Posing as "Sharon from Cardiff".
... and at that point I was kicked off : (
26.9.06
I Met Girls Aloud Today!
Well, when I say "met", I mean "insulted over a live web chat".
Posing as "Sharon from Cardiff".
... and at that point I was kicked off : (
Posing as "Sharon from Cardiff".
... and at that point I was kicked off : (
25.9.06
Myspace.com
Honestly, I'm not deluded enough to think that railing against myspace.com is in any way edgy or hip- for the record, I think the myspace-type social networking trend is, in essence a good thing, but the people... must the people wreck everything*?
Pout. Head cocked askance. Practiced, identikit deep-and-meaningful look into the webcam. Username that's so kooky, anyone reading it will instantly go clinically batshit-insane. A profile of interests so studied and considered that the desperation leaps off the screen and down your throat. It's narcissism on a fanatical scale- a yearning to appear individual and fascinating, on an identical form being filled in by millions and millions of other identically unique and rare individual wankers. Find me a myspace profile which doesn't feature these traits, and I will personally leave the author a heartfelt message of thanks and congratulation*. Conversely, if you think I'm wrong, let me know why.
"But Mark, how is your blog so different to all that, you hypocritical prick?"
I'm not clamouring for a longer list of friends, I'm not trying to squeeze myself in to any scene in particular, there's no attempt to look sexier, cooler, deeper or more obscure than thou. This is myspace for me as opposed to a window I can stand in to try and woo passers by with my haircut and excellent taste.
Fuck it, I've dried up.
Myspace.com, yesterday.
*If you're a band or a solo artiste trying to get free publicity for your work then I understand, and you can consider yourself off the shit-list. Also if you work in the sex industry, go in peace.
Pout. Head cocked askance. Practiced, identikit deep-and-meaningful look into the webcam. Username that's so kooky, anyone reading it will instantly go clinically batshit-insane. A profile of interests so studied and considered that the desperation leaps off the screen and down your throat. It's narcissism on a fanatical scale- a yearning to appear individual and fascinating, on an identical form being filled in by millions and millions of other identically unique and rare individual wankers. Find me a myspace profile which doesn't feature these traits, and I will personally leave the author a heartfelt message of thanks and congratulation*. Conversely, if you think I'm wrong, let me know why.
"But Mark, how is your blog so different to all that, you hypocritical prick?"
I'm not clamouring for a longer list of friends, I'm not trying to squeeze myself in to any scene in particular, there's no attempt to look sexier, cooler, deeper or more obscure than thou. This is myspace for me as opposed to a window I can stand in to try and woo passers by with my haircut and excellent taste.
Fuck it, I've dried up.
Myspace.com, yesterday.*If you're a band or a solo artiste trying to get free publicity for your work then I understand, and you can consider yourself off the shit-list. Also if you work in the sex industry, go in peace.
The Final Curtain...
... went down last night, and I found myself really pleased with how the whole thing went. It was a hard week- I've got myself a temping job in an office (more on the work sitch in a bit) so I've been nine-to-fiving it then hauling ass to the theatre, plastering on minging greasepaint, taping mic leads all over my hairy self and baking under hot lights for three hours, so by the end of each night I've been wrecked- last night though was really euphoric. An enthusiastic audience and a truly pumped cast made it a really special night. Massive thanks to everyone who came to see it over the week- Laura and family, my brother and sister-in-law, Sianni and Ross (a pleasure, Sir), Tre, Sam and everyone else I haven't mentioned. I hope it went down well.
On Wednesday night a face from my past was in the crowd- an old friend from a show ten years ago who's now a Drama teacher at the school where I failed an English interview a few months back. She was very complimentary about my performance and expressed relief that I didn't get the English job- according to her there'll be an opening in her Drama department soon, and she recommended I apply. Of course I'll do just that, but I won't get excited at this point as I've been disappointed by word-of-mouth before.
Now I have to ponder whether or not i want to get involved in the next show. I can say after the event that it's been lovely, but the long rehearsal process and the fatigue of the performance week were a major pain in the anal canal. I'll have a think about it this week- the decision has a lot to do with what the next show is going to be. I was pleased to be involved in Titanic as it wasn't a show I'd seen before- I'll be less eager to get involved if the company intend trotting out some tired ten-a-penny piece of shite next.
Anyway, it was lovely. Some fantastic backstage memories: whiskey, applause, half-time cigarettes, light shining through dust, panic, frozen seconds, campness, new friends, obscene photographs, all good.
Everyone involved had to write their own entry for the programme, so I thought I'd post mine, if you're interested. Give it a click for the legible version.
Be Thee Well.
x
On Wednesday night a face from my past was in the crowd- an old friend from a show ten years ago who's now a Drama teacher at the school where I failed an English interview a few months back. She was very complimentary about my performance and expressed relief that I didn't get the English job- according to her there'll be an opening in her Drama department soon, and she recommended I apply. Of course I'll do just that, but I won't get excited at this point as I've been disappointed by word-of-mouth before.
Now I have to ponder whether or not i want to get involved in the next show. I can say after the event that it's been lovely, but the long rehearsal process and the fatigue of the performance week were a major pain in the anal canal. I'll have a think about it this week- the decision has a lot to do with what the next show is going to be. I was pleased to be involved in Titanic as it wasn't a show I'd seen before- I'll be less eager to get involved if the company intend trotting out some tired ten-a-penny piece of shite next.
Anyway, it was lovely. Some fantastic backstage memories: whiskey, applause, half-time cigarettes, light shining through dust, panic, frozen seconds, campness, new friends, obscene photographs, all good.
Everyone involved had to write their own entry for the programme, so I thought I'd post mine, if you're interested. Give it a click for the legible version.Be Thee Well.
x
15.9.06
Rosenrot, O Rosenrot.
Unemployment is fucking painful. Driving lessons and bills everywhere. It'll be fine, I'm sure- I'm applying for jobs all over the place. If all else fails there's always the call-centre for a while.
4.9.06
3.9.06
Let's Laugh at the Stupidity of Others!
I found this discarded shopping list in the supermarket earlier. Go on, click on it, it's brilliant.
1.) MOOSE? You can't buy a Moose in Tesco. In fact, I don't think you can find a Moose in any supermarket, although I haven't tried Aldi in a while.
2.) What the frig is "backlunch"?
3.) Baby food? Oh Christ, it's got a child.
4.) Camel? Cemal? Carel? Fuck knows.
I also particularly enjoy the way the author reminds him/herself of the amount of lightbulbs he/she needs- "10 of them". Lovely.
Yes, I know it's very poor to laugh at the idiots, but Laura and I took the "Test the Nation" I.Q test tonight, and we both did okay although she beat my 115 with her very clever 127 mutter mumble curse.
1.9.06
I Never Learn.
I'd like someone to make a Firefox extension that detects whether or not the user has drunk two bottles of wine, then stops them from posting on their blog if it reads "positive".
31.8.06
Press Coverage
The above article is taken from the Gwent Gazette dated 24/08/06. Click for a bigger, readable version, and hey- how's that for a tasteful headline?
29.8.06
Three Weeks Tonight...
... is Brown Trousers night. Seriously, I'm shitting it. The songs are all out of my range and I haven't learned my lines- nothing new there then, eh? Apparently tickets are going really well and we should have a sell-out, which is good news. After all, the only thing worse than turning in a second-rate performance is turning in a second-rate performance to a half-empty theatre, so at least I'll be fucking it up in front of a healthy crowd. Book now for the sham-dram experience of a lifetime!
26.8.06
*Skrit Skrit*
I'm just sort of shaking my head and wondering about this fella, not sure what to make of him. A survivor of some sort of Ichthyosis? Fuck knows. This blog is becoming less about my life and more about me scratching my head wondering what's afflicting others. I'd say "burn victim", but the eyes... Anyway, my life. It was the beautiful Laura's birthday this past weekend, and we celebrated with a day out at one of Britain's most awesome theme-park-cum-animal-sanctuaries, Chessington World of Adventures. A few of the rides were fucked so the theme-park aspect was shit, but we did see some really cool animals, the best of which was the Capybara, world's largest rodent- and look at him, he's fucking massive.
That's the sort of rodent you don't want to see sniffing around your bins, he'd chew your fucking arm off. Unless of course you lived in a well-known Capybara area, in which case you wouldn't even be checking your bins without some sort of recoil-free firearm. Can you tell my heart's not in this post somehow? I sure can. Driving lesson yesterday, I'm getting better. Missed a few Titanic rehearsals what with Laura's birthday and whatever, my dicky back's been playing up a bit. Moan, moan, moan, fuck, I bore myself sometimes. I was planning something special for Laura's birthday, but it didn't quite happen- it will, and I'll keep you posted.(Harri are you okay, Harri are you okay, are you okay Harri?)
18.8.06
Wii vs PS3 Spoof
This exactly sums up why I'm really looking forward to owning the new Nintendo console. Cheap and fun.
I Hate Being Away!
Because I've only just noticed this:
I don't like the plain blue suit one little bit. Of course, a lot of that has to do with the fact that I know I could never get away with it like The Doctor will, effortlessly.
Pic from the BBC site, of course.
I don't like the plain blue suit one little bit. Of course, a lot of that has to do with the fact that I know I could never get away with it like The Doctor will, effortlessly.
Pic from the BBC site, of course.
Summer?
I just don't know how to start this, and I sure as fuck won't be bothered spellchecking when it's over, so sorry in advance. To begin with, let me tell you about last Thursday. I was supposed to be flying myself out to Amsterdam as I've done each year since the millennium, to shake off the horrors of the year and "get in touch" with myself, but, if you're a UK denizen then you'll know that last week some fucking idiot wanna-be amateur bombsmiths with a ridiculous fucking axe to grind had some other ideas. These "bombers" may or may not have even existed- I don't trust the news, I don't trust what I'm told on screen or in print, I never have, all I know is that some argument I have FUCK ALL to do with has gypped me out of a solid four days of blissful intoxicated partying... 
fuck, let me set the scene for you. I awoke at 0600 last Thursday and the first thing I see is these cunts on the left, telling me there's been some sort of "mild terror alert", dressing it up in their stupid fucking GMTV safe morning-friendly smile-talk while I'm thinking "ah Christ, delays then", so I set out, I get to the airport with with time to spare (a feat in itself, of which I was proud) to find fucking bedlam. Bedlam and Babylon. People lining up for hour after hour, British humanity in all it's glory, waiting it's turn, dreading the bad news. It was a massive disorganised funeral. Everyone knew they wern't getting where they going, but everyone was too damn British to make a fuss. A classic example of queuing at it's best. Right, bollocks, I'm not going to whinge about my missed holiday anymore because I'm bored of it, and at least I had one or two good nights fuelled out of sheer frustration and anger (hey, maybe it's not your thing, but if you're in Bristol and you're off your mash on ecstasy pipes and you've got nothing better to do, maybe you should enjoy the fifteen-floor superclub that is Oceana. My thanks go to Owen and Captain Crunch, whether they read this or not, for the textual and moral support).
Anyway.
No more moaning.
On to the positive. I've had a few driving lessons, which have been fun. I'm shit thus far, my clutch control is fucking awful and it's entirely my own fault, but at least I'm making up at last for leaving it this late. A big welcome to any newcomers who've posted comments recently, it doesn't go unnoticed. I appreciate any and all feedback, be it red, white, blue or black ; )
Marko
x
fuck, let me set the scene for you. I awoke at 0600 last Thursday and the first thing I see is these cunts on the left, telling me there's been some sort of "mild terror alert", dressing it up in their stupid fucking GMTV safe morning-friendly smile-talk while I'm thinking "ah Christ, delays then", so I set out, I get to the airport with with time to spare (a feat in itself, of which I was proud) to find fucking bedlam. Bedlam and Babylon. People lining up for hour after hour, British humanity in all it's glory, waiting it's turn, dreading the bad news. It was a massive disorganised funeral. Everyone knew they wern't getting where they going, but everyone was too damn British to make a fuss. A classic example of queuing at it's best. Right, bollocks, I'm not going to whinge about my missed holiday anymore because I'm bored of it, and at least I had one or two good nights fuelled out of sheer frustration and anger (hey, maybe it's not your thing, but if you're in Bristol and you're off your mash on ecstasy pipes and you've got nothing better to do, maybe you should enjoy the fifteen-floor superclub that is Oceana. My thanks go to Owen and Captain Crunch, whether they read this or not, for the textual and moral support).Anyway.
No more moaning.
On to the positive. I've had a few driving lessons, which have been fun. I'm shit thus far, my clutch control is fucking awful and it's entirely my own fault, but at least I'm making up at last for leaving it this late. A big welcome to any newcomers who've posted comments recently, it doesn't go unnoticed. I appreciate any and all feedback, be it red, white, blue or black ; )
Marko
x
20.7.06
12.7.06
9.7.06
"Hey, Nice Shoes!"
I had to pop to the supermarket earlier, and outside were two young lads playing about. As I walked past, one of them called to me "Hey, nice shoes"!
That put a big smile on my face, so a big thanks to those two kids and also to Osiris.
That put a big smile on my face, so a big thanks to those two kids and also to Osiris.
How Much Lewis Can The Internets Handle?
Looks like there's another Lewis with a blog- it's still in it's fledgling stages, but What Up Jarge is up and running. This is a picture of the protagonist enjoying five consecutive pasties.
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