"Happy Birthday to you."
RockTron Shortimer Retro Digital Delay Pedal.
Thursday, April 28, 2005
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
Monday, April 25, 2005
Birthday Blessings
Although in the past I have let my mention pass by unmentioned, I decided that I would get more presents if I told people when it was. As getting presents is what birthdays are all about, I am publishing my "birthday blessings" list on my blog.
If you want to bless me, try these :-)
Portable 4(/6/8)Track CD Recorder
EXAMPLE:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/exec/obidos/ASIN/B0001J2M8I/qid=1114440663/sr=1-3/ref=sr_1_16_3/026-4062301-5818833
Individual effects pedals (e.g. Wah-wah, phaser, flanger, reverb – NOT distortion) and leads
EXAMPLE:
http://www.jimdunlop.com/products/electronics/mxr/products/m134/index
Pedal Board
EXAMPLE:
http://www.stompin-ground.com/pics/stompin/Pedalboard-Largepic-PEDALBD1web.htm
Incredibly cool cooking machine (e.g. Coffee machine, milkshake-maker, juicer, brewery – NOT cooker/oven, microwave oven etc.)
EXAMPLE:
http://www.ukjuicers.com/fruitandvegetablejuicers/LEquip1105Grey
Remote control for Zen (headphone adaptor)
Funky Clothing Items (e.g. cool jeans, t-shirt saying “Robin for President”)
K.o.B. – Budweiser crate
New case for guitar
U2 – Pop
Feeder – Pushing the Senses, Yesterday Went Too Soon
Manic Street Preachers – Lifeblood, The Holy Bible
25/50 Pack of blank CDRs/CDRWs
Guitar/tablature books
Guitar strings (E’s and B’s only – size 10s and 12s)
Books or CDs you think I would enjoy
Films you think I would enjoy (especially Music DVDS)
Yummy-yummy coffee or chocolate
Anything else you can imagine me enjoying
If you want to bless me, try these :-)
Portable 4(/6/8)Track CD Recorder
EXAMPLE:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/exec/obidos/ASIN/B0001J2M8I/qid=1114440663/sr=1-3/ref=sr_1_16_3/026-4062301-5818833
Individual effects pedals (e.g. Wah-wah, phaser, flanger, reverb – NOT distortion) and leads
EXAMPLE:
http://www.jimdunlop.com/products/electronics/mxr/products/m134/index
Pedal Board
EXAMPLE:
http://www.stompin-ground.com/pics/stompin/Pedalboard-Largepic-PEDALBD1web.htm
Incredibly cool cooking machine (e.g. Coffee machine, milkshake-maker, juicer, brewery – NOT cooker/oven, microwave oven etc.)
EXAMPLE:
http://www.ukjuicers.com/fruitandvegetablejuicers/LEquip1105Grey
Remote control for Zen (headphone adaptor)
Funky Clothing Items (e.g. cool jeans, t-shirt saying “Robin for President”)
K.o.B. – Budweiser crate
New case for guitar
U2 – Pop
Feeder – Pushing the Senses, Yesterday Went Too Soon
Manic Street Preachers – Lifeblood, The Holy Bible
25/50 Pack of blank CDRs/CDRWs
Guitar/tablature books
Guitar strings (E’s and B’s only – size 10s and 12s)
Books or CDs you think I would enjoy
Films you think I would enjoy (especially Music DVDS)
Yummy-yummy coffee or chocolate
Anything else you can imagine me enjoying
Sunday, April 24, 2005
Saturday, April 23, 2005
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
This and That
"My chest hurts from Harry skidding into me in football in the rain."
Also
"A cider a day keeps the apples away."
Also
"A cider a day keeps the apples away."
Monday, April 18, 2005
Today
A slighty longer summary (still in quote form)
"I got three beds and two pipes and a left-right-one-two and it still don't make no sense or nothing. Like when I told J.B. to clear out good else I'd blap him down and he legged it. Like arse he did."
"I got three beds and two pipes and a left-right-one-two and it still don't make no sense or nothing. Like when I told J.B. to clear out good else I'd blap him down and he legged it. Like arse he did."
Sunday, April 17, 2005
Quote
"I'm just a poor boy, nobody loves me
(He's just a poor boy from a poor family, spare him his life from this monstrosity)
Easy come, easy go, will you let me go?
(Bismillah! No! We will not let you go)
[Let him go]
(Bismillah! We will not let you go)
Let me go
... never never never let me go."
(He's just a poor boy from a poor family, spare him his life from this monstrosity)
Easy come, easy go, will you let me go?
(Bismillah! No! We will not let you go)
[Let him go]
(Bismillah! We will not let you go)
Let me go
... never never never let me go."
Saturday, April 16, 2005
Thursday, April 14, 2005
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
Quotings
"I just can't get enough of these gloves."
On that note, I will launch into a (very short) story before dinner. Please note that I should be working.
Once, there was a little sausage called Baldrick. He had little sausage gloves, and one day, when in the kitchen in the presence of Ben and Ellen he said "I just can't get enough of these gloves."
He will never live it down. They will mock him 'til the end of time.
Adieu
On that note, I will launch into a (very short) story before dinner. Please note that I should be working.
Once, there was a little sausage called Baldrick. He had little sausage gloves, and one day, when in the kitchen in the presence of Ben and Ellen he said "I just can't get enough of these gloves."
He will never live it down. They will mock him 'til the end of time.
Adieu
Sunday, April 10, 2005
Saturday, April 09, 2005
The Evil Fairy (Why Thursdays Are Bad)
Y'all, here is ein story wot I wrote in Cornwall. Innit.
Once upon a time there was a tall tower called "The Tower." Now in that tower there lived an evil fairy name of Deplora. Deplora enjoyed fishing, dying her hair green, and throwing eggs at passing cars. Now, in the days of yore Deplora had been a pleasant enough fairy. However, some scarring experiences involving Joey's trousers, a broken washing line and a particularly ugly goldfish had twisted her charming and funny personality to an evil and grumpy one. The day of The Change had been on a Thursday, and alas! 'twas on such a day that I chose to take a stroll through the Murky woods in the direction of MacDonalds. Now, I was half way towards the boulder that marks the spot halfway to the stream which lies halfway towards the onion on a stick which is points towards the Great Oak whose shadow divides in twine the swampy region which makes up one eighth of the Murky woods. I chose to sit a while on the boulder and reflect on the woes of life. Alack, as I sat in thought it began to rain, and having left my brolly back at the house I decided I would take shelter under the next best object: a tree. Fate should have it that the very tree I stood under would change my life forever. Now, I have often warned you children of the dangers of crossing the channel without a hat; those French ladies... if they see a bald man without a hat there is no knowing what they will do. It so happened that as I stood under the tree, evil fairy Deplora, last of the endangered species of evil fairies, appeared not far away. "Hail, old crone." "Hail young scallywag. What brings ye to these parts be?" My breath froze in my lungs, and my heart beat like a drum. "Shouldst thou chose to better word thine statement, I would consider in further depth offering a reply unto thee." Then she slapped me, so I shot her and then kicked her in the teeth (for good measure, you understand). But the beast would not be beaten. "Shame on you!" She cried, "shame on he who would kick an old fairy in the teeth." And I was like, "Yeah, whatever. Sh'up. You evil fairy." At this she stood up sharply, as if stung. "Why, how dare you. I'll have your guts for garters, your hair for mattress stuffing and your money for spending. Scum!" Then I shot her again, and she collapsed and died. "So passes Deplora, son of Thrain son of Thror, King under The Mountain." And there was much weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth and stomping of feet. But I continued on my way until I found such a place as I could call a clearing.
Twas at this point that I decided there would be a break in the story until I had another burst of creative genius.
Several hours of deep creative reflection later... Night fell over the clearing. Robin J. Mitchell looked around carefully before sitting himself down slowly. He sighed deeply, and took a last suck on a cigarette before carefully swallowing it. "Well goddamn if I ain't gonna stop talking 'bout myself in third person and a hol'jeezus of a hill-billy accent an' all." At this point I stood up and made to run, but someone shot at my legs. Undeterred, I sprinted to the edge of the clearing. Then, looking back cooly I smiled at him. "Gentlemen. You will always remember today as the day you nearly caught Captain Jack Sparrow." I coughed up a cigarette, spat it to the ground and took to my heels. It was when I looked back when I realised who the gentleman in question was: a vicous rogue, none other than the truly evil and extremely tall Darth Vader. "Oh man... now you know I'm in trouble." Rule number one: never take the mick out of a guy twice your height who breathes like an asthmatic after a marathon. Also, never take the mick out of rude boys weilding hammers and the like.
At this point I would like to share with you the correct spelling of "rude boys." It is indeed the traditional spelling of "rude" as opposed to "rudd," "rud," "ruud" or "gomez." You take care now.
I had reached a place I knew not at that time. It was grey, with pink curtains. I was immediately suspicious, and my cautions were aroused further by a strange man in tails and a black tie. "May I take your order sir?" "Yes please... one pan-galactic gargle blaster. Shaken, not stirred." "Ah, you know the password. How may I help sir?" My breath was bait. "Tell me, young rogue, when did Saruman the White stop forsake wisdom for treachery?" I charged him with my sword, but the swine was too speedy for me. He had already cunningly untied my bootlace, so that I slipped and fell flat on my face. The infidel lost no time in running for help. I had but once choice. I carefully withdrew to a sheltered corner in a cellar five miles away to better watch the proceedings. It was there that I fell asleep in my ale, wet myself, and waited for a better hour to proceed with my tale.
Two weary days and weary nights later, I knew that I had to go on. Never again would I have such a golden opportunity: before me lay the grail... and my future. behind me lay death. Striding forward, I took the beast by the throat and stabbed it with many knives. Without stopping I sprinted across the courtyard and into the palace when I collided with a man of great height, stature and beard: Gregory Rasputin. "Be ye he sent to kill me?" The holy man's voice was trembling with fear. "Nay sirrah, I am thine saviour." And with these words I cut off his head. "God almighty, what have I done?" I ran from the courtyard out onto the road. The rain lashed down and lightning cut across the sky. "Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo." I collapsed, tears streaking down my face. "How can she do this to me?"
The End
Once upon a time there was a tall tower called "The Tower." Now in that tower there lived an evil fairy name of Deplora. Deplora enjoyed fishing, dying her hair green, and throwing eggs at passing cars. Now, in the days of yore Deplora had been a pleasant enough fairy. However, some scarring experiences involving Joey's trousers, a broken washing line and a particularly ugly goldfish had twisted her charming and funny personality to an evil and grumpy one. The day of The Change had been on a Thursday, and alas! 'twas on such a day that I chose to take a stroll through the Murky woods in the direction of MacDonalds. Now, I was half way towards the boulder that marks the spot halfway to the stream which lies halfway towards the onion on a stick which is points towards the Great Oak whose shadow divides in twine the swampy region which makes up one eighth of the Murky woods. I chose to sit a while on the boulder and reflect on the woes of life. Alack, as I sat in thought it began to rain, and having left my brolly back at the house I decided I would take shelter under the next best object: a tree. Fate should have it that the very tree I stood under would change my life forever. Now, I have often warned you children of the dangers of crossing the channel without a hat; those French ladies... if they see a bald man without a hat there is no knowing what they will do. It so happened that as I stood under the tree, evil fairy Deplora, last of the endangered species of evil fairies, appeared not far away. "Hail, old crone." "Hail young scallywag. What brings ye to these parts be?" My breath froze in my lungs, and my heart beat like a drum. "Shouldst thou chose to better word thine statement, I would consider in further depth offering a reply unto thee." Then she slapped me, so I shot her and then kicked her in the teeth (for good measure, you understand). But the beast would not be beaten. "Shame on you!" She cried, "shame on he who would kick an old fairy in the teeth." And I was like, "Yeah, whatever. Sh'up. You evil fairy." At this she stood up sharply, as if stung. "Why, how dare you. I'll have your guts for garters, your hair for mattress stuffing and your money for spending. Scum!" Then I shot her again, and she collapsed and died. "So passes Deplora, son of Thrain son of Thror, King under The Mountain." And there was much weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth and stomping of feet. But I continued on my way until I found such a place as I could call a clearing.
Twas at this point that I decided there would be a break in the story until I had another burst of creative genius.
Several hours of deep creative reflection later... Night fell over the clearing. Robin J. Mitchell looked around carefully before sitting himself down slowly. He sighed deeply, and took a last suck on a cigarette before carefully swallowing it. "Well goddamn if I ain't gonna stop talking 'bout myself in third person and a hol'jeezus of a hill-billy accent an' all." At this point I stood up and made to run, but someone shot at my legs. Undeterred, I sprinted to the edge of the clearing. Then, looking back cooly I smiled at him. "Gentlemen. You will always remember today as the day you nearly caught Captain Jack Sparrow." I coughed up a cigarette, spat it to the ground and took to my heels. It was when I looked back when I realised who the gentleman in question was: a vicous rogue, none other than the truly evil and extremely tall Darth Vader. "Oh man... now you know I'm in trouble." Rule number one: never take the mick out of a guy twice your height who breathes like an asthmatic after a marathon. Also, never take the mick out of rude boys weilding hammers and the like.
At this point I would like to share with you the correct spelling of "rude boys." It is indeed the traditional spelling of "rude" as opposed to "rudd," "rud," "ruud" or "gomez." You take care now.
I had reached a place I knew not at that time. It was grey, with pink curtains. I was immediately suspicious, and my cautions were aroused further by a strange man in tails and a black tie. "May I take your order sir?" "Yes please... one pan-galactic gargle blaster. Shaken, not stirred." "Ah, you know the password. How may I help sir?" My breath was bait. "Tell me, young rogue, when did Saruman the White stop forsake wisdom for treachery?" I charged him with my sword, but the swine was too speedy for me. He had already cunningly untied my bootlace, so that I slipped and fell flat on my face. The infidel lost no time in running for help. I had but once choice. I carefully withdrew to a sheltered corner in a cellar five miles away to better watch the proceedings. It was there that I fell asleep in my ale, wet myself, and waited for a better hour to proceed with my tale.
Two weary days and weary nights later, I knew that I had to go on. Never again would I have such a golden opportunity: before me lay the grail... and my future. behind me lay death. Striding forward, I took the beast by the throat and stabbed it with many knives. Without stopping I sprinted across the courtyard and into the palace when I collided with a man of great height, stature and beard: Gregory Rasputin. "Be ye he sent to kill me?" The holy man's voice was trembling with fear. "Nay sirrah, I am thine saviour." And with these words I cut off his head. "God almighty, what have I done?" I ran from the courtyard out onto the road. The rain lashed down and lightning cut across the sky. "Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo." I collapsed, tears streaking down my face. "How can she do this to me?"
The End
Sunday, April 03, 2005
New Ideas
Well, on top of stories and poems and such, I will be posting a "quote of the day" every day on my blog. If you want, you can imagine that there is a secret message deep within to express how I am feeling on said day. Or you can laugh.
Holiday next week, so no quotes for then. But to start us off:
"The Eighties was a bad decade for fashion."
Holiday next week, so no quotes for then. But to start us off:
"The Eighties was a bad decade for fashion."
Saturday, April 02, 2005
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