Saturday, February 17, 2001
Sunday, February 11, 2001
Unsuccessful video night tonight. My suggestion - Boys Don't Cry.
Good film. Didn't realise it was quite so dark, though. New housemate John
came in to find us peeking through our fingers at the screen during a
particularly harrowing extended torture scene. Kind of stilted the
conversation. Hope we haven't made the wrong impression.
Tonight's big stories: the Swiss Army is to disband its bicycle-riding elite
brigade. Apparently the bikes feature special fold-out compartments and
clips so they can carry machine guns and stuff. They're military hardware so
you can't export them. Also: dogs with heart problems are being fitted with
pacemakers. All well and good, but they're being taken from dead people. I
think that's a bit creepy. Although possibly a good basis for a
horror/romantic comedy film.
Sure those'll be the big discussion topics next week. Oh yeah, a lot of
business deals have happened and there's a war on.
So this potato is run over on the way to the chip shop. He wakes up in
hospital and the doctor tells him he has some good news and some bad news.
The potato says "Give me the good news first. " The doctor says, "We've
managed to save your eyes." "So what's the bad news?" asks the potato. The
doctor replies, "I'm afraid you're going to be a vegetable for the rest of
your life."
Aha ha. The Daily Star is the best paper today for this joke and for the
slightly troubled tone of the technology column. Sony's new bioluminescent
screens are "almost enough to make you want to stay alive for the next two
years." "Store whatever you want. I couldn't give a monkey's." Excellent
stuff, sort of.
Work is hell at the mo, as ever, but in quite an entertaining way. The Daily Mail has just called for cannabis to be legalised and the Guardian wants stricter controls on immigration (because they're taking our jobs etc). These are truly the last days. Apparently some bloke in America has invented the Orgasmotron. It's an implanted signal generator in your spine. Which is all well and good, but the pictures show that it's activated via a remote control. Perhaps it's just me but I don't understand the need to trigger an orgasm from twenty feet away. Oh well actually maybe I do. Don't know if I mentioned this a while back, but Drew Barrymore wants to be cremated when she dies, then fed to her cat. This is, apparently, so that she can "live on forever inside him."
Er loads more where that came from - reading too many tabloids. Babbling, overtired, better get off to life drawing.
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