Love on the underground
I've never been a big one for detail; Read the post below. It's pretty sparse, but everything you need to know is right there. I could complain about the astigmatic old fart who interviewed me, but I'd just sound bitter. It's hard enough actually being bitter without sounding it as well.

After the ill-fated job interview, I caught the tube into Leicester Square. I wanted to see the new Star Wars film again. As I was riding the escalator out of the station I spotted a simple white sticker with the words www.ISawYouToday.com scrawled upon it. I only saw it for a fraction of a second, the time it took the escalator to whizz me past, but it stuck in my head. Just a few moments ago I tapped in the address.

Wow.

What a great idea! A dating service that helps you contact the woman in the white shirt who totally ignored you as her escalator took her past you at Oxford Circus. Just like Steve Buschimi's character in Ghost World, "Was it my imagination or did we share a moment?"

I can't wait to hear all of those gooey love stories.

"I was the swarthy guy in green with the nervous twitch, ruggedly severe acne scars and the devil-may-care attitude that bespoke true love.

You were the gorgeous brunette who looked almost exactly like the girl in Will Young's Light My Fire video. You wore that baggy grey sack with such aplomb, you with your pouty red lips and those dark dreamy, soulful eyes.

As the escalator of love brought us closer together, the beating of my heart became almost unbearably loud. I was sure that you must have heard it. I smiled. You pretended to not see me. But I knew. Oh yes, I could feel your passion in the electricity between us.

Provocatively ignoring me like that. It couldn't have been more obvious. I knew you weren't really reading that book. Come aboard, come aboard, ride the love train with me!"

Just quickly
Went to interview. Interview ok, not great. Saw AOTC again. This time digitally projected. No big difference. Went up in London Eye / Millenium Wheel. Nice. Got phone call. Didn't get job. Unhappy. Posted this from cybercafe near Victoria Station. Credit running out. Off to catch train.

And then there were none
This one's strictly for the Aussie readers. Nothing funny or clever. Just this link. And this one.

Alec Campbell



They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old;
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

Some things never change
Tomorrow morning I have a job interview. It's an important interview, I really need a job. And quick.

I promised myself that today I would cram. One of the skills required is something I don't have a lot of experience with, so I needed to put in some serious effort. Crama-dama-ding-dong.

So what did I do today? I slept in. I finished a novel I was reading. I download the Matrix 2 trailer. I watched some crappy daytime TV. I even washed some dishes. Those who know me and have seen my house may be skeptical. Let me just clarify. I didn't say that I washed the dishes, as in all of the dishes. I said that I washed some dishes. Not all, some.

I wasn't even going to blog today. I planned to stay in and cram. Instead I went out. I bought some food. I paid my rent and my Visa bill. I bought this DVD, about which I knew next to nothing, watched it, and deeply regretted the purchase. I wish they printed warnings on the covers of DVDs.

The National Association of Film's Cinema Advisory Centre could label DVDs simply and clearly: "NAF-CAC has determined that this film is officially a Stinker or a Sleeper or Charming or Suspensful or just plain Blah!"

It's good to know that my near legendary talent for finding other things to do when there is studying to be done hasn't been dulled by the years since Uni.



Exciting details from Kieran's actual life
Went to Brannigan's in Crawley last night. Watched the Champion's League final with Dave. Drank lots of beer. Then we went to Friday's and ate mexican food and drank more beer. Went to Cinema. Saw film. Enjoyed film. Rejoiced in the force. Ate popcorn. Went home. Read. Slept. Woke up. Phew. And that about brings us up to the beginning of this entry again....

Listening to: Benett's "Just because I liked you in the Summertime."

God I love this song. And don't feel bad about never having heard of Benett. Of course you've never heard of her. Where would the blog cred be if I mentioned I was listening to song by an artist anyone in the world has heard of?

In decending order...
Predicted number of times I will say "I saw AOTC at the midnight screening Wednesday/Thursday. It was ok, better than The Phantom Menance, but not as good as the original Star Wars." : Seventy three
Number of times I will ruefully consider that the cost of the taxi home from Crawley will be more than double the cost of the ticket: Sixteen
Hours till I see Attack of the Clones: Eight and a Half
Pints of bitter I will drink tonight before entering the cinema: Three or Four
Predicted number of stars I will give AOTC out of five: Three
Days till my interview: Two
Newly permalinked blogs: Two
Times during film I will have to go potty: One or Two
Number of haircuts I'm about to have: One

And a big thank you to...
Dave Corrie, who has provided a lot of help ironing out some nasty little CSS bugs in the 'ole blog. Good one Dave!

Dave, I've actually had this link for a while, but I've really struggled to come up with a plausible, socially redeeming excuse to post it. The vexed issue of Supermodels and their computers has long concerned the greatest thinkers of our age. But just try posting a picture of Heidi Klumm in her underwear, and people will jump to the wrong conclusions.

So anyway, this one's for the free thinkers.

This one's for the people who think outside of the box.

Dave, this one's for you!

Today is Hug Your Cat Day in Boston
Since I don't have a cat and don't live in Boston, I'm excused. But if you are a casual reader of this blog, and you are a cat-owning Bostonian, well then, you know what you have to do. I feel good; I've done my duty and passed on the message.

Seems kind of unfair to all the cats outside of Boston though...

OK, I don't usually do this kind of thing, I don't like to abuse my power, but I've reached a decision. I've decided to grant a special exemption for Cat owners who read this blog. If you own a cat and you read this blog, regardless of where you live, you now have official permission to hug your cat. That's right! Get a huggin' !

It may only be Hug Your Cat Day in Boston, but with my sanction it can be Boston in your heart.



Word of the Day
And staying topical, unless you're reading this tomorrow, or the day after, or your sniffing through the archives some six months hence in order to build up a legal case against me (You'll never take me alive, Copper!), if you take a look at the side-bar on the right, you should see that Dictionary.com's Word of the Day is Esurient. Now I've only ever heard that word (which means hungry, incidently) used in one place: Monty Python's famous Cheese Shop Sketch. That's right! Get a clickin' !

You may only be Esurient in your stomach, but with the boys from Month Python you can be Esurient in your heart.

Oh the pain, the pain
Pity poor Thomas McDonald.

I feel his pain.

Ever since December 17 last year the Western Australian Lotto jackpot of AUD$1.5 million has gone unclaimed. It was known that the winning ticket had been sold in the WA gold mining town of Kalgoorlie, but that was all. Kalgoorlie local Thomas McDonald was sure that the winning ticket was his. But where was it?

Convinced he must have thrown the ticket out with the garbage, Irish-born McDonald feverishly began to dig his way through the local dump. In scenes echoing the C19th Gold Rush which initially bought settlers to the area, dozens joined McDonald in his mad quest. For days Lotto fever took hold. The Lure of Paper proved too much for formerly Gold-crazed miners. They lay down their picks and shovels, got down on their hands and knees, and began to trawl through moldy food scraps and disposable nappies.

But the dreams of McDonald and his friends turned to dust the other day when another Kalgoorlie resident found the actual winning ticket in the glove box of the family car.

Oh the pain, the pain.

You can read the full story here.

Things about where I live
I just received a text message from Mark. It said "go buy a gamecube." I replied "No"

I just received another text message from Mark. It said "Ahh, you obviously haven't played Rogue Leader." I replied "No. You buy a Gamecube & another one for good measure & another PS2 then I will buy a Gcube & Rogueleader"

I just received another text message from Mark. It said "Ive already cubed!"

I hate people with jobs.

How am I supposed to take this? Should I really go out tomorrow and buy a Gamecube? With poverty and heartache staring me blythely in the face? The only going out plans I had for tomorrow was to sign on for unemployment.

I haven't even antied up for DSL, despite BT Internet sending me a nasty email calling me a heavy user, and offering me a £90 rebate if I switch today. I'm only a heavy user because it's cheaper than drinking alchohol. Once I get a job I'll go back to the old one or two hour a day thing. Can I really justify getting DSL or paying for a Gamecube when I only have enough money to last two months? I don't think so.

Ahh, money. How I miss you! I whined a lot about working for Tiny, but I did alright. I have acquired a lot of stuff. Pehrpas it's time to sell some of it. There's a theory that we are what we buy. That we define ourselves through our purchases. Maybe that's true insofar as our purchases reflect our feelings, our tastes and our preferences. Is that all we are, the sum of our desires? You know, every time I visit Amazon, they tell me I could make $3 gazillion selling my old Amazon purchases. What does that mean? Would I be selling myself? Would I be selling who I am?

If we are really defined by what we choose, I just hope that doesn't include furniture or I am in serious trouble. Maybe I should just sell everything. I could totally redefine myself. Faux beech book shelves and pine tables personally distressed by Mexican Nuns are sooo yesterday! What I'm really after is something last Wednesday. Hang the expense! Now is the time. Buy! Buy! Buy!

I should hit one of those über trendy used furniture shops; pick up something retro and cool. The uglier and gaudier the better. I want to pay way over the odds for the most insanely outrageous pieces of kitch. Something loud. I'm not talking beige or tasteful pastels. I want something so bright it sneers at people with honours degrees in sociology.

I'll be so hip, I might not even let you read my blog anymore. Maybe I'll pay someone to write it for me.

Which reminds me of a song. Have any of you ever heard of Blossom Dearie? Thought not. Anyhow, here's one of her songs. God damn, but she was hip.

I'm hip
I'm no square
I'm alert, I'm awake, I'm aware
I am always on the scene
Makin' the rounds
Diggin' the sounds
I read People Magazine
'Cause I'm hip
Like, dig!
I'm in step
When it was hip to be hep
I was hep
I don't blow but I'm a fan
Look at me swing
Ring a ding ding
I even call my girlfriend "man"
'Cause I'm hip
Every Saturday night
With my suit buttoned tight and my suedes on
I'm gettin' my kicks
Diggin' arty French flicks with my shades on
I'm too much
I'm a gas
I am anything but middle class
When I hang around the band
Poppin' my thumbs
Diggin' the drums
Squares don't seem to understand
Why I flip
They're not hip
Like I'm hip
I'm hip!
I'm on top of every trend
Look at me go
Vo-dee-o-do
Sammy Davis knew my friend
I'm hip
But not weird
Like you notice I don't wear a beard
Beards were in but now they're out
They had their day
Now there passe
Just ask me if you're in doubt
'Cause I'm hip
Now I'm deep into Zen
Meditation and macrobiotics
And as soon as I can
I intend to get into narcotics
'Cause I'm cool as a cuke
I'm a cat, I'm a card, I'm a kook, kook, kook
I get so much out of life
Really, I do
Skoo ba dee boo
One more time play "Mack The Knife"
Let 'er rip
I may flip
But I'm hip

So what are you waiting for? Get out there and buy a Blossom Dearie CD today! If I could afford to, I'd join you.

Memos. Missing them and otherwise
Did I miss a memo?
I love that expression. It's one of those pop culture tag lines that I'm usually all over. I know, I know, it's a bit of a cliche, but I'm not going to be judgemental. After all, they use it on shows like The West Wing all the time. Or at least they did way back in season two. I'm just saying. I can't comment on more recent episodes. (Incidently, I'm just saying is another one of those West Wing endorsed pop culture tags you will find used in at least the first two seasons).

Dogs.
When I was little they taught us a song called Talking to your dog isn't silly. These are words I've lived by; Words I've taken to heart. I know that dogs are smart and I have no problem talking to them. I encourage others to do the same. The only thing that worries me is when they start talking back.

Which brings me to this exciting piece of news. Japanese researchers come up with a machine which converts a dog's bark into recognisable human speech. But, you say, that's just crazy. A dog's bark can't be compared to speech. Dogs don't read Moby Dick or watch West Wing re-runs; not even dogs which live in countries like the UK, where they are still showing re-runs of series two, and seemingly have no plans to broadcast series three any time soon. Not that any dogs I know are bitter about this fact, no matter how much they may bark.


According to the article:

The Bowlingual (Bowlingual! Geddit?!?) matches barks with digital patterns of pre-programmed barks within the device to translate doggy feelings.

Depending on the type of bark, words pop up on the device display such as "I can't stand it" or "How boring".

Pet owners could also hear: "I'm lonely. Please play with me more."


Why is this a good idea? Did I miss a memo? You know, it's strange, but I've always thought that the greatest advantage dogs had over humans was that they couldn't answer back. That they never got bored hearing the same story for the fifth time. That their love was unconditional. I don't want a dog to pass judgment on the quality of my annecdotes. What do dogs know anyway? They don't even watch the West Wing.

Another show dogs rarely watch is Buffy. How is it that the episode of Buffy I had my VCR watch for me while I was out getting drunk on Friday night was completely up to date? (It was the one where Tara, Willow's fiesty lesbian love interest, is shot and killed) And yet no dogs in the UK, not even smart ones, will have the chance to watch new episodes of The West Wing in the forseeable future.

I'm just saying.

Lesbians.
And speaking of lesbians, is it my imagination or are there more of them these days? Where are they coming from? I'm pretty sure they're not breeding. Much. Are we men suddenly much worse than we used to be? I think we've always been at least this terrible.

Perhaps it's women. Are women better than they used to be? Are they so much better that they find each other irresistable?

Was there a memo I didn't get?