fights.

I was talking some nerd rubbish when i heard a shout and looked around. lying on the ground was a short adolesant boy, his eyebrows high in his face with darwins universal expression of fear. His focus was on the boy who stood over him pulling at his shirt with one hand, with the other hand balled in a fist.

Am a policeman? if only for a whistle and a cudgel. i shout and run over anyway. he reluctantly leaves his prey prostrate on the astroturf. my yapping is incessant and not even i am listening. he moves to rejoin the game. his face is red and sweaty. he tries to push past me. my 93 kilos stop his movements and he gets louder and angrier at me telling him to leave the situation. He runs off and clumsily kicks at the ball. i pick up ball and halt play. now i have the attention of two dozen adolescent boys. I demand that he leaves.

now he is really mad and i am wondering if one of those fists is coming for me and he dances back and forth shouting and swearing at me. I can feel my legs jitter. other students rush him and pull him off the field. where he shouts and raves until told off by my line manager.

he calms and appologises and i give him lecture 38; on the depravity of adrenaline.

Idea for a TV show.

Idea for a tv show. Reality and live. We put a camera in your house, watching you as you watch tv. With commercials that advertise only stuff you like, so we don’t break your concentration. We can pan different angles and display the thing that occupies the television of your world. The focus of your drama. Homo sapiens have always loved gossip and drama; we thrive on it as a species. I got bored of listening to your problems and turned to tv. People used to know their neighbours but real people are scary and kinda ugly. Also the writing is not so good. It’s neighbours and I like true blood, tho none of my friends are vampires and I don’t get invite to those sort of season two parties. You know

So its just you sitting on a chair. A nice chair, I admit and you gaze at the television letting the sound and the light tumble over you. You get bored and pick up the computer. Now you have this. Enjoy.

Mastercrapf is bogus

Okay, so we had it on in the background. Wxtching it with the mute on and the colours swirling in the tv while we talked crap. Or something, the repetitive nature of these shows means that you don't really need to listen to it very much to get the general idea. We knew Callum won the something and got to pick a team full of his friends, lovers and chums. you would think the best cooks, but i don't really know. that left the rest of the losers seething in red team, embarrassed and angry at not being picked.

The challenge was to make food for a children’s birthday party and to keep this entry to the very least boring state and because there was a distinct lack of data in the show, i’ll keep this brief. The kids got to vote for there favourite dish and there was 150 of the little spoilt bastards. So with a pack of rather nice looking foods arranged out on a red and a respective blue table the kids smeared the food over there faces and then picked the one they liked best.

The red teams food looked way better. The main brat got to wack 10 points on the table for the best birthday cake. She picked the miserable little blue teams cake, apparently. But her little eyes lit up when she first ate the red teams giant fortress soccer cake. It was fucking magnificent.

Intheend dragged out over endless commercials, they announced the winner. blue team got 83 points which is 73 points plus cake. So the red team got 77 points. Hmm so it came down to the cake. I think the producers had intended for the blue team to win the competition and had to coax the kid into picking the blue cake to make sure they got their wishes. Most suspicious was that there was no footage of the main brat actually saying what cake she liked. If indeed she did pick the blue cake.
okay okay, so it's crap. why did i bother watching over produced shit. fuck it, lets get on with our lives. Look how long this post is. I must be mad. Why are you still reading this?

Your Spelling ugly.

Into this popular brand donut house I stroll and take a look at the merchandise. I channel a Little Larry David and start to ask the sort of mind numbing questions that drive minimum wage slaves to drink.

What’s Kreme? I demand to know. Is it some sort of demented oil sugar mixture or rather real cream but warped in name only.

‘which ones are most popular??” my humble attendant ponders, looking startled. Completely missing even a vague idea of what I was inquiring about. err sorry, she hazards.

I point at the donut, she can't see, What's creme with a K?

Woken from her stupor with my inane line of questioning, she came around the front to see what I was blowing on about. Kreme with a K? what are they playing at. She didn’t seem to know. Real cream mixture. Could be any poison really. So I order my poison packet of non-cream, Kreme injected deep fried bread. Reaching into the back of the tray she pulls the ugliest specimen and squeezes it hard enough with the tongs to leave a mark.

Guess I left an impression on her too.

I should hve taken a photo of the thing. pictures make posts more pretty.