It seems that Technical Support has always been a tedious job.
Thursday, May 31
Tuesday, May 29
Peep-ole
Just when I thought people had given up on me, and left me to be a hermit in my little corner of the blogosphere, I’ve been tagged again, this time by 'Whenn'
How am I ever to find my spiritual Nirvana at this rate?
This meme is about friends. I wish people would stop tagging me with things I have no experience with…
1. Name 1 Person who has changed the course of your life for the better
My dad - If it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t have my beautifully good looks.
2. Name 2 teachers who have contributed to your learning
Mr Hudd – My GCSE English Teacher, helped me to feel cleverer than everyone else in my class, and did an excellent Mr Burns Impression
Mrs Hale – My A-Level English Teacher who yelled at me for giving up English to concentrate on Maths, and pointed out the hidden swear words in John Dunn’s Poetry.
3. Name 2 colleagues who make your job worthwhile
Gemma – It’s rare to find someone in my office who can hold a conversation without mentioning last night’s football.
Richard – My future boss for getting me out of outbound sales
4. Name 3 friends who have helped you in your hours of need
Simon – My Best friend, and best man whose listened to me whine more times than I care to remember, and will no doubt embarrass me by listing them all on my wedding day.
Teresa – For helping me grow from a kid by introducing me to Whisky
Caroline – My old team leader in Retail, and the one person who could hold a deep conversation with me whilst rearing shoe boxes
5. Name 4 People who make you feel special
Abbey, Simon, My Sister and Dan – For taking me in Randomness and in strife.
6. 5 People you need in your life & why
Homer, Marge, Bart, Lisa and Maggie - For cheering me up at my lowest times, and gradually taking away my hard earned wages.
I don't want to have to tag anyone else because it will just be the same people I always tag and they might stop talking to me...
If some of the neurons in your brain are disturbed and you decide to do this thing, let me know and I'll put a link to you. I can't promise I wont call you crazy though.
Sunday, May 27
Woo-hoo!
Ah the bank holiday weekend. Three days of no work, no worries and no sunshine!
In a rare mindset, that lasts until about Monday lunchtime, the English actually leave their homes, head to the beach and spend all weekend in their car complaining about the weather.
And what do I have planned? Two Simpsons box sets. 35 episodes. 35 commentaries. Added bonus features, dealeted scenes and dozens of hidden extras.
Don't wait up for me, I may be some time.
Friday, May 25
E-mail Sooth Sayer
Despite the fact that most people in the office don’t have E-mail, except for the few of us who were clever enough (i.e lucky enough) to break the code, I still get at least a dozen of those annoying forwarded E-mails a month.
Now I have outlined my solution to this plague before, and have no intention of ranting about it again.
But in the same way you notice all the Peugeot’s on the road after you buy one, or all the sexy men in the street after you’re engaged to one, things about Weddings are starting to attract my attention.
This was sent to me at work yesterday.
“Once upon a time, a guy asked a girl "Will you marry me? "
The girl said, "NO!"
And the girl lived happily ever after and went out drinking, shopping and on trips to exotic places. She never missed a soap opera, never watched sport, and never had to wear lacy Underwear that disappeared into her butt. She met a different man every week, had great sex her entire life and never got fat. “
I replied all,
“Why do people keep telling me stories about Wedding Hell?
Am I happily walking into a life in Hades? Am I destined to like my life in torment? Should I get my Sado-Masochism gear back out?
Also does Marriage mean I will have to start wearing lacy underwear?
Yours,
Simon”
I’ve yet to hear back…
Related Links
Thursday, May 24
Happy Chappy
Dearly Beloved, Lets Get Ready To Rumble!
My sister's boyfriend works as a DJ, and as such my sister gets +1 free entry into lots of weddings.
And as such she's been imparting me with her great wisdom of Wedding Horror Stories, the Wedding's that when wrong when her boyfriend was 'DJ'ing'
1. The Rained out Wedding
During one wedding reception, the hotel caught on fire. To prevent the place from burning down the emergency sprinklers came on, and a wet, slightly sobered wedding party was removed to the evacuation point on the hotel greens while the Fire Engines tackled the blaze
2. Glad I crashed the Wedding
When a wedding reception was crashed by a group of uninvited drunk men, the bride assumed it was the grooms fault and an argument started. In the meantime the crashers got out of control, the police were called and a riot commenced. By the end of the night people were falling through windows.
3. This man is Best
And finally (and I fear the most likely kind of thing to happen at our wedding) when the 'happy couple' were a little drunk, the groom decided the bride was dancing a little too ‘close’ to the best man.
It is not, it seems, the best idea to accuse the bride of adultery on her Wedding night, I imagine many flowers were thrown, and eventually the bride took the keys and stormed off in the wedding car. The groom was left behind.
In the meantime, wishing to be as useful as possible, my sister helped herself to the buffet to make sure no food was wasted.
Exactly why my sister told me these I can’t be sure, but it has had at least one positive outcome.
Her boyfriend will not be the DJ at our Wedding Reception.
Previous Posts
Tuesday, May 22
Keeping it Civil
Let’s be honest. There’s only so long I can make the wedding planning cynical enough to be on this blog and avoid overwhelming you in a barrage of love, sweat and tears.
So I’ve created a blog specifically with the purpose of telling the story of our Civil Partnership. However, I’m not the best designer in the world, so I’m hiring you guys as my design critics, my reviewers and amateur complainers.
Click along to www.KeepingItCivil.blogspot.com. I’d love your feedback.
And besides I need some traffic.
Monday, May 21
P.O.G
Generally speaking there are two types of POG (parents of gays) in the world.
Firstly, there are those who are wonderfully happy with their alternative offspring, tell all their friends about their child’s lover and hold pink parties twice a month. Secondly, there are those who cast their wayward children onto the street, write them out of their will, and burn effigies of them at their weekly Klu-Kluk-Klan meetings.
My parents however are disappointing. Being born again Christians they struggle to balance their godly tolerance with their own feelings, hopes and disappointments. As a result their responses taste like watered-down water.
In short, for a writer, they’re an infuriating lack of inspiration.
I told them about the engagement the other day. In fact, I actually made the effort to ring them up so they must have known something was wrong. And after talking about their Home Improvements and their Grandkids took a deep breath, stopped my knees from shaking and said, “Dan and I got Engaged.’
My mum went quiet for a moment, then said ‘congratulations.’ She no doubt wanted to start talking about the grandkids again, but I felt awkward and asked her to make dad ring me back when he could so I could tell him then hung up as fast as possible.
My dad said, 'oh right?' asked the details, then responded, 'well at least I know you’re with one guy rather than running around after all of them.'
For a moment I imagined myself in a Benny Hill video, chasing in fast motion after same hunky men who were, in turn, running away from me, over the hills into the distance.
Then he changed the subject and told me a joke about a plane crashing in an Irish cemetery.
Maybe they’re happy for me. I can’t really tell. I’m pretty sure they never thought the first kid to marry a man would be their youngest son, and it must be a shock to them to know that after 3 years I still haven’t grown out of this ‘gay phase.’
But like it or not, I do feel a little let down. It would have been so much more dramatic and sympathy inducing if they’d slammed the phone down on me, phoned their solicitor, and started sewing an effigy.
Previous Posts
Sunday, May 20
Sticky Post - Love and Magic
(UPDATE: Picture is back online)
On Sunday, my boyfriend under went a magical transformation.
He knelt down beside me as just my Boyfriend, and rose back up, my Fiancée.
Saturday, May 19
Intervi-ewww
I applied for a new job recently. I had to. My current one is killing me.
At present, I spend 7 hours a day annoying old women by offering them home insurance. It’s impossible to hit my target and, being a bad loser, is sending me running for cliff edges like a bewildered lemming.
So I applied internally to work in claims.
I’m meticulous at interview preparation, especially when trying to escape death. So I re-read the Job Spec, asked others what to expect, worked out answers to all possible questions, mentally rehearsed them, clipped my nails and arrived 5 minutes early.
And the first question he asked me was ‘What do you know about the company?’
I was stuck. Being an internal interview I wasn’t expecting this. After all, I already worked for the company, why should I regurgitate a cheap sales pitch to impress my interviewer? What kind of internal interview quizzes you on why you want to work for the company you’re already in?
I mumbled out an excuse instead and waited for him to move on.
‘What achievement are you most pleased of in your work?’
Now I could win it back. In my previous job as Duty manager of a chain store, I had years of customer service skill. Over 3 years I was promoted quicker than any of my peers, given more responsibility than those 3 times my age. I was the first person called on to handle customer complaints, was in charge of some of the busiest sale periods, respected by over 20 staff, and, most excitingly, held the store keys.
I opened my mouth to speak, when he added, ‘…since you joined our company?’
And I was flummoxed again. I sell insurance. I annoy people. I exaggerate features and benefits to hide the fact that our price is 3 times higher than other insurers. What could I possibly say I’d achieved?
‘Um, I managed to overcome my stammer, which was threatening my sales call when I first started.’
He paused for a moment and said, ‘O.K.,’ then turned back to his notes.
It was the same throughout the interview, ‘What experience have you gained for this role since you joined our Company?’ ‘How hove you shown Passion for your work since you joined our Company?’ Even ‘How do you cope with a busy day in your current role since you joined our Company.’ I make outbound Calls! How can any day be busier than another? I have days where people shout at me more often if that’s what you mean.
At the end of the interview I hadn’t had a chance to mention any of my relevant experience, the reason they should employ me, or even the fact that I have an NVQ in active listening, am a brilliant empathiser, and really want to work in customer service. Not a single question I had prepared for came up. I wanted to shout, ‘Do you know what an Outbound Sales role is like, you ignorant jackass? Do you really think I go home every night with a passionate sense of achievement burning in my soul? Well I don’t! I go home with a burning anger and take it out on my boyfriend!’
He stood up, thanked me and pointed the way out of the building. I left the room and got lost, before heading back to my office, the failed Computer Science graduate who spent his life talking to geriatrics for £8 an hour.
I’m expecting to get feedback next week. I’m dreading it.
He’ll come into the feedback room, sit me down and offer me a coffee. Then referring copiously to his notes he’ll look at me and, in so many words, call me an idiot.
Still, it’ll only be since I joined the Company...
Other Working Rants
Thursday, May 17
Pre-marital Blitz
The arguments have started.
First there was the confusion over the engagement rings. Where should we get them from? How much should we pay? What will they look like?
It took us 4 or 5 detailed studies of the same 3 stores before we finally found a ring we both liked, and when we finally went to buy it they didn’t have it in our size. So we wasted half a lifetime trying to find another one, had our fingers measured, discovered our actual sizes were different to what we first thought and that the new ring didn’t come in them, ran back to the first shop to order the first ring again only to discover it had since sold out.
I’ve always believed a wedding was a somewhat magical event that effortlessly arranged itself, and resulted in a wonderful time for one and all. So far just trying to find a symbol of our engagement is difficult enough.
On top of this, My Fiancée (^_^) follows a highly predictable pattern every time a new Idea comes into his head, such as getting married, owning a car, or becoming a porn star. For about 2 days he will be obsessed with the idea, researching it in great detail, then falling in love with the first thing he saw. For the next two weeks he will dream wildly, throwing imaginary money at the idea, talking about it 24/7 and wearing me out by bursting into my room every few minutes with a new idea. Then finally, after a certain incubating period, the idea begins to lose interest, his attention wanes, and I can step in with some more practical, affordable, and generally sane ideas.
Right now, I feel exhausted just being around him, trying to keep up with the barrage of information he throws at me every few minutes. I’ve been finding it hard to update this blog, hard to be funny, and even harder to resist hitting him round the face every now and then. I’m actually looking forward to him getting bored of me again and abandoning me to watch downloaded episodes of CSI all night so I can finally sit down, spend some time to myself and work out what I want from this wedding.
The average modern engagement lasts 15 months but at this rate I’ll have died of exhaustion before the year is out.
And I still won’t have found an engagement ring.
The Back Story
Tuesday, May 15
Love Whore!
Thank you everyone for your Cheers and Well Wishing. Dan and I really appreciate it. You've made us both feel very special.
Logged in to my Statmeter this morning to discover I'd got 79 hits yesterday, the most I'd ever had in one day!
I'm going to have to get engaged everyday!
Monday, May 14
Love Drunk
As with most of our relationship it was largely to do with alcohol.
I first met My Boyfriend in a gay club. I’d always assumed I’d never meet a partner in that kind of place, imagining instead I would meet them at a Philosophy Club, Writers Circle, Amateur Drama Company or some other thing that I have never actually been to. Instead, I met him in the club toilets, where, in impetuous, imprudent inebriation, he refused to let me use the Water Fountain unless I kissed him.
Then he gave me his e-mail address, got more wasted, and ended up going home with someone else. He doesn’t remember that night.
The next time was at a party. He was the designated driver, completely sober, quiet, shy, boring. He remembers that night, I’m not entirely sure I do.
A few weeks later I was upstairs in a straight club dancing with some friends when they said, “Hey, there’s this guy downstairs who’s so camp! You’d hate it!” Of course, it was him! He got me drunk, and we ended up at the corner of the dance floor making out, causing a girl to scream as she walked past us. I’m not sure either of us really remembers that night.
And on Saturday night, we were back in the Gay Club, not the same one where we first met, but they are all replicas of each other in someway. As our friend was chatted up by the one straight man in the club, we sat on the couch, drank and talked about marriage. We’ve discussed it many times before, what we would do, how we would do it. And amongst sips we confessed our love for the millionth time. He brought me a rose. We hugged, we kissed, we danced badly to pop music, And we promised each other we would be together forever.
And both of us remembered.
Sunday morning we lay in bed recovering, holding each other, talking, being together, the two of us caught in the glow of the night before.
He kissed me, then got out of bed and knelt down beside it, next to where I was lying. His eyes, which were still half asleep, looked down into mine. His hair had suffered from a drunken slumber, last night’s style caught in a tangle of weakening gel. The floor was covered in smoky clothes, the stale smell of alcohol on our breaths. And it was the most beautiful moment of my life.
Regular readers may have noticed two quirks with this blog. Firstly I have avoided posting anything like a picture of myself or My Boyfriend. Secondly I have always referred to My Boyfriend simply as My Boyfriend, preferring to hide him behind a witty pseudo name (note the Capital Letters) than share him with you.
Well today I’d like to share.
So on the left is me, Simon, The Freelance Cynic, in the flesh.
And on the right is Dan. My Fiancée.
Lingering Love
Saturday, May 12
Building Bridges
There is a street corner in Bristol where the Beggars and Charity Canvassers hang out. A corner I walk past twice a day. And a corner that I hate.
Beggars, for one, confuse me. My Christian upbringing tells me to help them, but the 'anti-drug flyers' around Bristol tell me ‘don’t’. Thus, ignoring them makes me feel guilty and giving them loose change makes me feel even worse! The only way I can avoid the guilt is to pretend I haven’t seen them, or to hurry past, avoid eye contact and mutter, “Srry mate.”
Charity Canvassers, although more annoying, are easier. Doing a similar job as myself I utterly detest them, and make fun of them whenever possible. This is remarkably easy; most of them open their patter with the same line (i.e. “Hi I’m Gary from Greenpeace.") to which there are at least three possible replies,
• The short and sweet - “Good for You!”
• The baffler - “Really? What a coincidence! I’m Simon from Bristol.”
• Or my personal favorite - “Wonderful! I had no idea you people looked so clean!”
Any such response causes them to think and gives me time to get away. And I can generally make it home, past beggar and canvasser, largely unmolested and with a morally intact opinion of myself.
But yesterday it went horribly wrong.
I was walking past the corner, accelerating wildly so I’d be harder to stop, when a woman carrying an umbrella walked towards me. The umbrella is an old trick used by canvassers - they offer you shelter, numb you with pictures of starving Ethiopians and then steal your wallet. As such I had no intention of talking to her.
'Excuse me?' she said,
“No Thank you!" I barked out and strolled into the middle of the road.
Her words trailed off behind me, “Do you know the way to…?”
She'd been asking for directions; I'd brushed her off like a pushy New Yorker and she'd only been asking for help. I was halfway across the road before I realized what I’d done, and I had no idea what do about it. Should I turn back and pretend I hadn’t been rude? Should I carry on walking, ‘tutting’ loudly at the ‘bloody tourist’? Or should I shout sorry over my shoulder and run away like a schoolgirl playing kiss chase, making it difficult for her to get a positive ID?
Thankfully, the lights changed and I darted across the road.
I felt like a deserter; like an evil, bitter old man who hates foreigners, and spends his weekends at rallies for the National Front. And I went home that night with my moral righteous in a state of crucifixion.
If we meet again I’ll make it up to her. I’ve got it all planned out. Pacing past, staring at the ground, I’ll wait till I’m just in earshot. And then, avoiding all eye contact, I’ll wave in her general direction, and mutter, “Srry mate.”
Previous Funnies
Friday, May 11
Thursday, May 10
Shelved
So I ran out of bookcase space again.
Normally, I go to Amazon and sell some old books to free up space, but generally speaking this causes me pain. Firstly, I always want to reread the books about 2 days after selling them, and secondly I almost always spend more money on new Amazon books than I make selling the old ones.
So I decided it would be cheaper, and less painful this time, just to buy a new bookcase
Being British, and thus overly keen on DIY, Ikea is my best friend, and I can waste whole hours walking up and down the aisles, wondering at the cheap prices and the efficient Swedish Design. And being English I enjoy gorging on the cut-price hotdogs and loading my pockets with the free pencils. It’s the perfect day out!
I found a 6’ bookcase that was cheap enough and tacky enough to please me and then faced the real problem of getting it home. I don’t drive and refused to pay the extra £5 cab fare. So I decided, being the strong man I am, to carry it, and started to walk home with 20kg of flat-pack resting on my shoulder.
I got about 8 steps before running out of energy. My shoulder was killing me, my legs buckling. I turned to see how far I’d come and banged the box on the sides of the exit door.
I still had at least a half hour walk ahead of me.
Lifting the box again I struggled forward, three or four steps, followed by a 10 minute rest, before trudging homeward again, until finally, after what seemed like years, I reached the house, stumbled in the door and collapsed. Any belief I had of myself as a macho-man had faded along with the sensation in my shoulder. The carpet I had crumpled onto was wonderfully soft, the relaxation running through my body like heroin through my veins, And then the bookcase fell on top of me…
So now I have a new set of shelves in my room with space for all the new books I want to buy. But I won’t be buying any for a while. It may have been cheaper to buy a new bookcase, but it certainly wasn’t less painful.
And at the moment, just the sight of a new book makes my shoulders ache...
Previously Painful Prose
Wednesday, May 9
Click to EnlargeMonday, May 7
Phat
My employer, an international capitalist, has declared its workers are too fat.
I can only assume it was a slow year…
Other companies have developed lunchtime workout classes, morning yoga sessions and healthier canteen food. But my company knows its staff; it created a competition.
Of course they're not calling it that, the same way they don't call us 'worker drones.' it’s a ‘sponsored weight loss.’ For every pound lost between now and June 21st they will pay £1 to Breast Cancer UK. After all, breast cancer affects woman and overweight men alike.
As Salesmen, this is another chance to prove our superiority! Conveniently this happens to be our favorite thing in the world and bets are already circulating on the greatest dieter, our second favorite thing being taking money from gullible fools.
For me, it’s another round in the fight against my six pack insulation, my attempts with Paul McKenna and the Gym failing. This time it may actually work. The reason I don’t beat the belly is because I have no real reason too and, more importantly, I'm lazy. I already know I could do it if I wanted too why waste my time proving it to myself? But to have an adjudicator, someone writing the figures down, and the chance of making a fool of myself in front of the entire workplace, well, failure is not an option.
If I gain weight I’ll end up stealing money from the charity and that can't do my karma any good!
So I weighed myself, 13 stone precisely or a perfectly disgusting 182 lbs
If a fat person can lose a stone a month, by the time June 21st comes around I'll be a hunky 11 stone 7, or 161 lb, a reasonable aim, unless I fly out to Malaysia for a quick tummy-tuck. That’s my goal and if I can beat it even better. Being the best dieter in the office will do wonders for my ego.
However, I'll tell people at work I’m 'not that bothered' otherwise they may try that little bit harder and end up beating me. And as a salesman, I’d rather see my friends get fat than face the shame of defeat.
And, worse still, if I seem to take it too seriously, they may even think I’m gay…
Saturday, May 5
Blessons
Blogging Lesson number 23.
- Writing what you consider to be a light hearted rant, without first explaining it to be a joke may cause people unused to that style of your writing to worry about your emotional and mental health.
Among the most important are:
- Don’t update daily! People come to expect it, and send out search parties if the blog is idle for more than 25 hours.
- Don’t ever try to blend your online persona with your real one. The mind of the average reader can not handle two contrasting personas on the same blog and doesn’t wish to know about your everyday life anyway unless you have something in common, normally childbirth, in which case your onto a hit.
- Everybody likes a controversial subject to get their teeth in too.
- Do not do a meme, not even one. Don’t even think about it! The second you do, you won’t be able to stop doing them, they will flow in through the door like straight men to a cross-dressing party. (What is with that anyway? Why do butch, handsome, adorably stupid guys feel the need to dress up in woman’s clothing at the drop of a hat? Answers on a postcard.)
- Never include any poignant observations into your blog otherwise people will believe you can think and expect it of you on a regular basis.
- And finally, keep posts short. Cut out every single, little, insignificant, pointless, dull and meaningless, boring, drab, repetitive and unnecessary, discardable filler word in your post. Keep it, your post I mean, the blog post though, not your mail because that would just be daft wouldn’t it, haha, just imagine... anyway, where was I, oh yeah... keep your post(see above) as short, tiny, minuscule, petite, diminutive, squat and ant-sized as possible. Otherwise the only reason people will read all the way to the end is for the hope of some kind of joke, laugh, funny or last line punch line. And they’ll be really, really, really, really, really annoyed, frustrated, fed-up, disturbed and angry when they discover there isn’t one. So don't do it.
Thursday, May 3
You know what really grinds my gears? Part 3
It's like, hey, Jackass, in the case of the Frigging Rapture I think I'd have slightly more important things to do than read the bloody sticker an the back of your car!
I mean yeah, when my vehicle is slamming into the back of yours I'll be so appreciative of your smug Little warning on the back bumper. Now I not only have to worry about mirror, signal, manoeuvre but also about the bloody rapture occurring when I'm travelling about 90 miles an hour the M6.
And know what? Your stupid, holy-water blessed and sanctified car will also be unmanned in the event of death, sudden global warming or total paralysis, all of which are more likely than Jesus Christ causing havoc on Britain's A-roads by rapturing motorists at an inconvenient junction.
Frigging Jackass.
In the event of my dinner being ready this Blog will be unmanned. That at least is something we can all believe in...
Wednesday, May 2
Now you know my ABC's...
It’s my 100th Post… kind of.
I mean if you ignore the competition posts and the PayPerPosts, and the posts that were so horrible I was forced to delete them, and the ones that I simply don’t want to count because it would force me to admit that I forget to do something special for the 100th Post, then this most definitely is my 100th post. Which means, by the law of the blogosphere, I have to do ‘something’ special.
I’d always wanted my 100th post to be a kind of about me page. But as Ally tagged me recently I figured I could save myself some effort and use that instead.
A-Available or Single? Fortunately nether, or unfortunately depending on your outlook. Either way I’m in a long term relationship with a man who considers himself an expert on Crime Drama’s and Buffy the Vampire Slayer
B-Best Friend: Depends what town I’m currently in, although I don’t really do best friends, just people I can actually be arsed to contact, even if it is just once every three months to make sure they’re still alive
C-Cake or Pie: Mmmm Pie, pie, pie, pie, pie.
D-Drink of Choice: Jack Daniels and coke.
E-Essential Item(s): Pad and Pen, PDA with Keyboard, Mobile Phone, Wallet. And my signet ring, otherwise what would I fiddle with when I get bored? Answers on a postcard.
F- Favourite Colour(s): Yellow against black, like a bumble bee, or fresh vomit on tarmac. Something about the colour combination and the contrast makes me smile.
G- Gummy Bears or Worms? As worms are a kind of parasitic infection I think I’d rather have Gummy bears. Besides, you have to suck up worms and it’s hard to do it without looking stupid
H- Hometown: Currently Bristol, UK. Home of the world’s largest accent.
I- Indulgence: Cheese and Onion sandwiches and long hugs, although my Boyfriend insists that I don’t do both at the same time.
J- January or February: Kind of struggling for J words weren’t you? January – more time off work.
K- Kids: My nieces are enough to keep me going for now.
L- Life is incomplete without: Curiosity
M- Marriage Date: Well I’m dating the person I want to marry, does that count?
N- Number of Siblings: One older sister. And yes, I do get on with her. And maybe if we all clap our hands loud enough she may even comment on this post. Let’s try it and see.
O- Oranges or Apples? Apple Juice. My fruit should be as far removed from nature as possible.
P- Phobias/Fears: I have a feeling I may be afraid of failure and success, which means I tend to spend my life without really going anywhere. Except possibly to hell.
Q- Favourite Quote: Is nothing good or bad but thinking makes it so. – Shakespeare
R- Reasons to smile: Jesus loves me, even though I don’t believe in him. And I have a loving boyfriend, a steady job and access to the Internet 24/7! What more could a guy ask for, except possibly some chocolate body spread.
S- Season: Spring. I enjoy my hay fever so much
T- Tag Three: Angelika, GayGeek, CP
U- Unknown Fact about Me: I once performed a ventriloquism show to great acclaim while blatantly moving my lips
V – Vegetarian or Oppressor of Animals? Line up the chickens and find me an axe.
W- Worst Habit(s): Over eating, laziness.
X – X-rays or Ultrasounds?: What? Who the hell is writing these things? What kind of person has a preference? Do people sit around in clubs going “Ohhh now me personally I prefer the Ultrasound you know 'cos it’s less intrusive like…”? You’re all fired!
Y- Your Favourite Foods: Cheese, Cheese burgers, Cheese and onion sandwiches, Cheesecake. Twix chocolate bars.
Z- Zodiac: Sagittarius
Now you know my ABC's! Congratulations, you pervert.
And if you made it this far, you've also got a unusually high tolerance level for things that waste your time.
Tuesday, May 1
And the winner is...
My Internet was down all last night, So I'm having to do the draw now instead. My apologies.
In the end there were 39 links to the blog, and 29 people had made it a technorati favourite, giving us a total of 68 entries.
And so with out further ado, here are the Winners
In Third Place Winning 50 free blogexplosion credits is..
Ticket Number 4 - Angelika
In Second Place winning 100 free Blogexplosion Credits is ticket number
Ticket Number 55 - Colorcrazed
And the Big Winner of 250 free blog hits is...
Ticket Number 6 - Ally
Can all the winners post their BlogExplosion Usernames below and I'll transfer the credits to you account! Congratulations to all of you.
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