Haircut

Yesterday I went for a haircut.

Bottle-Blonde-Girl went too. Except she wasn’t getting her haircut, she
was having her roots retouched. She put her large bag down on the
surface in front of the mirrors and out jumped a small furry beast. It
ran down the counter and attempted to drink my coffee before being
whisked away.
Bottle-Blonde-Girl apologised for the inconvenience, but she didn’t take
her long-haired Yorksire terrier home. She’d even brought a hot-water
bottle along in case Fufi (that was its name) got cold. Hmmm.

I think the next time I go to get my haircut I’ll take Bean with me and
see what sort of reaction I get. No-one told BBG that pets were not
allowed, so I don’t see why there would be a problem with me bringing my
dog.
What would be really cool is if I had a pet rat or ferret. Or even
better – a pet snake. They couldn’t kick me out because I’d cry foul
about Fufi getting special treatment, but the hair-dressers would all be
kind of jumpy which would be great fun. My haircut might not turn out so
well though, I suppose.

Hostel Food vs The Waffle Master

While scratching through some of my old high school junk I found a copy of the school newspaper that I contributed to. It’s dated 14 October, 1996.

Here I reproduce the article I wrote for your reading pleasure:

The Multiple Personalities of “The Kitchen”
I fear that the kitchen of Potchefstroom Boys’ High School is going though an identity crisis. I reached this conclusion after being subject to its meals one ill-fated weekend last term.Saturday’s breakfast was reasonable, but the The Kitchen was only being devious. It was waiting for lunch when a schizophrenic seizure would take control of it. Lunch is supposedly the main meal of the day, but since it consisted of pap (which I personally cannot stand), and a single piece of wors, it did not seem too main. the Evil-Miserly-Kitchen personality had taken control here. Yet, on the other side of the school, the Generous-Host-Kitchen personality was serving a five-star meal to a visiting cricket team.

However, the Schizo theory is not the only one in circulation, and it cannot explain all of the properties exhibited by The Kitchen. Another popular theory — the longest running theory, in fact — is the BLOP (Bio-Chemical Luminous Objects Project) Theory.

According to the BLOP Theory, The Kitchen is in fact an experimental laboratory for testing luminous substances. It is believed to be a laboratory that came under heavy fire from anti-animal cruelty societies, and so now tests its products on boarders at College. The glowing green scrambled eggs are a good example of one of these products which we received for breakfast on both Saturday and Monday of that unhappy weekend.

Although meals during the week are usually satisfactory, and Sunday lunch has improved, it would seem that The Kitchen believes that over the rest of the weekend boarders do not like to eat.

Lone Scribbler

Yip. I signed it with a pseudonym, not wanting the wrath of the kitchen management to fall upon me.

I also submitted a cartoon to run with the article. It seems strangely familiar. I’m sure you’ll agree.

Image Hosted by ImageShack.us

[WaffleG] The Band Formally Known as Skyscraper

Greetings Wafflings

Jaco (a.k.a Zskilz – don’t ask me why) has a band which he ridicules on a regular basis. I don’t know why because the music isn’t as crap as he likes to make out.
I like it, and I’m the Mighty Waffle Master! As they say, one Waffle Master can’t be wrong.

Anyway, he’s planning to change the band name from Skyscraper to something else, and you can help.
Visit the site, download the music, throw in a band name suggestion or ten.
You can also critique the music here.

Make it so.

The Grammar Nazi

There has been much talk of the Spelling Nazi on Hoblit’s and Hoke’s blog.

Enter the Grammar Nazi!
While perusing the pages of deviant art I stumbled upon this work and associated comments.
There was some unnecessary jibing of the artist by a poster, and so I decided to take action. Read the comments (specifically the one’s I made and those of the person I was replying to). Then return here.

Read the comments yet?
I decided to stir up some trouble, having anointed myself the Grammar Nazi.

It was inappropriate to cause more trouble on that page, so I sent our angry friend a personal note.

“‘no i dont mind looking like an arsehole, because i am an arsehole but i don’t want to portray myself as a moron because i am not. the last time i checked my I.Q. was 136 which is 4 points below genius.’ Hey. At least you’re honest with yourself. But do I sense a little insecurity about your 4 missing I.Q. points? That you need to explicitly cite your I.Q. score at all is indicative of deep felt anxiety regarding your self-worth. Maybe if you weren’t trying so hard to prove how stupid everyone else is compared to you, then perhaps you’d be less of an arsehole.

Good luck in your quest for meaning and pandas in your life!”

This comment of mine stirred him into a vexed rage. He sent me not one caustic reply, but four!
I’ll spare you the full messages, but I will list the gems. A kind of “highlights” package.

  • He threatened to bootstomp me six feet into the ground
  • He threatened to curbstomp me and defeat me in a trivia contest and claimed to be a superior artist to me — all in one sentence.
  • He threatened to kick my teeth in and force me to swallow them.
  • He denied being insecure, and professed to being a ‘cocky [naughty word]’ and a borderline genius
  • He complemented me on my photography: Yes, you read that right.
  • He speculated that I must be from France, but then threatened to astral travel to South Africa and paint the walls with my flesh.
  • He professed of his superior intellect once again, and pointed out that he possessed a powerful aura.
  • He called me a “stupid bitch” for trying to comment on his “grammer”(sic).
  • And, my favourite, he recommended that I “go eat a bag of dicks.” Unfortunately he did not supply me with the contact details of a retailer where I might procure such a delicacy.

He certainly provided me with a good night’s entertainment. Even his a girlfriend jumped into the fray, but she was no where as amusing.

--

SpamBlog

A blog comprised entirely of spam. With links to other blogs comprised entirely of spam.
Spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam spam.

SHUTUP!
Bloody vikings!

Naughty Words

My brother Stuart insists I post this, uh, transcript of his.
I will humour him this time – but really Stuart, just get your own blog.
As already mentioned, it contains naughty words. Don’t read it if you can’t cope with naughty words.

Ashlee is Stuart’s friend from school who lives in London at the moment. What follows is an SMS ‘conversation’

The Players:

  • Stu – Brother of esteemed Waffle Master
  • Reprobate – A morally unprincipled person, one who is predestined to damnation

The Transcript

Day 1:
Stu:
Hi Ashlee. How are you doing. Somehow got your phone code the wrong way around, so haven’t been able to contact you. But all is now well again 🙂 Stu

Day 3:
Reprobate:
Fuck off and dont send to me message again
Stu (not sent):
Excuse me?! what the fuck is your problem? You low life. If I have the wrong number its not all that goddamn difficult to say so in a more polite manner. What a complete tosser you are. This wasnt always your number you fuck wit.
Stu (sent):
Excuse me?! I have to assume you are in fact not Ashlee. I must also admit that if you had had the cranial capacity to reply politely to me, then it would have been easy for me to comply with your request, but alas, that was not the case. So I may send miscellaneous messages from time to time-just to keep you on your toes. Hope you don’t mind.

Day 4:
Reprobate:
Fuck off and dont send to me message again Fuck you
Stu:
You really are an uncouth reprobate
Reprobate:
Hi.Im her boy friend what you want tell me
Stu:
I see. Well, seems she has chosen well. I am actually a friend of hers from school and you seem to be a little bit of a nightmare. So I’m not entirely sure what your issue is. If she’s not interested in speaking to me I’m sure she can tell me herself.
Reprobate:
I dont want talking with you please dont send to me message
Stu:
Ok. One last message. Who is this?
Reprobate:
Stuart
Stu:
Hmm. I see. Coincidence.
Reprobate:
Fuck you mother Fucker Fucken torso
Stu:
You really need to perhaps spend some time in a schooling environment, so that you can enhance your vast vocabulary. If you are an example of British youth I am pretty disappointed actually. Cheers