Milk Coupons 15.05.2006

i picked up a copy of Time magazine in gay paree where i met my folks.the article announced the demise of our world,this all occuring while i sipped on a cup of cawfee in a polystyrene cup.

on my return from gay paree i was well fortunate to have in my possession a ticket to the haloed ground of Old Trafford to watch the mighty Manchester United hopefuly make perogen outta middlesborough.lo and behold it didnt happen-RUUd RUUD, the limp dutchman missed a peanut that i coulda scored. but what a day it was,what a stadium.It runs with the efficiency and precision of a german saurkraut factory. it glows with this red halo, and has sprouted like a denny mushroom out of the sh*ttest part of the glorious city of manchester. sir matt busby watches over the inhabitants of manchester and down upon the 'city' fans. i sat south stand behind the dugout in and amongst a frikkin united nations of supporters. it was really surreal to see the footie stars ive only seen on tv-i nearly drowned them in my gob. although it was an absolute corker of a day ,what grilled my cheese to a burnt crisp was the lack of vocal support from the crowd where i perched.i mean i gave my best efforts but the feckers around just watched and ate hotdogs. so i figure United is a truelly globally supported team. but why do i support such a team?well wouldnt you if the company as a whole has a concern for our environment. they have separate bins for plastics bottles and paper rubbish. there are even wee slips of paper into which you can squash your bubble gum. now thats a team, an environmentally concerned football team.so to all you pommies who cant understand why i support such a great team,that is why.

so i bought the ticket to see the footie, but didnt even consider how i was to get there or back. it so happened that there were no trains that night after the football,so i crashed my silly a*s in picadilly train station for frikking 7 hours. now ive pulled all nighters in my wee life time. but staring at a clock and being watched by a bunch of degenerate half breeds on crack is not my idea of a pleasant, creative allnighter. by 5.30 in the morn i felt like a white washed pair of socks that had been on their owners feet for a gazillion kilometers and went straight to work.gsus what a day.

Beaulieu Motor museum( i actually had to ask the bird at the counter how to pronounce b-you-lee) is out in southhampton. its a museum housing a collection of vehicles owned by one uber rich lord montague. crikey its a sprawling behemoth of a piece of a land that this kid has organised himself. im sure every time his gran sent him to buy the bread and milk and told him he could keep the change,he hoarded those pennies, hoarded them like an oversized hairy squirrel on speed. the museum is quite phenomenal, and the cars that he hoardes are rather subliminal too. from back to the future's stainless steel delorian, to james bonds amphibious lotus. some day soon id like to pick up my cherry from her parent's home in one of 4 vehicles that i saw there.
vehicle number one. a vehicle that has surpassed all eras, nullified all fashion fads, left all other cars in its rip roaring wake-the shelby ac cobra is a gloriously beautiful ,aesthetically killing piece of shrapnel. i can see my cherry's family drooling all over it. vehicle number 2. the Ford GT40, a classic american svelte road chewing machine with its curvaceous lines and painted blue candy stripe. this vehicle would see my cherry hugging the car thinking it was me. vehicle number 3, the willy jeep, the willy jeep that rushed through vietnam, mowing down any Charlie in the glow of its rounded headlamps. it would need to be pre-sprayed in fake manure to give it that authentic feel. this vehicle would see my cherry's kid brother chewing on the 16inch 'takkies' thinking he was in a candy store. and then of course the wee orange car that' if it goes beyond 50miles per/hour,it tends to 'roll''. this one would see my future parents-in-law dis-own all their kids and take me as their adopted son.

cool house is a house that isnt decked in spanish roof tiles,precast concrete ionic columns bought in kyalami, bathrooms with gold coated taps, walls rendered in the 'aged' look or garden hedges cut in the shape of the venus de milo,thats what we call Tuscan sh*t. koolhaas, rather, is one of the greatest architects to walk this round planet and not fall off. Rem as id call him if i knew him personally is a dutch man and penned a book that altered the way architects think, analyze and conceive of their manifesto's. this was all done when he was a wee sapling at 28 years old. this dutchman is way huge. he presented his most famous piece of literature, Delirious New York to about 150 freaks commonly known as architects. he spoke for 1 hour and we clutched every word he uttered in his guttural accent. dutch,that certainly aint no language of lurv.
again i was inspired by a great architect

i jumped the jubilee line to a cd sale at wembley, not thee wembley stadium but rather a wee mangy little appendage that had perched itself in the shadow of the modern slick new Wembley Stadium. there were all sorts of music genres and all types of music formats , from cd to tape to vinyl. it was packed with weirdos that were in to musty old vinyls and japanese imports. i managed to splash out on 2 albums,Ash and Harry Connick,both set me back a whoppping total 2 squid rings, battered for extra flavour ( copyright: captain america).

anyhoo compadres, ive tried to pull out all stops on this one,but hey,the bath tub is empty
so hang tuf oh far flung ones.until another day.

sweetly the dan russian bear hunter,master swordsman and soon to be action figurine with biodegradable package to be environmentally friendly.

Freedom Fries 05.05.06

so pesach rolled through with matzah balls in tow and i was left dry in the mouth. my compadre brad, on leaving this wee island offered me what could be considered his trump card,his most rare garbage pail kid, his rubber duckie when he was a wee tyke-it was his george foreman. before i knew what living alone meant,i thought george forman was a fat bastard heavy weight, but now his name is synonymous with kitchen appliances.(so be careful what you wish for, for george surely wished only to be heavyweight champion of the world).
there's only one george forman. forget about the 'rumble in the jungle', lets talk about the griller thats a thriller. who the hell needs appliances?.well now i know.this modern marvel, shiny white on the outside,teflon black on the inside, ridged and valleyed to give a burger the perfect texture, was now all mine. i was just waiting for all those years of watching Floyds and jimbo oliver's cooking programmes to be soaked up by my pip like a dry bun in gravy.i dont need a pot and a pan and a spoon and a hoover and a dish washer,all i need is a george forman griller.being a master chef seems so close,so close indeed.

me and daniel managed to organise davis cup tickets. we didnt give a shyte that the venue might be in a back street of glasgow,we just thought 'ey big event,have ticket will go.' we travelled so far and for so many hours that frodos search for the ring was an absolute joke,certainly not worth writing 3 books. the journey placed infront of us torturous tasks like chatting to grannies, catching public transport and speaking to local inhabitants about yorkshire pudding. in glasgow we partied like partial glaswegians-we didnt deliver a pavement pizza after the night, we chowed the worst fry up ive ever munched,and then we finally arrived to see great britain lose.

so i was fortunate enough to get my gruby bear hunting mits on some seriously exclusive pearl jam tickets. if i wasnt all for the experience id have flogged them off for a whopping 400 squiddinks each.but i figured,nah,i hate the f*ckin tauts,so why should i become one.anyhoo pearl jam played after a six year absence at the london astoria. another art deco corner building with its towering domes expressing the corner to a heaving street,tottenham court road. its plastered with an old school billboard with movable letters.the only surprising thing is that it didnt have 'pearl jam' emblazoned all over it.well me and my pepperoni munching wee italian mate andrea got inside.the interior is this cavernous black bowel. everything is black,tiered to the front and rises to a stage.

after a wee wait the bowels of the astoria erupted like a prune induced enema. eddie vedder with his long locks and definitive sand paper grinding voice supported by 3 geet players lunged on to stage belting out 'world wide suicide.' the one geet player mike mcreedy,was honestly a show on his own,that dude played one of 4 geets. he strummed those geets, included the classic v-shaped one, like he owned the astoria. this dude was simply awesome.
the crowd was made up of true Jam fans,belting out his lyrics like they wrote them and all i wanted to shout out was, 'shut the f*ck up, i never paid 40 squids to hear you a**holes singing.'
the crowd bounced to the rifling rythms of the guitars and the meat tenderising thuds of the basey drums and we did too.

wow what a gig,and although i wasn't the biggest jam fan,ill definitely now spread it on my sarmies.


so i met this friend of mine and we were to go out.she chooned me she was on antibiotics.so, amazed and unable to gather my thoughts i said 'gees like what for?',a kidney infection,she responded. so i chooned her to talk to it nicely.

have you ever started baking a potato and something quite extraordinary happens when the microwave clock strikes 2minutes 45. well it all happened to me on a carazy day in april.
while baking the king of vegetables, he spud,the alarm of my humble abode started howling like a banshee caught in a hunters trap. i figured,ey its probably a test run,like when youre at achool during exams and some kid gets their mate to phone in a bomb scare.but i got it all wrong. the frenchie i stay with went to do a wee bit of reconnaisance,and followed with a heaving call to arms.we rushed to the scene, to be greeted by billowing smoke from some dudes room. trying to kick the hardwood door,like they do in the movies,we looked like darn right mary poppins'.that door,she wasnt budging. 'quick lets get our as*es over to the window outside.' with hydrant in hand i didnt give a sh*t,i was gonna smash that window and save the kid's Marks and Spencers dress shirt. a fellow inhabitant yoddled at me not to smash the window fearing a backdraft-'dude you been watching way too many hollywood flicks'. but then reasoning set in and i simply opened the window.
we blew our hydrants onto that wee fire like we were kids with big water pistols. eventually the fire lads pulled through,flashing lights and two,yes two trucks,as if it were 9/11. what a great story and a true adventure for a superhero action figurine. for every action figurine needs CV references when applying for work.

anyhoo folks keep it real,and put suntan cream on when youre out in the sun even if it is over cast.
sweetly
the dan russian bear hunter master swordsman, and fire fighting action figurine,with wee dag with spots called charlie sold separately

and dont forget folks when you have chhiken pox as a kid your folks tell you not to scratch, but im now telling you, scratch scratch till they turn into scabs

• ps.note me and my pa hunting bears in paris