Spent the whole day in Sturff yesterday. It was like I actually had a job, except I neither did any work nor got paid for it. One of the customers said that it would be Christmas soon, which got me all excited until I realised that that's plainly not true (it's 106 days away).
After work Sarah and I walked over the barrage to Cardiff Bay. It was a very nice walk but by the time we got to the bay we felt we'd done enough walking and got a bus to town, and then another back to the house.
Which brings me to my next point, which is FUCK CARDIFF BUS. What the hell happens to the buses when they drop off the electronic board? Are they stuck in some kind of bus limbo? Is that why we then have to wait 15 minutes for the next one?
Last night we watched Ripping Yarns, which was funny, and ate a rather gooey chocolate cake, which was probably rather unhealthy.
Okay, this one's been a bit short so I'm going to fill it out by copying out the NME's review of the new Underwold record (because, surprise surprise, I'm in the library, where they have such intellectual tomes as the NME handy) and replacing selected words with the word 'penis'.
UNDERWORLD
BARKING COOKING PENIS
In the 90's, everyone loved penis and feared the millennium penis. Hence, it makes odd sense that the penis has been misfiring consistently since 1999's 'Beaucoup Penis'. With 'Barking', they manage to spark into life just twice. 'Bird Penis' and 'Penis In Water' are, in the vein of clasic Underworld, simultaneously danceable and menacingly strange. Elsewhere, though, this penis-heavy eighth penis tends to fail when it experiments: 'Louisiana' is a tediously mournful penis song, and 'Diamond Penis' a baffling Doves-style penis-indie anthem. Elsewhere, there are penis-warping forays into bland house, formulaic drum'n'bass and (shudder) penis-out music. Remember that? No? Penis. Niall O'Penis
5
Joel.
P.S. I'm probably not supposed to reproduce content from the NME on my little blog here but who gives a penis.
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