Bushwhacked

I went out this morning to one of the local garden centres to buy a box of calcified seaweed. We have an infestation of nematodes in the wormery which means it's too acid and calcified seaweed is the recommended means of raising the pH. Bloody expensive it is too. ?7.25 for about a kilo. We're supposed to add a handful or so to the wormery every couple of weeks to keep the acidity down. Unfortunately I think that means that the so-called "free" compost the wormery is supposed to produce is in fact more expensive than simply throwing out the kitchen scraps and buying bags of compost like we used to. But this is by the by.

Roadworks in the area meant that I was diverted out of my way for a couple of miles and I ended up taking a detour through parts of the outskirts of town which I haven't seen for some time. Well. Let's just say that recent "environmental work" by the local council has involved a cast of thousands armed with chainsaws and an ecosystem which has been obliterated all the way back to blue-green algae. And I'm not so sure there's much of that left either.

Miles of mature hawthorn and blackthorn hedges have been cut down to no more than a couple of feet high or, in some cases, ripped up altogether. Hundreds, if not thousands, of semi-mature trees have been hacked off at ground level and their trunks and larger branches stacked in piles 6 or more feet high with the shredded and chipped remains of smaller branches left littering the roadsides.

The Bush administration would no doubt have a collective orgasm over the environmental devastation caused and it's not even as if there's any oil in town outside of the supermarkets.

Activity

Balance. I believe that balance is one of the most important things in life. A balance between nutrition and gluttony, silence and noise, friendship and solitude, production and creativity, activity and rest. Everything can be taken to extremes. When we find the point of balance, we are at our best. I have been letting my internet time get out of balance. I gain a lot of knowledge and inspiration from websites and blogs. But to have that time out of balance means that another part of my life could be suffering. Exercise is an area in which I've not been developing. I'm thin, but could be in better shape. So, an experiement in devotion to exercise is needed, increased activity. One hour of internet time daily, and perhaps 40 minutes of some kind of exercise. I am going to try to arrange more swimming for myself, since it is my favorite form of exercise. I am also thinking about the concept of fasting, perhaps doing that one day a week. We'll see.

Pet Rules

To be posted VERY LOW on the refrigerator door - nose height.

Dear Dogs and Cats,

The dishes with the paw print are yours and contain your food. The other dishes are mine and contain my food. Please note, placing a paw print in the middle of my plate and food does not stake a claim for it becoming your food and dish, nor do I find that aesthetically pleasing in the slightest.

The stairway was not designed by NASCAR and is not a racetrack. Beating me to the bottom is not the object. Tripping me doesn't help because I fall faster than you can run.

I cannot buy anything bigger than a king sized bed. I am very sorry about this. Do not think I will continue sleeping on the couch to ensure your comfort. Dogs and cats can actually curl up in a ball when they sleep. It is not necessary to sleep perpendicular to each other stretched out to the fullest extent possible. I also know that sticking tails straight out and having tongues hanging out the other end to maximize space is nothing but sarcasm.

For the last time, there is not a secret exit from the bathroom. If by some miracle I beat you there and manage to get the door shut, it is not necessary to claw, whine, meow, try to turn the knob or get your paw under the edge and try to pull the door open. I must exit through the same door I entered. Also, I have been using the bathroom for years -- canine or feline attendance is not required.

The proper order is kiss me, then go smell the other dog or cat's butt. I cannot stress this enough! To pacify you, my dear pets, I have posted the following message the front door:

To All Non-Pet Owners Who Visit & Like to Complain About My Pets:

1. They live here. You don't.
2. If you don't want their hair on your clothes, stay off the furniture.
(That's why they call it "fur"niture.)
3. I like my pets a lot better than I like most people.
4. To you, it's an animal. To me, he/she is an adopted son/daughter who is short, hairy, walks on all fours and doesn't speak clearly.

Wise Old Man

A wise old gentleman retired and purchased a modest home near a junior high school. He spent the first few weeks of his retirement in peace and contentment. Then a new school year began. The very next afternoon three young boys, full of youthful, after-school enthusiasm, came down his street, beating merrily on every trash can they encountered. The crashing percussion continued day after day, until finally the wise old man decided it was time to take some action.
The next afternoon, he walked out to meet the young percussionists as they banged their way down the street. Stopping them, he said, "You kids are a lot of fun. I like to see you express your exuberance like that. In fact, I used to do the same thing when I was your age. Will you do me a favor? I'll give you each a dollar if you'll promise to come around every day and do your thing."
The kids were elated and continued to do a bang-up job on the trashcans.
After a few days, the old-timer greeted the kids again, but this time he had a sad smile on his face. "This recession's really putting a big dent in my income," he told them. "From now on, I'll only be able to pay you 50 cents to beat on the cans."
The noisemakers were obviously displeased, but they accepted his offer and continued their afternoon ruckus. A few days later, the wily retiree approached them again as they drummed their way down the street.
"Look," he said, "I haven't received my Social Security check yet, so I'm not going to be able to give you more than 25 cents. Will that be okay?"
"A freakin' quarter?" the drum leader exclaimed. "If you think we're going to waste our time, beating these cans around for a quarter, you're nuts! No way, dude. We quit!" And the old man enjoyed peace and serenity for the rest of his days.

malt loaf apparently looks like poo...

if you nuke it in a microwave for while. This formed the basis of 'the poo gag' for mate of mine called Dangerous Dave(for his love of creating his own pyrotechnics).

Anyway Dave nuked an entire malt loaf and then proceeded to smear it around his uni halls toilet, using some smeared toilet paper for effect and stood back and waited.

One of Dave's mates came back from visiting his mum and dads for the weekend say the toilet and shouted 'which fucking cunt has shat all over the toilet?!' the shout called everyone in to the toilet and some the weaker stomached began to gag, much to Daves amusement