Wednesday, July 15, 2015

More Intelligent Design …

Holy crap. I have got to get myself one of these.
And PLEASE check out the Mister Tea link at the bottom. I want one of those, too!

Wednesday, July 01, 2015

Tuesday, June 30, 2015

Four, Apparently …

That - it turns out - is the number of architects required to change a light bulb.

Not just any light bulb; one of those inset downlighter spotlight doohickeys in the shower room. Corrina went to change it as the caretaker is on leave and found there was no obvious way of getting the darned thing out of the ceiling.

So … four of us turned to the interweb and a six minute video of a large gentleman from the southern states of the Colonies whose painfully slow-drawled accent we adopted for the task ("un-cullee-up thuh spuh-ree-ung" etc.) .

Armed with a stepladder and a laptop showing the video, the gallant quartet donned hard hats and fluorescent tabards and managed to follow the precise instructions to … er … wriggle and wrench the thing out of the ceiling.

At which point the "spuh-ree-ung" unsprung itself at a rate of knots, spraying the room with small pieces of plastic and metal and eliciting a satisfying scream from Corrina.

Yet more "spuh-ree-ung cullee-ups" held the bulb into a plastic "ree-ung" which required the quartet to take turns at wrenching and swearing until eventually it all came apart.

The new bulb was a doddle to plug in. What was not a doddle was assembling the divers small plastic parts and "spuh-ree-ung cullee-ups" into something resembling a light fitting. The man in the video had failed to mention the inherent explosive qualities of the thing and its eagerness to violently disassemble itself. He offered no help in putting it all back together again. Humpty-Dumpty was nothing in comparison.

And so … several minutes later and after successive abortive design attempts we somehow managed to manufacture something that  (a) looked like a light fitting, and (b) contained all the parts collected from around the room.

Getting it back into the ceiling was entertaining in that the "spuh-ree-ung cullee-ups" acted much like mousetraps, snapping shut on any fingers attempting to manœuvre the thing into position.
Cue divers alarums and some imaginative profanity.

We now - at last - have a working light in the shower room - whoop-de-doo - but have decided that when the next one goes we shall wait for the caretaker to get back from his holiday rather than attempt such a monstrous task ourselves.
Downlighter spotlights? Fuck 'em!

Monday, May 18, 2015

It's Hongi Time

















For those of you who noticed my change of status on Fæcebook …

















This is Amelia and me at a theme park yesterday.

And just to prove to the Office Children that I was not afraid to go on the scary rides, she took this photo of me …

King of the scary theme park rides!

Tuesday, April 28, 2015

ITS

Cousin It, Cousin It and Cousin It.
I have not the faintest idea what's going on in my life right now.

Thursday, February 19, 2015

Benefits of a Classical Education

On the way to work yesterday I passed one of those sludge-gulpers … you know: big-assed sewerage pumping veehickles that unblock drains and empty septic tanks and the like?

It had one of those sunscreen things on the windscreen, bearing the legend "SEMPER NELLA MERDA"* … I almost went off the road laughing.



* For any who - unlike me - did not have to sit five years of compulsory Latin at school, this can be translated colloquially as "always in the shit".

Wednesday, February 11, 2015

If You're Gonna Take a Selfie, Why Stop at Your Face?

Hokay, so as selfies go this one is pretty extreme but it's the only photograph taken of me this year so I'm thinking of using it as my Fæcebook profile shot (or maybe not). It was taken by a teeny tiny Raquel Welch in a miniaturised submarine (for anyone who can remember the sixties).

Anyhoo … other than some minor medical faff and blather and some icky nasties that the surgeon put right with rubber bands, superglue and bulldog clips it appears that I am all mended and can get back to whatever passes for normality around here.

This, by the way, is a portrait, taken yestereve of my prominent Brunner's glands - something I was not aware of having until last night. As it's a whole lot prettier than my face I may well use it on dating sites.

One thing I learned about gastroscopies: when the surgeon pumps your tum full of air so he can see what's he's doing, you can't help but do the most AWESOME monster belches! Hell, if I could belch like that when I was ten years old I'd have been king of the school.

I also learned that it's possible to giggle with a camera tube jammed down your throat and to make a nurse crack up.

So … Let's see some of your own extreme selfies.

Sunday, January 18, 2015

Meanwhile, In An Uncertain Universe …

Sheesh! Looks like I kinda forgot I have a blog.

My prediction for the year appears to have been fairly accurate so far.
First, my alarm clock told me to die.
Really! I looked at the thing last Tuesday and the date doohickey said "DIE". It freaked me out for a second or three, but I decided that maybe it had evolved its own personality and was entitled to its opinion.
It was only when it told me to "MIT" the following morning that I realised I'd dropped it and the thing had reverted to German. I'm keeping it like that so it can tell me to die every Tuesday morning.

So anyhoo … the crappy new year now finds me vomiting blood and pooing it, too, so I'm going to have my own live TV show: "Inside Old Dive's Squishy Bits" to find out what's going on in there. Best diagnosis is just bleeding stomach ulcers so that's what I'm rooting for. I'll let you know.

In the meantime, this (from the unutterably splendid xkcd) made me giggle disproportionately. I do love a good physics joke.


Enjoy!

Thursday, January 01, 2015

Another Year?

Another one? Where do these bloody things keep coming from? They're worse than Reader's Digest.
Having received an unbroken run of five spectacularly shitty years I suppose this next one will follow suit and head straight for hell in a handcart.
Hey ho.

As for resolutions for 2015:
I hereby resolve to get older and bitchier, to be more cynical, drink too much coffee, read books, moan about politics, mercilessly mock religion, swear a lot, read more books, jest in a most unseemly manner, spend money I do not have, act in as ungracious and curmudgeonly a fashion as is humanly possible and generally to fail dismally at love and life; resolutions I am confident of achieving with flying colours.
Happy crappy new year, peeps.