For those who hanging at the bar with a large latté is considered the transgression of the century and a personal affront worthy of arses being handed to offenders… 

tee-totalling... not for me. i am way too tall.

I, before i was put in charge of a number of people to do an installation of rather sensitive equipment in my office. I have a new respect for people who have a more than modest amount of common sense i have been shown time and time again that in some instances like the smelly thing they put in gas, there is a severe shortage which must have gone unnoticed forcing me to instruct….

directing is not as easy as it looks. trust me on this one.

Then as one fellow might be at pains to esplains how he happened to fall over and right into his significant others’ pretty and very soft and pliable underwewers comme cå.

some of the things i may or may not have done last night, and no, they did not fit. i need smaller cups.

 | gained the world | morcheeba |

If 3 happens to be missing here, kindly locate him arsing about as E at The Faust Chronicle.

We wish to welcome back a member of our congregation, crowd, kern, whathaveyou. Mini. Welcome back, not so sure for the moment whether you were missed or not. [Mini = Apple Mac Mini, whose power supply had come a cropper when it attempted to wrestle a huge bolt of electricity when it challenged it for its lunch money. Well, it did not do quite so well. Its efforts were appreciated as it was being pummelled into a veritable pulp it did not indeed give up the stacks thus no valuable parts in the computer were damaged, at least not discernibly. The smoke issuing from the cd slot is rather suspect though.]

In other news:

We move on to further silliness in the usual form of lolcat pictures. They make my day, perhaps i can feel my single digit IQ fading fast with each picture but the laughter that it adds to my life is immeasurable. [then i remember that they are on my other computer where i backed up the flash disk before formatting this afternoon, heeelo! i can just go get the off the site, duh!]

For those days that you feel a little less in control...

There was more of a post here but it was eated when the interwebs died on me, all both of them, fucking thieves the lot of them!

I shall attempt to have a good night, reading a book, that one cannot fail me.

| sweet home alabama | some artist or other |

If 3 happens to be missing here, kindly locate him arsing about as E at The Faust Chronicle.

Briiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing! Briiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing!

“dude!”

you, breathlessly, “son, what the fuck?” you hiss, “can you not see i am busy here?”

“but you see…we have a delivery, now!” he insists.

“bloody hell, you have awfully perfect timing!”

This is as you try and figure out how to get your sorry self off to the bathroom without arousing suspicion as to your intentions barring which you shall be barred from said bedchamber or indeed place of residence, and other comforts that may or not include your clothing which might or might not include your money clip or wallet, as the case may be.

I have been informed that lasses do detest being interrupted… in session and for such banality as an urge to pee. A reminder that its the same organ that serves both purposes tends to put a damper, in the manner of a total stop, to whatever exciting activity that was being pursued enthusiastically beforehand.

How would you tackle this imminent disaster? Do share. Plskthxbai.

Picture of the day:

| scream | timbaland |

Now I have that out of the way, it may be time to burst your bubble, all you however many millions of you with [ex]distinguished Facebook accounts and spend all your employer’s time and valuable bandwidth on there chatting and uploading shit, forwarding videos and what not, poking each other about, throwing sheep, it all sounds rather silly come to think of it, doesn’t it? All this is made capable by a silly webpage for those who would rather prefer to meet over wiring, or wireless[ness] in case of those using a non wired WAN access point shall as a result of that recession stuff happening over on the United States shall be visited upon you as a Facebook subscription charge due to companies cutting back on advertising as belts are pulled tighter to support sagging bellies that had become too distended as a result of an immensely rich diet and resultant comfiture is wont to do.

So shortly it will cost you a few dollars, probably, not but please humour me for a second will you? Writing on walls, graffiti is that not? Illegal in very many places, punishable by a jail term in some places, beheading in others, ask the other Hussein who was president of a country which Bush had an eye on, the other Hussein taking over from the shrubbery is thinking of getting his “poys” out of that region, hopefully for good this time, not toss the across the fence into the neighbour’s garden hoping to control supplies of some black stuff that after a lengthy process becomes petrol and you can put in your tank enabling you to move about and pollute the heck out of the planet making holes in the lungs of people around you and in the atmosphere warming the planet and at the same time punching holes in the sky letting in some aliens who shall later kill all your kith an kin, but I digress. Where was it? Right, to do graffiti and whatnot shall cost you. Will you pay or leave Facebook?

One last thing, well not last but heck, its my fucking blog, is the purpose of having children to use as Facebook profile pictures? It seems that whenever I open my page I am assaulted by pictures of not so cute pictures [who would be at pains in winning a looking[s] contest if they were the last on earth next to a mammoth’s offspring] of very young lads and lasses being forced to stand or take certain poses for the camera in parks, houses, sidewalks, studios and whatnot, comments on said photos, “awwwwwwww so cuute”, “they grow up so fast!” bleh! I know a few are already going; then shut that shit down! I wish I knew how, well, till I spend more than a few seconds a month on Facebook and finally figure how to block out the garbage I shall then emerge victorious from the litter of scatterbrained status updates and child images to actually make proper use of this new medium to promote self and The Faust Chronicle in ways not exploited so far.

Why in fuck do I have a Facebook account again? Wait, if I squat on it long enough, does that qualify me for anything? Zuckerberg, well, does it? You know where to find me! Search for: [the inteligensia]

For those who insist, for now I shall stay on Brightkite.com, FriendFeed.com and my favourite, Twitter.com/intelligensia for now. Check me out sometime, trust me, to follow me is like digging a well into the fountain of knowledge, I am smart like that, my mom insists I am, at least. A fabulous week people, do remember to have fun even if the world is collapsing around you, I hear if you die with a smile on your face you go right to heaven, they like people like that up there, Lucifer on the other hand frowns upon those who show up for their appointments with him grinning from ear to ear. He promptly throws them out and you know what that means, heaven!

| right here [departed] | brandy |

EDIT: Now has proper name of persons.

“what? go google yourself, who asked you anyhow?”

“oh, do leave the poor fellow alone, all he is trying to do is keep his fledgling blog off the wastelands of blogspace, give him half a chance.”

***

“why should i? next time he writes negative stuff about me i shall cause him such a headache by kicking this neuron like this.”

Ouch!

“not fair, that hurts in here too, now look what you have done!”

“the ripple from that spike knocked me flat on my arse, see what it has done to human too? he has a tear in his eye from the pain.”

***

“perhaps i should suggest he takes a long walk off the nearest pier, the fresh air on his way to his certain death should work a treat.”

“ever thought that when he dies, we die too? just a thought you might consider considering, perhaps i hope for too much?”

“now that i have finally gained my feet, you two are giving me a right migraine with all this yelling and negativity. i might just suggest you two go visit the medulla oblangata hoping that you slip and fall right out of his head.”

***

“every time he gets an idea he tends to kick us out into the cold extremeties of his brain, i hate that, its nice and cosy in here, plus i get to eat all the glucose i want.”

“always the selfish one, no wonder you became of such ample proportions we had to toss some dormant brain cells out the nose the other day just to make some space for you to turn about!”

“quit bickering you two, i can scarcely hear myself think here, did you not notice its getting darker and darker in here? i understand there is power rationing but this is ridiculous!”

***

“this usually happens when he has this thing called perspiration coming”

“its not perspiration you nitwit, its constipation.”

“both you n*ggers are fucking stupid, its saturati…”

*frantic typing begins as inspiration hits*

***

How is your week people?

I hope its not as fucked up as mine has been the past two days, and with those fellows up there driving me up the wall….

| talkin’ ’bout a revolution | tracy chapman |