Isn't that a brilliant name? Although I mainly answer to 'Zoomy' nowadays, I still like to be called Benjamin Bunny as a term of endearment, and I can't imagine how cool it must be to be really called that. Actually, it's probably not all that cool at all, and he's probably tired of all the jokes by now. He didn't make the cut (by a long way), so it's obviously better in golf to be a Tiger than a rabbit.
Anyway, I don't suck even slightly today. I've done a half-hour binary, hour numbers and spoken numbers practice run, bought all the little household bits and bobs I've run out of in the past week or seven, ironed a shirt and pair of work trousers, done at least one other significant thing that I was going to mention but have forgotten, and made a half-hearted stab at cleaning my kitchen sink. I'm great. Now I'm going to play an othello tournament on Kurnik, and see if I can win a game for a change.
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Friday, July 21, 2006
News in brief
In what has been hailed as a remarkable scientific advance, technology has been developed enabling horses to communicate with chickens. The device, which looks like a cross between a gramophone and an unusually hairy woodlouse, translates the horse's whinnies and body language into a combination of clucks, foot-scratches, pecking and so forth easily comprehended by a chicken. The scientists responsible for the new invention are now working on their next project - a similar apparatus which will allow the chickens to reply. After that, they might work on a way for humans to work out what the horses and chickens are saying.
Another scandal has engulfed the world of athletics after an Olympic gold-medal-winner tested positive for spinach. American runner Jack Mercer had been hailed as a hero after setting a new world-record time for the 100m sprint of three and a half seconds, a feat made even more remarkable by the fact that his feet had been glued to the starting blocks by an unknown miscreant, but has now been stripped of his medal and banned for life. "I yam disgustipated wit' myself," he told reporters.
A mass murderer has been unexpectedly acquitted due to some legal technicality. Raymond Roland had cheerfully confessed to killing upwards of three thousand people over a busy six-week period in 2005, and had been expecting a life sentence. But for some reason it became legally necessary for the judge to dismiss the case and set Roland free. "It was some kind of thing to do with some old law, I think," observed Mr Justice Puckles. "It's unfortunate, seeing as the man in question has every intention of going out and killing more people, but that's the law."
And finally, the fire brigade were called out to the village hall in Manchester this morning - not because of a fire, but because the town clerk had dialled the wrong number when ordering a pizza. Because the fire brigade are not allowed to leave a building without extinguishing a fire, the entire Blue Watch had to sit in reception for three hours while the staff searched for a match or cigarette lighter. During this time, six million people perished in a major conflagration in the building next door.
Another scandal has engulfed the world of athletics after an Olympic gold-medal-winner tested positive for spinach. American runner Jack Mercer had been hailed as a hero after setting a new world-record time for the 100m sprint of three and a half seconds, a feat made even more remarkable by the fact that his feet had been glued to the starting blocks by an unknown miscreant, but has now been stripped of his medal and banned for life. "I yam disgustipated wit' myself," he told reporters.
A mass murderer has been unexpectedly acquitted due to some legal technicality. Raymond Roland had cheerfully confessed to killing upwards of three thousand people over a busy six-week period in 2005, and had been expecting a life sentence. But for some reason it became legally necessary for the judge to dismiss the case and set Roland free. "It was some kind of thing to do with some old law, I think," observed Mr Justice Puckles. "It's unfortunate, seeing as the man in question has every intention of going out and killing more people, but that's the law."
And finally, the fire brigade were called out to the village hall in Manchester this morning - not because of a fire, but because the town clerk had dialled the wrong number when ordering a pizza. Because the fire brigade are not allowed to leave a building without extinguishing a fire, the entire Blue Watch had to sit in reception for three hours while the staff searched for a match or cigarette lighter. During this time, six million people perished in a major conflagration in the building next door.
Thursday, July 20, 2006
It's not good when...
...you can't think of a single thing to blog about apart from work. Well, I'm not going to bore you with tales of thrilling budget preparation or complaints about the purchase ledger department. What might be more interesting is that I'm going to one of the nurseries tomorrow afternoon - part of a scheme to make everyone in the company more aware of what goes on in the other parts of it. I'd rather be working, to be honest. I like children in principle, they're the best way of perpetuating the species that I know of, but when I come into close contact with actual ones, they tend to get annoying very quickly.
For some reason, though, children invariably like me. It must just be because I'm so sweet and loveable.
For some reason, though, children invariably like me. It must just be because I'm so sweet and loveable.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Run away and join the circus
It occurs to me that I've spent most of my life moaning about my job and never done anything constructive about finding an alternative. I keep resolving to actually write a memory book and get it published, and then I always find something better to do with my time. Well, no more. I'm fed up of hearing myself whinging mentally about how cool it would be to really be a semi-celebrity. I'm going to really, definitely do it, and if I don't everyone reading this is entitled to make jeering comments about me at every opportunity.
None of which will save me from a day of budget meetings tomorrow, of course, but at least it will give me some kind of sense of achievement in the long run. Probably.
None of which will save me from a day of budget meetings tomorrow, of course, but at least it will give me some kind of sense of achievement in the long run. Probably.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Be Not Proud
It occurred to me that I haven't written anything surreal and nonsensical for much too long, but I don't seem to be in quite the right mood. I just started writing something about a spy, but it wasn't even remotely funny, so I abandoned it. Instead, I'll hope I haven't done so already and talk about the fact that the Brazilian TV people all thought my name was Pridemore instead of Pridmore. This happens to me a lot, and not just with Brazilians. Admittedly, Pridemore sounds more like it should be a name than Pridmore does, but that's not the point. The Pridmore family has a long and distinguished history, probably, and just because nobody with the surname has ever become world-famous doesn't mean there's anything wrong with it.
The name Pridmore seems to have confounded all those people who compile books of surname meanings. Most of them omit it altogether, and even the most exhaustive websites can only speculate that it probably started out as a place-name, although nobody knows where the original prid-more might have been. Perhaps one of my ancestors just decided to make up the name by stringing random letters together. There's a proud tradition of illiteracy in the family, so maybe someone called Pridemore just forgot how to spell their name one day and it stuck.
It's an anagram of Ripe Dorm. Or More Drip. Or 'orrid MEP.
The name Pridmore seems to have confounded all those people who compile books of surname meanings. Most of them omit it altogether, and even the most exhaustive websites can only speculate that it probably started out as a place-name, although nobody knows where the original prid-more might have been. Perhaps one of my ancestors just decided to make up the name by stringing random letters together. There's a proud tradition of illiteracy in the family, so maybe someone called Pridemore just forgot how to spell their name one day and it stuck.
It's an anagram of Ripe Dorm. Or More Drip. Or 'orrid MEP.
Monday, July 17, 2006
And when I'm drunk I dance like me dad
I've recently developed a habit of going around in a shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the neck wide open, and whenever I see myself in a mirror I think "Wow, I look cool like this!" I'm quite consciously aware that I only think this because that's how my dad always used to dress, but the way I see it if I'm happy with the way I look, that's the only thing that matters. It's not like any objective observer is going to think I look cool or stylish or handsome whatever I'm wearing.
Anyway, today I had lots of time to go around like that, because getting home from work was more of a hassle than usual. Because of the usual three or four different and contradictory excuses, there were no trains running at all tonight - the guy in the little room at Burton station who gives announcements on the tannoy eventually just said that he had no idea when the next train would be arriving, and recommended that we all get the bus instead. And the bus from Burton to Derby goes all round the houses through Tutbury and Hatton and Hilton and anywhere else you can think of and takes an hour to cover the ten-miles-as-the-crow-flies. All of which meant that I left my bike at the train station so I'll have to walk down to Derby station tomorrow. My life is one earth-shattering disaster after another, isn't it?
I did contemplate cycling home all the way from Burton - it would possibly be good for me, and it would be fun to see if I can still cycle ten miles without dropping dead (I used to do it twice a day at one time). But eventually sanity prevailed - I don't actually know the way, I always get lost when I try to follow road signs, it's all A-roads where I'd get knocked down by speeding cars or back roads where I'd get knocked down by wild farm animals, and the sun was blazing away like nobody's business on the hottest day of the year, and me without a hat. I also contemplated getting a taxi, but thought better of that kind of extravagance.
Anyway, today I had lots of time to go around like that, because getting home from work was more of a hassle than usual. Because of the usual three or four different and contradictory excuses, there were no trains running at all tonight - the guy in the little room at Burton station who gives announcements on the tannoy eventually just said that he had no idea when the next train would be arriving, and recommended that we all get the bus instead. And the bus from Burton to Derby goes all round the houses through Tutbury and Hatton and Hilton and anywhere else you can think of and takes an hour to cover the ten-miles-as-the-crow-flies. All of which meant that I left my bike at the train station so I'll have to walk down to Derby station tomorrow. My life is one earth-shattering disaster after another, isn't it?
I did contemplate cycling home all the way from Burton - it would possibly be good for me, and it would be fun to see if I can still cycle ten miles without dropping dead (I used to do it twice a day at one time). But eventually sanity prevailed - I don't actually know the way, I always get lost when I try to follow road signs, it's all A-roads where I'd get knocked down by speeding cars or back roads where I'd get knocked down by wild farm animals, and the sun was blazing away like nobody's business on the hottest day of the year, and me without a hat. I also contemplated getting a taxi, but thought better of that kind of extravagance.
Sunday, July 16, 2006
I Suck
I have done absolutely nothing all day today. Quite literally nothing, just sat around watching TV or reading. Couldn't even be bothered to cook a meal tonight, so I went out to McDonald's. It's hotter than a really hot place and just not the weather for being industrious and hard-working. Or that's my excuse, anyway.
One thing I've done today is taken another step towards the end of my rather strange project that I started a few months ago - to watch an episode of Baby Looney Tunes daily and write a review and analysis of it (just for my own entertainment, you understand, because I don't think anyone else would want to read it - BLT is unjustly despised by most serious cartoon fans). I kind of dropped it during the World Cup and with all my travels, mainly because it was hard to keep the motivation once I'd got onto season 2, which is almost uniformly awful and not a patch on the first season. But having watched "Duck's Reflucks" (a rare misfire from Marlowe Weisman, who's one of the best writers of this kind of cartoon in the world) today, now I've only got two more episodes to watch (both of them dreadful ones), and then I'll need a new similar kind of thing to occupy half an hour of my time in an evening.
Thundercats might be fun (I've got every episode of that on tape too), and that's the kind of thing I could publish on the internet because some people might really enjoy it, but it's a bigger task that takes up more time - episodes are 20 minutes long instead of 11, and there's more plot and continuity to talk about, not to mention an absolute goldmine of nitpicking of plot inconsistencies. Or a comic like Alpha Flight or Defenders, although there's plenty of detailed analysis and criticism of those out there already. I'm making great strides in my effort to collect every Warner Bros cartoon, but still missing a few hundred, so I can't review those from start to finish yet.
I could devote the extra time to training for the world memory championship so as not to make a complete fool of myself there, but then again you can work too hard on things. I'm going to go and lounge around reading comics rather than ironing shirts or making myself a packed lunch for tomorrow.
One thing I've done today is taken another step towards the end of my rather strange project that I started a few months ago - to watch an episode of Baby Looney Tunes daily and write a review and analysis of it (just for my own entertainment, you understand, because I don't think anyone else would want to read it - BLT is unjustly despised by most serious cartoon fans). I kind of dropped it during the World Cup and with all my travels, mainly because it was hard to keep the motivation once I'd got onto season 2, which is almost uniformly awful and not a patch on the first season. But having watched "Duck's Reflucks" (a rare misfire from Marlowe Weisman, who's one of the best writers of this kind of cartoon in the world) today, now I've only got two more episodes to watch (both of them dreadful ones), and then I'll need a new similar kind of thing to occupy half an hour of my time in an evening.
Thundercats might be fun (I've got every episode of that on tape too), and that's the kind of thing I could publish on the internet because some people might really enjoy it, but it's a bigger task that takes up more time - episodes are 20 minutes long instead of 11, and there's more plot and continuity to talk about, not to mention an absolute goldmine of nitpicking of plot inconsistencies. Or a comic like Alpha Flight or Defenders, although there's plenty of detailed analysis and criticism of those out there already. I'm making great strides in my effort to collect every Warner Bros cartoon, but still missing a few hundred, so I can't review those from start to finish yet.
I could devote the extra time to training for the world memory championship so as not to make a complete fool of myself there, but then again you can work too hard on things. I'm going to go and lounge around reading comics rather than ironing shirts or making myself a packed lunch for tomorrow.
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