with me but I will withhold the sustained bitch session until I know I definitely did not get the job.

I suppose it is a moral victory of sorts

Walking along to work today and I was accosted by some teenage boys handing out fliers. I said no thanks and kept walking and listening to my mp3 player. So then one of them started trying to get in my way and yelling "Just take it!". The other looked on and laughed or something.
This is a moral victory since I did not get "Just take it you fat ugly bitch", which I would have expected.

Sunday Morning da-dah-da-da-da-dah

Another Sunday (my Friday) and I feel like I need a complete blood transfusion, brain transplant and strategically placed monkey glands in order to return to my normal, substandard functionality. Is this a sign of aging, this absolute lethargy after a circumspect weekend? I'm glad there is only 5 more minutes until my lunch break, where I will eat scungy leftovers and sup deep on some nasty nasty nasty instant coffee. I will continue the maundering post after such time.
***
Well, wouldn't you know it, the universe does at times provide entertainment. Today was one of those special occasions. I don't know if I misheard or what by I am going to stick to my version of the story. Some guy was just in at the Information desk asking what year it was.
You will all know the conclusions I was leaping to - Sam had quantum leaped in and was going to set some hideous miscarriage of justice right.
Oh Boy.

This ought to bring back fond memories

Nasty nasty freeloader

You'd think my birthday would give me maturity and make me less of a stingy bastard, but the day afterwards I was still attending the art gallery openings with those sweet sweet hor d'ouevres.

It's hard to imagine

But someone was actually quoted as being "very excited" about porridge. That ex SAS money saver guy, the one who looks like he has let the exercise regime pass by the wayside, is probably quietly rapturous too. His moustache will be quivering in suppressed excitement. You can read about the palpitation causing announcement here.

Wanton destruction

Today was a bit of a mess for me, as I was running on too little sleep. It feels like months since I got to sleep in properly. By properly I mean sleeping in until the afternoon. Its self inflicted of course, that damn Playstation is so much more appealing than the thought of doing school work after work. So deadlines were pushed back and I found myself doing school stuff at 1.30 am when I had to be working the next morning.
Needless to say I was a bit sour when I was with it enough to be anything.

Highlights included:
-almost clipping a measure of coffee into the base of my upside down cup
-laying some whoop-ass on an innocent book I was supposed to be repairing
-attempting to carry extremely hot toast in my bare hands and burning myself
-thinking it would be a good idea to walk up 4 flights of stairs to my 15min tea break

Along with sundry other silly things, including a joke about rugby wife bashers in the staff room. Then I found it amusing that the book I was butchering was called "Berlin: Now and Then" in light of my Leonard Cohen fest yesterday.

But anyway, playstation again tonight but I will try to ensure the smackdown is finished at a respectable hour. Doesn't sound nearly so good does it, though I suppose staying up 'til dawn with an RPG is hardly cool either.

I definitely need to move and get a life.

Happy Anniversary Baby

Got you on my mind.
So I celebrated by listening to the disco sleaze stylings of Leonard Cohen's First We Take Manhattan. I admired his gaggle of backing vocalists while contemplating the destruction of Dunedin's CBD, and the styling choices of Osama.

There oughtta be a law

The picture of Fleetwood Mac was beginning to get to me. So many questions - why did Stevie Nicks look so uppity? How did Lindsey Buckingham acheive that hair? Won't anybody save the whales?
So here's something else to fixate upon.

Just putting it out there, I would like some Honky Tonk TCB rings if anyone is feeling generous...

Good Morning!

This beautiful picture is bound to improve everyone's day the more it is diseminated. Thank-you Fleetwoodmacguide.com for spreading the love and choosing that is the main image of the members of Fleetwood Mac. Especial credit to Mick for the lady-sandals; I'm sure I have seen Hush Puppies that were quite similar. I'm glad to know the look is within everyone's reach.

I should really look at the displays more often

Because the pro-life one has mysteriously reappeared. I remember being outraged years ago with the emotionally charged propaganda when it was displayed in the foyer. Well, someone has seen fit to allow it in the library again. I don't know why, pro-choice information would never be allowed up.

Rest assured I have complained, but I am ashamed the organisation saw fit to display the material in the first place.

"Oi, Justin", I'd say, "Justin, NO!"

I was watching a bit of music television before work and I have been damaged irrevocably. I was subjected to some eXtreme close ups of Justin Timberlake. If ever I need proof there is no god, it is wrapped up somewhere in the genetic code of Justin's supreme pogliness.

Speculation

Last night a rabble of librarians hit the town for a slap up grill and a drink. The meal was slap up, and the cocktail lent me sophistication hitherto undreamed of. I expect I shall satr using sophisticated words like "ambience" and "rendezvous" henceforth, on the strength of that drambuie and lemon based drink.
However, most notable presence at the bar was not me and my drink, (an odd sight with my shabby coat and scungy looking clothes), but a bunch of randy middle aged men. Their eyes lit up as they saw the attractive looking bunch of LAY-DEEES - excluding myself of course - and there was a lot of walking round with hands in front pockets. Framing the lack which is presumably compensated for with a small red sporty car. I was trying to figure out what they were there for, where were they from. I like to think they are pilots, in the school of Mile High.
Then this morning I was walking to work and had to skulk to avoid a large group of middle aged men crying in relief as they found the first pub of the octagon. It was not even 11 in the morning and I do not think there was a shadow past the yard arm anywhere.

Sometimes you stumble across slices of someone else's hilarious life

Despite his status as a top producer and the success of his nu-metal project, Pain, he still fronts the band that got him where he is today: HYPOCRISY! ...
Naturally my mind ran overtime thinking about what kind of person this must be.

Of all the things to think of

Why did I have to remember Natasha Bedingfield's poo stain of a song "I wanna have your babies"? So I don't suffer alone here are the lyrics. I found them on a website that also offered a complementary ring tone of the track - figures, no-one's going to pay for it. So read and rejoice in some of the most degrading lyrics this side of a rap song.

What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas
But what if it don't?
What happens in my head stays in my head
But sometimes it won't
What if you knew what I was thinkin
Would it make you like WOHHHHH!
Dont wanna risk puttin' my foot in it
So ill keep my mouth closed!

All you hear is...

mmm mmm m m m m
Gonna button my lip So the truth dont slip
mmm mmm m m m m m
Gotta beep out what I really wanna shout
Woops Did I say it out loud, did you find out
I wanna have your babies
Get serious like crazy
I wanna have your babies
I see 'em springin up like daisies

Some of my feelings keep escapin'
so I make it a joke
Nonchalant I keep on fakin'
So my heart dont get broke
Im in a big big big big ocean in a tiny little boat
Ill only put the idea out there If I know its gonna float

All you hear is...

mmm mmm m m m m m
Gonna button my lip
So the truth dont slip
mmm mmm m m m m m
Gotta beep out
What I really wanna shout
Woops Did I say it out loud
Did you find out
I wanna have your babies
Get serious like crazy
I wanna have your babies
I see 'em springin up like daisy's

In my head there's a slot machine
And Im bettin' you're the one in my hopes and dreams

Trust me it would scare you if you knew what was goin' on in my brain
Trust me it would scare you that I've picked out the church all the schools all the names
If you knew it was all about you every wish Every candle every coin in a fountain
Trust me it would scare you

Thats why I go...

mmm mmm m m m m m

mmm mmm m m m m m

Gonna button my lip
So the truth dont slip
mmm mmm m m m m m
Gotta beep out
What I really wanna shout
Woops Did I say it out loud
Did you find out
I wanna have your babies
Get serious like crazy
I wanna have your babies
I see 'em springin up like daisy's

mmm mmm m m m m m

Gonna button my lip
So the truth dont slip
mmm mmm m m m m m
Gotta beep out
What I really wanna shout
Woops Did I say it out loud
Did you find out
I wanna have your babies
Get serious like crazy
I wanna have your babies
I see 'em springin up like daisy's

mmm mmm m m m m m

Try not to think about Natasha spraying them children out, popping up like daisies, and try not to think about the incorrect grammar and apostrophies - as I found them on the site. I'm probably going to have to dial a prayer now.

My stint as cat's paw

I'm a bad photographer, but I think this picture captures the essential smugness of cats quite well. This is the cat I am looking after, and she is patiently training me up so that I will do her bidding.

Ok, so its time to stop playing around

This is what the big girls use

The offal continues

What kind of sick society do we live in?