concepts for a buntiful world
Thursday, March 25
Now I know that I have ranted about junk mail before, but this time I'm really mad.
I can deal with shadows being cast upon the size of my manhood, upon my ability to make "her scream in the bedroom" or "faint when she sees it", even exhortations to increase my breast size don't really bother me, although i would secretly like to be bigger busted. Anyway, back to the original point, which is that the junk mailers, having reamed our sexuality for all it was worth and made all the money they are likely to from it have decided to delve into a realm more precious to me.
"Make her think your smart."
Now why am I not gonna buy this product.... firstly, I already have a degree from a fictitious university. I can't remember which one, but why the fuck would I want to pay for one???? I am an ordained spiritual humanist minister and am allowed to perform marriages, affirmations of love, christenings and funerals in many American states, possibly even in England, although this is less likely. Any true aficionado of the internet has at least one degree from some random uni, usually based in some backward American state (any contenders?)
And she already knows I'm not....shucks..rumbled again.
***IN AN AVERAGE HOUSEHOLD SOMEWHERE NEAR YOU***
"Look Honey. I got a degree today!"
"Oh really dear, lets have a look." Pores over authentic manuscriptish style paper.
"I chose Catastrophe Studies."
"That's nice dear, but they have spelt catastrophe with an m... and it claims to be from the university of Buttfuck."
"Uuh..yeah...Um...I did a distance learning course." [damn, rumbled again]
What a well spent hundred quid. Mind you, at least it won't do serious damage to your John Thomas, which apparently some of these "member" growth schemes can do...
- posted by Buntifer @ 3/25/2004 08:49:00 pm
Wednesday, March 24
And what a date that was!!
Anyway, I think the links on 3XBlah and Babble Blarney and Bull (yetisports) are definately worth a look. I'm not going to do the links for you firstly because I can't be bothered, and secondly because I think that if you don't read the sites regularly you should take a peek.
Ciao for now.
- posted by Buntifer @ 3/24/2004 06:56:00 pm
New job. Complaints administrator for a pharmaceutical company that shall remain nameless until I forget and name them by mistake. What fun...they make contact lens products, which probably gives it away, but so far I have mostly had emails from America about how these american contact lens users put peroxide in their eyes and then expect the company that makes the peroxide to pay medical expenses...well don't put corrosive substances in your eyes I hear you cry...
Fools. the lot of them... and why do contact lens manufacturers need to labels their bottles cos at the moment of greatest danger the users are unlikely to be able to read what they are putting in their eyes anyhow...it is too late once the tabasco sauce hits the cornea...ooh it stings...
In other news, going to have to organise this interview, ask for time off...which is always fun when I have been there for what...nearly four hours now...
and Michael Jackson has been found guilty of pet smuggling.
Lara Croft has agreed to do Playboy
and my mobile has been possessed by the spirit of an evil skull.....
Goodbye. and thanks for your time.
- posted by Buntifer @ 3/24/2004 01:53:00 pm
Tuesday, March 23
Feeling marginally better now...
calmer and more chilled. Still fucked off about the morning, but what can you do? (Brunette you are for it...)
Got an interview on Friday with a West End producer, could be wicked...bit of a stupid timing, having just got this job I now need a morning off, and afternoon off and a full day off...oh the trials and perils of having a job...duh...
got to go, or gtg in web acronym...and i always thought that lol meant lots of love...hmmm, and there I was thinking I was feeling the love...
I shall save what I have to say about love, life and everything till another day, perhaps tomorrow during my lunch break...did I mention that my commute is almost two whole minutes walk...
- posted by Buntifer @ 3/23/2004 07:07:00 pm
This is what is known as a
Fucking Shitty Day
Fall over in shower, tear down shower curtain - need to buy new one.
Breakfast on jumper - change jumper
Driving test booked for thursday, not today, lose £20 and be unable to book one in a do-able time slot for over a month.
For everything else there' mastercard.
Pure distilled shitness combined with just hint of stupidity, half baked and sprinkled with toss.
- posted by Buntifer @ 3/23/2004 12:04:00 pm
Sunday, March 21
This is a landmark post
The last post before the counter hits four figures, which will be fun.
Unfortunately I am tired and fairly hungover and thus there is not very much to say, except the lucky person who is thousandlth onto the site will have a prize mailed directly to them. A years supply of junk mail.
Right, off to watch crap tv.
- posted by Buntifer @ 3/21/2004 05:55:00 pm
Wednesday, March 17
Symptomatic of the Sickness in Society
I have a drug problem, or don't depending on which use of the phrase you are looking at. I used to take drugs, mood altering pharmaceuticals supplied me by unscrupulous elders and betters. Now I refuse, I don't take them, I won't take them. I don't even watch tv.
I'm in trouble because they noticed I wasn't downing the uppers any more, they must have gone through the garbage or something, because I was pretty careful about my actions. Nobody has urine tested me recently, and I have kept collecting the prescription, just flushing the little capsules down the waste chute.
I had to leave home, leave my parents and my brother, because the authorities came looking for me. We live out in the country and I ran across the fields to the back of the house. By the time the Police had finished searching the house and grounds I was thumbing a lift to bristol, and when they finally got the dogs in I was Edinburgh bound on a shuttle.
I never knew what having a drug problem really was, I thought it was like when I started taking too much Pink-puff at school, when I couldn't stop and I needed a puff before I could get up in the morning, but that was peanuts compared to this, my parents stood behind me for that one, helped me get off. This time they would have helped the authorities if they had known where I was. These are the drugs that they approve of. I argued with them, told them it was simply a choice between one drug or the other, state sponsored or paid for. They disagreed, I think their choice is the wrong one, and I think that their addiction reinforces its own need, it is an evangelical chemical, "so good for ones mind...necessary in todays world...to be able to connect with other people!"
I went to Edinburgh. I didn't need a passport, and in the time it took for my parents to realise I had stopped using I had come to my senses and transferred my money into a new account, along with some of theirs. The state would stop my primary account but they wouldn't find the second one, or the third. I should be okay on my own, with a new name, a new account or two and more control.
The drugs they made us take were suppressants,some designed specifically to channel a good measure of libido into other pursuits, shopping or watching sport, eating and holidaying by tinkering with hormone levels in the brain stem. There was a higher cortical suppressant as well, stopping us from asking questions and inquiring too closely into anything. There were a couple of mood enhancers in the mix, and occasionally some blues for variation. It was a proper little cocktail of compounds directed at the top end of the intellectual spectrum, while it dropped most people's cortical activity by 5 % or so the more intelligent specimens lost more functions by nature of having more to begin with.
So I don't have a drug problem in the traditional sense. I have a problem in that I'm not taking my meds. It isn't a crime, people just don't stop taking them, nobody knows what might happen to someone who does, which seems sinister to me. A lto of things seem sinister to me now I've stopped taking my meds. I know that the authority is looking for me, and I know that when they find me I'm done for, metaphorically and very possibly physically too. I know my family aren't pleased with me any more, and I don't think they will want the stigma of having to have me back.
I don't watch tv, in case they catch me looking, but my mental life is better, I can ask questions and have them answered now. I don't ask other people though, they would know in an instant who I was. I know that there must have been news flashes about me, probably describing me as crazy, because I've seen people looking at me funny in the street, but as long as I've got another name, and a place to stay they won't find me. I can avoid them for a long time, but I need to think of a plan for the future. I need to figure out how they know it's me, wonder if I was puffing again if they wouldn't look at me sideways, like they can see I'm thinking things they themselves cannot.
I am, I'm thinking look at all these drones, doing what they're told. I wish I could help them but I know that they are programmed to go to the authority if I talk to them about it, and I know that they will, most of them, almost all of them, there isn't even one I could trust, unless I was prepared to kill them if they told.
I don't want to hurt them, but I might have to.
- posted by Buntifer @ 3/17/2004 02:17:00 pm
Hmmm...11.52 in the morning
and I have nothing to do, not a good sign.
I am still at the Royal Court, doing work experience, and I am beginning to feel like I am more a hindrance than a help. I have done everything on the list of things that was left for me to do by the lady who went on holiday and I have completed the tasks set me by the other person in charge of me and I am left at a loose end, when I ask if there is anything to do I feel like I am interrupting and the answer is no.
I hate it when this happens, I am here to help, but they say there is nothing I can help with, makes me feel like a condom in a catholic household. Aah well...I shall see what I can do.
- posted by Buntifer @ 3/17/2004 10:55:00 am
Tuesday, March 16
Haven't been fired yet
still at the RC...
saw some short readings the other day around the theme of violence, all written by female authors, very good. One had been translated by Leila Rejali, our very own war correspondent.
There is a stage door job here which I shall hopefully inveigle myself towards while I am here, it would be nice and I cannot begin to describe what a wonderful atmosphere this place has, nor how great I feel coming to work here. It has been a long time since I was this positive about coming to work and each little thing that needs to be done, even in my last few months at Deluxe there were no moments to touch this.
In other news, I went to the London Book Fair at Earls Court Olympia last weekend, very impressive, massive, like a huge market where no real money chages hands, I have never seen something on such a great scale. I attended a couple of the talks, successful marketing for the small bookshop and "get up and do it" both of which were reasonably interesting. I got a couple of free books, found out that Mr de Bernieres has a book out soon and that I don't really care enough about publishing to sweat the blood they seem to want. While I will work as hard as is needed for theatre and to get into theatre, I am simply not prepared to jump through the myriad hoops the publishing industry demands of its entrants.
So one career path down, a nearly infinite number to go! Top of which are theatre and authorship. I had forgotten how awesome it feels just to hear theatre stuff going on around one...well. here's wishing.
Any Other Business?
well the brunette bought an electric piano, which made her smile a whole lot more than usual, and has been tinkling away happily since then. At last I may get some peace to play computer games!
Driving theory test on the 25th, so wish me luck, I have bought a book and shan't tell anyone if I do somehow fail.
anyway, back to work.
- posted by Buntifer @ 3/16/2004 04:18:00 pm
Saturday, March 13
And it is Saturday as manmy of you may be aware
certainly more aware than me, who lost another day last week. I must just put them down and start another without finishing the last one like I used to do with books. I am sure that it was Thursday yesterday, but I have it from reliable sources that I was mistaken.
Any way you look at it tho, my week at the Royal Court has spun past very quickly, I am still buzzing with enthusiasm having spent the week doing their washing up and filing, but hey it is in the theatre, which means that Richard Wilson comes past and pinches mugs to make tea in, and filing handwritten letters from Tom Stoppard and Harold Pinter, emails from Arnold Wesker, who I thought was dead is actually pretty interesting.
The square root of sixteen is four, and it is a sunny day outside, emptying my head and listening to Guns 'n' Roses.
The short blonde one is coming to see the brunette today.
There are balloons stuck in the bare tree outside my window, two red and a yellow, looking fairly deflated and becoming wrinklier by the hour. What is also bizare is that there are six or seven foil takeaway containers attached to the tree by the front door. Which at first I had just assumed to be airborne rubbish that had become lodged amongst the foliage, but which I have, since identifying the sheer number of them, concluded to be bird scaring devices or a squirrel with a junk food habit.
The gay Huck with jeans has been frolicking today with the cross dressing Tom Sawyer, who is still trying to learn to open his legs when people throw things at him rather than shut them.
The brunette is trying to decide upon a digital pianer and a hire purchase option (no that is not a typo, that is a deliberate mispelling on my part. I am hung over and I can't explain my decision to do something like that.)
and I refuse to justify it.
Temp agencies being their usual efficient selves they have phoned me up no fewer than six times in the last week, me having been very careful to tell them that I was unavailable till the 19th, and so what really fucks me off is the fact that they ignored me for the month leading up to the work experience.
Got a couple more rejections to add to my growing pile. What I plan to do, is when I am thirty I shall take all my rejections and mulch them down into a giant papier mache finger to that I can give them all the bird.
My sister married Matt from Busted?
- posted by Buntifer @ 3/13/2004 12:30:00 pm
Thursday, March 11
Gay Huck in Jeans
I am disturbed to learn that this was the last search term which found my site. Hmmm. So dyslexic people looking for gay porn are the people who accidentally find my site...
In other news, work at RC proceeds well, although they have nothing for me to do really.
That's it, oh, and Great Expectations is much better than I thought, isaac Asimovs "I robot" seems to bear little or no relevance to the film being made of the same name and Sir Thomas Moore's "Utopia" is impenetrably dense and inflignible. Yeah...like that...so there.
- posted by Buntifer @ 3/11/2004 09:05:00 am
Monday, March 8
Off to the Royal Court
Well, since my arrival in London two years ago I have learned a couple of things about London, the streets are not paved with gold, they are paved with remarkable similar stuff to what the streets in manchester are paved with. That was a big disappointment, because other than desperately wanting to walk on goldne pavements I also wanted to work in theatre. "London is the place to be." I was told by the same people who had assured me of the metallic worth of the paving slabs here. Also not true, myth, bald faced lies, etc. London is not the place to be if you want to work in theatre, the place to be if you want to work in theatre is Hull, or Rochdale, maybe Swindon or Shepton, somewhere where the local theatre is shit and takes the occasional touring play provided it doesn't clash with the annual pantomime.
In London all the theatres are busy professional places with no place for someone who can't provided documented evidence that they have been working in theatre since they stopped wearing nappies, and the references can't be from relatives. In fact, provided you have documented evidence that you already have a job in theatre they will consider you for a job even if you still wear nappies, but if you haven't worked in theatre for at least one of your previous lives and a bit of this one then you don't get jobs.
Imagine my surprise when the Royal Court Theatre, an internationally renowned theatre (is it Kat?) offered me the chance to work for them, unpaid obviously, because I don't wear nappies. So off I trot this morning to the Royal Court, full of enthusiasm and vim, to do two weeks work experience. Obviously I can't afford this, but I'm going to have to, cos theatres don't pay for people any more, they get them fro free, they only pay for the people the government says they have to employ.
Right I'm off. Have fun, and remember, if your child wants to work in theatre, you need documented evidence that their first words were, "I want to work in theatre." so get recording, cos if you can't prove those were its first words, you're screwed.
- posted by Buntifer @ 3/08/2004 08:59:00 am
Thursday, March 4
All dressed up with nowhere to go
Turned up for work this morning, the guy had double booked, so I'm back here at home with a little more time on my hands than I had thought I would have. Smart clothes, brushed hair, had to get up and leave the house on a cold damp morning like today, and then the buggers turn me down. Humph
Ah well, more time to write, and to look for other jobs, and my work experience has been confirmed, so that is all good. Just filling you in...killing time.
One day my job will come...la..la....la..la...bored, bored bored.....although truly one should never be bored provided one has remembered to bring along ones mind, when things are preying on ones mind it becomes more difficult to drag them off and allow it to do interesting things.
Anyroad, back to the keyboard.
- posted by Buntifer @ 3/04/2004 01:09:00 pm
So much for the daily pages
I've got myself a job, just temp, just two or three days work, and so bugger. I was getting really into staying at home enjoying the warmth and not having to get out of bed.
I now have to drag my sorry ass up to Hammersmith and work in a mailroom there...woo. Well I suppose it is beer money at least.#
So this is a five minute blog, the art of which I had never mastered before, unless I had one specific thing i wanted to post and had gone there, so I shall wrap up nice and quick children, by parodingying Sex in the City.
The question is...(and you have to remember to zoom your face up real close for the last couple of words)...do we really want to work?
- posted by Buntifer @ 3/04/2004 07:34:00 am
Tuesday, March 2
Here we go, daily pages
well then, Alistair McGowen's a gimp isn't he. and how disappointing that the guests Mr Woss had on oscar night were so much shitter than ever before.
I'm supposed to do these bloody things even if I can't think what to write and I just sit here typing I don't know what to write, I don't know what to write etc.
but I'm not going to , I shall try and keep you all under the impression that i do know what I am writing. etc.
frosty outside, cold and clearand I'm off to a nother temp aganecy interview again this morngin. No doubt they will have me doing inanae computer tests to make sure I don't type with my face ro soemthign spastic like that althought from my typing at the moment you might well belive i did. So i will spend a couple of hours waffling about how much I want to work in general admin, it's been my driving force since I was six, that is why I went to university don't you know, absolutely, so that I could file for people less intelligent than rabbits. oh, yess, patronise me, no that's [ractically impossible. oh well what the fuck.
Ouch my typing really isn't too god. Well, at least when I am hurrying out what is inside my head onto the screen and not worrying about what it looks like anyhow. It is my fingers hitting the other keys usually, pain in the ass they are, fingers.
And I still haven't got a job, not that I really want one, it is just that old scenario where I should be doing anything to get a job, and I am still being fussy. Maybe they will give me one, or maybe they will tell me to come back in two weeks.
If at first you don't succeed, try again in two weeks.
What do you think they would say if you told them you would be dead in two weeks?
"Oh well in that case your fucked mate."
There seems to have been a bit of a lapse in blogs of late anyway, so i don't feel too bad. Having realised I hadn't posted for a couple of weeks I checked round and neither had most of you, with Gregs rambling exceptions and Rach's pancakes.
Nice and sunny anyway, it is one of those kinds of days where it is absolutely fucking freezing, but sunny and curiously warm provided you are out of the wind and the shade. hmmm...nice.
Right well as I seem to have dried up, the metaphorical imodium plugging up the intestines of my mind, I'm off, maybe to write, maybe to fuck off and do something else, we shall see, and only I shall know.
- posted by Buntifer @ 3/02/2004 10:02:00 am
Monday, March 1
Or Write, as the case may be in the form of an order to myself, both here and on more creative things.
Apologies for having neglected you for so long. I am trying to write something proper, publishable, etc etc. and blogging is not tremendously condusive to that sort of writing, nevertheless here I am, tapping away once more, and by golly feels good. I had thought that perhaps I might have forgotten how, but at the end of the day, blogging is like riding a bycycle, it only hurts when you fall off.
Basically the premise of my return is from one of the more cheesy "How to write" books, which I thoroughly disapprove of and read only at my mothers suggestion. So far it has been helpful, but the one that she was talking about was one that suggests beginning every day with writing something, whatever, just the dross off the top of your head so that when you settle down and actually start writing what is going on in the characters heads yours is free to enter theirs without bringing any particular baggae with it. So that is a warning if you will, you lot get the dross of what is going on in my head, like it or leave, it, lump it or fuck off.
It makes sense anyhow, cos I have been sitting down today trying to write. I did the same last week and did fairly well. Today I have had no such luck. I can't rememerb what was going through my head last week and as a result have had to carry on in a slightly different vein, one which I susp[ect isn't as good as last weeks. My reasoning behind this is that last week I had a job, for a couple of days anyway, and I wasn't worrying about getting one. This week I now need to find me one.
I have managed to organise myself some work experience at the royal court over the next couple of weeks and this is great, fantastic and just what I need to get my foot in the theatrical door, as it were, but it means I am gonna be working in Sloane square whilst not getting paid shit all. Problem.
What I need is a job for this week so that I can relax about the money and not having a job and look forward to the work experience. It will be the first time I have worked in a professional theatre and should be quite exciting, either that or it will bore me stupid in which case that is one less option that I have to consider when applying for jobs. I do think i will like it though and I warn you this rambling is going to keep going for a while so watch out. The writers guide thing suggests writing three pages a day, and while I don't have pages on my blog I may still rmable henceforth fopr a whiel.
I am alsoi not bothering to correct the typos my fingers are throwingf your way so you can grumble at them at your leisure.
I'm worried about not haviogn a job. Not too worried, and not really about the money, just vaguely nagging feeling that really I would be better off doing something I can just about put up with to earn some extra cash, now if I was female, the choice would be obvious, pole dancing, but I'm not, and I don't like poles, (that is nothgin to do with the fine citizens of poland btb) so I am left being given jobs that trained animals could do by Reed, bless thier little cotton brains.
I'm happy where I am, with the person that I am with, and with my mental life, but I need something to pay the rent. It is like the nagging feeling I used to have at university in my third year. I never quite identified what it was, but the Brunette points out it might have been part of my subconsciuous trying to make me do some work. It is a bit more intense than that tho, cos at uni I had real work, booze and weed to make it shut the hell up, and even that part of my brain knew that at the end of the day even if I did no work it wouldn't make much difference to my situation. The rest of my brain, btb has been vindicated on that count, having done nothing that has even vaguely depended upon my degree bar the occasional crossword since leaving uni.
I can feel the sharpness that my brain once had (in primary school) ebbing further away with each day. I find it difficult to get out of bed each day, not because I'm tired, it doesn't matter what time I went to bed, but because when there is a reason to get out of bed, it generally isn't a good one. I am, I feel, becoming dole scum.
Not that I am on the dole you understand, I wouldn't take money from the government if they paid me. Fucking hell it would be like extorting money from a mugger, I demand my right to whinge about the amount of tax I pay, and with that in mind I better start earning something so the fuckers can tax me. Even the Brunette can complain about the goivernment causing her to lose her job, well I can't, I fucking quit. Thay can't take that away from me. (bloody red wizards) yes sianodel, that one's for you and evilboy.
Who has started postin again apparently. I won't link him until he shows proof that he really has turned over a new leaf, but here is is website if you care to look. www.iamevil.modblog.com he is unfortunately a member of the dark ones known to us only as the modbloggers, but if you have broadband it shouldn't take more than forty five minutes or so to load, although if you are planning to leave or read his comments I'd make sure you have the afternoon free.
In other news I have a new printer, and I have discovered that my camera works via msn, which is amusing only to the people on the other end.
Lord of the Rings won all the oscars. Good. So did Mystic River which I haven't seen. Having seen the one with Clint Eastwood and a chimp, which I believe he directed, I wasn't all that taken with his directorial skills, although Bubbles has matured nicely.
and I'm looking for a word which describes a reptiliam movement reminiscent of a snake trying to smell something, the head moving side to side waving gently to try and find itys prey. The problem is I'm sure that it is something like the "snakes head cested through the air", which isn't a word, and I can't for the life of me remember what I mean, I don't mean crested or creeped, searched or sought or crept (he types, having just remembered that creeped isn't really a word) scnted is closer, but I don't want to tie it to smell. It is talking about a dragon btb in case you were interested. So I would appreciate any of you thesauruses out there if you knwo what I mean can you let me know cos I haven't got a clue.
and I noticed on the working title website todaythat they have a couple (and that is seriously only two) stills from the film to look at, but I reckon I might be right at the back of one of them, obviously not the one with only the famous people.
Right. I am pretty much written out, spent, exhausted, knackered, zonked, capoodled, snookered, zapped, whacked, wasted etc right now so I shall leave my trusty audience with this final thought, think of me as a web based Jerry Springer. (not that final thought, although it may have merit.)
There are very few things worse than running out of tea. One of them is being set upon by six scallies with pickaxe handles, one of them is death, and the other is closely concerned with the Tory party.
Thank You and good night. Please take your glasses back to the bar. That's all folks. Until next time. adios amigos, hasta la vista (that is the view)
- posted by Buntifer @ 3/01/2004 06:18:00 pm