At long last, THE 1.10 PATCH IS HERE!
YOU KNOW YOU LOVE IT, YOU SAD WoW PLAYING FREAKS!
Well, I do atleast. New armour sets, in game weather, and nothing for the little guy, just like it always is.
In other news: haircut!?
I feel ugly. And look a little bit like the lead singer of the vines. Lovely fellas, but i feel a bit of a gimp really.
And that is the end of the news!
I'M FREEEEEEEEEE!
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Thursday, March 23, 2006
So Full of Cold
You heard right folks; stay your distance, make the sign of the crucifix: I've got the lurgy.
Woe and bitterness! Destitution and dishevelment! Get me some fucking aspirin.
My particular strain of lurg is the infamous "man flu", the snivelling, shaking, sweating and generally feverish counterpart of the normal influenza virus which causes men to become quivering, useless lumps (well, more so than usual) and our lives can only be made the better by women! They are immune to this virulent plague and thus must bring us nourishing broth and tissues, as well as trashy comedy movies, and DVD after DVD of the Pink Panther. Not that anyone will do that for me. Bas'ards.
To counteract man-flu, I visited my good friend Benjamin Burns. Not only is he a nigh-on legendary fellow, but a downright wonderful soul to boot. He invited me to his house for the day so I could marvel at his sexy new mac mini and his gorgeous new widescreen monitor, which I heartly recommend that you get, providing you have the money to hand, otherwise it's stealing, or even worse, borrowing. The borrows, I ought to mention, are inclined by their genetic disposition and should not be ostracised for it, nor for being rediculously small. You have been warned.
From Ben's, we went for a walk to buy some icecream, which resulting in a good portion of my afternoon being devoted to eating a whole half tub of Ben and Jerry's Phish Food, the sexiest teeth rotting amalgam known to man. Afterwards, I did verily laze around and feel ill for a while, while listening to Ben scream at the NPC monsters he was cutting down in swathes on World of Warcraft.
A good half hour later, we ventured to a driving range, where I not only caused myself injury and embaressment from smacking myself in the foot with a golf club and slamming the head of it into the floor, sending a catatonic wave of pain up my arm, but I just ache all over now from the overly disciplined pose I had to maintain. Go figure. Ben, on the other hand, drives like a man posessed, more than once causing balls to sail towards the 200 ft marker as though there was no effort at all!
I ought to mention the Choth. A "choth" is a cross between a chav and a goth, the chav being an English "yob" (a violent, arrogant ass) and a goth being.. well, a universally accepted goth. I argue, while many think the chav and the goth are opposite ends of a social spectrum, that the "spectrum" is actually ring like in nature. Suppose at chavs and goths are at the opposite ends of the line, then turn that line into a ring and where do you find them? Yep, right next to eachother in the social order. Both groups are arrogant, irritating, conformist and just too bloody cool for their Thomas the Tank Engine pajamas. One day, we feel, the social groups will meld to produce the "Choth". Their average prose will go something like:
"WAT THE FCK U SED ABOUT MAH MUM!? It makes me so sad that I'm going to go and rock back and forth in a corner somewhere, cut myself, and write depressing poetry with the blood... N THEN I FLATTN UR FCKIN FACE, IF IV GOT ENUFF BLUD LEFT TO NT FAINT, LYK, you villainous dreg..."
And so on and so forth.
Now the Guinness is wearing off, so I will return to the haven of my bed, the only place I feel secure and safe in this lonely, lonely world!
Peace out.
Woe and bitterness! Destitution and dishevelment! Get me some fucking aspirin.
My particular strain of lurg is the infamous "man flu", the snivelling, shaking, sweating and generally feverish counterpart of the normal influenza virus which causes men to become quivering, useless lumps (well, more so than usual) and our lives can only be made the better by women! They are immune to this virulent plague and thus must bring us nourishing broth and tissues, as well as trashy comedy movies, and DVD after DVD of the Pink Panther. Not that anyone will do that for me. Bas'ards.
To counteract man-flu, I visited my good friend Benjamin Burns. Not only is he a nigh-on legendary fellow, but a downright wonderful soul to boot. He invited me to his house for the day so I could marvel at his sexy new mac mini and his gorgeous new widescreen monitor, which I heartly recommend that you get, providing you have the money to hand, otherwise it's stealing, or even worse, borrowing. The borrows, I ought to mention, are inclined by their genetic disposition and should not be ostracised for it, nor for being rediculously small. You have been warned.
From Ben's, we went for a walk to buy some icecream, which resulting in a good portion of my afternoon being devoted to eating a whole half tub of Ben and Jerry's Phish Food, the sexiest teeth rotting amalgam known to man. Afterwards, I did verily laze around and feel ill for a while, while listening to Ben scream at the NPC monsters he was cutting down in swathes on World of Warcraft.
A good half hour later, we ventured to a driving range, where I not only caused myself injury and embaressment from smacking myself in the foot with a golf club and slamming the head of it into the floor, sending a catatonic wave of pain up my arm, but I just ache all over now from the overly disciplined pose I had to maintain. Go figure. Ben, on the other hand, drives like a man posessed, more than once causing balls to sail towards the 200 ft marker as though there was no effort at all!
I ought to mention the Choth. A "choth" is a cross between a chav and a goth, the chav being an English "yob" (a violent, arrogant ass) and a goth being.. well, a universally accepted goth. I argue, while many think the chav and the goth are opposite ends of a social spectrum, that the "spectrum" is actually ring like in nature. Suppose at chavs and goths are at the opposite ends of the line, then turn that line into a ring and where do you find them? Yep, right next to eachother in the social order. Both groups are arrogant, irritating, conformist and just too bloody cool for their Thomas the Tank Engine pajamas. One day, we feel, the social groups will meld to produce the "Choth". Their average prose will go something like:
"WAT THE FCK U SED ABOUT MAH MUM!? It makes me so sad that I'm going to go and rock back and forth in a corner somewhere, cut myself, and write depressing poetry with the blood... N THEN I FLATTN UR FCKIN FACE, IF IV GOT ENUFF BLUD LEFT TO NT FAINT, LYK, you villainous dreg..."
And so on and so forth.
Now the Guinness is wearing off, so I will return to the haven of my bed, the only place I feel secure and safe in this lonely, lonely world!
Peace out.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Nothing Happened Today
But, never-the-less, I am endeavouring to make a post about it! I don't want that hulking goddamned sticker from another site plastered all over the top of my blog, despite the fact that I'm whoring my side-bar to anyone who offers me free things. I'm sure you call something like that "metaphysical prostitution" or some other such crap.
Speaking of metaphysics, I was reading Qwantz.com's latest comic today and it forced me to consider the ideas of intellectual terrorism. The idea truly agrovates me, that someone could look at a piece of what would otherwise be considered valid commentary, or even art and just say "THAT IS TERRORISM IN DRIED PULP FORMAT", or something similar.
I suppose I'm actually saying this in cogitation on my poorly marked RS coursework. I found it the other day and had a quick read through it. I realised that I had done something horrible, something truly formidable in its ability to produce nausea when looked upon reflectively, while thinking that this may have cost me my A-level.
I insulted the examiner.
I think, as far as I can tell, I managed to call them an illiterate idiot while at the same time reassuring them that they'd thank me for it. I cannot even begin to comprehend what lengths of arrogance moved me to this... Despite this, I've felt the need to recreate this opening paragraph for you all right here. I am so very sorry:
--
""It is pointless claiming that scripture is divinely inspired if people cannot agree about how scripture should be interpreted". Discuss.
The title you see veiling this essay is equally as illusory as the content, for you will find very little about scripture pers se, but you will undoubtedly find a lot of words, some may require the use of a dictionary (as I have used many vague and uncommon syllables, merely for the sake of taxing you), and some interesting ideas about a few things which are not words at all. this is a little aberrant for an essay, I know, but you may (and it maybe nice if you do son in written format) thank me for it later, when you're entertaining guests or wooing ladies (or men) down at the bar."
... What in the name of all that is pwnable have I done?
Speaking of metaphysics, I was reading Qwantz.com's latest comic today and it forced me to consider the ideas of intellectual terrorism. The idea truly agrovates me, that someone could look at a piece of what would otherwise be considered valid commentary, or even art and just say "THAT IS TERRORISM IN DRIED PULP FORMAT", or something similar.
I suppose I'm actually saying this in cogitation on my poorly marked RS coursework. I found it the other day and had a quick read through it. I realised that I had done something horrible, something truly formidable in its ability to produce nausea when looked upon reflectively, while thinking that this may have cost me my A-level.
I insulted the examiner.
I think, as far as I can tell, I managed to call them an illiterate idiot while at the same time reassuring them that they'd thank me for it. I cannot even begin to comprehend what lengths of arrogance moved me to this... Despite this, I've felt the need to recreate this opening paragraph for you all right here. I am so very sorry:
--
""It is pointless claiming that scripture is divinely inspired if people cannot agree about how scripture should be interpreted". Discuss.
The title you see veiling this essay is equally as illusory as the content, for you will find very little about scripture pers se, but you will undoubtedly find a lot of words, some may require the use of a dictionary (as I have used many vague and uncommon syllables, merely for the sake of taxing you), and some interesting ideas about a few things which are not words at all. this is a little aberrant for an essay, I know, but you may (and it maybe nice if you do son in written format) thank me for it later, when you're entertaining guests or wooing ladies (or men) down at the bar."
... What in the name of all that is pwnable have I done?
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
If I were a shitty emo song...
My insanely stupid emo name is forget my heart because you're so controversial.
Take The "If Your Name Was An Emo Song... Generator Thingy" today!
Created with Rum and Monkey's Name Generator Generator.
--
Oh yea, you know you love it.
Infact, you love it so much I decided to find out what kind of looter I am!
YARGH!
[I tell a lie, YOU have to tell me what kind of looter am I. Get to clickin' while I steals me some TVs!]
--
What kind of looter am I? You decide!
You can also view a breakdown of results or put one of these on your own page!
Brought to you by Rum and Monkey
--
Monday, March 20, 2006
Ho-ho-ho, tee-hee-hee!
There is nothing, i assure you, nothing funnier than watching your class mates and teacher fly as fast as their legs can carry them toward you, holding and frantically waving a piece of insulated wire in an attempt to measure the size of the horizontal and vertical components of the Earth's magnetic field.
It just makes me weep with joy.
Can't you tell?
It just makes me weep with joy.
Can't you tell?
Saturday, March 18, 2006
All hail Rutherford, king of all things too small to be consequential!
I went down to Oxford yesterday, to the Rutherford Appleton Laboratories for a "Particle Physics Masterclass". It was fun, and dull, but you will learn of this in due time.
My day started at 5:45. Yea, you read right folks, quarter to sodding six in the goddamn, muthafckin morning. Just to get dressed, eat breakfast and be on the road by 6:30. JEE-ZUSS, I have never felt so tired in my entire life!
Arrived at school to find that life was actually confined to being nothing but cold for the next 3 hours, as we rode in chlorine and vomit scented style all the way to the service station about 40 minutes down the motorway. Here I was promptly fucked-over by the guys at the Costa Coffee, where I was charged £1:45 for an espresso. That's roughly 30ml of water and a whole world of tastebud orientated pain. It tasted like burnt trees.
In another 2 hours, after bouts of nausea, irritation, the bad breath of my fellow physicists and more general irriation, we arrived in oxford.
Things got underway pretty sharply with a presentation on what we will be doing today, a little (A LOT) of somethings about particle accelerators and then I fell asleep, awakening to the sound of claps, to which I promptly joined in with.
The next lecture (longer and duller by far), was an overview of particularly complex degree level physics. A masterclass it certainly was, but no one in the room was over 18 apart from the teachers, so most of it went far, far over our heads. The guy who presented it was quite a nice guy though, a tall, stocky black fella from somewhere just north of us (we guessed), who had gone to SLAC, in California. This is another accelerator, for reference; a nice, 2 mile long linear accelerator, and another hefty waste of money. The result was that he had a very comical accent which made me titter on the inside for a while.
An hour later, it was time for another lecture, by an entertaining fellow about accellerators and their various uses, followed by a Q&A session with the same man and his portly, energetic, white haired friend, who ignored most of the meat of the questions asked and talked excitedly about completely different things. However, I did take a bit of knowledge away from this hour long session: bosons, as particles, can exist as a singularity and thus are infinitely stackable! You can put as many as you want into a box, and then add a whole lot more, and the box will never fill! Infact, their very nature makes them more inclined to flock together and pack themselves as tightly as possible! Fermions on the other hand don't like being squished together, and are completely incapable of being stacked.
We were given an analogy of a house being built. If you built a house with bricks which were like fermions, then you'd get a normal house, built normally with normal bricks. However, build a house with bricks like bosons and you end up putting bricks into other bricks. Infact, you could put 20 skipfulls of boson-bricks into the same brick. Amazing.
We then went on a tour of the DIAMOND institute at Rutherford, their brand new particle accelerator that they use to harvest neutrons from heavy elements, like tungsten etc.
Then lunch, which was quite nice I thought. My former physics teacher managed to squirt orange juice all over himself in his excitement, bless 'im.
The rest of the day was too annoying to really mention. We connected up with the particle accelerator at CERN and had another Q&A session, which was periodically cut off. A stupid kid at the other end of our row asked them if the atmospheric pressure difference of working at a mere 80 meters underground made any difference. IDIOT. 80 meters down won't make ANY difference to pressure, or even much to gravity! YOU BLOODY GREAT NINNY.
Afterwards I talked to a guy who was trying to find the "Higgs" boson. Y'see, bosons are particles that associate to the 4 fundamental forces of the universe: the electromagnetic (photons), the weak force (W+, W- and Z0 bosons), the strong nuclear force (neutrinoes) and the puzzler: gravity. As far as we know, there is no associated boson for gravity, although it is predicted to be the "Higgs" boson, but no one's found one yet.
The man I talked to twitched a lot. He seemed likable, happy and psychotic. Apparently he'd worked there ever since he'd left university. I've got nothing else to say other than that.
I made friends with some of the year 12's on the trip home. Glen, a rather cool computer afficionado, Christian, co-host of George Spencer Radio's "From Disco to Death Metal" and "Millsy", someone who I-do-not-really-know-what-he-does.
I got home at 7:30. That's over 12 hours on a school trip T_T, 12 hours I will never ever get back. Hurk.
Went home, then straight to Emily's, where my compadres and pizzas awaited! A fun evening was had by all concerned, and a surely destitute one by those we excluded!
Huzzah!
My day started at 5:45. Yea, you read right folks, quarter to sodding six in the goddamn, muthafckin morning. Just to get dressed, eat breakfast and be on the road by 6:30. JEE-ZUSS, I have never felt so tired in my entire life!
Arrived at school to find that life was actually confined to being nothing but cold for the next 3 hours, as we rode in chlorine and vomit scented style all the way to the service station about 40 minutes down the motorway. Here I was promptly fucked-over by the guys at the Costa Coffee, where I was charged £1:45 for an espresso. That's roughly 30ml of water and a whole world of tastebud orientated pain. It tasted like burnt trees.
In another 2 hours, after bouts of nausea, irritation, the bad breath of my fellow physicists and more general irriation, we arrived in oxford.
Things got underway pretty sharply with a presentation on what we will be doing today, a little (A LOT) of somethings about particle accelerators and then I fell asleep, awakening to the sound of claps, to which I promptly joined in with.
The next lecture (longer and duller by far), was an overview of particularly complex degree level physics. A masterclass it certainly was, but no one in the room was over 18 apart from the teachers, so most of it went far, far over our heads. The guy who presented it was quite a nice guy though, a tall, stocky black fella from somewhere just north of us (we guessed), who had gone to SLAC, in California. This is another accelerator, for reference; a nice, 2 mile long linear accelerator, and another hefty waste of money. The result was that he had a very comical accent which made me titter on the inside for a while.
An hour later, it was time for another lecture, by an entertaining fellow about accellerators and their various uses, followed by a Q&A session with the same man and his portly, energetic, white haired friend, who ignored most of the meat of the questions asked and talked excitedly about completely different things. However, I did take a bit of knowledge away from this hour long session: bosons, as particles, can exist as a singularity and thus are infinitely stackable! You can put as many as you want into a box, and then add a whole lot more, and the box will never fill! Infact, their very nature makes them more inclined to flock together and pack themselves as tightly as possible! Fermions on the other hand don't like being squished together, and are completely incapable of being stacked.
We were given an analogy of a house being built. If you built a house with bricks which were like fermions, then you'd get a normal house, built normally with normal bricks. However, build a house with bricks like bosons and you end up putting bricks into other bricks. Infact, you could put 20 skipfulls of boson-bricks into the same brick. Amazing.
We then went on a tour of the DIAMOND institute at Rutherford, their brand new particle accelerator that they use to harvest neutrons from heavy elements, like tungsten etc.
Then lunch, which was quite nice I thought. My former physics teacher managed to squirt orange juice all over himself in his excitement, bless 'im.
The rest of the day was too annoying to really mention. We connected up with the particle accelerator at CERN and had another Q&A session, which was periodically cut off. A stupid kid at the other end of our row asked them if the atmospheric pressure difference of working at a mere 80 meters underground made any difference. IDIOT. 80 meters down won't make ANY difference to pressure, or even much to gravity! YOU BLOODY GREAT NINNY.
Afterwards I talked to a guy who was trying to find the "Higgs" boson. Y'see, bosons are particles that associate to the 4 fundamental forces of the universe: the electromagnetic (photons), the weak force (W+, W- and Z0 bosons), the strong nuclear force (neutrinoes) and the puzzler: gravity. As far as we know, there is no associated boson for gravity, although it is predicted to be the "Higgs" boson, but no one's found one yet.
The man I talked to twitched a lot. He seemed likable, happy and psychotic. Apparently he'd worked there ever since he'd left university. I've got nothing else to say other than that.
I made friends with some of the year 12's on the trip home. Glen, a rather cool computer afficionado, Christian, co-host of George Spencer Radio's "From Disco to Death Metal" and "Millsy", someone who I-do-not-really-know-what-he-does.
I got home at 7:30. That's over 12 hours on a school trip T_T, 12 hours I will never ever get back. Hurk.
Went home, then straight to Emily's, where my compadres and pizzas awaited! A fun evening was had by all concerned, and a surely destitute one by those we excluded!
Huzzah!
Thursday, March 16, 2006
Can I just say...
...JOE FOR THE WIN!!!
I got a response from my beloved "vixen", as Lauren is wont to call her (although I have taken to thinking of her as "Grace Kelly", the great English beauty). An e-mail, thank the lord, as I'd have had no idea of how to talk to her in person. She'll be chatting with me on MSN for a while in a bid to get to know me a little better providing things go well.
God bless life.
God bless love.
God bless the people who invented the internet; you know who you are.
--
Before I forget, in my elation, check out the guys over at Decomposure, making sexy noises by unceremoniously destroying bathtubs.
I got a response from my beloved "vixen", as Lauren is wont to call her (although I have taken to thinking of her as "Grace Kelly", the great English beauty). An e-mail, thank the lord, as I'd have had no idea of how to talk to her in person. She'll be chatting with me on MSN for a while in a bid to get to know me a little better providing things go well.
God bless life.
God bless love.
God bless the people who invented the internet; you know who you are.
--
Before I forget, in my elation, check out the guys over at Decomposure, making sexy noises by unceremoniously destroying bathtubs.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
The Romantic Misadventures of Joe Beaver
OH BLIMEY.
Lately, my "love life", for want of a better phrase, has taken quite an interesting turn!
For valentines day, as it is a day entirely saturated with romance and ardour, I decided to tell a girl in the year below exactly how I felt about her, to the tune of "my goodness you make me salivate in awe!" but far nicer, of course.
I had perhaps realised that this particularly beatific slice of heaven didn't check her e-mails ever-so often, so I sent it well in advance, back in January in fact, and she only received it yesterday.
There is part of me which is absolutely mortified that anyone can be away from a computer for such a long time, but at the same time I am genuinely impressed for exactly the same reasons.
Anyway, it had quite the effect! All of her friends now find me a little adorable at least and I have yet to speak to the vixen in question. And herein lies my dilemma: I have never spoken to this girl before. I sent the e-mail just because I found her attractive and thought she seemed to be a nice person. And now I have no idea what to do. From what I can tell she's quite shy, so any hope of her approaching me is very, very slim.
If anyone has any idea how to help me, then please, for the love of God, comment!
--
I also found this, and thought it was just pretty awesome: If you're not already a member of Podiobooks.com and you like your fiction short, punchy and in an audio rather than text based format, be sure to give these guys a look.
--
Peace out.
Lately, my "love life", for want of a better phrase, has taken quite an interesting turn!
For valentines day, as it is a day entirely saturated with romance and ardour, I decided to tell a girl in the year below exactly how I felt about her, to the tune of "my goodness you make me salivate in awe!" but far nicer, of course.
I had perhaps realised that this particularly beatific slice of heaven didn't check her e-mails ever-so often, so I sent it well in advance, back in January in fact, and she only received it yesterday.
There is part of me which is absolutely mortified that anyone can be away from a computer for such a long time, but at the same time I am genuinely impressed for exactly the same reasons.
Anyway, it had quite the effect! All of her friends now find me a little adorable at least and I have yet to speak to the vixen in question. And herein lies my dilemma: I have never spoken to this girl before. I sent the e-mail just because I found her attractive and thought she seemed to be a nice person. And now I have no idea what to do. From what I can tell she's quite shy, so any hope of her approaching me is very, very slim.
If anyone has any idea how to help me, then please, for the love of God, comment!
--
I also found this, and thought it was just pretty awesome: If you're not already a member of Podiobooks.com and you like your fiction short, punchy and in an audio rather than text based format, be sure to give these guys a look.
--
Peace out.
Saturday, March 11, 2006
The Scholastic Maladies of Karry Valentine.
Poor, poor Mr. Valentine... He really does not deserve this kind of trauma... I digress, allow me to tell you the whole story.
Yesterday I got the results back for all of my january modules, and for most of them I was pretty pleased! When I say "all", I actually just mean "three", and when i say "pretty please", i mean 2 of those were quite exemplary and I am well chuffed. RS however, now that's a very different story.
I went to the RS class to be greeted by a very maudlin mood, I would even go so far as to say morose, or perhaps melancholic. It turns out the marking on our coursework was akin to the saddest of greek tragedies, an utter travesty, a sham, a mockery of our scholastic system! Some of those expected to do well had done well, very well infact, however, some of us had our estimated marks mangled out of all recognition. I was set to get a high A for it, it had been marked and corelated by all of the RS staff as being roughly worth 82/90 (which is actually 41/45, meaning I dropped 4 marks on the whole thing). When the results came in, however our examiner had marked mine at an E.
I was distraught.
Mr. Valentine, our moral and ethical guide through the course, was equally as deflated. It wasn't just me you see; people writing of the same capability as myself did even worse. A friend of mine, incredibly capable, got a U, and another a D. Mr. Valentine had never had marks this bad in all of his teaching career, and he couldn't for the life of him figure out why. There was a point, in my eyes, where he delved so deep into his instantaenious depression that he just sat there and was almost moved to tears.
The papers come back on thursday and we'll be going through the examiners comments. If they are utter rubbish he and Miss Rudd, our other RS teacher, may consider sending them back to be remarked. If that doesn't happen then I'll have to sit an exam to make up the marks.
I just can't believe it happened though! As a result of that, i could never bring my overall RS result back up to an A, and all of my prospective universities require a grade A in RS atleast. In fact, I would need to average over 110% on the last two papers to get my A standard back.
It's enough to make a man weep.
Yesterday I got the results back for all of my january modules, and for most of them I was pretty pleased! When I say "all", I actually just mean "three", and when i say "pretty please", i mean 2 of those were quite exemplary and I am well chuffed. RS however, now that's a very different story.
I went to the RS class to be greeted by a very maudlin mood, I would even go so far as to say morose, or perhaps melancholic. It turns out the marking on our coursework was akin to the saddest of greek tragedies, an utter travesty, a sham, a mockery of our scholastic system! Some of those expected to do well had done well, very well infact, however, some of us had our estimated marks mangled out of all recognition. I was set to get a high A for it, it had been marked and corelated by all of the RS staff as being roughly worth 82/90 (which is actually 41/45, meaning I dropped 4 marks on the whole thing). When the results came in, however our examiner had marked mine at an E.
I was distraught.
Mr. Valentine, our moral and ethical guide through the course, was equally as deflated. It wasn't just me you see; people writing of the same capability as myself did even worse. A friend of mine, incredibly capable, got a U, and another a D. Mr. Valentine had never had marks this bad in all of his teaching career, and he couldn't for the life of him figure out why. There was a point, in my eyes, where he delved so deep into his instantaenious depression that he just sat there and was almost moved to tears.
The papers come back on thursday and we'll be going through the examiners comments. If they are utter rubbish he and Miss Rudd, our other RS teacher, may consider sending them back to be remarked. If that doesn't happen then I'll have to sit an exam to make up the marks.
I just can't believe it happened though! As a result of that, i could never bring my overall RS result back up to an A, and all of my prospective universities require a grade A in RS atleast. In fact, I would need to average over 110% on the last two papers to get my A standard back.
It's enough to make a man weep.
Thursday, March 09, 2006
BWAHAHA.
Cower mere mortals, FOR I AM YOUR JESUS, MOHAMMED AND BUDDHA COMBINED!!!
Well, not quite, but I did manage to get my hands on just about all the sexy new betas from microsoft!
You can find a screenshot of the MSN 8 beta here, along with my desktop. I have no idea if it's expandable or not. I guess I'll change it if it isn't. M'kay?
The theme is "Royal Vista", the icons are "High Vista PX" and that web browser you see hiding down there is Internet Exlorer 7 beta 2. The background, I ought to add, is part of the desktopography abstract wallpaper set, one of which can be found here.
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
The permanent hop and the life of Joe Beaver
Well, seems I've made a very final move to the world of blogger. I've up'd sticks at deadjournal, deviantART (the journal at least) and MSNspaces, and this, to all intents and purposes, appears to be my meta-physical interweb based home.
I'll start by saying that, for the most part, I have nothing to say about the world. I'll get passionate every once in a while (usually about drivel), but I sure as hell won't do a daily blog about how woeful/wonderful/bemusing my little part of the world is. You may hear about it infrequently, but by the end of my blogging career you certainly won't be able to tell me everything i've had for breakfast for the past x amount of years, unlike some blogs.
For the moment, however, I would love to talk about how... what's the word...? "Supportive" seems to be appropriate, however "stupid" fits the bill better. Yes, I very much want to talk about the misappropriation of funding at my school. I put forth to them the idea of recording and podcasting lessons, for those who miss a couple or just want to revise from them. I was told "yea, sure, tell us what we need to buy and we'll buy it!"
I mean... What? You don't just tell that to an egotistical 18 year old, do you? I could go mad and buy a Ferrari and move to Redding.
Speaking of podcasting, it looks like mine won't be going ahead. I don't have the server space, or the demand, so I should be participating in a talk radio style one sometime soon, and, naturally, I will link to it with incredible frequency as and when it comes up.
On a more vulgar note, however, I found out that the word "twat" means a lot more than I ever thought it did. To quote wikipedia, font of all knowledge:
I'll start by saying that, for the most part, I have nothing to say about the world. I'll get passionate every once in a while (usually about drivel), but I sure as hell won't do a daily blog about how woeful/wonderful/bemusing my little part of the world is. You may hear about it infrequently, but by the end of my blogging career you certainly won't be able to tell me everything i've had for breakfast for the past x amount of years, unlike some blogs.
For the moment, however, I would love to talk about how... what's the word...? "Supportive" seems to be appropriate, however "stupid" fits the bill better. Yes, I very much want to talk about the misappropriation of funding at my school. I put forth to them the idea of recording and podcasting lessons, for those who miss a couple or just want to revise from them. I was told "yea, sure, tell us what we need to buy and we'll buy it!"
I mean... What? You don't just tell that to an egotistical 18 year old, do you? I could go mad and buy a Ferrari and move to Redding.
Speaking of podcasting, it looks like mine won't be going ahead. I don't have the server space, or the demand, so I should be participating in a talk radio style one sometime soon, and, naturally, I will link to it with incredible frequency as and when it comes up.
On a more vulgar note, however, I found out that the word "twat" means a lot more than I ever thought it did. To quote wikipedia, font of all knowledge:
"The term is more commonly used to indicate the following:
- A fool
- One who behaves in a childish, extroverted manner
- To hit something (or someone) really hard
- To become drunk or otherwise intoxicated - 'Let's get twatted'
There is an urban legend that "twat" is a term for a gravid goldfish."
I also thought back on the long known knowledge of my favourite word, callipygous.
I'll leave you to mull on that.
Goodnight, and God bless.
(Not that I'm Christian or anything. Goddamnit, I hate religion so hard.)
Monday, March 06, 2006
Episode 00: The Introduction
Hello, and welcome to the home of the "It's All A Test" podcast, a revision aid for those on the United Kingdom OCR board higher education Religious Studies course!
The basic idea is that I prepare revision notes, record myself talking about a variety of rubbish and publish the results using Feedburner.com. You can then listen to the resulting garbage using iTunes, Odeo and, seeing as its all in .mp3 format, you can listen to it on the go, tucked up in bed, or subliminally while you sleep! I should also try and publish a typed version of the show-notes so you have something to read along with if you have nothing better to do.
You can find the podcast feed at http//feeds.feedburner.com/itsallatest, with any luck.
For the time being, all you'll have to listen to is this handy introduction. All I do here is outline the ethos, but I'm really just making sure everything works ok ^^;
Sorry about that.
The basic idea is that I prepare revision notes, record myself talking about a variety of rubbish and publish the results using Feedburner.com. You can then listen to the resulting garbage using iTunes, Odeo and, seeing as its all in .mp3 format, you can listen to it on the go, tucked up in bed, or subliminally while you sleep! I should also try and publish a typed version of the show-notes so you have something to read along with if you have nothing better to do.
You can find the podcast feed at http//feeds.feedburner.com/itsallatest, with any luck.
For the time being, all you'll have to listen to is this handy introduction. All I do here is outline the ethos, but I'm really just making sure everything works ok ^^;
Sorry about that.
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