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A YouTube for game reviews...

A friend told me today about a site that recently went live (but isn't public yet) that is, as the topic suggests, a sort of YouTube for computer game reviews. Reviewer status is invite only so only the best the internet has to offer (make sure your tongue was firmly placed in cheek while reading that) will be contributing, but it's looking like an interesting site.

The site's tagline is Video game reviews by us, not "the man", so if you like your reviews honest and corruption-free, it might be worth checking out. There are already a large number of contributors and plenty of content is being uploaded ready for the public launch and the site is only going to be hosting computer game reviews (as far as I'm currently aware), so there won't be any sifting through tons of random videos to find one that looks like it might actually be a review.

It's also a great opportunity for amateur reviewers to get a little more exposure (depending on the site's popularity, anyway). There are some people out there making video reviews that actually aren't awful, which is... something. There are also people out there who should be making video reviews but who aren't HINT HINT.

Anyway, check the site out and see what you think (when it's out of beta, anyway). The site is gameular.

I am an honourary American

Not really, I'm just really fat.

Well, not really really, I just have a lot of food.

I'm going to be marathoning some stuff over the weekend and I wanted copious amounts of junk food to help me through it. I don't have a short attention span or anything, but either my brain or my hands need to stay active - I need interactivity of some kind. In fact, I sometimes carry a ball of Blu-Tack around with me as a penis substitute. My hands need something to play with!

Anyway, rather than spend the whole time masturbating I decided to make a change to my usual habits and just eat to stay busy, so I went shopping this morning and returned with an absurd amount of food. He's a snapshot:

Free Image Hosting at www.ImageShack.us

I don't know how this stacks up with your giant piles of American food, but I think there's quite a lot there! Here's a full rundown from top to bottom:

2x popcorn
4x tin of vegetarian spaghetti bolognese
4x cheese & onion pasties
12x picnic eggs (vegetarian Scotch eggs)
2x falafel & houmous in a soft tortilla wrap sandwich
4x Relentless (energy drink similar to Red Bull, only nicer)
5x pickled onion flavour Monster Munch crisps (potato chips)
5x spicy flavour NikNaks (potato chips)
2x large Cadbury's chocolate bar (to be melted on my alarm clock!!)
8x ripple chocolate bar
5x toffee crisp chocolate bar
1x soft scoop vanilla ice cream
1x strawberry cheesecake

I think chances are good I will be sick in my sleep and choke on my sick and die. But that is a risk I am more than willing to take. I'm also playing with the idea of getting a 12" margherita, but that might be pushing it just a bit too far. The total cost was around £26, which is around $50 I suppose. Just to put it in perspective, my normal food bill is around £11/$22 per week.

But whatever!

Oh, and here is a list of films I recently watched and my thoughts:

Wanted: The whole film tastes like ass, beside the last twenty minutes - which just smell like ass. No substance whatsoever, but no styIe, either. A wasted opportunity. 1/5


The Dark Knight: Great, and Ledger was amazing, but the film as a whole simply doesn't deserve the praise it's getting. There's an absolute ton of awesome characters, all of which are performed magnificently, but the story itself is rather bland and the pacing is absolutely languid. I think it's overly-long for what it is and there are far too many unnecessary scenes - most of which I spent glancing at my watch, wondering when Ledger would be back. Despite flaws, there are too many powerhouse performances from some amazing actors for it to be anything less than great. 4/5


Be Kind Rewind: A little too Hollywoodish compared with Eternal Sunshine and Science of Sleep, but a frequently fun-if-not-funny and occasionally touching film which, if nothing else, will evoke fond memories of childhood and the films we grew up with. Big points for originality. 3/5


Babel: Amazing... just amazing. The stories are engaging, the writing is authentic, the acting standard transcends the concept of acting to the extent that they were people for me, not actors (even Brad Pitt). 5/5

/mourn fireandcloud

I don't yet know why, and this may not come as news to some, but I just learned that fireandcloud has been banned from GameSpot.

It may be because he recently compared a female GS presenter with a cow, during the whole Dawn of War II worst interview ever fiasco.

So yet another awesome GameSpotter has been banned, and the GS community is going to be less enjoyable for it. Here's hoping he will be back and pissing everyone off again as soon as possible.

If anyone wants to say some some polite parting words, thise might be the place to do so. But I swear to God if anyone starts reciting poetry I will ****ing delete this blog!

The greatest picture ever drawn. Ever.

Shodan has been my desktop background for a year or two now - but no longer! Today I stumbled across what I personally think is the greatest piece of art ever drawn. Team Fortress 2 players of the male persuasion may find it especially appealing.

qwerty

A talented artist indeed, and a (surprisingly) woman after my own heart. Check out her other awesome art. I'm gonna be buying a full sized print of this image just as soon as I have a job!

My top 20 films

I know you don't agree with any of these. I know you probably think The Godfather is the best film ever made. I don't care!!!

20. Freddy got Fingered

19. Reservoir Dogs

18. Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

17. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

16. Donnie Darko

15.American Psycho

14. Pirates of the Caribbean

13. LotR: The Two Towers

12. Memento

11. Borat

10. The Machinist

9. Pulp Fiction

8. LotR: Fellowship of the Ring

7. Terminator 2

6. LotR: Return of the King

5. Aliens

4. The Matrix

3. Fight Club

2. Sin City

1. 300

Mangled balls of liquid cheese time! -- I mean, pizza time!

Another food-themed blog, I guess. Well, what can I say? They don't call me Stephen for nothing.

I don't cook too often, but I enjoy being in the kitchen so when I do cook, I usually make a pretty big deal out of it. There are many things I can make, but there was one thing I had never tried in the past, which I realised was quite peculiar as it's also one of my favourite foods. So I decided it was high time I tried giving man-birth to a nice big pizza.

Now, I didn't go the whole hog and make my dough from the ground up, because I just don't have time for that kind of thing (I'm a very important person if you didn't know), and probably not the talent either, so I went with a just-add-water dough mix. But that aside, my pizza was entirely my own Frankenstein's monster of cheesy wonderment. Something you probably don't know about me (and probably don't care to know) is that I am a vegetarian, and have been since I turned ten years old, so although there are plenty of chunks of what looks like animal flesh in the pictures below, they are in fact all vegetarian substitutes.

Here are my weapons of choice: lots of cheese, some vegetarian slicing sausage, some quorn, some generic tomato sauce and some mushrooms.

qwerty

Dough is a bastard. That's all I have to say. I hate dough, and I subscribed its email address to a gay and lesbian adoption agency.

qwerty

If you know anything about pizzas, or maybe even if you don't, you'll probably notice that my base is incredibly thin. So thin, in fact, that my finished food was not a pizza as much as liquid cheese balls, and they weren't eaten by the slice as much as by the handful. But it was my first time, so I was expecting a little pain. Please ignore the female sex toy that looks suspiciously like a rolling pin.

qwerty

Next came the tomato and then the first layer of cheese. This part was very difficult for me. I adore cheese, so having a giant mound of the stuff right in front of me and not being able to eat it all right away was... agony.

qwerty

After the cheese came the vegetarian slicing sausage. I think that that is its actual name. I don't really remember what most meats taste like since it was over half my life ago since I ate meat (that gets chicks moist, by the way – no matter how massive a carnivore they are, they all love the vegetarians, so don't knock it!) so I don't know if it tastes anything remotely like anything meaty, but it's tasty which is good enough for me.

qwerty

Next came the mushroom. The mushroom really didn't add much to my pizza at all. Or my blog. For my next pizza attempt I probably won't even bother with mushrooms. I might include them in my next blog, though.

qwerty

Quorn is considered by many meat eaters to be some kind of food-version of Satan. Not only does it look and smell like meat, it tastes a lot like meat too. I remember the taste of ham vividly, and although ham-flavour Quorn isn't as moist, it gets just about everything else spot on.

qwerty

After the quorn came one last layer of cheese for good measure, and then in the oven it went. Due to the thinness of the base, it turned out to be something of a disaster and I literally did end up eating handfuls of liquid cheese balls, but I was extremely happy with how it looked coming out of the oven.

qwerty

I've learned from my mistakes and my next pizza is going to be a cheese-filled-quorn-covered-heart-attack-inducing masterpiece.

Question mark question mark question mark

Okay. I was going to put sex in the blog title again to get more people reading, since, you know, sex sells. You only need to mention the word and you've got your hook. But today's blog is going to be on a very serious topic that's quite dear to most of our hearts.

Gotcha! Haha! Really I'm just gonna type a load of random crap and probably make references to my porn collection and how good looking I am and maybe it'll be worth reading. Or maybe not! Either way I win because you'll have already read it by the time you realised it wasn't actually worth reading. So take that, punkie. You're just another +1 on my profile views stat, which is the number I use in lieu of actual human interaction to judge how interesting a person I am. I think it's quite overwhelmingly clear that I am almost a moderately interesting person.

And that's something I can boast about next time I'm talking with a real human girl. I can be all like, Hey baby, my GameSpot profile went up by 65 views today. Does that get you hot? And she probably won't reply because she's too busy trying to work herself free of her chains. And also I had to gag her. That girl just would not learn.

Okay, so this is real freestyIe blogging right here. I have no idea what I'm actually going to type, I'm just sitting here in Word typing things before I even think about thinking about them. I'd illustrate this by telling you a phrase my father says a lot - you know, like my father always says – but he doesn't say very much. He's dead.

Anyway, yeah. FreestyIe blogging. I actually find the idea quite frightening. I like to make a plan and then stick with it. Which is to say I like to make a plan and then stick with it, I never actually do make a plan and then stick with it. Because plan-making is fun, with-sticking is not so much fun. So, yeah, for my last four bloggerinos (I can't believe Word doesn't recognise that as a word) I have known almost precisely what I was going to write about – and that's most of the work already done. Figuring out what to write about is the hard part (creative writers are a bunch of ****ing geniuses), the actual writing part is just finger-tapping good. I mean, I hope you don't expect me to still be blogging this time next week. No ****ing chance, man. No ****ing chance. Thinking up ideas is just... hard.

So, in this blog, I have no idea at all what to write about, and I'm so pressured into trying to think of things to write that are worth reading that I don't have time to think up funny jokes (How do you keep an idiot in suspense?...) to keep you reading, so most of you have probably already stopped reading by now which is just fine because I don't think you're missing much. In fact, i cna prolly stop usin real punctu8chun and spellin coz ull prolly not read it n e wayz lol

...and since you already stopped reading, I can also admit to some of my darkest, most horrible secrets – like when I was in Ibiza when I was in my early teens, I found this totally hot chick (a lot older than me but at the time I didn't care) and it was like a wet dream come true, but it turns out she had a god damn--

--Oh wait, you're still here? Maybe some other time, then. But let me just offer you this advice: always check for suspicious surgery scars, and try and casually stroke her hair, but really you're checking to see if it's a wig. Anyway, I was thinking of trying to make this entire blog where I don't know what I'm writing about into a blog about not knowing what I'm writing about (...I'll tell you tomorrow.), like some kind of postmodernist blog that's actually pure bull**** but pretentious people (that would be everyone who rolled their eyes and corrected me when I said geniuses rather than geniiyou know who you are!) defend it because it makes them feel intelligent, or whatever. Is this blog fine art? Well, either way I'm just going to keep on talking about how I'm not actually talking about anything. Maybe if I just keep on going, maybe I'll become a billionaire artiste and get those matching shoes I dream of so very often.

Alright, so, actually I was fibbing just now. I'm gonna abandon my freestyIe blogging. It's not working. I'm gonna do some real blogging on a real topic. Okay. Right. Content. Readable content with direction. Worth reading. Real beginning, middle and end stuff. Here goes.

I'm unemployed. Like, really unemployed. Those of you who have known me for a while might know that I left my job in February in part because I felt it was time to move on and in part because I was fired for gross incompetence resulting in significant punitive fines for my employer. So it was really a sort of mutual understanding between my employer and me that I should leave the company and not even think about asking for a reference.

And ever since I have been living the life of a gluttonous geek, which was absolutely dandy at first but one can only marathon one's 24 collection on DVD and enjoy one's imported American porno (the real good stuff) so many times before one finds one needs to stretch one's – alright, this sentence is far too upper middle cIass. I've run out of cabbage, is my point. Or cheddar, if you prefer. Why do food words beginning with c mean money in America? I've run out of cantaloupe? Cucumber? Coleslaw? Wait, isn't coleslaw just cabbage in salad cream? I'm not really sure what coleslaw is. Anyway, I've run out of coleslaw. And what the **** is coriander?

Money is something that's very easy to take for granted when you have it. The relation between the item purchased and the money with which it was purchased did not really exist for me when I had a lot of money– it was always there, and the pile was always getting bigger and bigger, so spending it didn't really actually seem to happen, no matter how much I bought. It's like gay guys in an office environment – every now and then one leaves, but there's always another to take his place a short time later. Except my money didn't totally brush against the back of my chair when it walked past and smile at me. I got used to ignoring them but Jesus Christ it freaked me out the first time it happened. I mean, how do you politely tell someone you aren't gay Or do you make a big scene just to teach them a lesson? Do you ignore them? Anyway, my point is my money didn't hit on me. No, wait... No. My money was... I'm not sure where I was going with this. My money wasn't... No, I really think I've lost this one.

Oh! I remember now. My money was always there. Just like my father wasn't.

And now I find myself in an awful situation. I have run out of shiny money coins! And now that I have no money left, I all-of-a-sudden have a list of things I want to buy as long as my arm. I know that it's as long as my arm because I'm carving the list into my arm with a razorblade because that's the only way I'm managing to deal with the pain of not having any money.

I mean, sweet holy heck, there's a book I spotted with mine very own eyes called The Artwork of Oddworld, and we wants it, precious. I recently realised that comedic genius John Schwartzwelder has released three more books, and I need them. I want to buy a bike to get rid of this belly. I want to buy a laptop so I have a workstation where I can work on my novel that isn't full of distractions like games and porno and pictures of myself looking gorgeous (there's always the risk that I'll catch my reflection in my laptop screen, and that'll end up being half a day wasted, but it's a risk I have to take). And most of all, I want to buy all the new games coming out in the next few months. And all I have to do is buy them. And I can't, because I have no money.

So I guess what I'm saying is: it's on now, beyatch. That's right, British employers – I'm jobhunting. It officially begins right now. Well, not right now because, well... I-I don't really want to. But later.

Yes! I'll definitely do it later.

I've planned it.

I recently realised something:

I want to make a game.

I've recently been bouncing ideas around with a friend for a game that I would like to make. Obviously we both know that there is zero percent chance of that every happening, but it's a topic we both enjoy, so it's become one of our more regular discussions. We've really started to flesh out some of the ideas and I'd like to share some of what I've come up with so far. This blog won't be even remotely funny, so anyone wanting a giggle can tune out now, but if you're at work and you want something to read, well, you're already here. May as well read it.

When I thought about the kind of game I wanted to make, I thought first about the games I love: Crysis, Escape from Butcher Bay, System Shock 2, Vampire the Masquerade Bloodlines, Half Life, Grand Theft Auto. I wanted to take the best parts of all of those games and combine them all into one glorious whole. I wanted a city-based free-roam FPS with some character building, but only to the extent that it would result in emergent gameplay, not to the extent that it shoehorns a player into playing the game in a particular way.

I hate amnesia as a story device. I truly, truly hate it. But I was thinking about the kind of game I want to make and the kind of story I wanted to tell, and it just fits. It works. So it makes me a hypocrite like everyone else, but my story begins with amnesia. And a frame. Okay, so I'm a hypocrite and I'm only capable of cliché. I can live with that. The central idea is that you wake up in a lab with no memories (blah!), but escape. You quickly find that, as well as being pursued by the lab-guys (whoever they are), you are also an extremely wanted criminal – so you're also pursued by the police when spotted. The player's ultimate goal is to uncover his own identity, find out who the lab-guys are and what they did to him, and why, and ultimately clear his name of the crime(s) for which he has been framed. I don't want to give too much away, in part because it's undeveloped and in part because I don't want you to steal it, but I already have an end planned that's sort of a cross between the end of The Fugitive and the end of the Spanish zombie movie REC.

My setting is a cop— sorry, is inspired by Blade Runner's setting, which I recently saw for the first time. I'm also a big fan of other overpopulated and polluted Eastern/Western hybrid future dystopias like Cowboy Bebop and Firefly, so the concept isn't one entirely new to me. I'd probably want to set it in a city reminiscent of something found in America, but I would want there to be so many distinct cultures, so many distinct peoples and at least three languages used (one of which the player does not and will never understand in any way), so the location is hard to pin down. I would aim for a city size around that of Vice City, and I would want monolithic shopping complexes and corporate towers and skyscraping residential buildings, all bordered by broken shanty towns and bustling flea markets. I would aim to have every building in the game as go-in-able as is practical.

Although the player is 'good' (or believes himself good), he is a wanted man, so his only associates during the game will be criminals. It is by completing missions for his criminal contacts that he earns money to fund his main mission (he will need to pay for tips as well as buy supplies) as well as his other vitals, such as a place of residence. A place to live is important for the player as a base of operations, a safe house when things get too hot, storage for all his stuff and one (of many) means of being contacted by people in the world. You will be able to give your address out to anyone in the game world, but they may choose to pass your address on to the police (or worse), so choosing who to trust is a decision the placer faces. You can have multiple places of residence, but this will be a greater cash sink, meaning you need to undertake more criminal missions.

My goal with the story is that it is itself linear, but how it progresses depends on the actions of the gamer. While the side-missions will never be linked too directly to the central story arc, they do exist for a specific purpose – to enhance the bank balance and reputation of the player. But because nothing money earns you is vital to how the story progresses, or to playing the game, it is entirely up to you to undertake or ignore the peripheral criminal underworld. You can live as a homeless bum if you like, meaning your expenditure will be close to nothing, meaning you need almost no money. Being a nameless bum on the street makes you harder to find, but it also means you won't have any associates to help you during the game. Because you're a wanted man, you'll need to make liberal use of disguises (more on that later). I'm still playing with ideas like needing food and water to survive (it's been done before, and it's more of a chore than anything else), but I would definitely like a day/night cycle.

The game will be played entirely from the first person, including during all cut scenes. I'm playing with the idea of a third person camera when the player is driving a vehicle, but generally I'm opposed in principle. And the game will be a FPS. But it'll be a FPS in the ways that Crysis and Escape from Butcher Bay are FPS games. I am in love with the idea of the player being able to approach any situation in a number of ways, and I started thinking about the core gameplay mechanics surrounding this concept and how they would work in a FPS.

I gave the idea a name: GROe.

Ghost – stealthing.

Rambo– running and gunning.

Orating – cunning linguist.

evacuating – running away like a girl.

I would want the player to be able to approach every single situation in the game using the GROe system. The player, at any time during any situation will, provided he has the correct tools (not that some necessarily require tools), be able to stealth, go run and running, talk his way out of a situation or just run for the hills and come back later.

Stealthing is a pain in the arse in FPS games, so I'm aiming for a scifi vibe, so the player would be able to buy tools that enhance his awareness of his environment and the people in it. Heartbeat monitor, thermal imaging, an ability to monitor ambient sound as well as his own sound output – things like that. The player will be able to hide under, behind and inside objects found in building interiors, and would be able to mingle in with a crowd (and is able to put on and take off clothes). I would not want some kind of 'cloak' ability, but I would want the player to be able to disguise himself, sort of like Agent 47 in Hitman, but he can also change the way his face and hair look (using some form of hologram) to allow him to take the identities of others.

One idea I was playing with for the disguise idea is that everyone has friends and family who may recognise the player's disguise, and may approach the player and engage them in dialogue. The dialogue system would not be overly complex, but I would like a minimum of three stock lines of dialogue the player can say to random people on the street, and at least three responses to every single dialogue prompt during any given situation.

An example of this in gameplay might be the player isolating a guard at a warehouse he needs to infiltrate, taking the guard down and assuming his identity. The player can then walk right through the front door – but any other guards he meet may or may not speak with him, and the player may arouse unwanted attention by acting suspiciously. But the player would also be able to infiltrate the warehouse by sneaking in, perhaps by breaking or opening a window, sneaking around taking guards down lethally or non-lethally. Similarly, the player may just want to fill a truck with explosives and smash it into the unloading bay and blow the whole thing up, or slaughter everyone in a firefight – or all three. The player may choose to disguise his way past the guard, then stealth kill him, disguise to his mission objective (using stealth to avoid detection), then fight his way out. He may stealth through the entire sequence if he chooses. If you've built up a series of contacts and associates through criminal missions, you can bring in associates to help you fight. But the more noise (so to speak) you make, the more police attention to provoke. But the player is always in control.

And this is the most important thing for me. I don't want the player to be shoehorned into a particular styIe of play, and as great as character development is and as much as I love it, that's exactly what character development does. You wanna play a stealther, you gotta build a stealther. You wanna play a soldier, you gotta restart and build a soldier. Inspired by Crysis and Tron 2.0, I would want to implement a system where the player is always in complete control of his own experience. But I also don't want to simplify the whole thing to the point that it is trival – and balancing that kind of thing is what I'm having trouble with.

I would not want to neglect character building, but some roleplaying mechanics are just ludicrous. My bullets are suddenly doing more damage? I'm suddenly more attractive? My biceps just gained two inches of girth? It's too abstract and contrived, and I think stat-based character building, even in roleplaying games, is archaic. I don't know a better solution, and it will all boil down to numbers of one kind or another in the end, but if my character goes from 4 strength to 5 strength, I was just taken out of the gameplay experience and was just given a sharp reminder that I'm playing a computer game with all kinds of artificial contrivances. No thanks.

And that's just about all I've got at the moment. This is the first time I've ever really put my ideas into writing, and I don't know if, having read this, you think it actually was worth reading, but I've enjoyed tapping away for the last... wow, it's been an hour. Well, there it is.

Sex, lies and letters to my mother

Alright. I'm going to be keeping up one blog a day for as long as I can. But I have quite a lot of trouble keeping things up, so it might not last too long. Enjoy it while it lasts. Now, those of you who know me at all will probably know that I'm an extremely boring person, and that I have absolutely no imagination whatsoever. So, for this blog, I've had to draw from my real life experiences instead of making a load of crap up and pretending that I'm actually worth paying attention to. Sorry about that. And if a picture is worth a thousand words, then I just beat your blog length by a ****ton of words, fireandcloud, because this blog has a picture, so suck on that. Yeah. Who has the longest blog now, huh? It's not you, that's who it's not. Chump.

Alright. Backstory first. The first thing you need to know about me is that I absolutely love porno. I mean, my final waking thought is of porno, my first thought in the morning is of porno, and usually I try and dream about porno too. Sometimes I actually fall asleep watching porno, and because it's on a loop, I wake up watching porno too. Porno is just... well, it's just great, isn't it?

Okay, now that you know that about me, it's your turn to share something about yourself. So you had better be sharing something about yourself right now. Seriously. Get sharing. Anyway, I was in America a few years back, in Oregon to be precise. I was visiting a friend. I walked in on her naked in the shower one time and later pooped on her floor, so she doesn't live in the same apartment any more, but that's a story for another blog. So, I was staying with my friend, and she's around 30, and I'm a pretty okay looking guy, so naturally all her middle aged friends were dying to meet me.

You probably won't be surprised to hear that they were all startled by my dazzling beauty, but one woman in particular, whom I shall name Psycho She-dog in this blog, was really into me. Her exact words were the prettiest boy I have ever seen. And that may very well be very true. I am pretty pretty. But anyway, I don't call her Psycho She-dog casually. She's a nutjob. A real mother****ing psycho nutjob. She spent much of the two weeks I was staying with my friend trying to get in my underpants, but I kept brushing her off. In part because I found her company tedious, in part because she isn't my type and in part because she's ten years older than me. Older men are attracted to younger women. That's nature. Reversing it is just... perverted. This last point was the point I played up quite a bit, which probably is the reason for what eventually happened.

So I left America - Oregon is beautiful, by the way. Everything's green and, wow, the gardens were so huge and inviting. I remember telling my friend that I felt like I could just go and lie down on someone's lawn, because it was all just so open and inviting. I also remember telling her that I was sure that if I did that, the owner of the lawn would come out and shoot me and then warn me that if I didn't get off of his property he would shoot me, but it still felt inviting, which was nice. Houses in England are usually shoulder to shoulder and the gardens are generally small, and generally walled off. There's just so much space in America.

Anyway, so I left America having not slept with her, but the Psycho She-dog wanted to stay in touch so we got chatting over MSN and, because I didn't know at the time that she was a ****ing Psycho She-dog, you might even say we became friends. And this is where everything ties together. I wanted to buy some porno from America because, man, you guys... you guys really know how to make porno. You know? I mean, it's seriously good stuff.

I don't know if any of you have ever bought something from an overseas store, but my experience in the past had been less than, uh, good. Especially when the product is coming from America. So I convinced the Psycho She-dog to have the package sent via domestic mail to her, and then she would send it on to me. At least that way there was a return address to someone I knew and could contact easily. So I ordered my wonderful porno and had it sent to her. I knew that she wasn't at all happy with the idea, but she did consent. I'm not sure why (her excuse was vague and largely ignored on account of her being a woman) but she opened my porno and then watched it. I had expressly forbad her opening privileges, as I wanted to be the first to open it. Yeah. I wanted to defile the box myself. But she opened it and watched it.

Now, she did send the porno on – but not to me. She sent my porno DVDs, along with a covering letter to my mother****ing mother. Holy sweet zombie Jesus. For some extremely lucky reason, my mother opened the package very slightly without checking the contents, saw that they were DVD cases and assumed they were for me – even though I did not at the time live with her, and had not for over six months and even though it was addressed to her. The mind of a woman is a strange thing, but her irrationality served the greater good for once.

So, I managed to escape with both my precious porno and this potentially disastrous albeit utterly hilarious letter. Now, provided you don't forget everything you read as soon as you read it, as I do, you'll be able to recall that about three and a half minutes ago I was talking about how I played up my being bothered by her being older than I am. Bear that in mind as you read the letter she sent:

Some parts of the letter are true, some are not. I'll leave it up to you to decide what you think is real, and what you think is the jealous ranting of a Psycho She-dog. But here's the catch, and this is real human drama bull****. I do my best to avoid this crap, but it still ends up being smeared on my upper lip while I sleep. I mentioned to a friend that to the victor went the spoils, that I had both the letter and the precious porno in my possession. Unbeknownst to me at the time, this guy was a spy. He was working for the enemy. He has and/or had a thing for her, and was doing her bidding in that way guys do when they're hungry for clam chowder minus the chowder. He mentioned to her my glorious victory, and so she sent – you guessed it – another letter. Addressed to my mother. With no DVDs to save me, well, she read it.

Yeah...

I'm going to leave my story there. I would like you, dear reader, to think up your own ending to this story. If you care to, let me know what you come up with.

Strange hair

Now, I'm hardly strange enough to rival Lieutenant Colonel Kojak Slaphead the Third of the Bald Brummies Against The Big-Footed Conspiracy Party, but I'm also not exactly a regular guy you might bump into on the street. Possibly because I'm a reclusive hermit who goes outside only to raid local stores for vital provisions once every fortnight. But there is one strange thing I can, well, not boast about, because boasting about strangeness is pretentious and if there's one thing anyone can say about me it would definitely be that I'm not pretentious. Even though I am pretty ****ing awesome and really goodlooking too and everything I say is both awesome and correct. But I wouldn't boast about my strangeness, since that really is pretentious. So instead of boasting about my strangeness, because that would be pretentious, I;m going to boast about my strangeness. Specifically, my strange hair.

I've had many hairstyIes through the years. The first interesting hairstyIe I remember getting was a spiky haircut, beause I wanted to imitate my hero, Sonic the Hedgehog. I was pretty young at the time, and although I don't remember pretty much anything that happened in my life before yesterday, I do remember getting that haircut because the haircutter woman said to my mother: This one will break a few hearts, won't he?

That line has haunted me my entire life. How could someone so well educated that she decided academia was below her and instead chose a career cutting hair be so wrong about my future?

Anyway, spiky hair isn't so weird, but it slowly got weirder - and longer. A lot longer. You can't really fully appreciate quite how long in the photo below, but I have in the past had a ponytail down to my waistline.

qwerty

People could tell how epic a nerd I was just by looking at me. Or by standing downwind.

Now, that's not really strange, I know. That's just long hair. Very long hair! And one thing I can tell you about long hair - when coupled with a bad shampoo, you malt. A lot. Think cat in the summer. Stroke it and giant handfulls come out. That's kind of what my hair was like. I didn't have anyone stroking my hair, sadly, but it still came out all over the place. I decided that the only sensible thing to do was to collect all my hair and make a little nest out of it.

qwerty

qwerty

Not big enough for a real egg, I know, but it was big enough for some Cadbury's Mini Eggs:

qwerty

So I decided it was high time I started buying Cadbury's Mini Eggs, even though I don't really like them, and started keeping them in my nest that I made out of my own hair that I harvested from my bedroom floor.

And that's my strange hair.

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