I miss the internet. Oh, cruel IT department, barring my Guardian access… just because people can get a bit sweary sometimes. Is that a crime? People of the world! Is that a crime? I miss afp, I miss Guardian Film, I miss Penny Arcade, I miss having a functioning website. Well, no more! This has to end! Either I get on, or I quit.

You know, I really can’t think of a single thing to say. Sorry. I’ll try again later.

I’m soon going to have finished The Two Towers, and I haven’t yet bought Return of the Jedi. King. Sorry. King. The Two Towers is great for poncey high fantasy talk. The Riders of Rohan all declaim rather than speak, it’s wonder they ever get through a conversation with normal people. Not that there are normal people in Middle Earth. They’d feel a bit lost, I suspect. You ask Eomer for directions to the toilet and see how far that gets you.
In other news, I heard Danger! High voltage! and Cannonball in quick succession on Xfm today, meaning it officially rocked this afternoon. This was after retuning from Magic FM’s Corrs marathon, so double rock. I felt as Lauren Laverne said she did – 14 years old again, wearing DMs with Tipp-ex on…

So, they’re just about to execute this guy in Florida for shooting dead an abortion doctor. And I’m torn, because on the one hand I absolutely oppose the death penalty, you can’t help but think “Yes, that’s about right, you sick little puppy”. Of course, then you have the martyrdom aspect which, naturally, he’s playing up. And that’s the last thing we want. Gah.

I don’t want him to be killed. I don’t actually want anyone to be killed. Die, yeah, sure, I want everyone to die, otherwise we’ll have a housing crisis the like of which we’ll never have seen bef.. Oh, never mind. I’d prefer a long, long life sentence and perhaps education. But you feel like it wouldn’t help this guy. He genuinely believes it’s worth taking a human life in order to prevent the destruction of non-sentient cell bundles. It’s difficult to talk about crime and punishment these days without sounding like a Daily Mail editorial, but, really, you have to throw away the key for these people. Or perhaps we could invent a time machine and send them back to the goddamn Dark Ages where they’d feel right at home.

{{{by the way. this week i didn’t mention the anniversary. you’ll need to guess exactly when it was, but it’s now been just over a year since her and me got together. i’ve had to separate this off so it don’t connect to the above rant. because that would be weird.}}}

Found my shoes. Hurray!

So, London crashed last night, and didn’t get rebooted until this morning. I was in Baker Street station, having a bit of a read, when the lights dimmed. “Okay,” I thought. “Talk to us.” Which, eventually, they did, telling us to leave the station. Despite what the Mail/Standard might have you believe, no-one was panicked, no-one was terrified. The most anyone could muster was a sort of glum resignation as we filed out onto the streets to work out how the hell to get from A to B. I got a bus to Finchley Road – about half way between there and there – and found that the station there was closed, too. In fact, all stations were closed. Who knew? I thought it was just Baker Street. The taxis were all taken, and I had no idea which bus to take, if they weren’t full. So I went to the pictures, as you do.

Confidence is pretty good. Engaging, well performed, enough twists to ensure you don’t quite get them all.. yeah, a scam movie you can rely on. And, hey, at least I didn’t just cop out and go see Dude! Zombie Pirates! again.

Well, when I emerged from the cinema, I found the system was still buggered. Herself was booked into a hotel in Euston, after being stuck in a tunnel for 45 minutes just outside King’s Cross (no panic there, either), so I bussed it back there. Got to the hotel at 10:00, Baker Street still closed as I passed.

In summary, then. No panic. No terror. A bit of confusion. Normal service. And I’m hungry.

I haven’t forgotten, you know. About posting and that. Just there’s a lot going on right now, and I have to pace myself. Let me just say that herself has put an offer in on a house in Walthamstow (accepted) and we’ve been to Ikea and stuff.

You know, I’m worried. I may be going out with a grown-up.

It’s a moment of some pathos in the life of a temp. Bank holiday! The freedom, oh the tasty freedom of Freedonia! Then you realise… Free for your employer, too. I haven’t worked quite long enough to gain holiday points yet, so this is an unpaid day off. Bah.

Looks like I’ve lost my shoes. I can’t be certain, mind. Anyone who finds a pair of once-blue Adidas Gazelles on a Metropolitan Line train, send of a postcard. Or, y’know. Take care of them..

Have just bought Resident Evil Zero, or Dude! Zombie Zombies!, if you prefer. And am reading Fellowship of the Ring. Could I be more of a dweeb?

Well, I could, yes.