I was trying to think about what to write about without touching on certain subjects such as politics etc. So I went on a hunt for material. What did I find? Panda Porn. And I don’t mean this in the dodgy Human vs Animal in illegal (in most countries) sexual battle type Panda Porn. What I found is a story where they are filming 2 Panda’s in grunting squidgy encounters to show to other Panda’s who appear to be unaware of what to do with each other.

Has it not occurred to them that the reason they aren’t getting on with it is because maybe one is gay? Or they are just not compatible? Panda’s lasted until now, so obviously they do have sex. Maybe they don’t enjoy being watched when they are trying to get their freak on?! I am pretty sure that if I was hoping to spend some time investigating my wife, and there were a group of Panda’s watching, that I probably wouldn’t be too keen to carry on until they went away.

They go on to say that after the “encounter”, the female Panda is known to beat the living hell out of the male. This is a problem? Because some human males pay good money to enjoy that side of it! Maybe she is just not happy with his performance? Maybe he deserved it? Of course, should my wife decide that she feels a need to punch me afterwards, I will be having some strong words. But in the Panda world, it is apparently normal. Does this mean that every male Panda is pants in the sack or that the women are just too difficult to please so he does the job and then heads off to eat bamboo with the lads and talk about the Panda at the end of the bar in the short skirt who has the morals of a randy hamster.

I wonder if the video didn’t work because there was some dodgy foreign language dubbed over it and “oohh yes…Me Love Panda Loving – Show me your bamboo baby” in some Arabic language just didn’t float their boat. And is it wrong that I am actually seriously thinking of looking for it on the net? No, that can’t be wrong as I can watch Animal Planet and see a lizzard playing slip and slide on a daily basis.

They go on to say that the female Panda happily sits there and eats an apple while watching the film rather then getting jiggy with it with the male Panda. On mentioning this to my wife, she said “well everyone likes popcorn and a movie”. There you have it Mr and Mrs Scientist people. An accountant worked out what you cannot. You will need to take the Panda’s out for a nice meal before showing them the video. They will have had so much to eat, they will be more interested in working it off then chowing down on an apple.

You can view the original source HERE

I saw an advert for hotels.com the other day. It said “Find out everything you need to know!”. So I went there and asked if Elvis was alive. They couldn’t answer me. Actually, they offered me a hotel in Fiji. So I don’t know really. Was that a subliminal “psssst…he is over there.” reply? Why do they make it so cryptic? Why do they not just say “Of course he bloody isn’t. Why won’t you people get over it already?!” And will people be asking this question in 50 years time? I think they probably will. At that point I am going to start sending them to the stupid island.

It was just after this that I saw yet another person imagining that they can make a lot of money online without actually doing anything. I really hate those sites. You go there, and it is a page of ads with no content whatsoever. So is the person writing it contentless, or just incontinent? Because naturally, when I see a page of ads, I feel a huge need to order some viagra, check my stocks and shares and book a holiday to Tikrit in Iraq. That way the website wannabee will make lots of money while I on the otherhand will look like I am packing a piece in Saddam’s home town while waving my money about the place. I see that as having potential problems with me extending my life.

But should you feel the need to want to try and make money with a lot of ads on your site…give up. It won’t work. Really. Just stop. People think you are stupid and want to throw rocks at you.

Instead, I have come up with a master plan and a guaranteed way to make money. I have not tried it myself yet, so give it a few days before you try OK? Afterall, I thought of it so I should get to be the first to reap the benefits.

What you do is: Write to Microsoft and say You! Don’t! Need! Yahoo!. For a mere $20Billion, I will tell everyone they need to go to MSN to search for stuff. And my mate crazy Dave said he will personally tattoo “Search! Using! Microsoft!” on my behind. (You need great buns and a penchant for showing them off for this part of the advertising to work out, so actually, give me more then a few days as I need to get in training)

Then if 2 of us do this, M$ have spent the $40Billion on 2 purchases rather then just Yahoo!.

I don’t get why people dont think of this stuff before they plaster their sites with useless annoying ads and then lie and say they make thousands a month. Thousands of Yen maybe…

As for me? I’m a winner, which is why I think of the great ways to do things (and then never actually do them). Well, that is what my Mum said. I believe she may be bias though. Therefore I took my research on this to the public at large. After many “Who the hell are you?” and “Go away or I will hit you” comments, I asked my Mum again. Yup. I’m a winner!

Note: I used the words “guaranteed to make money online” to see how many people wander over here from a search engine looking for the promise of wasting thie time and mine.

There is no such thing as a “healthy food”. No matter what all these so called experts say. I know this because *I* am an expert and know more then everyone else. This is a well known fact because someone once said to me “you know everything don’t you”. I ignored the sarcastic undertones and the look of “your such an idiot” that she had on her face, and took just the words. It’s all about the words!!

I hate vegetables, with the small but not limited exception of the likes of potatoes. Therefore eating vegetables are not healthy for me. Why? Well, because they make me want to empty my stomach in to the toilet. They make me feel ill. Thus, not healthy. After doing some of my usual stellar investigation which involves deciding in my head rather then really looking in to it, I can tell you that your body rejects what is not good for it.

But when it comes to the food at the place I work, it is more then likely to stop my heart rather then stop my hunger at some point. I work at a big place. Thousands of employees. So understandably, they cater for that many people. So why is it that the other day, food actually walked itself on to my plate in the interest of ending it’s sorry life by being eaten? Because hardly anyone will eat there. I do though. I do because I like the not knowing how much longer I have to live. It is like playing russian roulette with mash potato. And also because I am scared the food (I use the term loosley) will find out that I am eating elsewhere.

The health inspectors wanted to shut it down, but cant get close enough. On entering the premises, the sausages launched a sneak attack and the eggs created a slippery surface they couldnt pass. Meanwhile, what was left of the rest of the dried up cow crap (aka food) jumped on the back of the sahara roast beef joint and legged it to get changed in to something more appealing. By the time the inspectors made it through, the food looked almost edible in its new clothing. Once they left, off came the new clothing and back came the rancid mess.

So I started taking lunch to work. Those pesky sausages actually did a commando jump from the air vent in my office, stole it and held it to ransom.

Is it really too much to ask that they cook food which is OK for human consumption? Apparently yes.

I am now going to go underground before the sausages come looking for me. Wish me luck.

By the way, I took photos of the food so you know I am not making this up. In the first picture, I am only holding the 1 sausage. The others felt a need to stick together and end their sorry life together. In the other picture, it is tomatoes I believe. Click the image for a higher res copy. Enjoy, I know I didn’t.

Well it didn’t take long for more candidates for the list to be sent to the stupid person island to appear. Loading up the boat this week are:

“GREENbin – New Collection Service for Garden Waste” the front page ad of the local freebie newspaper shouts at me with excitement when I read it.

Wow. The words send a tingly feeling of excitement that I haven’t felt since I was 11 when I stood on a rusty nail and had an injection in my behind by an attractive nurse while my hormones sent me a bright red colour and gave off as much sweat as a 5 mile run.

A GREENbin don’t you say?! And that is JUST for garden waste! How cool. The local council won’t normally take that for us. Just one slight issue. These GREENbin‘s are to stand alongside the current bins we have for our standard rubbish for when Mr Refuse Collector comes and takes away the rubbish.

Our current bins are green. Dark green actually. Infact, the exact same colour as the new bins.

I need a new job. One like the genius who decided to use the same colour bins. I want to give him this message – Those that are colour blind think you are a saviour. The rest of us think you are really stupid.

But that is just the thing isn’t it. Those geniuses run our County, Country, Lives. You just cannot escape them. Even pets get the stupid treatment. “Roasted meaty pieces!” is plastered on the front of the cat food box. It then goes on to tell us why our cat will love us more for it.

Roasted? Of course it is. Because in the wild, it is well known that a tiger will catch a boar and then stick it on a fire until medium rare. Meanwhile, it will lay down a nice blanket, and have cookies and milk with the other tigers while the Lions talk about the game of catch they had with a monkey at the weekend.

I think that if I put down a bowl of roasted cat food, and then let Zorro the parrot out of his cage, I will still see the same bowl of food there in an hour. Zorro on the otherhand will be having claw to paw combat to try to save his life fighting off a drooling cat.

Then there is the birthday card I bought for a friend. Because it is customary to buy stupid cards rather then sensible ones, I got one which said “You are 2” with a dinosaur with googly eyes on it. On the back of the card was the statement “Not suitable for children under 5”. That is really going to ruin a birthday isn’t it! “Hello small child thing. I got you a card, but you can’t have it for another few years. Sorry!” So they designed a card you can’t actually give to the child???

Perhaps they also designed the crackers which read “Do not pull towards you”. I found pushing the cracker together at each end makes the expected bang to be somewhat nonexistent…and you can’t get the crappy joke, toy and paper hat designed for a rabbit to escape.

I wonder if these people are overdosing on the vitamin tablets you can buy. They are the ones that give you 800% RDA of vitamin C and a huge load more other vitamins which mean when you pee, it looks like you are playing with a light saber from Star Wars. But they tell you not to take more then 1 a day. Why? Because taking 800% more then the recommended RDA is OK, but any more then that might kill you? I don’t get it.

I have a feeling we are going to run out of space very soon on the stupid person island. But on the plus side, with so many people moving there, the property prices are going through the roof. I might have to sell my apartment at StupidVille Heights.

Note – Talking of stupid people, maybe Blogger, Blogspot, my Mum, Google…or whoever the hell owns this platform will get the spellchecker fixed one day. I hate having to actually look at what I am writing and then proof read it, and then spellcheck it, and then wonder if anyone actually likes this stuff – although the spellchecker can’t tell me that one.

The Valentines bunny just delivered the post. Why is it that the electricity company sent me more post then you people? And I don’t want to hear “Well, we don’t know your address!” or anything. Stalking really has gone up the wall these days hasn’t it.

You have to feel for the Valentines bunny though. He has to hold down a normal job all year, then make sure cupid doesn’t shoot him in the wrong place for not sending the cards on time, and then his cousin Easter gets all the credit for being the only bunny in the delivery industry. He is a poor overlooked soul. If I were him, I would probably move industries. Sell his foot or something. That must bring him luck! Or is it the other way…hmmm..no, leave that thought.

In other news, being Valentines day, I shall not post anything else for the day. That, and because my once aching heart is now broken through the sincere lack of cards I have received thus far. I am just lucky my wife loves me and sent me a Simpsons card and left me some raw meat. That sounds a lot worse then it actually is. The raw meat is infact Biltong. (Kind of like Beef Jerky to the Americans in the audience) So I will be happily chowing down on raw dried cow during the day today

Anyway, I wont forget that you all forgot me on this very important day.

And to make up for it, please spare a thought for me. My nose is leaking. I do believe this is due to the half a cat I have lodged up there at the moment. There is malting and there is shaving. I am covered in black hairs. This is not because I am part neanderthal man and need to shave parts of my body no man should have to. It is because young Miss Charlie is not leaving me alone while her hair falls out

Right. I am off to buy my wife some carrot cake for Valentines day. Why? Coz it seems like something different to give on Valentines!

Ever had one of those days where you know it is for the greater good of mankind that you stay in bed and don’t leave it? You know the ones. The days where you can’t do something so simple that you wonder how you remember to breathe.

Today I did ALL of the following. None of it is made up, I really was having the day from hell!

I was scanning in a document for my lovely wife and scanned it upside down. Yeah I could have just flipped it in Windows, but decided I would just do it properly the first time. So I scanned it again. Except that rather then turn the paper the right direction, I actually turned the paper right over so it then scanned the back of the document instead. Then swore at the scanner for messing it up.

I then took the parrot food bowl out and picked up the cat food bowl. One pink and girlie (cat) and the other silver and metal and very parrot type. I put the parrot food in the cat bowl and was about to put the cat food in the parrot bowl when I realised.

Realising I was on to a losing streak here, I then decided to have a bath and get ready for work. While in the other room, I see my shoes, so I put them on. Thing is, I still had a towel round me. I had not got dressed yet. I realised when I went to put underwear on. I had been walking round the house in shoes and a towel.

So I then head to work. I walk past my car and put my key in the wrong car and can’t work out what is wrong. All the time looking in the car and not twigging it is the totally wrong car.

I get to work and go to put money on to my card to buy food. I cant work out why it won’t read my card. I try it every possible way before I realise I am trying to make it read my staff ID card and not the canteen card. One is white and the other is yellow. Not easy to confuse!

I want to go to bed, but I can’t. I have to work all night. I don’t believe in God, but if you do, say a prayer for my work colleagues! They are going to need it with me tonight!

Every day the past week I have woken up and looked at another womans chest. Yet my wife is fine with this. Infact, it was her that showed me them to start with.

Now she buys magazines with the same kind of content. She leaves them all over the house and actually encourages me to pick them up and read them! I am now wondering when the DVD’s will start to arrive.

But what I am talking about is pregnancy magazines. The chest I see every morning is a woman on a flip chart which is based week by week and tells you what is happening to sprogly and to my wife that week.

But the magazines are the same as the likes of FHM. Attractive (if not slightly podgier then the pictures in FHM) women in all manner of postions in the name of being pregnant.

Is this how they plan to make the men want to get more involved in the whole pregnancy thing? Because I think it might be working!

So I asked in jest if my wife would be OK with me now putting up a variety of calendars about the house to which she replied “Of course!”.

The sheer fear of retribution means there is no way of ever taking her up on that offer!

Unfortunetly the flip chart gets turned over tomorrow and I think the picture is not going to be as much fun this week.

I am concerned that I might be immortal. Is it really good to be immortal?

A long life is not for the faint hearted. You are born in to this world unable to control your bowel and bladder. Then as the years go on, you get old and lose control of the same bowel and bladder. I don’t want that last bit. (although after a heavy drinking session, the bladder bit happens regardless)

I don’t live a healthy lifestyle. I eat a lot of rubbish, I enjoy a beer or three hundred and think that exercise is for people who like cuddly toys, long relaxing baths and incredibly tight clothing. Whereas for me, it is internet, fast food, alcohol and watching rugby on TV.

So I need something. Anything. Something to make me realise I am indeed having my midlife crisis. Something to make me know I have hit half way through life so I know I am not stuck here forever. At very close to 33 years of age (my birthday is in March if you want to send me card and presents) I think I might be running out of time to have my crisis before I am too old and get a letter from the queen (or whatever doofus we have as the monarch of this tiny overpopulated island) saying well done on reaching 100 years of age.

After much consideration about what I can seriously take up to show that my midlife crisis is in full swing, I have decided to take up knitting. Yes I know that a midlife crisis is about doing something super stupid that only someone younger will do, which is why my knitting will be done with cars. 2 teams of 2 cars. Huge ball of yarn attached and the 2 cars in the team cross each others paths making a pattern and and the first one to knit a nice jersey with a christmas tree on it big enough to fit the Statue of Liberty wins. But you have to drive blindfold. On a cliff. Wearing a mankini. I should also note that I dont really know how to knit, so this really would be an experiment in the experimantal.

Who says knitting is boring and for old people?! Any other midlifers up for being the other 3 drivers? Come on…don’t be shy.

Of course, it would be wrong to not look back at my life and wonder if I had already had one. All I could come up with was when I was 16 years and 6 months old, I had a period of being a little “off”. Doing things which were just really stupid and could have ended my life early. But that wouldn’t be “my” midlife crisis would it? Because if it is, that means I will die in… subtract the 2, times by the number of fingers on my left hand, spin round 3 times and I am left with….oh crap.

Various animals have an intelligence we are quite ignorant of. For instance, this link below shows you the intelligence of cats:

I Have Two Cats

This post is about a parrot. His name is Zorro. He is an African Grey. He hates me.

Parrots are well known for their interaction with humans. Zorro should get a job as a negotiator. He is intelligent, talks a load of old rubbish (he copies me) and always seems to get what he wants. What he wants is generally what I am eating.

While doing things earlier (I won’t say what. It is hard enough to keep people’s attention as it is), I look up and he has my phone in his claw. I am not sure if he was taking a chunk out of it, or calling some avian sex chat line. Either way, he was out of his cage, and he shouldn’t be. The problem with this is that he doesn’t like me. And he won’t go back in his cage if I ask politely. If I go near him I could lose a finger or more. So we play the crisp game. He loves salt and vinegar crisps, so I open a pack to try coaxing him back in the cage.

So he is now out of his cage and eating my tasty snacks. To get him back in should be as easy as putting more snacks in his cage. Nope. He is too clever for that as he knows he will get locked back in if he takes the bait. Instead he flies over and sits on my shoulder. He likes ears, so I am now cowering like a dog hoping to not lose any flesh to an animal which is smaller than my head. I don’t want any comments about how big my head is thankyouverymuch.

Therefore he has gone from being locked in his cage to being out of his cage, sitting on my shoulder eating my snacks. So he takes a crap. I am not winning this battle. I am now going to have a high phone bill from his avian sex chat line call he was making, there is a dent made in my snacks and now I have to change my shirt.

As if it is not bad enough that he is out, let alone the fact I am covered in crap and watching him eat my tasty snacks, now I hear the pattering of tiny footsteps. Here comes Charlie the cat.

Cats like birds. There is no denying that. There is a look of “No way…dinner is finally out of the wrapper!” on Charlie’s face when prompted with the site of Zorro sitting on my shoulder eating crisps. If I shout to scare the cat, I am going to lose flesh from Zorro, or he is going to fly off meaning the cat will follow.

Fortunately being sleepy she wasn’t too bothered with Zorro and makes nothing more of it other than looking on, probably laughing inside at my predicament.

Zorro only bonds with 1 person, of which that person is my wife. She can pick him up, stoke him, put makeup on him and generally throw him about the place without fear of reprisal 99% of the time. But she is at work, so I ring her and she tells me to deal with it. Currently in my head, “dealing with it” involved a bat of some kind.

After what seems like 2 multipacks of crisps, he finally goes in the cage for a nap as he is so full.

Therefore, in the space of twenty very very long minutes, he negotiated his way out of his cage somehow and then fed himself silly on my food while taking a satisfying crap on me, and then went back in the cage for a nap after his hearty meal.

But I still have no idea how he got out.

I on the other hand gained nothing. In fact, I lost quite a bit out of this little adventure.

Stuff it. I’m getting a goldfish.

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