For fucks sake, I just came back from watching a brief seven minutes of the new Survivor series... and I thought television could never again insult my intelligence more so than it did during the 2nd season of Big Brother. I can't handle these cocky fucking American's who believe they are king fucking shit. Its all about how fucking great they are at this, and how god-damn fantastic they are at something else. Is there such a thing as a humble American, or is that like asking for a sober Irishman or a poor Jew?And while speaking of the bastards, is it 'Sex and the City', or 'Sex in the City'? After hours of watching the bra-burning bullshit I still have no idea which way it is. Its a sad state of affairs when two young, buffed, and terribly masculine guys *cough*cough*beats chest*cough*cough* are forced to sit down and watch Snozz Jessica Parker discuss all fucked up manner of things including pearl underwear and pearl necklaces, and may I mention that only one of those is of the Oyster bearing variety. How tragic it is when every other channel is playing such utter shit that the girl of the house gets the over-ruling say on the rubbish we have to watch on the idiot box. I'd like to say that I learned something from said viewing, but instead I think I'm better off trying to repress and forget what was witnessed. My God is it a sad day for television.
Its been years between posts and I do apologise to those who have been hanging out for more updates. I've been terribly busy lately and there is very little to be said, so just BACK OFF, okay, don't pressure us! I mean, ahem, thanks for showing concern, we'll be sure to get back into the post writing swing. But seriously, what are you thinking? Get yourselves a real hobby like knitting or kidnapping, or something! We can only do so much!
My eyes sting, they ouchy a lot. Natural light causes my eyes to water, but this isn't salt water that wells in my eyes, oohh no Julian, it feels far more acidic, like my eyes are weeping a form of orange & kiwi fructus and it burns. And before you say it, I'm not sad, I'm not about to launch into a poem about dead penguins and small baby seals that have been clubbed to death by maruading Eskimo's. I've just been lacking the sleep, I need more of the sleep. Oooh sleep, I miss you like the artic misses the endagered East-Alaskan polar bears. Ohh no, I can feel some more fructus welling up.
Theres not much else to report on really. I am getting quite tired of the look of this site. Well I don't mind the lay out, but it needs a little more colour (ie. something that isn't three shades of red). I was thinking that we need a new banner, or perhaps a logo, or anything really. I was also thinking of perhaps some comic book looking pictures of John Cutter and I in action doing what we do best... and I have no idea what that actually is. Anyway, I'm willing to offer fabulous prizes and twelve straight nights of crazy wild monkey lovin* to anyone who's willing to help spruce up the website a bit so that it doesn't look so damn bloody codd ordinary. This isn't me asking nicely for tips, this is a beg on both knees for some artistic assistance. I know you clever kids are out there, jumping at a chance to help!!!!
That's all for now really,
Jake Jameson
*Crazy wild monkey sex only available to the first forty-three succesful female applicants.
