WordPress apps and Wedding bells…

Somewhere between adding the new user accounts to a local domain, and realising that the sandwiches I brought with me for lunch to day are so stale that a starving Dog would refuse them, I decided to see if I could download an app for my N95 which would allow me to update this here blog directly. That is, without loading up the page in my tiny browser, and going through the rigmarole of writing a blog entry here in this standard format, and then trying to insert images and such… which I’m not even certain can be done from a phone browser!

However, after trawling the net for the last half hour, all I can find is something called Wavelog which wants to charge me $10 per month for the pleasure, and anoter called Scribe, which doesn’t want to charge me (which suits my empty bank account just fine) but also doens’t seem to work for me! So if anyone knows of a good N95 WordPress-updating app (preferably one they use themselves so I know it’s good!) let me know!

After realising I wasn’t going to find anything useful with my app search, I turned to Facebook – primarily because I can’t get MySpace to load at this site, and because no-one ever seems to do anything on Myspace any more – and saw that a friend of mine – Spam Turpin for those interested – had uploaded some wedding photo’s.

Now, I was fairly certain they weren’t her own, since I would at least have been notified she were getting married, even if I wasn’t invited. Plus it said “Cad and Brats Wedding”, and since her name’s Sam, and her other half is called Ollie… well, it’s a safe bet. So I begin to browse the album, noting with a fond smile that certain couples are still together, and noting with some pleasure that my ex has increased by at least two dress sizes since I last saw her (yes I know it’s petty and vicious, but even I am only Human! 😉 ), and then I come across a picture of the Bride. And I have to say I was actually stunned!

Out of all the girls I know/knew in that social group, she would have been one of the last I would have listed as getting married. Not through a lack of potential husbands (she’s tall, blonde, blue-eyed, slim, and an all-round good catch), but just because she’s always seemed too… well, free I suppose. She just never seemed particularly serious about things like that. And here she is, married! Just goes to show that anyone can be ensnared in that marital trap. Or that in fact she wasn’t as carefree and whimsical as I thought. Makes you wonder doesn’t it? When friends you’ve know for years start getting married and *shudder* popping out kids.

You start pondering who’ll be next. I fact, I find myself viewing the whole thing as a WW2 trench, with me and my chums around me, crouched in the relative safety of our relationships, wondering who’ll be the next to catch a marital bullet in the head, or matrimonial shrapnel in the gut. When will it be my turn to climb up that ladder, to go ‘over the top’ and make that headlong charge into no-man’s land?

Hmmmmmm.

Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll just be over here in this dugout….

TTFN

Oversleeping, Gigging.

Alcohol is evil!

May seem a bit of a sensational (and some would say hypocritical) way for me to start a blog, but at the moment, that’s the way I feel about the damned stuff! But before I divulge my reasons behind that attention-grabbing, Catholic-styled exclamation, allow me to tell you about my Friday night!

It was the birthday (22nd for the obsessives out their) of a friend of a friend (hello Lindsey) on friday. And because she knows me, and we know a cross-section of Harlow/Cambridge society, I was invited along with everyone else to celebrate her survival of another year. So Friday evening, I drive Goon, Jen, and Dean up to Cambridge, and Larter eventually follows about an hour later. I must confess (and I’m not particularly proud of this) that I was stoned by the time I parked my car outside my girlfriends house in Cambridge. In the car one thing had led to another, and my pipe had emerged and Goon and I ‘blazed it up’. So anywho, I checked in on the missus, who decided she was too ill to go out, but wanted me to go enjoy myself anyway. Being a pragmatic soul, this was not a problem for me!

We got to the SU, and it made me wish I’d gone to a real university myself, rather than the psuedo-uni, ACM. Not only were the wome (and I mean almost all of them) insanely hot, the drink was insanely cheap! For instance, my first round consisted of two double-vodka & cokes. It cost me £3.40. Three pounds, forty pence! I was fething ecstatic! Anyway, the drinking commenced.

Larter and I were comparing camera-phones, when he decided it would be a real good idea to take a picture of the two random girls sitting around the same sofa/coffee table as the rest of us. We both took the picture. They didn’t seem to mind, and  smiled nicely for us. Then I tried to pass off our strange behaviour with the following words: “Don’t mind us – we’re just MySpace whores”. However, due to the music, talking, and generak hubbub of the SU in full swing,  I believe that all they heard were the words “MySpace whores” directed at them. They looked offended and annoyed, and then left the area. They didn’t come back.

Don’t know if any of you know the ARU SU, but downstairs they have a large screen suspended above the dancefloor, which you can text at a cost of 25p per message, and have your (non-offensive)  message displayed for all to see. I though this was great, and sent a couple of messages, as did a few others. By the end of the night, they had degenerated into obscure Warhammer 40,000 quotes… and I spent about £5 on messages to that bloody board! The picture on my phone of the screen displaying the words “AVE IMERATOR! Suffer not the Witch to live!” is quite funny though…

Anywho, on the walk home, there was the inevitable verbal slanging match between us Harlowites, and the native Cambridgians, but they soon backed down when they realised we were more than willing and indeed able to back up our mouths. I was – according to Goon – threatening to ‘stab people up’. How I planned to do this is beyond me, since the sharpest thing I had about my person would have been a guitar plectrum, which is hardly renowned for it’s stabbing capabilities.  I made it back to Aimee’s, where I seemingly proceeded to talk rubbish, fall of her bed, and roll around the floor, much to my dearests amusement. I finally made it into bed about 4:30am…

… which is why I missed meeting Dan Abnett, one of my favourite authors, at the Cambridge Ganes Workshop store the following afternoon!

I awoke at about 2pm, to find Aimee showered, dressed, and all but ready to go out and about. She had apparently tried to wake me, but I was dead to the world. By the time I managed to get out of bed (feth, but I felt ill!) and get dressed, ate, and started shambling towards Cambridge cuty centre – we both agreed I was still drunk from the night before, and in no condition to drive – it was gone 4pm, and I was at least an hour away. I knew the store would be closed, and Mr Abnett gone by the time I dragged my haggard-looking, slightly pickled carcass there. So I slinked home behind Aimee, dejected, and feeling slightly angry at myself.

So there, that’s why alcohol is (currently) evil. Of course, my opinion will probably have changed by Friday again…

On the plus side (yes, there is a plus side, even after missing the opportunity to meet one of my literary heroes), I have been booked to play a gig! Yes, after nearly two years without playing a gig, I am being paid to get back on stage with my guitar!

But alas, I need to go shower now, because I smell like a dead cat.

Oh, and hello Goon, reading my blog for the first time!

TTFN