Less Is More v1.6

As promised, Cyzyk's holiday rants. Enjoy. Chyld

I probably ought to start this with an introduction, but won’t, because you don’t want to read about me. It is enough explanation to say I am an American, and something of an anime fan, specifically Final Fantasy, even more specifically a fan of Vincent Valentine.

‘The Armpit of America’. This is what many people refer to the state of New Jersey as. Although the home of Bruce Springsteen, it has little else to recommend it. Flat, ugly, and sparsely forested with scrawny pine trees, it also has high property taxes. Its main virtue is that it has some of the best beaches on the East Coast. (It also has the best casino this side of Las Vegas.)

It was to these beaches that I recently took a vacation. The shore is a nice place- relaxing, not too pricey, has good restaurants, and plenty of girls in bathing suits. Admittedly, not all the aforementioned appeal to everyone, me included. The greatest thing about a beach is the limitless sand. Wildwood is considered to have the best sand of any beach for a hundred miles around.

As a comment on modern society, it seems that the art of sandcastle making has fallen into decay. Three days on a beach, and I was the only person over five making one. There weren’t more than two children under five making them either. Enough with social criticism for now.
Day one was mostly spent dragging my family’s clothing up to the hotel room. If you don’t have a sister, you won’t understand this being a problem. Normally, for a 4 day trip, you need two pair of pants, and maybe three shirts. I think she had at least six of everything. (Insert sexist comment here- Chyld)

I hit the beach, and assemble a small castle, which is nearly finished before the tides comes in and floods it. Annoyed, I went further up the beach and wrote ‘Mitsuhide Akechi loves Azuchi Castle’ in large letters in the sand.

Day 2- I’m working on a larger than usual structure, modeled loosely on the Alamo, and populating it with Green Army Men. Everything is going well, until a group comes marching down the beach and sets up a radio. They were an extended family group of about fifteen Hispanics, of various ages.

Normally I don’t have anything against Hispanics, except that they don’t speak English, and even then that isn’t much. The problem here is that they were playing loud Spanish techno on the radio. Loud, as in ‘ear-splitting ground-shaking 3 digit decibels’. You may not be familiar with Spanish techno, but it’s awful. Even for techno, which is saying something.

Well, I tried gesturing at them to turn it down, since they didn’t speak English, but they didn’t understand. (Probably didn’t try.) So I go back to working on my sand castle, and finish of the tank compound, complete with tread marks. Then something really bad happens.
Did I say there wasn’t anything worse than Spanish techno? There is, and you’ve probably heard it. Britney Spears off a bad radio. And just as loud as before. I gave up at this point, and went somewhere else to complete my magnum opus.

Day 3- I spent it on the boardwalk. Unless you are familiar with the concept, this is a raised wooden platform with stores at the same level. It’s done in case of flooding, since ground level (about three feet above sea level) can get pretty wet sometimes. Now, there are three kinds of venues on the boardwalk.

1. Beach stuff stores. Plastic shovels, bathing suits, towels, and so forth.
2. Various games for prizes. The kind you can’t win, like put a giant basketball through a tiny hoop, or throwing a quarter on a glass plate.
3. T-shirt stores. Now I don’t know why you’d want a t-shirt so bad you could run a dozen stores selling them exclusively, but there are. These are generally of a rather off-color variety, featuring lightly-clad women and highly inappropriate captions.

Of these, only the last requires comment, as I had gone to the beach with the intention of purchasing a t-shirt. I didn’t, as I am not about to go anywhere in a shirt labeled ‘I’m Rick James #####.’ Or anything else of that sort. Instead, I proudly wore my Final Fantasy 7 shirt everywhere I went. This spawned a second interesting point- Apart from my shirt, and a episode of ‘Cowboy Bebop’ I saw on TV at 1:30 in the morning, there wasn’t any mention of anime. None of the (seemingly) ubiquitous Pokemon, DBZ, or so forth shirts or posters for sale, and no one wearing any such. Perhaps anime is no longer mainstream?

Day 4- By this point my vacation was winding down. I’d inflicted a crippling injury on myself by slipping and cracking a table on my knee. (Yeah, the table cracked, and not me. Must have been a cheap table.) Having purchased the requisite shore item (fudge), gotten a tan, built several sand castles, and had a rather disturbing dream, I was quite ready to go home.
What, you wanted to hear about girls at the beach? Who do you think I am, Ricardo Montalban?

I've been quite lazy, recently.

One of the cornerstones of this blog was to update it daily with pithy humerous observations. I've done a week-long hiatus without telling anyone. Not good, considering that there's going to be a fortnight when I'm in France when I can't update. Unless I can find the Internet somewhere in Frogland, but I think it would be unnessersarily expensive...

But apart from that, hows my life been recently, you may ask. In which case, your a demented fool. But aside from that,  lets have a look at that's new since I last updated.

1.) Dumped By TinyOne

Yeah, that kind of sucks.

It's got to be a first, being dumped by e-mail, of all things. Now I can say "I've been dumped by text, by phone, by e-mail, and to my face occasionly." But her reasons were good enough - she was losing friends over it.

This feeds back to ranting I may or may not have actually done in the past. I only remember two people actually telling me we made a nice couple. One was a Dutchman who I happened to be drinking with a fortnight ago. The other was a publically much despised ex-girlfriend, who I haven't spoken to properly in a while. No one else said it. And only one person actually helped smooth the passage of the relationship at all.

All I gathered was people violently opposing what we wanted to do. Certain duck-named ex boyfriends spouting death-threats behind my back (I'm not bitter, just observing, so shut up), good friends of hers being jealous (she can say all she like, I know), and various minor assaults from other exs, associates, etc.

On the positive side, I get to lay anyone I like at Reading, without feelings of guilt.

2.) New Band

Whee! New reasons to get behind a drum kit!

I met up with our resident munitions expert Johnny Napalm the other day, and naturally got very drunk. At some point, I agreed to drum for the band he was in with his cousin.

After a trip to Camden, and Harrow (to buy a bass, as you do on a whim), we gathered in my garage, and started playing some Ramones songs. We later moved onto Green Day, and eventually got to work writing our own ska tunes.

This is hampered somewhat by the drummer/rehearsal space provider vacating the country for a fortnight, then running off to Reading. But I'm listening to the Ramones Greatest Hits album while we're away, and then we'll crack on with it. Now we need a name...

3.) Design A Bong Contest

I've had the offer open for well over a week now, and I only got an entry today. You lazy slackers! You're supposed to let me be the lazy slacker, by designing an artifact for smoking green, then sending it in so that I can laugh! There'll be a pointless and trivial prize for the winner! I'll try and make it! And photograph the endeover! Will that do?

Oh, I might throw in a T-shirt if I order one myself. Content?

Good.

4.) France Trip

Yeah, so Mama Jennings decided to randomly book a week in France on eBay. As you do. This was extended by a week, by us travelling half of France, it seems.

This means that I can't update, and I can't get Big Brother to do it either. Great whoopdees.  Talk to SuperMarct about it, he might be able to help.

On the other hand, it means that I'll have some new material when I get back. Including...

5.) The Long-Awaited Henry Skull Comix

I've been promising Henry Skull Comics for ages, and not actually delivered. But this will change soon.

My biggest issue was hosting - how? I considered Keenspace, but dropped that idea when it became a technical nightmare. After this, I was stumped.

Recently, an idea came to me - create another blog (Blogger allows you unlimited accounts under your user name), whack the comics themselves onto ImageShack, and do it thatway. Now I just need to get my trail of inspiration back...

So, that's about it in my world. On Monday, I'll run up the update Cyzyk sent me about five times, before it finally got through. Then I'll whack up something on Tuesday, and maybe even Wednesday, and then you've got a fortnight to design a bong. Get to work, minions!

I've been neglecting my lovely blog for a while. Don't worry, I'll write some new material over the weekend.

Incidently, you might want to send in your designs for bongs for the Design-A-Bong contest. Only one person has even suggested that they're making an entry, and he was stoned himself at the time.

Oh yeah, in case you're interested, I'm now free and single again. You could also say I got dumped. Who knows?

Now, design those bongs!

OK, we haven't had any updates for a while, because I'm out of ideas. Also, I'm working on several secret projects. I won't tell you what, but they may or may not involve doing work for the Lance and Eskimo community. Possibly connected with walkthrough guides and crock-esque fools.

If you want to see my name in lights, I've just found out that Heccubus, of Heccubus fame, has actually used an idea of mine in his Human Prey project. Have a looksky. Its a lot funnier than reading anything else you'll read today.

In other news, I wrote a huge rant against the people objecting to the union of me and TinyOne, because they're starting to royally piss me off now. However, the rant I prepared would probably alienate 81% of my friends, so its not going up. In short, however, shut up, it's not your business.

That is all. I need a guest update, and my e-mail isn't recognising that anyones sent any, despite the fact that Cyzyk's sent me one at least twice...

Like many stoners before me, one of my favourite ways to spend my time is to design and make bongs. I'm better at designing, generally, but CompleteAnarchy seems to do nothing else. I believe his mission in life is to convert every sort of bottle that exists into some large pipe for narcotics.
 
We all know roughly how a basic bong works. And if we don't, here's a relativly accurate pictured plagurised from Everyone Does It... 
  


The chicken legs are, by the way, optional, but that's how a bong works. Thumb over the rush hole, light the dish (should be full), then toke away. When you've toked all you can, remove thumb, finish toking, then breathe out.
 
But this is just a layman's bong. Yes, it will get you mashed, but there's so many avenues to explore! Ice! Tubing! Pumps! And other stuff that's beyond me.
 
I had the suave idea of using two loads of water, to doubly purify the smoke. You can see the problem already, can't you? Gravity. And using lots of tubing, while a suave idea, is beyond me.
 
While I ruminated on this yonks ago, my man Nick suggested using a ball sat in a hole as a valve. Inspired by this, I designed this:
 
 

But when me and CA tried to make it, aside from the obvious problem of not having a ball, we discovered that there was no way of making it un-leaky. So we gave up and just used a normal bong.
 
But now, since I've got nothing else to write about, and I feel like plagurising ideas from Fully Ramblomatic again, its time for a Less Is More Competition.
 
That's right! Design A Bong!
 
Send me an e-mail at the usual address, with your gnarly design for a bong. Consider the plagurised picture as a guideline for where to start, and add all sorts of crazy decorations, extra features, whatever, that you like.
 
It doesn't need to be immaculate, long as its not a bag of shite. Extra marks will be given for pretty pictures, however, and moreso if you actually make it.
 
Next week, I'll run up the best entries, with scores based on criteria you cannot hope to fathom.
 
And I'll design one too, just for giggles.
 
Get to work! There's no special bias for being my girlfriend, being my ex-girlfriend, being a smacktard... no, there is there. Just draw SOMETHING!
 
That is all.

Recently, as you've all noticed, I've been avoiding the main reason I set up Less Is More - ie, writing funny nonsense for a dozen odd people. I've instead been using my social life under the pretense that it might actually be funny. Well, now that I've got a free moment, is time to start writing humour again.

The other day, I bought a respectably large box of condoms, as you do when you're as much of a general optimist as I am. We all know what condoms are for, so anyone that wants to ask can go look at the Tellytubbies website, right now.

Obviously, being condoms, the box gave me an instruction leaflet cum advert sheet. We'll return to that later, but really. If you're buying condoms in boxes of 12, you probably have a good reason for it by now. The people who need to be told how to put on a condom (erm... apply to penis, roll down, engage porking?) are the ones running off to Tescos toilets to buy two-packs of the things, because they're too squeamish to go up to the counter with a box and actually talk to a person. While you do have the sad prats behind tills who feel obliged to call for a price check when anyone buys condoms, bear this in mind: if you're buying condoms, you must at least think you're going to get some in the near future. Personally, I'm very tactful when it comes to selling condoms in my shop, but since the only person who's bought some I've encountered was a dodgy looking 50 year-old man, I'm hardly in a position to comment too much.

But to move back to this lovely leaflet, having derived all the humour value I can from diagrams of penises, we turn to the back, with intriguing diagrams of the assored condoms the company makes. Most of them are relativly sane constructions, and some of them are not...



So, this thing's supposed to be a condom, then? Here is a short list of things it could more likely be:

• A Cannon
• A Comb
• A Rather Lob-sided Axe
• Etc

I'm guessing that this hiedious contraption has a shedload of ribbing up one end, on the pretext that it rubs something, with pleasurable results. Far be it for me to use my blog as a platform for my inexperience of female gynocology, but I'd have thought that if such a thing was called for, it'd be better off on the other side of the condom. The upper side? Where all the things that need stroking are? I'm sorry, dirty dirty webmaster...

I could talk about the general contrariness of flavoured condoms, but I've lost interest. Join us tomorrow, when I talk about the delights of spermicidal lubricant.

Friday, July 16, 2004 7:13 PM and I have to write a update about my trip to Amersham. Let’s make it quick. Hmmm… let’s go with a day by day diary then. If I finish this one in the same pace that The Apers are playing in the background it’ll be OK.
Sunday, July 11, 2004 late when I realize I still have to pack my stuff and I decide I don’t need the sleep too much. Tomorrow I’ll travel by bus, train and plane. Time enough to catch some sleep and besides that, Sleep is for the weak.
Monday, July 12, 2004 way to early and my cell phone is waking me with a sound louder than an anti-aircraft alarm and curse myself. Why did I choose for a flight to UK this early? I drag myself to the shower and prepare myself for a whole day public transport.
Boring, boring, boring and then I am at Amersham Station. No signal on my phone, how do I call Chyldio? Waste 2 pounds on a pay phone for a 20 second call. I hate England.
Okay, meeting up with Chyldio. We decide to go for the park and soon after Johnny Napalm joins us. We talk about random things and decide every place with more than three trees is a forest. In other words, we are in a forest. We’re heading to Tesco’s, Johhny needs food, Super says food is for the weak and Jennings needs something else. We’re wasting the rest of the day at the parking lot of the supermarket until it’s dinner time. Even though Super still thinks food is for the weak, Mum Jennings prepares chips and chicken. We’re spending some time on the computer and busying ourselves with texting. Time to go to the pub. But first we’re picking up Jess. "Jolly good!" I say. Jess is at Tesco’s and by then I haven’t got a clue why.
Okies, we’re in the pub and here the story goes. We know all about the love birds, but there is one mean duck around. I only say a few things about it.


1. If I had to spend three hours at a supermarket for every girl that dumped me, I should pay rent.
2. When it over, it’s over. Reason isn’t of any importance.
3. There are tons of girls in the world, even in England.
4. Making a fool of yourself is stupid. And trust me, I know these things.
Anyway, we’re in a pub which name I’ve forgotten and I’m really quite. Don’t I enjoy this place? No, I really enjoy it. Andrew turns out to be a nicer bloke than expected and Jess is cuter in real life than on a crappy webcam. Than what is wrong? I stare at a quote of Jeffrey Bernard and realize it’s more brilliant than something I’ll ever produce. I try to unravel both the incredible simplicity as difficulty, but fail hopelessly. Even when all my other personalities help me (6 know more than 1).
Jess has to leave early, and when I realize I never ever in my life get the quote of Bernard, I get more talkative. We order another pint and some pub adventures and school adventures are told. Time to go home.
I need to find a sleeping place. Well, let’s put if different, Chyld insists I find I sleeping place. "Sleep is for the weak" I say again and add that the weather is good. In other words: I’m not going to sleep this night. We say goodbye and meet each other at Amersham Station at 10 the next morning to visit Camden.
Monday, July 12, 2004, night I decide I haven’t anything to do and go for a walk. Soon I arrive at the shopping street. I agree with myself that Amersham is quite boring around 4 in the night. I walk back to Tesco’s for something to eat. 79p for some Fairy Cakes, sounds OK to me. I eat one on a bench outside Tesco and remind myself food is for the weak and put the rest of the cakes back in my bag. I walk around some more, the night is chilly and I think it’s going to be a day that shows some similarities to a summer day.
Tuesday, July 13 2004, somewhere around 9 I arrive at Amersham Station. I only need to wait for an hour, I don’t mind it and work on my tint. Chyldio indeed arrives at 10 and we’re off to Camden. Camden is the Walhalla of the Alternativeness I think, so it’s quite obvious I enjoy it. Everywhere people wear Converse All stars is a good place. We see tons of stands selling Magic Mushrooms, but don’t need them. We too see a shiny skull belt, but don’t buy it. Chyld says it’s lunch time and buys something Indian. We don’t need food, we just finished our cake.
"Let’s go for a pint!" says Chyld.
"My idea!" agrees Super.
After two pints we go home, but the weird British bloke wants to buy an ugly belt. "This one!? Why not go for the shiny skull belt?" I ask. Good idea we agree. But we realize we don’t know where the bloody stand is again, so we go home anyway.
Mum Jennings is getting us pizzas, and I say to myself that she is a good mother. And soon after it I realize Dad Jennings is a good man too. He offers to let me stay for the night and I agree that it’s a good plan.
We’re obviously going to the pub again, but after two pints I think I stayed awake long enough and we go home.
Wednesday, July 14 2004, 11 AM and we get out of bed. I’m going to meet Amy tonight and of course am excited as a young puppy. It isn’t time though and I feel like a puppy who is forced to stay at his place or else gets whipped by a cruel master. We spend some time on MSN and I hear the weirdest things. Jess wants me to touch her legs and Amy likes to be stroked in the neck and under the chin. I decide English are weirdos. We still need to kill some time and we’re going for a walk and buy a shiny mag. I read the shiny mag while drinking a Bud and decide life is good. After that we watch Two Towers. When it’s dinner time, my ideas are confirmed. Mum Jennings is a good mother and she cooks a great meal. Suits with my new bud.
We’re off to a pub, and after a few minutes the ladies arrive at the pub too. We spend some quality time there doing some quiz for the poor. I know something about flags and we score more points with round 1 than all the other rounds scores added together. I’m an official hero and claim we should get a lot of bonus points.
Time for the ladies to go home. We say goodbye and the chaps want to buy another beer at the, by now, famous supermarket. Unfortunately it’s not allowed and I agree with myself that English really are really weird. Why would you stay open 24/7 if you’re not allowed to buy a beer after 11?
Thursday, July 15 2004, 10 AM and I decide I read enough music magazines and go downstairs. Chyld has finished his paper round and is already on the computer. With help of Mum we agree I go by bus and only need to leave at 4 (I believe it was 4).
I have to go. Chyld drops me at the bus stop and we say goodbye. "I’ll come by again." I say and fighting the tears. I see a big tear rolling over Andrew’s cheek. "I got to go."
"I’m not leaving yet." Says the kind of rude bus driver after five minutes.
"Why?"
"The bus has broken down."
"Okay then… WHAT!? The bus has broken down!?"
"That’s what I said."
"Holly me!" and I run to the Underground Station. Things aren’t under control anymore.
Boring, boring, boring… and I’m back at earth’s paradise. I’m home at 2 o’ clock English time and decide I did a great job. I also realize I miss my daily drinking hour with Chyld. I walk to the fridge, but after several beers I decide it’s not the same.
I want to go back to UK.

OK, this should have gone up yesterday by all rights, but I was knackered. So it's going up today.
 
For the rest of this week, you've enjoyed the endeovers of me on a boat with ten other people for a week. Now listen as we hear the endeovers of SuperMarct's week-long visit to our fair and cloudy land. Funny how one evening can be streached out over a week of updates, while two weeks can be crammed into a smaller space...
 
Monday
 
At about 3pm this Monday, I decided to stop talking to my lady for long enough to put up the days update. Having not heard from Super at all, I wasn't quite sure what was happening. At all.
 
Halfway to my bedroom to fetch my pen drive, my phone rang. And an unfamiliar voice declared that he was at the station. Amersham station. Evidently, he'd wasted no time in coming up...
 
Making my excuses, abandoning the update for now, and grabbing my Vans, I made all speed up the hill.
 
Only one person stood by the station, vaguely familiar from a picture as sent by MSN. He however had no way of mistaking who I was. The hair and the trademark beanie gave it away. He was Marc, alias Super, and I was Andrew, alias Chyld.
 
Then began the process of meeting the crew. We met Johnny Napalm in the expanses of the park, I caught up with his news, he caught up with mine, and Super just absorbed.
 
After wandering Amersham for a bit, we left Johnny, ate at my place, uploaded the update, then did what any self respecting Dutchmen and Britons should do - run off to the pub.
 
On our sojurn, we encountered TinyOne, fresh from trying to sort out things with her ex. I refuse to talk about said topic, because I'll be incredibly rude, and he'll be even more angry. But essentially, I was happy to have my girlfriend by my side, and Super was happy to meet another Chyldling.
 
The pub trip ended with me and Super rolling out, him retiring to his place of accomidation, and me rolling off home drunk...
 
Tuesday
 
For some ungodly reason, the whole Less Is More crew: Amersham and kind-of-Beaconsfield Branch were supposed to be meeting at Amersham station at 10am to go to Camden. But TinyOne had work, AmyJay just didn't want to, and Johnny had less money in the world than I did. So it was just us two.
 
There's nothing very much to say about Camden that hasn't been said in many better places before, but I took the oppertunity to top up on 1" badges and a new chain, and Super... followed, looking at the identical rows of shops. We did have a pub break, in order to bitch about pidgeons and tourists.
 
Eventually, we got back to my place, and repeated the exercise of the previous night, minus my lady. However, having had no luck finding somewhere for Super to crash for the night, I unloaded the camp bed and erected it in my room. Not bad, given the circumstances.
 
Wednesday
 
Bad planning to the fore! I had no idea what to do today, except in the evening. IE, the crew in the pub. We wandered Amersham for a bit, we watched The Two Towers, and then we left for the pub.
 
At long last, Amy met Marc, and Marc met Amy, and we all started the long process of getting drunk. Ah, nothing like routi...
 
And a man came up to us. "You taking part in the quiz? A fiver a head, and it goes to charity!"
 
Ah, what the heck, its for a good cause...
 
And thus, Less Is More took part in the Eagles pub quiz.
 
We did astoundingly well in the flag guessing round, thanks to Super's seemingly endless knowledge of flags and accurate guessing, but elsewhere we did struggle a wee bit. We only came second last, which was satisfactory. The free chilli did help a bit...
 
Thursday
 
The plan here was: wake up at 11-12, Super leaves at 1. A bit of computer time, but otherwise sorted. However, fate is a bitch. We woke up at 10, and his bus came at 2. I swear, I've never been so embaressed to be in front of a computer for so long.
 
Strangly, he didn't seem quite so pissed off with this arrangement as I thought. We parted, me asking him for an update by today, him glad of the time spent. Altogether, a good parting.
 
In that time, he ate:

• Half a pizza
• Seven fairy cakes
• Two kebabs
• A few chips
• A chicken fillet

In total. I kid you not, I could not get him to eat anything! But apart from that, twas an intriguing experience. If for no other reason, then a prime example of how not to arrange an internet meet-up.

In a bit, you'll be able to read Super's view on it. Or maybe you already have...

Well, Super concluded his visit of Amersham today.

I had planned to write about it, but you'll have to mkae do with both reports tomorrow. You're quite welcome.

For now, consider this. Spoons.

OK, so now we're past the bulk of the week. Having warded all competition for TinyOne on the barge and taken point as her man, we move into the hive of activity that was the last day and a bit. All joy if your idea is "the webmaster getting cuddles"...

(its midnight, still technically wednesday!)

Day Four (08/07/04)

12:05pm

Very late morning. Woke up at half nine, sadly alone. This was soon corrected.

If I wrote everything I've been thinking, these notes would turn into a 'life suxx!!!!11' rant, boring to both the bargemates constantly reading these notes, and the people who will read it on the 'net. So I won't.

Problem is, all the funny things happening on this barge are in-jokes, Shouting "In The Morning!" would be very amusing to 10/11ths of the barge (CN: Bubbles hated it with a loathing fury, but everyone blamed it on PMT), but would mean nothing to, say, the Dutch.

What we can laugh about is when I emptied the rubbish earlier just now. The wind caught the bag ad enptied half the rubbish into the canal...

1:40pm

We're back at a point wher there was a fence halfway across the canal on Day One. An odd sight, and a mark of how near the end we are.

2:25pm

"Cookies cookies cookies cookies cookies cookies cookies cookies cookies cookies

boobies

cookies cookies cookies cookies cookies cookies cookies cookies cookies cookies..."

Batman's present thought patterns.

We've just had lunch, fresh baked cookies are cooling, and gropings have been introduced to keep eager hands at bay.

And apart from an in-depth discussion on disability, and salad for lunch, there's nothing to report. I'm only writing because The Smug Elf told me to.

Need to get on with:
-Choosing 2000pts of Dwarfs
-Having a shower
-Tactless groping!
-Listening to Slipknot.

Chyld Notes: Check, check, very check, check.

5:15pm

I'm sure there's an update to be got out of the fact that AmyJay fancies at least one person out of every film she's seen. And she's seen a lot of films...

CN: Still waiting for that...

6:36pm

Off to the pub. Back later...

CN: For dinner. Tasty pie. But, with typical aplomb, the one time I not only have enough money in the first place, but am actually offering to buy a round, we get nagged back onto the barge by the women. IDIOTS, its never going to happen ever again...

12:00am

Off to bed, after tasty pies in pub, mass drinking in the boat, and several embaressing pictures of mullets. My mullet, it seems. Meh.

No horny groping tonight - AmyJay's been a-moaning to Bubbles about it. What goes around etc, it seems.

Last night, it seems. Quick wee, not enough drinking on my behalf. However, the Fifth Age of Chyld has begun, thanks to one girly chat and lots of horny groping. Hormones to the rescue, it seems.

(CN: I think it was The Smug Elf that said "Chyld, you know those special rare moments you keep to yourself? That was one of them...". Also, it was obvious then that me and TinyOne were/are going out. HAppy times beckon...)

As an interesting sidenote, this shows that I am well over K80 now. I bet my boxers she'll turn around and say "Oh Chyld! I love you really!" Well, she can Fuck Right Off(c). I've now found a Real Woman(tm). Happy happy happy...

There might be a summery tomorrow, there might not. For now, peachy bum cheeks...

CN: Well, it seems K80 is happy for us as a couple. Its only a matter of time, however...

Day Five (09/07/04)

7:57am

Woken from an odd dream about (fairly recent Sega game) Shenmue, and my shop being a foodstore, by Amy#2 hollering "WAKE UP!" like a small effeminate foghorn. Naturally, soon as both of the girls proved they were awake by similar hollering, they fell back asleep.

Scratch that, AmyJay's just started babbling on about toads...

8:36am

Right, summery.

To be perfectly honest, I was completly joking when I thought "In a room with two single girls? Threesomes!" Obviously, I didn't get to partake in any actual threesomes, but I have got a girlfriend out of one of them. Just like mother said, rather randomly.

We're here now, for some reason.

CN: 'Here' being the place we started. Its true, before we left, my mum did say "Why don't you ask out that (TinyOne) girl, then?" I said no, because I didn't see it happening, and DannyDuck would kill me. For the record, he IS out to kill me...

9:40am

Still no sign of g...

(interupted)

10:12am

I was just writing about how we still weren't getting off the boat, and Sod's dad showed up to render lifts to Tadpole, The Elf that is Smug, and me. Its a bit hard to write in this much space.

That week went quickly. And I haven't written as much as I did in my America Diaries. But then again, I didn't have the extra four days, the bizarre new experiences, and I could tell the lady I loved sweet nothings to her face, as opposed to writing them on scraps of paper and not showing them to her.

On such a note, K80 has left me alone for a whole week, which has helped me not be angry 24/7. Think I'll let the daft cow start annoying me soon.

Made sure that Brian and I parted on good terms. He's a good bloke, just that he has the same taste in woman as me, to our mutual detriment. Now once I've broken it to DannyDuck, it'll all be over, and I can get on with it. This won't be easy...

Chyld Notes: Essentially, that was it for Barge Diaries. Here's a summery of the last few days to wrap up.

FRIDAY:
-Got home.
-Recieved my new checkbook and provisional drivers license.
-Sorted my 'net affairs.
-Bought an album.
-Argued viciously with K80 on a whim, then stopped.
-Discovered that Bubbles had done my nastiest piece of work for me.
-Slept.

SATURDAY:
-Went to work.
-Guess what? Its just as I predicted. The one day I least wanted to go to Boots (and therefore see DD), I get sent over to get drugs. He was about as pleased to see me as a Klu Klux Klansman is to see a black man coming over for dinner. I was just petrified he'd break my nose. Shit like this always happens to me...
-Nothing else so funny/painful.

SUNDAY:
-Went to Harrow with TinyOne. Hmm, coupley things...
-Phoned K80, with the intent of bringing her to account for her prom actions. Ended up having a chat about the barge holiday. Still, she knows now that I'm definatly not avaliable...

MONDAY:
-Super arrives...

One day into the week, one day into the barge holiday. Nothing exciting has happened yet, so you'll have to read on. Hop to it...

Get on with it! Yes, get on with it!

Day Two (06/07/04)

9:15am

Its very hard to juggle a pad of paper, a 288 page rulebook, 2 litres of water, a croissnt and half a bacon sarnie at the same time. (CN: No, not literally!)

Woke up at 4:30, (somehow) fell asleep again woke up at 8:30, then retreated to the front deck of the boar with the ladies to look at ducks. And naturally, since I was topless, an entire boatful of old ladies sailed past...

2:58pm

Really, I should have bothered my fat arse to write something earlier. But to be honest, I couldn't be arsed.

We stopped at a sort of canal-y service station, to take on water for the boat, an pints in a pub for us. The couples decided to stay on board and make tasty sandwiches, bless their cotten socks.

I've finally found a good skull and crossbones flag to replace thE crazy-ass Scottish flag hanging from my bed. It'll go right at home with Henry - both of them have evil red eyes.

Chyld Notes: Its hanging there right now, looking as if it has always belonged there. I only had a Scottish flag, because I let Mama Jennings to get me somthing, and "it was cheap". Despite me having no Scottish heiritage whatsoever.

Still need to find a cool presenty gubbins for Big Brother though, he did/is uploading this/last weeks updates. I hate having to write outside the timeframe people will be reading in, it mucks up your tenses royally...

3:42pm

So, we've gone from "lying on my bed with TinyOne" to "stopping the boat because the engine's smoking." Lovely. This bodeth not good.

4:38pm

Rugby. Home for many years to the one known as Yahtzee, and city of birth of Chyld himself. We're here. I've gone from "back to lying in bed with TinyOne" to "helping moor the boat" to "We can't moor here, its for taking in water only!". And I was nice and relaxed and all.

(CN: Can we see anything going on yet? Chyld lying in bed with a woman? Doesn't happen often...)

Once we stop, a man is coming to look at our smoky engine. We did find some shorts entangled in the propellar, but their removal didn't help much. Ho hum.

CN: I missed out a huge wodge of time here, so here's the events of the time:

-Me and TinyOne started furtivly hugging.
-We stopped for dinner, in this case jacket potatoes.
-My cold blossomed into a fever, with me talking no sense at all. Well, more so than normal.
-I took paracetemol for it.
_Brian and TinyOne ran off to discuss the prom, me, and how he fancied the pants off of her.

As Soulfly sang, no hope, no fear. I had no fear in this case...

10:27pm

Taking the paracetemol earlier did make the feverish gibbering go away, but it did stop me drinking for four hours. I missed primetime drinking time. I've only been at it for half an hour.

(CN: In this case, I missed Apple Sourz drinking. Apple Sourz are the nicest alcahol drink in the world, sweet shots of something that tastes like sour apple sweets, but gets you pissed at light speed. Bugger.)

I've lost my voice. That's sodding great. I can't really ward off verbal attacks, I can't sing along badly to cheesy rock songs with the lads, et cetera. I sound like a dying bullfrog that's been kicked in the froggy balls if I try to talk normally. Whispering hurts too. Am I going to be mute for this whole trip?

CN: What I've tactfully missed out here is the return of Brian and TinyOne. They had vanished for two hours, and everyone had started to think they'd gone off and done the bad thing. Nope. I specifically asked her. First sign of jealousy from either one of us, something that carried on for days afterwards. But I told her that I liked her, she'd already told me as such, and... it begun. What I do or don't do with my friends in my bed is none of your business. Now...

Day Three (07/07/04)

10:52am

Spent last night under the stars with TinyOne, which resulted in AmyJay wondering where her roommates had gone, and several raised eyebrows from everyone else.

For the record, we did nothing under the stars last night. Take that any way you will.

(CN: Of course, innuendo or otherwise, this was the first time spent sleeping in the same bed as a woman. Gravy!)

First glass-cut of the trip was greeted by a howl of pain from Amy#2. I could see a whole lotta blood from where I was. Whole Lotta Blood, sounds like a black metal band covering Led Zepplin songs...

We're turning around in about an hour or two. That's quite sad, I've only just started, and we're already facing the finale already. Well, live it up, there's ages to go yet...

3:25pm

Is it semi obvious from these notes that I quite like TinyOne? Et vice versa? Is this not obvious from the text? The constant cuddling? The Day One girly chat you didn't hear? OK, stick to the constant cuddling. And the fact that someone earlier actually said "Chyld, stop groping your girlfriend for five minutes!" *rolls eyes*

(CN: Well, that and the extra DVD footage you're reading now. Quite welcome.)

So how come Brian seems quite oblivious to this?

You'd have thought he'd had enough of messing around with those labelled "my women" after the prom. You'd also have thought the US president could go five minutes without starting a war. And he has the audacity to give me the evils!

(CN: What he had been doing before, I came along, and started doing better, to a more willing recipiant. Ro-may-oh...)

Other than that, nothing to report. A game of Monopoly, an about-turn to head home, a glass of warm Ribena for the throat, and some improvement in my voice. We'll have to wait for the drinking to begin before interesting stuff happens...

9:30pm

Well, after I got to the "knife my good friend Brian" phase of unhingment, Bubbles decided to talk to him, to the effect of "you're being difficult, leave her alone." He wasn't happy. Right now, he's off somewhere soaking. Great. Now, its just a matter of telling DannyDuck. That's going to be hard.

We can't sleep out again, since its raining.

CN: Brian nearly resolved the Danny problem for us, Bubbles only just stopped him in time. Quite literally. She then told DannyDuck herself, which is good, as I didn't get a punch in the face for my troubles.)

Before we went properly to bed, us the Unofficial Third Couple and the Assistant Resident Couple ran off to catch forty winks in the 'ladies' room. NOT A HORNY ORGY. However, the masses watching Red Dwarf seemed to think otherwise, and sent trainee tabloid photographers to catch some money shots. I'm sure there's a picture somewhere of me groping TinyOne's arse. And I need to find that picture, and frame it.

You all know by now where I was last week. If not, skip to the end of this update, and read last Fridays note by me. Then tell the hospital that the lobotomy worked out fine.

Right, so this was the plan. Take twelve good friends, put them on a 12-man narrowboat, add alcahol, and see what happens. Predictably enough, the obvious. Except for the twelth good friend. We never found one in the end. Ah well, all the more rrom for storing bags...

Read, and enjoy. Everyone on the barge has seen everything I've already written, so I've thrown in a bit of suprise reading for you. Enjoy.

THE CAST in no order other than me on top

Chyld: Webmaster extrodinare, Keeper of the Ships Log
Tadpole: Organiser, Co-Captain
Batman: Head Pilot, Co-Captain
Bubbles: Batman's lady, Supreme Cook-in-Chief
Thus United: Primary Resident Couple
AmyJay:
Chyldlings, Single Women
TinyOne:
Amy#2 and her man: Deputy Resident Couple
Sod: Guiness Drinker In Chief
The Smug Elf: Chief Tadpole Annoyer
Brian Blessed: Jolly Geezer, Photographer, Despoiler of Women

Day One (05/07/04)

3:35pm

So, I'm on a boat. I've been on a moving boat for just over an hou, and a nice man spent half an hour on top of that teling us how to drive the thing. Not bloody useful, as we've already crashed three times at least...

The aftermath of the prom (to imagine: "You pulled my date!""And his too!""Really? Oh shit..."), and SuperMarcts impending visit are the main topics of conversation. Nearly everyone has told me to move on from K80, not something I really need to be told to do now.

It's quite clean water at the moment, but earlier, it was filthy. Here's a list of the crazy shit we've seen so far:

-A door
-Tire
-Cushion
-Cushion
-2 Coconuts
-A ball
-Plate
-Table leg
-Builders helmet
-Bowl
-Book
-Pram wheel
-Pail
-Tweenie doll
-Regular dolly

There's nowt else to say for now. Where's the beer?

Chyld note: That was about the extent of the funny stuff we saw in the canal, actually. The first strech of canal was full of filth. I blame the prespondence of kevs for that. The rest of the river was quite clean, actually.

4:15pm

Just passed a sofa on the starboard bow. Oh, we love using naval terms, we do.

4:30pm

First sign of other boats since the start. Also, first traffic jam we've caused...

CN: Of course, we only ever had problems moving the boat when other people wanted to get passed, didn't we? Good thing I never had a go at the helm of the boat, we'd all have died...

4:50pm

Ruminated on why Tweenies are called Tweenies. Bubbles suggests that they are bisexual, being beTweenie straight and gay. Also spoted an "atomiser" in the river. Yeeeeeeeeeeeeees...

CN: I still have no idea what an atomiser actually is, so don't ask. The Tweenies are a kids TV program not far off of the Teletubbies.

5:35pm

Went through first lock. There's nothing very funny to say about going through locks. It involves opening and closing lots of doors, and jumping onto moving boats. End lock story.

6:45pm

Have spent five minutes chopping onions for dinner. I'm now (not) crying, and also starving hungry. Will put Hundred Reasons on soon.

CN: I spent all holiday trying to get everyone to listen to Hundred Reasons. What happened is that I heard the first four songs about sixteen times, and the later tracks... not at all. Bums.

8:13pm

Just finished washing up. Meaty goodness was good, except when I tried to eat myself from the inside out. Damned wisdom teeth popping through. If I needed to be eaten, I'd find a woman for it.

God, being single sucks royal ass.

Brian's just taken another picture of some ducks. We've seen lots of ducks. Yes we have.

CN: Yep, lots of ducks did we see. Funny beasts. Swans too.

9:25pm

Started drinking. Tadpole and Batman seem to have trodden in dogshit. And Batman's somehow sat in it...

Items lost to river:
-One glass
-One pair of shades
-Lots of bread and cakes

CN: To feed the ducks, idiot! No, not the shades... oh never mind.

11:00pm

Risk starts.

11:30pm

Risk abdicates for "sleep" time. Spend about two hours privy to that arcane femenine ritual known as "girlie chat". I now know who all the single women on the boat fancy (CN: Me. No shit.), exactly what manner and volume of lies K80 has been telling to everyone (CN: Loads, and loads), and many other things few men usually hear.

1:30am

Everything that could keep me awake is...

CN: A short, but eventful first day. Did most of my drinking today. Quite significantly, found out that TinyOne liked me a bit more than just as a friend recently, and still does. Its obvious - I can never tell when women like me...)

Now then.

I'm back from my week-long piss-up on a boat, and bloody hell, did it go quickly.

Big Brother has done a fine job of uploading updates, and he has been given a stick of tasty rock for his services. The formatting cock-ups I made and did not correct have now been rectified, so you can see the first two updates without strenuous italics.

As to the barge holiday itself? That's the suybject for at 2-3 days worth of updates next week. All I'll say for now is; peachy bum cheeks. Yummy.

Poor Super, it seems. Need to find the man a hotel on the cheap...

After reading Chyldio’s proms adventures I realized the proms were besides the drunkenness quite a disappointment (Understatement!). And since last Saturday my life itself is a bit confusing too.

Until Saturday 11:45 AM, I had a girl I really liked, actually the first girl ever I really really liked. The smooth talker I am, I always talk to people and say whatever I want. But with this girl I was a bit wary to ask her out. But my worries weren’t based on anything it turned out and for some time everything was OK (I know the girls are going to blame me that I don’t know the precise date, but I don’t live by time, actually). Anyway, back to last Saturday. I’m the coach of a football team as a volunteer (Yay! We are the champions last season! No really). Because of all the spare time I ruin there, the FC was organizing a Volunteers Night, which actually means: beer for free. Together with my friends Dickie S. and Niles Handyman we had a good time. And in Schizo’s gang this means we were quite drunk around 11 (the night started at 8). Then around 12 o’clock my cell phone played the A-Team tune, which means someone is trying to contact me (Whoa, trying to contact me sounds like I’m a spy or something, in any case it sounds better than someone called me up on the phone). You guessed it, it was my girl. She would leave Tuesday for her vacation to Greece, and here I can’t do anything else than quote the chat we had. This is the best crap I ever heard:

“Heya Marc.”
“Hullo Cutie.”
“Do you mind if we break up while I’m in Greece and when I return we’re just going on?”
“Erm… you’re asking me if it’s OK that you’re going to screw every guy you like you meet in Greece and then when you return to the World’s Paradise (Holland obviously, ask Johnny) we’re OK again?”
“Well, that’s not exactly what I meant, but…”
“That IS what you mean, and I don’t care go ahead, screw some guy, get AIDS and die!”

Yes, I agree, it is a bit harsh, but who comes up with this stupid idea in the first place? Of course it’s not OK that you partying for two weeks in Greece and building up a Rep (I don’t know if you’re familiar with the term Rep, but I think you do). Besides that, I really liked her and then things get complicated real fast. And I drank too much, I don’t hide behind that, because I’ve always drank too much. I still think I did the right thing. I actually didn’t feel the urge to speak to her. On Sunday I went to Skorps and didn’t bring my cell (which by the way is a normal cell without a camera in it. Have I told you how much I hate those!?). When I got home I saw on the display: 17 missed calls. Hmmmm… who would that have been? Just when I picked up the cell, it started to contact me again. Oh surprise! It was my girl (other than Chyldio I’m not going to spell out her name for you. You are not to be trusted! And besides that I’m not that good with l33t as Chyldio). I didn’t answer the phone, when it rang for a second time, I pushed the red button. For me that means, I’m not going to answer you!

One minute after that I got a text message. It is not kind to put such personal text online, so I’m not. I only tell you my reply: Crazy Amanda Bunkface! Line12! To most people this doesn’t mean anything, but I know she listens to SUM41 and I know she got the message. For those who don’t know that song the twelfth line is: What’s so hard about goodbye’s? Did I make myself clear, hell yes I think.

In conclusion, (no, this update isn’t finished yet, I’m only starting!) it’s Saturday, I’m on a lame party (with free beer, but still lame), my girl sort of dumped me and I was drunk as a Turk (Dutch thing) this girl breaks up stuff made me all clear again so I needed more drinks. Then we have the largest club of the north of Holland in our town and I’m here with two of my best drinking pals (ooh I hate the word ‘pal’)… Tough call, what am I going to do?

Okay, twenty minutes later I have my first beer that I actually paid for and I lost my two friends and I’m hating myself because things never work out as I would like them to for me for too long. Then it feels like someone hits me with a sledge hammer on my shoulder. This only could mean Hoef is around. I turned around and my guess was right on target, but to my surprise he brought his girlfriend too. And this is always a moment where my heart starts beating a few beats faster. Not because I want his girl, but she has a real cute sister. Always when I see her I hope she brought her sister along, but Cutie wasn’t seen around. So, I buy them a drink and they ask what I’m doing here all alone. Because I didn't want to share the story yet, I’m bringing up a story that is far from true, but by far more intresting to listen too (didn't contain any aliens though). But then I see the Angel nearing us (sometimes I think there is a god with a heaven, where else are such creatures made?). Half way my sentence my voice goes weird and I greet my Princess (I nicknamed her Princess, and the funny part, even her sister calls her Princess nowadays). So, we talk for a while with the four of us, and I’m being polite getting some more drinks (well, polite I was still thirsty and when the others don’t drink in my pace, I’ll keep getting drinks. Erm… I don’t know why I told you this, I think the few days in London will cost me quite some money…) Anyway, I’m bringing two beers and two drinks for the girls which look really nasty. I’m think if you drink it your blood is going to glow green or something and I almost run over some giggling girls because I wasn’t paying attention to anything but these alien drinks. I continue my way and think that those girls are really young and so it happens I almost run over my friends. What are they telling me when I return? They where about to go dancing. “Oh, but I brought drinks.” I emptied my glass in one sib, as did Hoef. But the girls didn’t want to do that with their Glow-in-the-dark drinks (which is quite understandable), but I wanted to dance. This was an opportunity I didn’t let escape. So, in thirty seconds I emptied those horrible drinks and to the dance floor we went (and now I'm sure you never should drink those horrible drinks in one sibs, yigh!).

Someone once said: Why doesn't feel it the same to fall in love and break up. I just showed it can feel the same.

"Seeing into the depths of the Warp from his sanctum on Prospero, Magnus beheld a vision of Horus' pledge of feallty to Chaos upon the fields of the feral world of Davin... Alone in the entire galaxy, more clearly than even Horus himself, Magnus was given to understand the events at hand. He saw it all and understood every consequence, except his own."
Index Astartes, Thousand Sons

Yes, random quote that will mean nothing to half of you, and makes no sense in contect to the rest of you. This is the last day of the Special Prom Coverage Week, not Quote-Some-Fluff day. Well, having had two days to reflect and talk over the events with everyone else (it'll be just under a week when you read this, so maybe things will have changed? I don't know, I'm writing this on Sunday), I feel like the aforementioned Magnus, seeing all events as they unfold, but never knowing what I'm supposed to do myself.

So what has happened in the aftermath? Lets look at the major players in my evening then...

Tadpole:
I did mention that Tadpole had a date. What I didn't mention was the circumstances. He went with a girl he works with, who already has a boyfriend located in the land Hitler once called "mein bitchen". Therefore, kissing the girl goodnight, while probably a nice gesture, would have been a wee bit silly. IT would have been a very clever idea in my case, but... we'll save the poop flinging for later.

Brian:
Our lad Briangot quite lucky at the prom, it seems. He managed to secure his first kiss from a girl, for a start. Admittedly, its very annoying that he secured this kiss from my effing date, but I'm happy for the lad. I'm still saving the poop flinging.

Apparently, he was messing around with TinyOne as well. I didn't see this, because I was heidiously drunk at the time. This could either make the barge holiday I'm on as you read this difficult, or divert attention from my drinking. You'll see later, I'm probably seeing while you read this.

Tiny1 & DaniDuck:
She's one of our forum regulars. He's her ex boyfriend. They had both been going as friends ages before they started going out. Then they started going out. Then they broke up. And this was the first time they'd seen each other since they broke up. Circumstances nearly as difficult as my own, it seems.

Well, it doesn't help that Brian was "dirty dancing" with our tiny lass, as I failed to observe due to my alcahol. That kind of messed up their evening too. Oh dearie me...

CA:
My favourite dealer managed to cause quite a stir by wearing a kilt, and nearly made me threw up when he made me search through his jacket pockets... for his boxers. And when he unleashed his arse on me when we were both drunk. Apart from not bringing any weed with him, he didn't play any more of a huge part in the course of my evening. However, he has never liked K80, and I've always discounted his opinion, putting it down to superficiality. Now I realise he was onto something, and has my ear in matters of women...

K80:
Of course, first prize for "Ruining The Webmasters Evening" has to go to the bitch who he once called girlfriend, love interest and "best tits in the universe". This is possibly the worst in a two year-long string of her raising my hopes, then crushing them like rusty tins. And now, I've snapped.

Its so obvious now: she's got no respect for my feeling at all, she can't actually deal with men for love nor money, and she's not worth a minute of anyones time. Even if you have infinate amounts of time and a pain fetish. In such a case, I suggest nipple piercings attached in a circuit to a car battery, its much better for your ego.

If K80 herself is reading this, I have a special message for you, bitch. MAY YOU ROT IN HELL, YOU MANEATING WHORE. I may have spoken to you by now, I don't actually know, but if I ever see you again, I'm tearing out that ball of shit you call a heart, and sticking it down your shit-lubricated throat. All with my bare hands and a butchers knife. And that's just for starters. And I don't care how much that hurts your feelings, because you've done ten times worse to me. Eye for an eye. And if I see you again, I'll have your eyes deep fried on sticks too.

Close hateful rant

(Post scriptum: Between time of writing and now (ie, just before I leave), we have talked, she's very sorry, but if she thinks I'm forgiving her just like that, she's yet more barking. What I've already written is staying up, so that if she reads it, she'll know just how much she's pissed me off. You're quite welcome.)

Big Brother:
He wasn't at the prom, but it will have been him uploading all this weeks updates. Bless his little cotten socks. Say thank you to him in the forum, and I'll show him when I get back.

SuperMarct:
Our favourite schitzophrenic Dutchman should have a guest update for you tomorrow. If he doesn't there's no update! So rant at him, not me, if Friday's cupboard is bare.

Chyld:
I still have about as much idea as Magnus where I stand. But then again, I'm neither a Space Marine Primach, a cyclopeian giant, or a psychic genuis, so who's to say? I'll be back on Monday, with fresh updates written on a lazy boat journey. Until then, Chyldlings...

End prom diaries

If you've just joined us, this week is Chyld's Sixth Form Prom Week, uploaded by Big Brother. Last time on Less Is More, Chyld has just discovered his date pulling one of his best mates. Or the other way round. We assume the former, as we cut into the last half of the chronologically-screwed memoirs...

NOTE: This half is shorter than the other half. I wanted to split it in two there, at the cost of equally weighted updates, because we love a cliffhanger. Also, given times are probably completly out of sync with times of events that actually happened, and there are still no pictures.

22:31pm: TinyOne asks if Chyld is alright. "I'm going to be very, very angry tomorrow!", he says, "but now, I'm just drunk!"

22:35: Chyld, feeling slightly ill, makes for the bar. To get some water.

22:36: Chyld encounters Brian at the bar. Brian fears he is going to be torn a new arsehole, but observes that it was his first proper kiss from a girl. Drunk as fuck, Chyld celebrates this, and promises to buy him a pint, at somewhere less expensive.

The Chyld Consensus is that he is too drunk to do anything but ignore K80 now, and also, as Da Skorpian observed the night before, a fight would ruin the prom. However, several forms of bloody murder are sworn upon K80.

At this point, I was too drunk to keep even a vague log of time...

??:??: Chyld, Brian, and the one known as Sod take a walk round the gardens of the venue. Brian mistakes a large muddy puddle for the footpath, with hilarious results.

??:??: Chyld and Tadpole observe Year 12 girls stealing lager straight from the taps. Tadpole is appalled. Chyld is happy for the ironic justice exerted. Damn overpriced bars. He refuses a proferred drink from a random glass, however.

All:Night: Chyld screams "ALL RIGHT (suchandsuch)?" at everyone. Mainly because of alcahol, partly because he can't be heard otherwise.

Also, Chyld dances. With TinyOne, with CA, with anyone who isn't his two-faced bitch of a date.

c00:30: Chyld goes for a piss.

00:31: Chyld encounters a man who resembles his dad in the toilets. It turns out that it is his dad, and it is now time to go.

00:35: Chyld has assembled everyone who needs lifts, and makes his way round the table saying goodbye to everyone.

00:38: Chyld hugs TinyOne goodbye, and reminds her to tell K80 that he will kill her. TinyOne tells Chyld that K80 is already in tears, so she might have got the message. Drunk, angry, and unsated, Chyld declares that she deserves it.

01:15: Chyld gets home. He gets straight into bed.

SLEEP: Bizarre dreams, possibly about Spanish Markets, punctuated by hungover wakeing ups.

10:00: Chyld gets out of bed, well rested, but slightly hungover. The anger begins.

11:15: Chyld makes it into work. Another day of hilarious high-jinks...

At this point, prom-related incidents have not had a chance to catch up with the time of writing. Tomorrow will either be a guest update, or concluding notes on the prom/general proms, depending on what I will write/will have written on Sunday.

Ta ta for now, Chyldlings!

Rightyo then. The prom.

In my ideal world, I'd have noted down times that significant things happened, to make this a hell of a lot easier for me now. However, I realised I had nothing to write on only when we got to the venue. Plus, being drunk as fuck makes it impossible to write anything. Times given are therefore probably accurate up until the second pint, then actual events take place within an hour either way of the given time.

Also, this update would be festooned with cool pictures of appropriate events. This was marred by me not bringing a camera. If I can get some cool pictures off of other people, I'll put them in a thread in the fourm, or even make an update out of them!

So, it started at about 1pm on Friday 2nd July...

13:00: Chyld gets out of bed. After having gotten up a 7, an hout late for this paper round (due to clocks refusing to acknowledge Daylight Savings), he crawled back into bed at 9:45.. And has got up now.

13:12: Chyld picks up the ringing home phone, expecting it to be K80 making excuses for things she has done.

13:20: Chyld puts down the phone, having listened to K80 making excuses for things she has done. Like a big girls blouse, he has accepted them. He now has a date again, after telling everyone he has not.

13:35: Chyld goes up to Top Amersham, to acquire a colourful corsage, and to obtain a Drivers License application form.

14:00: Chyld returns with a whie corsage, and a Vehicle Registration application form.

15:15: Chyld starts to think about getting ready. After all, theres only four hours left. He discounts this, as its woman's thinking.

18:30: Realising he's left it far too late, Chyld throws himself into the shower.

19:00: Chyld emerges from the bathroom, radiant, shining, clean, and immaculate. He just needs money...

19:15: No one has any money at all, and Chyld needs to be at Tadpoles house for a lift. Now. In frustration, his mother gives him a lift down the road to give him money.

19:25: Chyld arrives at Tadpoles house. They both leave in Tadpole's car five minutes later.

In between: Tadpoles father collects Tadpoles date, and another friend, and drives to the venue.

The venue is Pinewood Studios, in Who-Knows-Where, a film studio where a number of James Bond films were filmed. Tadpoles dad, as a result, talks about Sean Connery having the same voice in every film he's done. Chyld does not point out that Will Smith is literally the same character in every film or programme he does. Will Smith the Philly Boy, Will Smith the cowboy, Will Smith the Man In Black, Will Smith the Rapper...

20:05: The car arrives at the right place in Pinewood Studios. Chyld is ridiculed by the fashionata for looking like he has five tonnes of gel in his hair. Chyld no longer notices, or cares.

20:07: Everyone else is found, and a few pictues are taken. Chyld dispenses hugs where due.

20:09: CompleteAnarcy turns up. In a kilt. The man is a legend. It later transpires that he has no cannabis on him. For Chyld at the time this his revealed, it is a bad thing.... (foreshadowing)

20:12: K80 arrives in a lilac dress, is hugged, then given a flowery arrangement.

20:15: Everyone relocates to the bar, for obvious reasons. However, the fact that a pint of cider is £3.20 appals Chyld. And everyone else. Chyld regrets only bringing £12. He orders a pint anyway.

20:20: DaniDuck arrives, the final missing member of the crew. The crew departs the bar, to have their photograph taken by the professional photographer. First photograph of Chyld with his arm round K80 taken.

20:29: After K80 and Chyld have a "couple photo" taken, the last two in the crew to do so, the crew relocate back to the bar. Furtive photos are taken here. Last foto of Chyld holding K80 - and vice versa - is taken.

20:35: TinyOne and assorted other unnamed good friends finally sucseed in dragging K80 and Chyld into the ballroom dance room thing. Music is presently extremly crap, but not meaning to generally lose face, Chyld drinks cider, and hits the floor.

20:39: Chyld, feeling like an utter tit, wishes he was drunk. He returns to the crews table to down more cider. He then returns to the floor. This repeats.

c20:50: The Year 13 boys are called up to have a large group photo taken. Chyld creates the illusion of great height by standing on tiptoes in the edge of the fireplace. IT succeeds.

21:00: Chyld returns to the dance floor.

21:10: The Year 13 girls are called up for a picture. Tired of appearing like a fool, Chyld returns to the table.

21:12: Chyld runs out of cider.

21:13: Chyld wishes he could go and get more cider, but knows that he will miss K80 if he does.

21:19: Chyld gives up, and goes to get cider.

21:20: Chyld passes K80 on the way to the bar, as he predicted he would. He tells her that he will be back shortly. She seems happy. These are the last kind words they share all night. Scrap that, these are the last words they share point blank.

21:30: Chyld is still waiting for his overpriced pint of cider. This may be because at least six other people have asked him to get their drinks (at their expense) at the same time.

21:40: Chyld finally returns to the dance room. There is no sign of K80. Chyld rationalises that, since they are only going as friends, she is probably on the dance floor, and will come to find him soon. He indulges in cider.

c21:50: TinyOne, claiming a dance Chyld owes her, drags Chyld up onto the dance floor. Some diabolical R&B is playing. Chyld does not care too much yet.

22:05: Chyld realises "Hang on, no one put 'Hammer Time' on the song request list! SHIT!"

22:06: Before TinyOne can even say "What?", Hammer Times comes on. Chyld celebrates. CompleteAnarchy joins them.

In Between: Good songs come on. Chyld, TinyOne and CA are joined by assorted members of the crew.

Chyld notices Brian Blessed dancing with K80, but thinks little of it.

c22:30: (because it sounds a good time) Chyld, now essentially 'Thoroughly Pissed', turns his head, and sees K80. With her tounge in Brian's mouth.

Amazement, horror, and fermented apples battle out in his mind for supreme tactical control. The apples win, and he stays happy. For now.

Join us tomorrow for the not very exciting conclusion!

So, the prom that was on Friday.

Its ironic, really. By the time this gets uploaded, I'll be on a canal boat, getting pissed as a fart. Right now, I'm recovering from long enough spent at work after... but today is not the dat you find out what actually happened. This is called "tension building". Today, its what it took to prepare me for the prom.

Me

This is Chyld, the hero of our tales. Its curious, since he happens to be me. He is quite well suited to the rigours of being a metalhead, drummer, and semi-professional stoner, but none of these are particularly good attributes for preparing for a prom. Except perhaps the getting stoned bit, but more on that later.

A suit

Apparently, blokes are obliged to wear suits to proms, and girls are obliged to wear ridiculously elaborate dresses. There's probably something to be said here, but we're not ranting for femenism right now. Isn't it curious that there's no male equivilant of femenism? Probably because the femenists would complain about it...

...sorry, back on track. My own suit has seen a lot of wear (a whole years worth!), and usually is found indulging in massive acts of hedonism. Here's a list:

>My cousins wedding, where me and my cousin I get on best with pilfered all the leftover champagne and white wine, got merrily pissed in a bizarre marquee thing, and pined for green.
>A party held by my one and only true lay, where I was ripping bongs half the night.
>My birthday party, where I got exceptionally plastered, had a joint, played Ring of Fire (a game involving drawing cards, drinking huge quantities, and talking properly), and threw up all over the bar.
>My granma's funeral. No hedonism there.
>...the prom. More tomorrow.

A Tie

I have several ties, but they're not enough. I have a tie with a dragon on it, that 'Brian Blessed' (crossref: forum, good friend, Friend Who Works At Foxes) has, a tie saying "Kiss Me", and a black tie for funerals. All good, but not what I wanted. I searched the entire internet for a black tie with a line of skulls down the middle, but I had no luck. So I wore the Kiss Me tie, in the hope that I would. Did I? You'll find out tomorrow! Be bloody patient! I've got to write a whole week of updates in two days!

A Date

Yeah, the other mainstay. Suits and women. It being me, it was obvious who I asked months ago to be my date. Back ages ago, before palava with us nearly having sex (ooh dear, shouldn't have told you all that! Never mind), her being flittish and indecisive, then going after another man while we were trying to sort everything out. There was a period when it seemed that we weren't going as a couple at all.

However, she phoned me at home at 1:15pm on the Friday, to explain everything that was going on. A combination of general horny-teenagerness, empathy, and only-being-awake-for-fifteen-minutes, resulted in me accepting her non-present apologies (slipping too far ahead again), and us being instated as a couple again. Want to know what happened? You know when to join us again...

A Corsage

Back in the golden summer of 2002, when MSN Messanger was still a relative novelty, and alcahol was a delightful illegal treat as opposed to what you buy in the pub on Friday, I was talking to CompleteAnarchy on MSN, and talk turned to the rapidly approaching Year 11 Prom. "r u getting k80 a crosage?" he asked. Not knowing what a crosage was, I consulted every source I could find on the matter: the dictionary, and my mother. The former was not helpful, the latter suggest "corsage", and told me that it was a flowery arrangement one got ones prom date. Thus enlightened, I told him "Yes". Well, if anyones going to be a gentleman, I am...

I ordered a delightful arrangement of white orchids for my lady, and he ordered one made of roses for his. Fortunatly, K80 had a black and white dress on, and CA's missus had a red one. I sense this was more design than chance. I can't remember.

This year, I decided to do exactly the same thing. Since K80 wasn't being helpful (here's a hint, younger ladies: get your dress earlier than "the day before", so we can choose colours properly), I ordered a colourful collection of... I don't even know what they were called.

On the same day, TinyOne felt it time to tell me that said date was messing around with other men while I was being all nice and Chyld-like. Much abuse headed K80-ward, declarations of "she's not my date" were batted round, and the corsage was being assembled. In the end, as you now know, we patched it all up, and I picked up my bizarrly white corsage.

Just for reference, the corsage pictured is almost the same as the one I bought.

Finally, there's the things I used to pretty me up. Enough chemicals to keep a meth-head in business, enough smelly things to kill a thousand Nurglings, and some mud. I can't be arsed to list them all.

Now, come back tomorrow, when I actually begin to speak of what actually happened!

First regular guest update in a while. This time, we have Da Skorpian showing why he's not allowed in Blighty. Enjoy...

Hello boys and girls. This week your host will be Skorp. Yep, that’s right! Skorp!
"Does Skorp write!?" Well… when he has something to write about he does (Which is rarely I can say, so don’t expect more updates by me soon). Well, as you probably have seen, this update is about Vauxhall. After reading Chyld’s update I suddenly had inspiration! He said he had an update about Vauxhalls too (Yes, slow writer, I know *sigh*), so after checking with him I was glad to find out we didn’t have the same topic. Before I begin I should say that if you are offended by it, I am sorry, but it just is the truth. :-P So, here goes nothing...

Vauxhall? What the F### is a Vauxhall? We have an Astra, A Vectra, etc etc etc. Well, a Vauxhall is a supposed to be 'English' car! Yes a Supposed to be English car! Yeah, you read it right: Supposed to be! But let me break it to you, it is a German car! Yes GERMAN! Now don’t go telling me they are being manufactured in Luton, because they AREN’T! These cars are called Opel. Every part is build in Germany, and then shipped to the UK where they are assembled and put a nice little Vauxhall logo on it. Here, let me give you the link to Opel, so you unbelievers can check it out yourselves.

The reason for this is that they can fool the English customer into believing it is British build so they’ll buy one of their cars quicker. I find this ridiculous. Why would an Englishman only buy a British car? And yet it is true... The stupid average Englishman believes it! Why? I don’t want to think they all have a double digit IQ, but it sure as hell looks like it. I do not understand it. I do not…

Same thing is with the Euro! The Brits didn’t want the euro because they have there strong home grown Pound! Now you could say that the pound is such an old currency that it can’t be thrown out like its nothing, but the Dutch did it too with the Gilder. Which is even older! So what is the real reason?

Somehow I think this all fits perfectly, like a jigsaw puzzle, into the anti-mainland-pro-USA-thingie that’s going on with Great Brittan. Well, I have some bad news for you! You are Europeans, not Americans! And you’ll never be! Now go use the Euro, close down your Vauxhall assembly buildings (I refuge to call them factories, because they build nothing!) and act as Europeans!

Skorp out.

And Chyld too. I won't be here next week, but my trained monkey... Big Brother... will be taught how to upload updates, so he can upload my prom diaries. Until some time soon! Chyld

Right, if you be of the wargaming persuasion, there's a boomer for you today.

Go here. It is the first entry for my diary of the Storm of Chaos. This will mean loads to anyone who enjoys little plastic men, and nothing to anyone who doesn't.

Those in said sad minority are quite screwed today, since I've spent 45mins sorting that out, and I can't be arsed to do anything else for you. BE HAPPY, DAMNIT! Or just amuse yourselves in the forum.