Tuesday, May 31, 2005

cheap thunder effects

After an all-too-brief trial period of warm, clear weather, Kent decided to click "Cancel" when prompted to pay for the full subscription. The depressing haze has returned, and the constant sky-dribbling along with it. Yesterday was dominated by this--a slow, constant "bleh, you are now wet" noncommittal sort of rain. It couldn't be bothered to stop or get harder and more interesting, so it just kinda spat everywhere in that typical English way. See, England is famous for its tupperware-grey sky and the nagging rain that keeps the grass steamed-broccoli green. That's part of the reason Brits feel like leftovers; that and their little empire being knocked out from under them to make room for American global dominance. (Don't let them fool you--they still resent losing us.) The UK is not known for its extreme weather in the slightest, so when the dull dripping yesterday was suddenly punctuated by a brilliant flash and a clap of thunder like artillery fire, quite a few dove for cover. Those indoors opened their doors and windows and searched the sky--for spitfires, horsemen of the Apocalypse, or both. I must admit that a "holy shit" escaped even my lips, though this bit of atmospheric percussion wouldn't hold a candle to the drum-and-light shows put on by southern skies. In fact, this particular peal of thunder sounded somehow fuzzy and distorted, like a bass line played overloudly through cheap speakers. This repeated twice, quieter and further away, then ceased. I doubt we'll be hearing from the thunder again anytime soon after that embarrassing and disheartening performance.

Monday, May 30, 2005

Biscuits: The Greatness Of. Discuss.

Few people are capable of appreciating both the British and Southern biscuit equally. I, luckily, am one. The thin, crispy dunk-in-tea-ishness of the British biscuit and the hot, steamy buttery flakiness of an American stand side-by-side in my personal Snack Hall of Fame. Similarly, hot tea with milk and sugar bears different qualities from sweet, light iced tea, but it is difficult to decide which I prefer. Thin, flat biscuits are ideal for dunking in hot tea, but a big fluffy biscuit goes excellently in a meal with iced tea at any time of day. What we have established here is a direct correlation. If the biscuit is cold, the tea should not be, but if the biscuit is hot...well, actually, it goes with either hot or cold tea. Or coffee. or coca-cola or milk or even kool-aid. Similarly, British men correlate well with British culture, and American men with American culture--both have their perks, and both suit their specific circumstances. But where an American man is generally less desirable in Britain--they're useless for helping to understand culture, they're loud and boistrous where most people here are quiet outside of pubs, and they'll never admit that perhaps their culture and political stance are not the only "right" ones in the universe--a British man can be quite palatable in America. They're certainly something to brag about to your friends and enemies. T o have an English boy on your arm in Bum-Fuck USA--unless his mouth contains a gnarled mass of greenish tooth-like material--is to have a glittering, smooth-talking trophy. It is unfortunate that this is rarely the case for English women, but they've really asked for it by being one of the ugliest races of female on the planet. It amazes and astonishes me that British people can bring themselves to reproduce, though I guess some poor souls get desperate enough that they'll even go for sheep. Not that the typical boy here is much to look at either, but unless he's a serious cockney or chav his voice will redeem him to you and your peers. (one must search for the atypical here to find a male counterpart who is not only audibly but physically attractive. If he's also intelligent, interesting, and attracted to you, be sure to bring a net to your next dinner party--you've found a serious diamond in the rough) For some reason, the female version of the British dialect involves an unholy cacophony of shrieked and brayed curse words followed by evil cackling and incomprehensible shouting (frequently at 4 in the morning). It is inadvisable to bring one such demon-posessed donkey into the States as it will probably be confiscated at customs as a "contaminated and possibly dangerous foreign plant or animal." The male ones can Get through the gate, though, and once Your bags are in hand and you've gotten your Passport stamped, you can start impressing your neighbours. I'm not sure if the same can be said for American women in Britain, but i've been rather successful with only my mediocre looks and my watery SC accent to compete with the local Quasimodo-ettes for attention. I guess my point is...i don't have a point.

Wednesday, May 25, 2005

On Big Movie Stars

I never gave much of a thought to Ewan McGregor until today, but today I saw Guys and Dolls at the Piccadilly Theatre in London's West End. And I gotta say. Wow. That's one fine piece of man. He sings and dances and looks good doing it too.

Friday, May 20, 2005


castles are seriously cool. Especially ones built on a big cliffs. Big White Cliffs. of Dover.

(i took this picture 19 May 2005)

in other news, one of my housemates plays loud rap. i closed his door in hopes that it would grow quieter. he bitched at me, not because i wanted things quieter, but because I touched his door without asking. i think he's a twat.

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

pointless babbling

if something requires thought and/or energy and/or talent but is completely without function or use, i have decided it shall be called "Art." anything that is presented as art but does not require thought, energy, and/or talent can be disregarded as "crap."