Sunday, 31 October 2010
The post I had hoped to bring you (and its sequels) are not yet fit for human consumption, so I bring you a short film instead. Not by me, obviously, as that would have entailed a lot of hard work. No. This film is by Chris Jones and can be found on YouTube (good old YouTube - The saviour of lazy bloggers everywhere) or at his home page. If you have seven minutes to spare I certainly recommend watching it. It really is very good!
For those of you who wondered what I meant by last Sunday's crackBOOM post - because you didn't read the secret text (kudos to xl, and probably Princess too for finding it), not that it was particularly revealing anyway - I had found myself plunged into a pit of despair and despondency, and couldn't get out of it to read all of your blogs, not to mention keep mine up to date. I managed to heave myself out, though, but not in time to finish the planned Hallowe'en postings. Sorry.
Anyway, I've left a hint on the aforementioned post if you do feel like reading it, and here are the snips from the comments that prove xl (and probably Princess, but definitely not BEAST) found the text:
29. Good Omens, by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman
Funnily enough, I liked this book better before IDV arrived on the scene. The bit where the angel Aziraphale takes up residence in rubbish medium Madam Tracy's body as they ride to avert the apocalypse on her elderly scooter (complete with Witch Finder Sergeant Shadwell on board), is now quite poignant.
Clicking here will take you to L-Space, where you can read some quotes and annotations from the book.
* from page 169.
30. Nero, by Mike Johnson, Tim Jones & David Messina
No you're not having deja vu, I have already read this book and posted about it. As you can see here - It's number 13.
31. Star Trek: Countdown, by Tim Jones, Mike Johnson, Roberto Orci & Alex Kurtzman with art by David Messina.
Ummm... Yeah, I've read and posted about this one, too. Although, at least this one was from last year...
32. Strata, by Terry Pratchett
"The excavation showed the fossilized plesiosaur had been holding a placard which read. 'End Nuclear Testing Now'.
That was nothing unusual.
But then came a discovery which did intrigue Kin Arad.
A flat earth was something new..."
~ ~ ~
Yes, I know it's Hallowe'en today. No, this isn't the Hallowe'en post. I'll post it this evening when it is actually Hallowe'en.
Sorry I haven't got around to visiting your blogs lately - I've been somewhat... Inconvenienced.
What? Didn't anyone read the secret text in the last post?
* sigh * I don't know why I bother, I really don't ...
Sunday, 24 October 2010
Sunday, 17 October 2010
CyberPetra has finally rid Denmark of the 'Shorts. They are now safely ensconced in the mitts of Donn in Canada. So, with that in mind, I've updated the 'Shorts Map to show their latest global position:
As regular readers can see, I haven't yet redone the map as I've often threatened. I'll do it next time, I promise!
Anyway, Donn is holding the FGES Caption Competition as we speak. If you want to enter for a chance to feel the combustible fibres of the infamous 'Shorts rasping against your skin, then may I suggest you get yourself over to Donn's and leave a caption forthwith. I won't be entering again as I've already had the 'pleasure' of hosting the diabolical garment. However, any captions I do leave will be on behalf of Tim, who says he doesn't want the 'Shorts anywhere near his "awesome manparts" - his own words (and quite frankly, who are we to doubt him? I've even offered to inspect them and issue a certificate as to their awesomeness, but Tim has, strangely, yet to get back to me...) - but I think he secretly does!
For those few of you who have no idea what The Freakin' Green Elf Shorts are, click here for MJ's Definitive History.
P.S. Sorry I haven't got back to you in the comments of the last couple of posts, or even visited your own blogs lately, for that matter - Time has escaped me, but when I finally catch up to it, I'll pin it down so I can be more sociable.
Tuesday, 12 October 2010
The zombies seemed particularly eager this morning on my walk to work. As I upped my step from shuffle to plod to match their gait and, therefore, not draw any undue attention, I did a mental inventory of my bag in case I had to suddenly scarper to escape the massing hoardes. I wanted to be sure I had enough supplies to keep me going should the End Of The World arrive ahead of schedule.
I had a box of maple & pecan cereal that I had the foresight to put in my bag last night lest I forget to this morning. There were two apples, one from our tree and one from The Parent's, a slice of carrot & orange cake that The Mother brought around yesterday afternoon, and the wra-
Shiiiiiit! I'd forgotten my lunch!
I'd made a chilli chicken wrap this morning and left it in the fridge! I was so dejected that I thought about throwing myself in front of the nearest zombie and ending it all. Luckily, one of the SubC's stepped in and pointed out that SP may bring my lunch with him when he leaves for work so I could retrieve it from him at lunch time.
Not long after I got to work, I had an email from SP. He said he'd stop by my office and drop my lunch off when he comes to work. Yay! My belly's anticipation would get its just desserts. or main course, even.
Tragedy struck, however. He called me later - the line was really bad - and through his garbled words I heard him say he got stuck and couldn't make it. Oh no! I thought, I'd forgotten to tell him about the zombies! After I blurted out the story of my journey with the living dead this morning, he told me to stop being a silly witch and that he was just in a traffic jam. It turned out that there were no zombies milling about and that what I saw earlier must have just been the dead-eyed call-centre employees on their way to work. I wasn't convinced, though - I'm sure some of them must have been the undead.
SP emailed me again once he'd got to work and told me he gave my lunch to one of his work colleagues! Waaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh! My lunch!
* Although, technically, it was day...
Saturday, 9 October 2010
A flash of light illuminates the whirling dust and coalesces into a figure. As the light dims, details can be made out. It is tall and appears to be wearing a cloak and a wide brimmed, pointed hat. As the light dims further, more details start to become apparent but, before its facial features become discernible, it raises a slender but male arm from within the billowing cloak and pulls the hat's brim down obscuring his face. His head sweeps from side to side, observing the featureless surroundings, except that there are features. Or, at least, there were. Remnants of things past litter the flat landscape: Old stories lie crumbling like fallen buildings. Narratives and tales wind through the old stories in advanced states of decay like the dead sloughed skins of giant serpents. Thoughts and ideas, once articulate and animated like birds in flight now lay where they fell, husks of nothing.
"Hmmm..." the figure mutters to himself. "This will do nicely" and he withdraws his other arm from the cloak, the folds of dark fabric catching and falling from the staff he holds. But it's not really a staff. The skyward pointing end is bound by stiff bristles and the long shaft is gnarled and twisted. The figure raises the broom and then quickly drives it down again, striking the dust.
Another flash of light heralds a second figure. Not as tall as the first, but also not as slight. It has a sculpted, athletic look to it - definitely male. Although appearing topless in the initial blinding light, telltale folds on the edges of the broad shoulders and narrow waist and hips disappointingly reveal that the lithely muscular man is wearing a fitted t-shirt. As he nods in greeting to the first figure and also surveys the surroundings, a third flash of light signals the arrival of someone else.
This one looks most peculiar in the fading bright aura. Very tall but, at a second glance, the height appears to be down to aides. Specifically, high heels and a towering wig. His eyes - despite the heels and wig, this one was most definitely a he - his eyes are surrounded by a halo of glitter as is his pouting mouth. His lips are full and slick with gloss and sparkling lipstick. An almost sheer, iridescent mermaid dress split to the upper thigh clings to his body and shapely legs before fanning out around his killer heels.
The fourth and fifth flashes of light don't appear as bright as the first three, but only because the sky around them is lightening in a sort of pseudo-dawn. The dust that had been swirling around in the breeze and filing down the ruins is almost all gone now leaving the plain flat and smooth. These final two figures appear to be male and female and they are bickering. The male, who wears a sensible anorak, carries a Roy Cropper bag full of Tupperware containers of, what smells like, chickpea curry. Resting atop these tubs are various types of tropical fruit but, strangely by their absence, no pineapples - Must be something to do with mau mau? The shapely female is barely wearing a plunging fitted top and carries a long leather whip which she threatens her companion with when unleashing a particularly nasty epithet aimed at him.
Suddenly, a shrill tone pierces the still, quiet atmosphere - It's an annoying Nokia-style ringtone. Four faces wince and turn to glare at the male carrying the bag, their eyes narrowed. The man in the anorak rummages frantically in his bag, spilling fruit everywhere until he pulls out an apple, but not of the fruit variety.
"Yes?" he hisses, answering the slab-like mobile phone. An authoritative, strident voice bellows from the tiny speaker, distorted by the volume. "But I'm in the middle of something" he whined. The distorted voice shouts something else. "No. It's really important." More harsh volume erupts from the phone. "But it's my day off!" What sounds like a scoffing laugh comes from the speaker. "But-"
"Oh, for Christ's sake!" the woman snaps and snatches the phone from the cowering, flinching man before throwing it to the ground and grinding it beneath her heel.
The other three figures breathe a collective sigh of thankful relief.
"This place is ripe for the taking" the First says only just loud enough to be heard over the whispering wind and still glowering at the ex-phone wielding man. "Come, let us gather our armies of darkness. Flying Monkeys, to me!"
"Red Shirts, assemble!" the Second commands.
"Entourage!" says the Third, snapping his well manicured fingers.
"Come hither, my League of Extraordinary HouseBoys!" the Fourth barks.
"Banana Splits" sighs the Fifth, clearly not entirely happy with his milling army.
The Second laughed as he observed the gathered troops. "The nightmare that became a reality and spread throughout the blogs" he observed in his best Captain Kirk voice.
And the Age of the Second Coven begins...
Sunday, 3 October 2010
MJ emailed me this morning with some very sad news: Alas, our friend Piggy has passed on. Left this world for something new.
Anyway (Piggy's favourite word), I was privileged enough to have met John and Martin, aka Piggy & Tazzy, two years ago. I was pleased to discover that, as well as being a moaning, whinging, ginger cunt (Piggy's favourite insult), Piggy was also an intelligent, funny, opinionated (in a good way, of course) and loving man.
Piggy: You will be remembered fondly and with love. And also for your bum-bearing antics!
Tazzy: You have my love and deepest sympathies.
If you didn't know Piggy very well, or just want to remember him and his antics (both real and made up), please visit MJ's blog by clicking here - MJ helpfully has a category in her blog labelled 'Piggy'.
Images courtesy of MJ.