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Post Tagged with: Funny

(sings) Unfortunate YouTube banner advert of the week….

(sings) Unfortunate YouTube banner advert of the week….

Foursquare branches out…

Foursquare branches out…

While walking through West London, I got a sneak peek at Foursquare’s new expansion plans …

Foursquare

I wonder how many points one gets for checking in there… 😉

The Future of Social Media Parenting

The Future of Social Media Parenting

Unfortunately, I’ve found myself following this thought process before when it comes to updating social media. And yet, I still don’t get paid for doing it. Harumph.

At every meeting, every gathering, every dinner party…

At every meeting, every gathering, every dinner party…

I am… The Token.

Well, unless another Chinese or Other person walks in. And then this happens:

Working for the BBC….

Working for the BBC….

means a few surprises from time to time. Like telling people that it’s not a place where they shower you with money while you hang out backstage with Matt Smith or even Huw Edwards, for instance. Although there are a few fantastic non-financial bonuses, of course – like working on election night. Really must blog about that one day.

Anyway, it also makes for the occasional surprise in the rest of your life – like this ad I spotted on my Facebook page, basically begging for a job.

Suffice to say that most of the people that I know who are in a position to hire someone at the BBC don’t have Facebook accounts, as far as I know. Although I dare say the person who placed that advert would find such non-social-media people to be freaks of the highest order…

Can psychics see things coming?

Can psychics see things coming?

So psychic Derek Acorah’s had to cancel a few concerts at short notice. The pun writes itself. Which hasn’t stopped me in the past.

When I was flat-hunting in Cardiff, I saw an ad with a flat to rent above a psychic’s shop. So I called the number, and ended up speaking to the psychic’s son, who said that she’d fallen in a serious accident and was now in hospital.

I could see the joke coming towards me – and insensitive as it was – I just couldn’t escape the full-on headlights of the joke as it hurtled towards me.

And inevitably I uttered: “Sorry to hear that – did she see it coming?”

Surprisingly, the son carried on talking to me, and invited me round to see the flat. Although I shouldn’t have bothered. When there’s weird splatterings on the wall and floor covered with gay pornography, it’s not exactly a selling point for the flat.

Everybody loves a lesbian…

Everybody loves a lesbian…

At least according to BBC Three’s new comedy puppet show

Then again, this shouldn’t come as a complete surprise to me. When I was living in Cardiff and hanging out with Miss H (naturally, a lesbian), I’d end up chatting to an intelligent, attractive, funny and uninhibited woman, only to find out from Miss H that she was, indeed, a lesbian. Hell, one night I was chatting up a lady who seemed inordinately keen and interested in me – and somehow, Miss H managed to pull her instead.

Also, when I look back at some of the celebrity ladies I fancied – as much for their wit or personality as their curly hair – they turned out to be lesbians. Cynthia Nixon, Sue Perkins, Donan McPhail to name but three.

To this day, five years on, my Cardiff friends will often remind me of the fact that I used to share a house with a lesbian couple, and give saucy nudgy winks about what must have gone on in the house. Indeed, one of my Cardiff colleagues once gasped with amazement at the stuff said lesbians left behind when they moved out – ignoring the fact that being a lesbian doesn’t mean automatic entry into the cool and fantastic division of people. Nor does being anything else for that matter.

What is the fascination with girls kissing girls anyway?

It's not like the Americans to claim victory prematurely…

It's not like the Americans to claim victory prematurely…

New York Post cover for 13 June
and for a bit of context on what that headline means…

Mission Accomplished ?

All this hot weather is like making love to a beautiful (demanding) woman…

All this hot weather is like making love to a beautiful (demanding) woman…

Sure, it looks nice, but once you get into it, it’ll drive you insane with bright lights and a pounding headache afterwards.

(inspired by Swiss Toni)

How co-habitation has turned me into Monk

How co-habitation has turned me into Monk

So HyperHam has been living with me for over two weeks now – and it’s been going alarmingly well. Except when it comes to the battle for personal space.

At first, it was little minor skirmishes – she loves loads of pillows, I’ll just settle for one hard pillow. She likes her mattress soft and pliant, I like it hard. She tends to leave things all over the place – whereas I leave things in an organised pile of mess. Instead of asking me to allocate her some drawer space, she complained to my friends that she didn’t have one drawer. So I emptied a drawer for her, and as far as I know, she hasn’t used it.

Then I came home after a particularly hard day at work to find she’d rearranged the furniture to split the room in half, and create a relaxing space and a work space. I did point out that the original layout had been specifically designed to meld the relaxing and work spaces together and to create an open feeling that would be welcoming to guests. At which point she fixed me with a stare and challenged me as to how many people had dropped by in the last two years. Pwned.

The feeling gradually crept over me that something was *wrong* with this. I couldn’t put my figure on it – then I realised. Thanks to the rearrangement, things had not been allocated their proper place. Everything had been piled onto the coffee table, so consequently you couldn’t put coffee on it. Instead you put coffee on one of the remaining bookshelves – the bookshelves on that had been temporarily moved to a spare side table. The papers on that were temporarily on the sofa.

Things were not in their rightful place. This is wrong.

I should have tried to relax. But I just couldn’t. We were watching an episode of House – top marks for drama, but really, the patient-of-the-week had been involved in a side-on collison with a bus, her heart had stopped, they’d cracked open her chest to see what was what, her lungs had been pumped full of a freezing solution to induce hypothermia, her kidneys were shot to buggery, and yet they were able to revive her for one long last farewell before she died – and I just couldn’t relax. Even mild surfing on the Internet wasn’t doing it. It wasn’t until we embarked on an organisational orgy that I was finally able to relax. And then it was time for bed.

Now I’m wondering what other mild mental malladies will be sparked by the ongoing co-habitation wars…