Less Is More v1.6

Aaaah, reading about Chyldio's laziness I remember My good ol' life. Lazy happens to be My middle name. I recall that one time watching a 1,200 channels of cable TV where I asked My brother to push the remote control against My thumb.

Also when someone asked when I went to the barber again to cut My hair. Well, I hate to go to the barber any way, but I hate it even more when I have to go there by bike for 4 miles or so. So, I'm actually trying to get My hair as lazy as Myself, so it won't grow any longer.

I told about My exploded cushion, it still lays somewhere in My room, because I'm too lazy to throw it some where near a bin.

I aslo told about how I killed My laptop's spacebar and I know it only takes a drop of glue to fix it... sill haven't done it.

My laziness goes so far, some times I just don't sleep because I'm too lazy to fall asleep, but My excuse is known to you all. Sleep is for the week, indeed.

Aha! I'er realised that I can palm you off with Hennry Skull comics, and there's nothing you can do about it!

I'm getting ready for Reading Festival, leave me alone!

Well, I've not had chance to write a proper update, so have a few mini-mini-ones.

1.) The third Henry Skull comic is up, check the link to the right, Or click here if you want! I spent hours drawing ten of these, be happy damnit!

2.) More of a my-life thing, exam results came out... about a week ago. But France Diaries came first, so you've only just found out, unless you frequent the forum, or I told you on another forum.

In which case, you definatly know. But I'll tell you again anyway.

I got a C for English (the exact specific grade I needed to get for it), D for Maths and Media Studies, and an E for Drama. By some pie-eyed logic of universities, I therefore got into Hull University to do Philosophy with creative Writing.

Therefore, expect the next few months of updates to be about panicing about leaving home, tearful goodbyes to lifelong friends, drunken tales of Freshers Week, and perplexed warblings about how to use washing machines.

3.) Off to Reading Festival on Thursday. Don't expect an update, but expect a comic upload. Then expect next week to have tales of rock gods, alcahol, drinking, and the top secret "Operation Hotbox Big Brother's Tent". Oh, and maybe sex if I'm lucky.

4.) One day, I'll finish my "My Fool Is A Crock" story...

Day Eleven - Saturday 14th

12:31pm

Onwards! To Brittany!

I've finally cracked open the laptop, for the delights of the Horrorpops, and I might as well write something while I'm here.

Fuck, I'm hungry.

2:58pm

Stopped off at McDonalds at some point, and grabbed some more food in the wonders of E.LeClerc, so the hunger issue is little more. There was an Internet computer there too, but it only took cards, so no chance to regale the hoardes with any adventures. In hindsight, my debit card might have worked...

6:56pm

Well, we're at the third and final campsite, and it seems we've actually finally got a caravan worth the money, as opposed to Keycamps old stock. No third bed, mind, so it looks like I'm on the sofa whether I want it or not. Also, the pools not free, but the folks are covering that angle. Still...

For now, its a matter of a-working on the tan. I've fought for at least half an hour to find a position where I can
-See the screen
-Be near a plug
-Actually be in the sunlight
And even now, the monitors being a bitch. How lovely.

Day Twelve - Sunday 15th

1:12pm

Didn't get a chance to make notes last night, so I'll bring y'all up to speed now.
-Explored the delights of the campsite bar. Stella is €4.50 a pint, so I only managed two before the funds finally gave way.
-Found the arcade, complete with that seminal classic, Metal Slug. What little money not spent in the bar was pumped into this, to the delight of some small French children.
-Found another book, by Chris Ryan. SAS stuff. Quite interesting. Almost finished it.
-Patronised the pool. While a respectable totty-fest, it wasn't very exciting.

4:10pm

We were going to go to one of the... "charming" beaches of the area, but we were warded off of going to the seaweed-clogged messes by the heavens literally opening. We're lucky to have used the car - you did feel sorry for the poor sods hurrying home under the solid wall of water.

I, however, am now stonkingly bored. I'm not wasting another €2 today for a game of Metal Slug, but all my other avenues of entertainment have dried up like corpses in the sun. That Chris Ryan book didn't last very long...

5:15pm

Things done under extreme boredom within the last hour:
-A few new pictures of Henry Skull, both on paper and on computer.
-A picture labelled "Heart Breaker"
-A photo of "my bed"
-A list of all the tourist spots in the area
And of course, scaring the siblings with the electric fire lighter...

7:59pm

Its now throwing it down with rain. With lightning and thunder thrown in too. To keep my sanity, I might just have another whack at Metal Slug...

Day Thirteen - Monday 16th

11:21am

After half an hour's frantic hunting, we found my phone, which had gone missing. Later, we're off to some place called Pont Avon. It's either that, or a town which sounds a bit like Pantera Con Carne. Heavy metal spicy foods? Or crappy Frenchy town.

Soon, we shal be home. Back in my comfy bed, back by my comfy computer, back with my nice commercialised Strongbow. To be sure, French ciders alright, but still...

2:14pm

It seems that we did, in fact, go to Con Carne instead, and it might have been quite nice. However, the rain decided to rear its ugly head again. All over me and my remarkable absense of hoodie. We're now hunting for somewhere for lunch. By car.

8:09pm

Instead of finding lunch, we picked up a wodge of buns in an E.LeClerc to tide us over until the French had finished their three-hour lunches, then went back to Con Carne. However, we spent half an hour hunting for a parking space, and had to hike halfway across the town to get to te restaurants. In the end, all but one had stopped servig food by the time we got there.

After that, we had a gander at what I will call a castle. Ma Jennings supposes it to be a fortified area, and I suppose that applies too. We wandered the ramparts, and Little Brother didn't flirt with death in the form of falling off, so much as violating it like a horny Thai hooker.

I've been given €20 for souviners and pub money. Its a shame I couldn't find any souviners worth the bother...

11:47pm

Just got back from the bar. Nothing exciting, no womens, just a couple of pints. The exception is that I found a computer attached to the Internet. Like seaweed attached to glass. It took six tries to get it connected, and moved slower than my old 14.4kp/s modem. IE, like a snail through treacle. And at a cost of one euro per 10mins, and a touch-screen keyboard, that's not much fun. Did catxh up on my net-based affairs. From what I gather, Rhubarb is abusing her mod powers on the FR boards, Bubbles needs an Elvish translation of something for Batman, they've invented backless thongs (the stupidest thing I've heard all the time I've been away), and Supers done two updates in my stead. Jolly good then. Mind you, I was relativly pissed when I added my replies on Cheffers' board (as I am now) so I don't know...

At any rate, the beer has gone down in price by €0.10 since Saturday. Whoope de doo...

11:54pm

Oh yeah, and I found no way to reply to threads on our forum, or create new ones, so don't panic, and try searching for my replies.

On reflection, I should have tried to strike up a conversation with the girl who dibsed the computer after me, but she did seem a bit Sharon-ish, and besides, computers>women.

Day Fourteen - Tuesday 17th

3:19pm

Visited Pont Avon today. LB bought a froggy-xylaphone thing, we all got rained on, and we found a restaurant. All jolly good. Might go off swimming now.

As an appendium to yesterdays notes, I did try writing a brief update, but it crashed the computer. Whoops...

9:16pm

...and that was it for our last full day of Froggyland.

I'm just about to pack, and then its off to the bar for a final royal piss-up. I also intend to get one last game of Metal Slug in, and a bit of time sorting my affairs on the Net. IE, write a short update, bother the Chefelf forums, fail to bother my own forums, etc. Then 'tis bedtime, and a 6-8 hour crawl across France to Calais. After that, its an hour on the boat (hopefully spent philosophising about the sea and/or playing Silent Scope with the £2 I never got exchanged), then another 2-3 hours (at most) getting home.

Then theres all the fun of exam results to contend with. Expect the update before this gets uploaded to be all about the results...

Time to go.

The End Of Times - Wednesday 18th

6:57pm

We've been travelling since 11:15 this morning, and we're just about to get into Calais. In that time, I've re-read the first two His Dark Materials books, and I'll have a whack at the last one when I find it.

Last night was nothing special - Big Brother and I went to the bar, I saw a girl, she was fine, and I didn't talk to her. Confidence? Appearence? I don't know what I'm doing wrong, and I don't know any normal girls I can ask. That's a sentence that'll piss off a fair few people.

An hour on the boat, up to three hours driving, then we'll be home. And I'll have exam results to worry about. I'm sorry, have I said this already? Ho hum.

8:38pm GMT

Back on our blessed soil! 2 hours to drive, and just under 2 hours of battery to do it in. Piece o' piss.

I'm just discovering that I do actually know how to touch type, to a degree - I can't see the keys, and I'm only making a few mistakes...

And that, my friends, was it. I'm doing another "Where I'm at now" thing tomorrow, but for now...

You'll have noticed that there's actually a link up for the Henry Skull comics. That's because I got so excited, I decided to start uploading them on Friday. The second is going up today...

Day Six - Monday 9th

7:22pm

Morning- More lying around bored.

Early afternoon- Trudging around a slightly more developed French town. Sampled the delights of a waffle laden with very dark chocolate, observed many masts of boats, saw an advert in the window of what I remember to be a pharmacy, with a lady completly topless and exposed on it. Wonder how that'd go down back at work.

Later afternoon- Went off to another beach. Still plenty hot chicks, more coarse sand, and waves that rode taller than me at some points. Tried catching some waves on the body board, until the waves decided that they had other plans, and tried drowning me. Worth it, though...

10:27pm

Tempted by the delights of the bar, but I'm physically knackered. Not just tired, but it feels like the crap has been royally beaten out of me. Which it has - these were waves big and powerful enough to make one scared of the ocean.

Have finally completed five Henry Skull comics. We therefore have a week-long spectacular of skull-comics for you upon my return. Which, upon youe reading, will probably amount to "next week". Meh...

Day Seven - Tuesday 10th

1:53pm

We've been here a week then.

Went to a market today, and once again observed how fucking cruel the French are to their animals. Chickens in crates. Piglets and puppies, sat in the blazing sun, being used as marketing tools. How nice.

Big Brother bought a ridiculous hat. I cannot describe the sheer stupidity of this hat through words, so just take my word for it. Little Brother "bought" a new shovel and a boules set. And I bought a new, larger, djambe-type drum from one of the many African stall-holders you find at French markets. I'll need to eBay off the old one when I get back to Blighty.

Then we visited a hypermarket, as is the tradition, and saw the live crabs, as is also the tradition. We also got to see halved crabs too, which were relativly nauseating.

I'm covered in mosquito bites - 19 at the last count. Everyone else seems to have gotten off with only one or two each. Do the useless parasites like the cannabis in my blood or something? Do they end up getting the munchies and coming back for another bite? As a result, my hard-line approach to stopping the rest of the family has been totally dropped in relation to mosuitos. I splattered at least three of the bastards myself last night, and I still found one hiding in my bed the morning after, empty of blood itself, but surely with a grin on its needle.

7:03pm

The tally of insect bites has risen to 21. Bastards.

Went to the beach. It was cold.

Day Eight - Wednesday 11th

8:54pm

The insect bites are becoming ridiculous. I can't even be arsed to count how many I've had now. I spent half an hour hunting for the bleeders and squashing anything with long legs and a small body, coated myself and my bed (the sofa - the only comftable sleeping place avaliable) in insect repellant, and I still woke up with at least two more bites.

Took a trip to Noirmoutier Island today, remarkable for its castle, salt marshes identical to the ones on the mainland, and general tourist-trappings. Did find another weapons shop, however, which is always fun. Was tempted to buy a hand crossbow for €15, but the thought of explaining it to Customs ("I brought it out with me..."), and trying to keep it away from the wrong people (visions of Little Brother skewering people with it spring to mind) stayed my hand.

Still haven't attempted any of my literacy projects yet. Must get on with it.

Texted K80 and TinyOne, who disagree with my synopsis that its raining back home. This does mean that I'm almost slap-bang out of credit. 49p a text? Blimey...

9:23pm

Its worth noting that the title held by the Vauxhall Corsa in England (ie, "Car Most Frequently Sighted By Chyld") is held in France by the familys car type, the Citroen Xsara Picasso. What correlation there is between "tiny saloon car" and "hulking great family car" remains to be seen.

Day Nine - Thursday 12th

2:02pm

Another hypermarket trip, more out of need for something to do during the rain than dire need of supplies. The only funny thing to be drawn from the experience was a bottle of washing up liquid, with a picture of a 1950's 'good wife' throwing a two-finger salute. Quality stuff.

8:04pm

After an afternoon of doing not very much at all, we did a short tour of some of the windmills of the area. Which would have been a lot easier if our tour guide at the first windmill had spoken English. It's a shame, it sounded like an interesting commentary, only it involved more French than one learns at GCSE level.

Day Ten - Friday 13th

11:41am

Friday the Thirteenth, then. Bad luck, or death by Jason Voorhees? I'll leave it up to the court. Either way, it ain't going to be affecting me, unless the weather's tied to the day, in which case, we're a bit fucked. Since its the last beach trip at this site, and its not really very sunny at the moment. Whoopsicles.

1:20pm

Beach trip abandoned, because its too bloody cold. Plus, it looks like it may rain. Off for lunch.

8:32pm

After the torrential rain that inevitably came, we decided to go to the biggest town in the area for a shopping trip. Rather ironically, this was the point where the sun decided to come out. Fortunatly, there was a convenient glorious beach to hand, so we made use of it, with the time-honoured rituals of "digging a bloody great hole in the beach", "splashing around like a smacktard in the sea" and "acquiring a tan".

Then we wandered round the tatty tourist shops. Big Brother brought a badge and (god help us all) a dreamcatcher, one of those daft things with a spiderweb-thing and feathers that Native Americans use for, erm, catching bad dreams. Yeah. I bought a T-shirt decalring "Marilise Legaluana", and a skull and crossbones wristband. My Lucky 13 band has been very faithful, but I've worn it nearly every day for a day off of six months exactly, and its a wee bit filthy.

Last night in the Vendee, then we're off to another campsite in Brittany. I'd like to hope that I'll have a bit more luck with the ladies there, but lets be honest, I'm on a family holiday, not a great time to get to know new people. Patience Chyld, Reading isn't too long away. At any rate, I did get to see the sights of many beautiful French women in bikinis. A fairly good remedy for getting dumped, I'd say.

Day One- Wednesday 4th

5:57pm
Its bloody melting in here. Hot like you wouldn't want to know. The legs on my bondge trousers have been unzipped, the beanie has been removed, and nothing adorns my wrists, and it still feels like being taped to the fiery armpits of Satan himself.
We've been here for about 10 minutes now, after a two hour drive in Blighty, an hour on a ferry, and about three hours driving through the French countryside. And you can't say it's like home, simply because it isn't. There's a vast gulf between the architecture. At the very least, the French prefer their houses to be a particular shade of tan, as opposed to white. Must be the stone.
Now, we have a wodge of difficulties to contend with.-I need to find a peer group.-I am useless at developing new peer groups by myself.-I have the Brothers Dimm in tow.-Big Brother will therefore tail me like a puppydog.-Big Brother (is not equal to) gaining the respect of any peer group.-I only have €60 to play around with-Drink still costs a pretty penny, I'd imagine.-Tourists = fleecing material.-I have 14 days of this to go.
Very soon, I may have to explore the avenues provided by getting a tan. Or swimming. Or dinner. Whatever.

Day Two - Thursday 5th

11.36pm
I didn't write anything today, because nothing really happened. MY activity was divided between swimming, eating, reading (the "His Dark Materials" trilogy, should you care), and seeing the local sights. Which amount to being an anonymous castle, and the railway carriage which the Armistice (sp) was signed in 1918. That was relativly interesting, until I'd seen everything in the room the carriage was housed in three times. Shint swords though.
Little Brother wondered why he wasn't allowed to buy a BB gun from the souviners of the latter sight. There's so much irony and general (un)funniness in that statement I won't bother.
After seeing said castle, we stopped off in a rural Frenc vllage, where Little Brother sulked because he wanted to go back to the caravan, sulked because the waiter had never heard of Dr Pepper, sulked because he couldn't have pizza (despite having had it the day before) and topped it off with a bit of sulking because he didn't want to go back to the caravan. Not wanting to deny him his immature rights, I merely failed to enjoy a bottle of cider. Too sweet, not tart enough.
Tomorrow, we're off to the commerical pardise of Disneyland Paris. Expect three hours of queuing per ride, hoardes of screaming puking kids, and substancially less hot chicks than there were in Disneyland LA.
There's alarmingly few hot chicks at this campsite, and the few that are here are either MILFs (not a colloquial term), or taken. I suppose it stands to reason - this is a family holiday campsite, and hot chicks usually don't do that sort of thing. But still, one does need some poolside eye-candy....

Day Four - Saturday 7th

10:15am
Two out of three isn't bad Yesterday, there were hoardes of mewling bags of shit - or crying children, as they are sometimes called - and there were much fewer hot chicks then there were in Disneyland LA. By all means, there were plenty. but LA was, in fact, a wet dream.
Naturally, I went on all the actual decent rides, while the family contented themselves with the twee childrens rides. Space Mountain, boys and girls, is something you have to do if you enjoy the sensation of your dinner moving in directions other than "up" or "down".
As for souviners, all I bought (apart from hiediously overpriced refreshment) was a pirate T-shirt. Hey, we all like pirates, right?
Now we're off down south. For six hours. Great...

6:53pm
We've been going for a bit under five hours. Sometime after 11, I recall. Its not been nightmarish, but I've bled my CD collection dry in the meanwhile, and powered my way through an entire 530-page book. Well, so much for His Dark Materials then, I've polished off all three books already.
I've seen yet more of rural France, and I'd like to say its interesting - but it isn't. Its quite decrepit. If it wasn't for the actual people and cars going around, one could quite easily imagine it to be a post-Armageddon wasteland. Oh hyeah, and the crops too, couldn't have them.
I've got no idea how much further it is to our next campsite, but I'm praying it's not far. I've only got two hours of battery on this laptop, I'm hungry, and my arse feels so numb, its probably falling off. Plus, I think the air conditioning is starting to give up.

7:05pm
Oh, its only 3.5km away...

8:05pm
We're here at bloody last. OK, we've actually been here for a relative while, but I've only just got out the laptop to make comment.
Its quite isolated out here. There isn't even an on-site shop, which makes buying bread a bit of a nightmare, the games room amounts to be "a pool table and a pinball machine",and the pool (which I have just frequented) is a barren and cold experience. However, there is a benefit to this site.
Its a royal totty-fest.
I mentioned the other day how all the hot-chicks weren't staying where we were. I reckon that this is because they all come here. Only about two women I remember seeing weren't damn fine examples of womanhood. One was actually round, and the other was an infant. If I get lucky this holiday, it'll be here.
However, there's a problem. There'll be a picture that Big Brother has just taken, with me topless. Yes, the mullet was flowing locks (although now they're going hard...), but the body is pasty, hairy in the wrong places, and pale as hell. I've had praise for my pale form (crossref: the ladies of the Chefelf forums), but for women I've actually met, its probably quite revolting. I wonder how TinyOne can have liked it, although I think that the person drew her in, and the body drove her away (I reckon I'll get flamed in a week and a half over MSN for writing that...)
So, my priorities:-Find a tan, and rapidly.-If at all possible, buy a new pair of swimming shorts (a pair not demeaningly short)-Score with a hot chica, or maybe two if I can be arrogent enough.-Actually write the two stories I said I'd write (ie, a My Fool is a Crock story, and a story based on Alice in Wonderland{link?})-Relax, I suppose.-Write some updates.

Day Five - Sunday 8th

11:13am
Oh great, we're only a quarter of the way in, and the laptop screen's playing silly buggers with me. That's just plain dandy.
Quiet day thus far. It seems that the sofa is now officially my bed - I can't actually get any sleep on the normal beds, they're nearly as uncomfortable as the barge boats. Why am I doomed to spend every trip I make this holiday sleeping on iron-hard beds?

6:32pm
Got cut off earlier by the screen freezing on me. Everything else was fine, just that the screen wouldn't move. Ah well, there wasn't that much more to say, really.
First beach trip of the holiday. I left the caravan pale, and I came back pale, red in parts, and covered in sand. Hurrah for the sun and its magic tan-giving properties...
However, I did find the time to recreate the likeness of Henry Skull in the sand.

I'm back.

My concern for now is sleep, its half past midnight and I'm tired.

The next concern will be getting my exam results, checking university places, and celebrating.

At some point, I'll divide my diaries of France into two or three serperate pieces, and upload them.

Next week, bef0re I go to Reading, I will unveil my not-so-secret project. The Adventures of Henry Skull! I've written a total of ten comics, seven on holiday, and you may or may not like them. But they are good, and they are coming.

After that, is Reading.

And I also need to make peace with some people. I have mellowed over my break. People I have bitched about, I wish to befriend again. People I've ignored, I wish to take in again. And yeah, I do need to say sorry to a few folks. If you think you're one of them, feel free to get in contact next week. I'm Chyld, I can't be messing around making enemies, it's not my way.

Good morning.

As promised, a new Super adventure...

When I woke up this very morning, I was covered in... well... stuff. What happened? My pillow exploded. Now, that's not something worth mentioning, but the thing is: have you ever realized what the hell the put in pillows? I thought it were feathers or some kind of fabrics. I was wrong. Or my cushin was made in Tjsernobyl. So, I try to search te label of my cushion. Guess what. There wasn't any.

How bizar! In a society where you can sue a microwave company when you put your poodle in it to dry it when you walked with it in the rain! There was no disclaimer on my pillow! What the hell!?

If I would put the cushion for half an hour on my little brother's face so he wouldn't get any air and die, I only need to say: "Well, it never said I shouldn't do such things."

Oh Myself! I could make millions sueing the company!


If I only had a little brother...

You want to hear an adventure? Okay... I killed my laptop’s space bar. And if there is one key you can’t miss, it is the space bar. I mean imagine you don’t have the Q-key. Well, big deal! I only know ten words with a Q.

Quite, quiet, quote, quack, quadragenarian, quadroon, earthquake, queen, quid and squid.

In other words:

Fairly, silence, citation, sound of a duck, forty year old chap, bastard-child, well, never happens here, I hate the monarchy, pound and octopus.

See? No big deal! Anyway, the ‘Q’ isn’t that important, but that’s not the point! The point is you can’t do without a space bar. The space bar is as equal (hey! Is that a q?) important as beer. Well, good second maybe. Um... the space bar makes it into the Top 10 anyway. Probably. Maybe...

Hmmmm... now I think about it...
Super’s Top 10 of important things
10. Food (even I need food)
9. Air (for breathing)
8. Monty Python and Fawlty Towers
7. Santa Claus (Aaaaah, I love X-mas)
6. Books
5. Beer
4. Punk Rock
3. More beer
2. Friends
1. Girls (this includes love)

Hmmm... as I thought, no space bar around. Well, I put him on spot elven than from now one. Or should I replace food?

Any other adventures... Um... Maybe tomorrow...

Howdy! First appoligizes for M crap typing, I'm tired and angry and schizo, deal with it. If you don't like it, don't read it!

Soooo... You are all pathetic braindead losers, because you don't know The Apers, admit it! Well, I don't care that you don't have taste... Don't become mad because I do...

Anyway, the other day I went to the true definition of punk rock. Indeed, the Fridaynight...

So, Schizo goes to a concert... First I live like in Nowhere. It's called Zevenhuizen, but it's synonymous for Nowhere. Nowwhere-at-all even better. So, when your concert starts at 11:30 you take the bus to the place at 7 o'clock. And wander around for 4 and a half hour in town. Thank me the doors opened at 10, so beer there was. But, because no one has a good taste around, I had to go alone, meaning wandering around for a way to long time with only My voices. And drinking with My voices. Well, never stopped Me before...

In conclusion, the concert kicked ass, because that is what The Apers do. But you don't care or don't agree. But then the fun part... Living in Nowhere-at-all means going early with the bus and no chance you can get back with the bus. Then what do you do? You walk home 15 miles. Life's unfair for the punk rocker.

So, that's it? No... I know a shortcut... It is known as a place where gays meet. So, I walked around, going home, when a car stopped by. Oh dear!...

I looked at the guy and started laughing. I got no problems with any gay, but this guy was just over-the-hill... (and I started laughing louder). Anyway, here's the conversation...

"Hey dude, you don't go do anything stupid are you?"
"No, why the hell should I?"
"But you aren't going to jump for the train, are you?"
"Hell no! I'm not crazy. I could get hurt if I did..."
"Hey, what if you..."
"Hey, what if you leave me the fuck alone, stupido!"

And off he went. But not for long.

"Hey, pal. If you are in trouble I can help you, just get in the car or something."
"First, I'm not your pal, second, I would not get in that car even if it was My very own, thridly get the hell out of My site!"

And off he went again... But he came back of course.

"Hey listen..."
"NO! I'm not going to listen to you. I asked you twice to get the hell out of My sight. You want to meet Mr. stiletto?"
"Dork" he said and drove away.

Lessons to learn...

* Don't walk home 15 miles through a gay meeting place
* Always act as if you had a stiletto
* If you really have to walk home 15 miles, don't wear wrecked Converse All-Stars
* Apers rock
* Beer is good
* Don't go life in Zevenhuizen

That's it, meet you next time... While Chyldio is gone to Smelly France, you can sent your guest updates to me anytime. Just PM me and everything will be OK. Adios!

ps Mention how all the My's in the story are capitalized... Eat that God!

Well, last update for a fortnight, unless the guest updaters pull together and put something together. In the meantime, design me bongs, damnit! Is it so hard? No!

So, my idea.

Google Image Search, in time-honoured tradition, provides many of the pictures for my updates. And earlier today, I did a search for "bollocks", as you do. The results were... interesting, to say the least. No actual pictures of bollocks. Not one! But all of this crap instead...

Left: An astronaut from the United Bollocks of America!

Right: A stupid pop moron talking bollocks about music infinatly better than her own.



Left: Erm... pensioners playing with boules... that look like bollocks!