Bee Brave

Over the last month I have managed to coax five bees out of my room.

I think it's safe to say your little girl is growing up.

[Not that I didn't freak the fuck out EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. But still]

The Fear

This motherfucker lives right outside my bedroom window.



He has been there for more than a month. Every now and then a juicy fly will attach itself to his web and, before I know it, the juicy fly has gone ('it's flown away again sazz, don't worry' 'you sure he's not eaten it?' 'yeah, i'm totes sure [snigger]'). It hadn't really concerned me until a day or two ago when I suddenly allowed the thought to enter my brain: 'what if he got inside?'. To put this into context, and so's I can use an insanely cute picture of my nephew (that's his 'but I was playing with Garfield and now you've stopped me and I hate more than even I can conceive of' face), Mofo lives here (behind the aforementioned Garfield with but one pane of glass separating us):

Like, literally, *just* there.

Before, there was no threat. Now I am terrified. Nothing has changed, he hasn't actually moved but a vague external by-proxy fear is now a different kettle of fish altogether. Shit just got real. And all because I allowed my thoughts to wander.

In theory, I COULD move him but this is no ordinary spider. Bitch is MASSIVE. Like bigger than some of your worst nightmares.

Bigger than Godzilla [picture to scale]


Bigger than Jeff [picture to scale]

"When you gotta go, you gotta go"

Bigger than SHIRLEY! [picture to scale]


[All pictures to scale]

No way I'm touching that thing. Not just because he's bigger than me but I'm scared of the sort of retribution a creature that size may well reap upon me whilst I slumber. It is clear that if you never hear from me again there's only one logical explanation: A spider ate my brains.

Suicide gun? Hand me my suicide bullets.

But it's a gun? It can't 'hand you' anything. SHUT UP! I'm making a point here. The point is: having watched this commercial I must now kill myself.

An instructional video on how to shave your balls? Really? Really, an instructional video on how to shave your balls? Really? If there is a sentence that contains the words 'instructional', 'video', 'shave', and 'balls' I want that sentence to read 'no, we won't be making an instructional video on how to shave balls'. Because you see, people have eyes and those eyes are able to see things (generally) and also people have ears and they can hear sounds that you make (generally).

But just in case you wanted advice on how to shave your balls here is an instructional video to explain how:


Well, anyway, I guess this is my last ever blog post because of how I now have to kill myself and everything. It's been fun. Peace.

I like square butts

THIS JUST HAPPENED TO MY EYES:

[Via Videogum]

Nope Burger King. Nope and nope again. But, on the other hand, yes. One hundred per cents of yes.

Both arguments are compelling I'm sure you'll agree.

Who's Afraid of the Stuffed Animal?

As a general rule, if I am frightened of doing something then I take that as a good indication that I need to be doing it. I do not let fear rule me, confronting your fears is the only way you'll ever grow and learn everything you to about yourself.

Unless it comes to stuffed animals that are too smug or babies who have CGI mouths*.

I was trying to explain my fears to my beau the other day. He insists this is one of the (myriad of) reasons I am a crazy person and why I will end up living in an abandoned railway carriage surrounded by piles upon piles of old newspapers and a bunch of feral cats my only company.

So, here for anyone that requires it, is a handy guide on what is acceptable and what is not acceptable in the name of stuffed animals. The key things to remember are that:
- The animal can't look as if it knows more than you do;
- The animal can't look as if it is judging you in some way;
- The animal can't have the cold black eyes of a serial killer.

It's really quite simple but here are some illustrations of my point:

This monkey knows too much. Any monkey who has eyebrows that can lift that far knows too much. His smile is smug and he is clearly patronising me whilst quietly plotting my destruction.

He must be destroyed.


On the other hand, this monkey is clearly a dumbass. I do not mind this when it comes to stuffed animals. He does not know more than me. He does not want me dead. He knows all what a stuffed monkey should know: n-o-t-h-i-n-g.

This bear has judged, not just me, but all my brethren aswell. Fucking bear can shit off. He's wearing a baseball tee with 'Dusty & Swifty' the cats on it (a t-shirt I clearly want more than anything). His arms and legs akimbo, trying to draw you into his world of evil so he can stab you in the back with a 7" kitchen knife when you least expect it. I am not falling for it. I know when I've been judged harshly and this bear is doing it.



This giraffe on the other hand looks like my red dog when I enquire if she wants puppy dinner or a walk. Her head goes to one side and she says with her eyes 'Did you just say what I think you did?'. That's what this giraffe is saying. It judges not, merely exists. This is acceptable stuffed animal behaviour.



Finally we have the most evil thing my eyes have ever seen:


Do NOT go anywhere alone with this koala. Do NOT do anything he asks of you. He wants to slaughter, not just you, but the entire human race. What scares me is that I think he may succeed. He has the cold, detached look of a determined creature hellbent on destruction. This is the stuffed animal version of Dick Cheney. STAY. AWAY.

When it comes to babies with CGI mouths there is no real explanation needed. According to some, it's 'funny' and 'cute'.

It is neither funny, nor cute.

[But this is a man who laughs at the Orange mobile phone adverts in the cinema and thinks tickle-me-Elmo is adorable. He is not qualified to give any opinions on what is 'funny' or what is 'cute'. Remind me why I'm with him again...]

This advert is an abomination against all the laws of God and man. Firstly, WHO ALLOWED A BABY TO BECOME TO C.E.O OF A FACTORY?! Which Board Execs voted him in? What qualifications did he have that made him the obvious choice to run a regional toilet paper making operation? Has he any other experience that made him the suitable candidate from the many others who must have applied? He doesn't even use toilet paper BEING A BABY AND ALL so what unique perspective is he bringing to the company not even having a basic understanding of what consumers may be looking for in their toilet paper needs? Plus, HE'S A BABY WITH A CGI MOUTH! DON'T LET HIM BE IN CHARGE OF ANYTHING! IT IS SICK AND WRONG!

Anyways, yes, my feelings on this are genuinely this strong. But a 40 second advert is one thing, thanks to my new obsession with Videogum I have discovered that my biggest fear has been realised in a 1999 movie called 'Baby Geniuses'** (and then again in 2004 with 'SuperBabies: Baby Geniuses 2'). Literally everything in my world crumbled when I read about this. 97 minutes (IN A ROW) of babies with CGI mouths being sassy. I have been throwing up since I found out and have not been able to stop. This thing exists in the world. Kathleen Turner and Doc Brown were involved in its production. I can't watch Romancing the Stone or Back to the Future ever again without thinking, in the very far back of my mind, 'Christ, they allowed 97 minutes of babies with CGI mouths to exist. I have to go throw up now'.

It's basically going to put a big dampner on those movies from now on.

Now let us all forget our woes with this song about Beyonce in Burger King and concentrating our engergies on finding where we can purchase a Kid 'n' Play t-shirt.


* I'd like to point out that I like babies who do not have CGI mouths. They are fine. In small doses.
**At least I now know for sure that the culturally accepted plural of 'genius' is 'geniuses' and less 'genii'. A movie about baby geniuses taught me that. Shoot me in the head now. Seriously.