Apr 092010

On July 24 of last year, Joe Cutich, a retired railroad man, began his own construction of a replica of the Notre Dame Cathedral. Using a kit containing blueprints and thousands of matchsticks, over a period of five months, working steadily every day, he chopped the thin sticks to size and gluing them in small sections… “Sometimes I would sit up until one in the morning, Cutich said. “But it’s something I love doing, it makes me happy, it keeps me occupied.” Cutich lost his wife, Rita, three years ago.

Mar 242009

Do you wanna go? Do you wanna go?

Yes.

My hair is getting this way. My mandolin playing is lagging.

Give me time.

MAMA’S IN THE KITCHEN, BAKING UP A PIE!

The joy I get from Rory Gallagher grows by the year.

Like my hair.

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Lisa ‘Shotgun’ Bonet has called her new child: Nakoa-Wolf Manakauapo Namakaeha Momoa. Which is Hawaiian for “Red Lorry, Yellow Lorry”.

The reason we broke it off? I forget now. I think we both knew it was just physical, and when the passion dies down (which in our case, it never did actually) where are you left? So we tore away from each other while the fire still roared. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Apart from the time I had to kill that swan.

Oct 302008

Details have now emerged of how Brand impersonated Mr Sachs’s most famous character while seducing Miss Baillie. She told The Sun that the flamboyant presenter kept jumping around the bedroom shouting Manuel’s catch-phrases “I know nothing”, “Qué?” and “I learn it from a booook”.

here we

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Oct 052007

go.

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oh my. it’ll be fine.

it’ll be fun.

Now. Cufflinks.

You know how you might sometimes idly wonder what it is that’s going to do you in. Maybe a moped crash on a Greek island. Maybe a nude gunman in a clock tower. Maybe a long, slow, degenerative disease. Well, here’s one Australian woman who probably didn’t think she was going to be killed by a camel fucking her to death:

Pet camel kills woman ‘trying to have sex’

Nor, I guess, did her husband and daughter, who gave her the camel as a 60th birthday present.

“So, daddy, what shall we get mummy for her 60th birthday?”

“How about….. a camel.”

“One that’s going to fuck her to death?”

“No.”

How wrong they were.

I dream’d that as I wander’d by the way
Bare winter suddenly was changed to spring,
And gentle odours led my steps astray,
Mix’d with a sound of waters murmuring
Along a shelving bank of turf, which lay
Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling
Its green arms round the bosom of the stream,
But kiss’d it and then fled, as thou mightest in dream.

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Source.

If you’re:

a. 30;

b. single;

c. alone in a dark room on a Monday night;

d. hoping for a good night’s sleep;

e. still slightly convinced that you have some miniscule chance of happiness at some point in your life; and

f.  marginally optimistic that, despite the hell that is every date you’ve ever been on, your next date won’t:

         1.  be wearing spandex cycling gear in a bar after work;

         2.  ask you to pay for the $3.00 drink he ordered for you;

         3.  talk incessantly about the hot mitsubishi 3000 his last girlfriend drove; and/or

         4.  compare the size of your breasts to his sister’s,

by all means, have a look at the personals on craigslist. 

On my shortlist of guys to contact and perhaps ROFL with are:

1.  WHITE POWER MAN SEEKING WHITE POWER WOMAN- 29

I’m not some hard core racist by any means,(I don’t like Hitler or any of that)they say that EVERYONE’S a little bit racist,so in that sence, o.k,….. but I don’t like race traitors either! So if you know what I mean…let’s get together and hang out.

Bastard race traitors.

2.  IN SHAPE FOR POSSIBLE ROMANCE-45

If you can still go to the lake or river with me without wearing a tent and can waterski or swim when you get there. I would love to chat with you… I look forward to hearing from all the self respected people.

shove it.

3. UNEMPLOYED AND LIVE AT HOME, HIT ME UP LADIES- 27

why you would contact me:
you’re depressed
you have low self-esteem
you think you’re quirky
please no bbw’s…

sweet jehovah.
 

Apr 122006

I realized today, when I saw the Sun front page about “Oh my God” Chantelle marrying Preston, why it was all happening at such a breakneck pace. It’s because of Big Brother.

The next series of Big Brother is just around the corner, and the second it begins Chantelle is going to be displaced in the public consciousness by Sheena & Bugsy & Dave etc. – the new crop of screeching realipuppets. Preston & Chantelle have got this extremely narrow window in which to have their OK!-sponsored wedding, live out their celebrity love dream, and maximise earnings. They’re in a sprint. And Preston’s only got little legs. Little tiny legs and lovely twinkly eyes.

And Chantelle’s a lovely girl. Awww. In’t she nice?

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Awww, is that real diamonique?

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