Shmowzow!

There is a great sadness in Room 2 at the moment. A great sadness, for we have run out of Adventure Time episodes to watch.

We have been enjoying Finn and Jake's escapades for a few weeks now, but alas it has come to an end. At least until series three airs and some kind soul puts it on YouTube.

Sure, we have attempted to fill the void with X-Men movies, and those are great. But you'll never see Wolverine and the gang looking after secretly evil piglets in adorable outfits, or terrorising Lumpy Space Princess because they think they're invisible. 

Nor has any of the dialogue from X-Men infiltrated by day-to-day speech (although admittedly I do frequently find myself humming the theme tune from the cartoon). It's surprising how useful phrases like 'shmowzow' and 'I'll kill you Lumpy Space!' can be.

So yeah. We may be out of options, but you, dear reader, are not. Have a watch.

Actual news tomorrow.

Joel.

WKD RNT

Now I know that for a lot of you readers this blog entry represents a mere five-minute respite between two humongous slabs of revision. I may have pointed out that I'm pretty much on summer holidays now because exams don't really enter into the equation for me, but as a show of solidarity I've come into uni anyway. Admittedly I'm just here to kill time and fuck about, but I hope you appreciate the gesture regardless.

At any rate, before I boot up Cubase 5 to compose some beatz, I've a topic to discuss with you all. On my way here, I passed a bus shelter advert for the new purple WKD, and in large, white capitals it posed the question, "IT'S NEW. IT'S WKD. IT'S PURPLE. WHAT'S NOT TO LIKE?"

Well, I don't have much else to report today - my yesterday evening mostly consisted of losing at Tetris - so I'm going to answer that question, thereby gunning the campaign down with my twin pistols of wit and exhaustive research.

IT'S NEW.

Is that always a good thing? Sure, new is exciting and shiny but behind that polished exterior lies disappointment and depression. Each new Pirates of the Caribbean film is worse than the last. Albums that come out nowadays are seldom as good as Attack of the Grey Lantern. And the best new chocolate bars to hit the shelves tend to be the ones that were already discontinued once and have been resurrected by tireless Facebook campaigns (and if everyone could get behind this one, that would be lovely, ta).

I'm popping down the shop in a bit, would you prefer a Wispa or a Spots v Stripes bar?

Exactly. New is crap.

IT'S WKD.

Back in my teetotal days, when even asking me to hold your drink would be met with a look of distinct mistrust, I was often told that WKD and other alcopops were a good place to start, alcohol-wise. They don't taste that much of actual alcohol, and this, presumably coupled with the fact that it comes in a squishy bottle, means that a lot of teenage girls start here before wading into heavier stuff.

Eventually I was talked into trying a sip or two of WKD, and lo and behold, it tasted...not great.

So between a mediocre flavour and the fact that it has probably introduced thousands of wide-eyed teenagers to binge drinking, I'm sure we can find something to hold against it. Like the name: 'WKD Original Vodka'. Really? Because I'm reliably informed by Wikipedia that:

"According to the Gin and Vodka Association (GVA), the first documented production of vodka...was in Russia in the late 9th century."

Hm. Let's check the WKD article:

"The drink was first marketed in Scotland under the name 'Wicked' and was launched in August 1996."

9th Century Russia...Scotland, Summer of '96. You decide which is the 'original' vodka.

IT'S PURPLE.

It's back to Wikipedia to tell us the problem there:

"In parts of East Asian countries such as Japan, purple is known as the color of death."

 Now obviously that's a cultural thing that doesn't really apply in the UK, but you know what else purple is associated with? Royalty. And let's see what unbiased social commentators Republic have to say about royalty:

"The monarchy is damaging to those caught up in it, it is unaccountable and it acts as a drag on our democratic process."

Much like WKD.

WHAT'S NOT TO LIKE?

Several things, as I feel I have shown rather thoroughly by now. In bullet point form, then:

• It's not something we've seen before, and as there was no Facebook campaign for the purple WKD I think we can all agree that there's no demand for it whatsoever.
• It claims to be vodka when it clearly isn't.
• WKD is basically responsible for the corruption of Britain's youths.
• If past form is to be believed, it probably doesn't taste that nice.
• Japanese people will associate it with death (think of the decline in tourism!)
• It's a "drag on our democratic process".

Also, am I the only one who finds it odd that the WKD adverts tend to be aimed at men aged 20-30 who clearly ought to be watching the football with a pint? Because that's completely the wrong target audience for an alcopop, surely.

The weather's nicer today, isn't it?

Joel.

Joel Is From The 90s

On Friday I arrived home from uni to find a small, thoroughly wrapped parcel on my bed. I was damp and pissed off, because it was raining and I had just spent 35 minutes of my precious lifespan at a bus stop (I'm guessing there was some sort of cocktail party in Blimbo), but the arrival of said parcel cheered me up no end. Also I had just been to Cadawalder's with Sarah and we had eaten a chocolate muffin ice cream sundae thing each so I had a little extra cheer anyway. That is to say:

   2 Good things (Muffin Sundae + Parcel Arrival)
 - 1 Bad thing (Waiting Ages In The Rain For A Bus)
 = 1 Good thing

By the by, if anyone uses the term "muffin sundae" as a euphemism for something dirty, I'll sue them. But yes, this somewhat overly wrapped thing turned out, as I had suspected, to be the N64 game I had ordered from eBay some days previously. And if there's one thing more fun than playing WWF No Mercy as a ten-year old child, it's playing WWF No Mercy as an almost-not-even-a-teenager-anymore grownup, because you get the added bonus of nostalgia.

I of course grabbed the N64 from Cliffey's and started failing to challenge the Light Heavyweight championship with Edge straight away. Cliffey soon joined in and we had a Royal Rumble. I won with Shane McMahon. Cliffey was utterly humiliated.

At any rate, it turned out that Friday was Bonfire Night, so I eventually managed to tear myself away from the old-skool federation antics and go to the Co-Op, where I bought some glorious toffee apple sausages and did a baked potato to go with them. I care little for fireworks, but I am really rather keen on food, so I made sure to do it right. Pete and Alex and some of Alex's friends did actually let off some fireworks in the alley, but Sarah and I were perfectly content to watch - and listen - from our room. Josh and I had been to a music quiz the previous night (we came last, damn picture round, damn Boy George and Adam Ant looking a lot more like bald mental patients than they used to) and the indoor fireworks that had rounded that off were quite underwhelming enough for me, thank you.

Joel.

P.S. Upon my return from the music quiz at Y Fuwch Goch, Sarah, Soph, Cliffey and I sat in the living room catching up on quiz shows for a couple of hours. I think I got a couple of the questions on University Challenge right but what I'm most proud of is spotting that Grass, Dragon, Poison and Fighting were all types of Pokémon on Only Connect. A huge moment I'm sure you'll agree.

These Conversations Did Not Take Place

But They Might Have.

* * *

Joel: You know what was a great song?
Cliffey: What?
Joel: The theme tune from Mummies Alive!
Cliffey: I...can't say I remember that.
Joel: Well you suck.

* * *

Gem: Dammit! Who the hell eats curry out of a glass, anyway?

* * *

Pete: Who wants to come to the shop with me?
Joel: No thanks Pete, I'm not wearing a shirt.
Pete: Sarah?
Sarah: You are a dick!

* * *

Soph: They're all animals!
Man on Only Connect: They're all brands of hand dryer.
Lady from Only Connect: That...is...correct!
Soph: Moh.

* * *

Tom: Oh it's a chance!
Cliffey: Shit!
Tom: Has to score!
Cliffey: Shit!
Tom: YEEEEEEEES! Slotted!
Cliffey: Shit!
Joel: Cliffey, that was your fault.

* * *

Soph: Check out the gloves I stole from work!
Pete: Those are some pretty sweet gloves, Soph.
Alex: Yeah, you're not supposed to take those.
Soph: Shut up, douche!

* * *

Gem: Sarah, did you clean up all those fag butts from outside?
Sarah: Yarr.
Gem: That was Pete's job!
Sarah: He be walkin' the plank.
Gem: I...are you...
Sarah: I'm a pirate today.

* * *

Alex: I'm just feeling kind of...I dunno. I miss you, and Soph keeps calling me a douche, and I don't know how I can hold up a meaningful relationship with a kleptomaniac...yeah...yeah, I know, I have to be strong. Okay. I love you too, JR.

* * *

Joel: And I would do an-eh-theng for love...I would do an-eh-thing for loooOOOVE...I would do an-eh-thiing for love...
Pete: Me ken't believe it's not kastard! 'Cuz it tayests like kastard taystes!

* * *

Sarah: I bought you a flan base, Cliffey.
Cliffey: Awh, thanks, Saz.
Sarah: And Pete, I got you some crisps.
Pete: Quavers? QUAVERS?! NOBODY LIKES QUAVERS, YOU CUR!
Joel: I like Quavers.
Cliffey: God, Pete.

* * *

Soph: I like chicken!
Gem: Soph, living with you is like I bought the dictionary on audiobook and put it on Shuffle.
Soph: I don't read books.

* * *

Tom: I'm working on a rap, right? It's called "The World I Mapped & The Ass I Tapped".
Joel: What?
Tom: It's about Christopher Columbus.
Joel: I'm going to bed.

* * *

For the record, no, I don't know how I managed to insert a hyperlink into my speech.

Joel.

Cliffey's PS3/Fruit Flies!

Well, it was bound to happen eventually, given that using the internet right now means having to borrow someone else's computer, or their iPod, or going to the library, or going home. So I apologise for missing yesterday's update, but if you want a scapegoat to blame then Virgin Media will do nicely. I take pleasure, however, in the knowledge that we've signed up for e-billing, and I won't be able to pay the bills if I can't get on the 'net and read my emails.

So, with my computer still out of action, Cutlery is once again coming to you from Cardiff central library. I'm listening to Consolers of the Lonely by The Raconteurs and I'm raring to make up for lost ground.

Not long after the last update went up, Cliffey managed to fix his PS3, and there was much rejoicing. Somebody trod on it at the first party, you see, and the HDMI cable snapped off while it was still inside the console. Cliffey, of course, was not best pleased, but help was at hand in the form of a man and a website.

When the Virgin man came to install our phone and our TV and our internet that doesn't work properly, Cliffey told him of his plight, and, taking pity, our hero grabbed a pair of pliers and extracted the broken-off bit of cable from the console. Pete mumbled that he could have done the same if someone hadn't stolen his Leatherman at the first party, but Cliffey still had a problem in that he didn't have a cable to replace the broken one. And even if he did, who could say whether or not the PS3 itself had survived the being trodden on incident intact?

All Cliffey could do was leap and see where he landed.  He logged on to eBay, and found an HDMI cable for about £3. It wasn't a huge loss, he reasoned, and if there was the slightest chance that it might revive his PS3 then it would be worth it.

The cable arrived while Cliffey was at work, and when he returned home form his shift, instead of eating or going to bed, the first thing he did was rip open the package, cross his fingers, and try the cable out.

And it worked. Success! No longer would we have to play Fifa '98 on the N64, longing for the almost too realistic face of Wayne Rooney in Fifa '10. No longer would we have to play Robot Wars: Arenas of Destruction on an outdated console. No longer would Cliffey have to swallow his sobs as he passed Soph's room, knowing that she had a working PS3 that hadn't been trodden on.

This whole story is second-hand, by the way. I had very little involvement in the whole episode, so sorry if I got any of the information wrong.

Now for some general house news. Our supply of sticky notes was decimated at the second party, because some delightful people decided to draw dicks on all of them. It's regrettable; we can still write on the greyish bit of cardboard underneath, but it's just not as cheerful.

Having said that, a deficit of post-it notes will almost certainly reduce the number of passive-aggressive notes regarding leftover food, of which there have been one or two of late. We are harbouring one or two fruit flies at the moment, and a few different people (I'm naming nobody) have a few different ideas as to what's bringing them in.

Personally, I think it's the smell coming from Soph's room.

Joel.

P.S. Last night was interesting too but I'll save that for another time. As I missed yesterday's update I'll do one tomorrow to make up for it.

Slugs!

This edition of Cutlery comes to you from the computers in Cathays library, because - and this is a confesson - the house doesn't have an internet connection yet. So far I've been returning to my family's house to update this, but I felt it was about time I went a whole day without going home.

So here I am. Up 'til now I've spent most of the day indoors, because we're due a visit from a) the window repairman (see previous blog) and b) our landlord, who is coming to discuss, among other things, setting up an internet connection. Gem, Soph and Cliffey are all out, but thankfully Pete woke up about an hour ago and very kindly agreed to hold the fort for a bit while I went out for some fresh air.

Since last I updated, I have filled my cupboard with food and moved the remainder of my stuff in, including my TV, my PS1, my DVD player, my Make Your Own Monopoly board, and, well, pretty much all my fun stuff. Today I have watched Dodgeball, played Rayman, and watched as Danny Murphy punched one of JR's German footballers on FIFA '98, but lest this turn into Tales of the Idle I'll wrap this paragraph up and explain the post title.

At around 3.20 last night, Sarah woke me up and told me that Pete wanted me in the kitchen. I asked why, and she informed me that the kitchen was full of slugs.

Being still half-asleep, I panicked. Until moments ago I had been dreaming peacefully about a city made from Lego, and now I had to face an army of slugs trying to eat my battenburg. At first, I refused to leave the bed because, as I told Sarah, "I can't deal with slugs".

But eventually I managed to steel myself and go take a look. I was relieved to learn that the slug armada had failed to reach my food supply, and Pete had already disposed of most of their troops, but jeez. There were two on the floor when I arrived; apparently there had been as many as 7.

And the worst part is that we can't work out how they got in. The doors and windows were all shut, and the scattered trails of slime were of no help, neither leading nor coming from anyway.

So that's another thing I may have to take up with Paul the Landlord. The computer has informed me that my NetLoan session ends soon, so I shall hastily sign off and log out.

Until next time,
Joel.