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snap decisions, the perils thereof

So the Killers song turned out to be quite fun in the end. And now I have an even more humbling retraction to make. After repeated exposure, the new My Chemical Romance song turns out to be a big ball of emo bombast which is actually somewhat irresistible. I know, I know, sign me up for a MySpace page and photograph me looking up at the camera. But I can’t resist epic pop, I really can’t. This is why I own a Muse album and consider the last minute of System of a Down’s Chop Suey to be utter genius. It’s all very embarrassing. I have no doubt that Flapjack will taunt me mercilessly upon reading this, but there you go. Sometimes you have to go with your gut.

Now I’m off to write in my LiveJournal about how the only thing that really scares me is myself.

moth is listening to: My Chemical Romance
Mood: ^_^ Kawaii!

It’s the bomb that will bring us together

Americans – and by this I mean inhabitants of the USA – cannot be trusted with anything.  While playing a kangaroo-based version of Hangman recently (it’s called Hangaroo. Do you have a problem with that?  It’s the least of my worries), the category "French cuisine" came up.  The answer was something along the lines of "Crispy cheese puffs".  Okay, not really understanding French cuisine, there.  Then came the category "Indian delicacies".  The answer – the Kangaroo swung for this – was "Banana Raita".

Seriously, this is what they do with food and this country is trusted with thermonuclear explosives.

I am currently listening to

the new My Chemical Romance single (on the radio, I’ve not gone insane and bought it).  No sign of a hook turning up yet.  Heaven help us if they ever discover structure.  Judging by the twiddly guitar, they’ll turn into a sort of emo Iron Maiden.  It’s just noise!  They make me feel old.

Going on outside my office right now

The biggest funeral I have ever seen. I can count 7 black cars with huge flower arrangements on top, but there may be more round the corner. Two hearses, because the flowers wouldn’t fit in just one. Dozens – possibly hundreds – of people. A speaker set up outside to broadcast to the inevitable overspill. I have no idea who the man they’re there for is (I intially wondered if they were re-burying Diana), but he’s “Daddy”, “Uncle” and “Pal”. A woman with a double pushchair went in before everyone else. Details tell a bit of the story…

comment is free

Fuck’s sake. I set the settings, I know I did, so anonymous comments were not allowed. Somehow that setting changed and the fucks spammed my blog. And it’s not like their urls even do anything! Fuckers! Deleting…

no! no I don’t want it!

I don’t want your stupid free newspaper!

They’re like a plague in London right now. Walk 20 yards down any street (this is in the City, not sure about elsewhere, but I imagine it’s similar for most of the centre) and you could theoretically end up clutching 13 papers. Not different papers, mind. 7 copies of London Lite and 6 of thelondonpaper. On Friday they were handing out bits of the Telegraph. Enough! At least give me an alternative to all these right-wing publications (London Lite is produced by Associated Newspapers, fount of all things Daily Mail, thelondonpaper is Murdoch’s News International. The Torygraph hardly needs an introduction).

And they’re so bloody aggressive at the moment. I understand it’s something to do with gaining the distribution right within the stations themselves (as Associated’s Metro does in the mornings), but fuck! Back off, baseball cap-wearing paper-muggers! If I want it, I’ll take it. Don’t shove it at me.

Having said all that, if you need something to wrap your kitchen waste in before putting it in the recycling bin it’s an ideal situation out there…

well, that was an anticlimax

Pete wins. Angels still get their wings. Hurrah for everything and oh god the British public have let me down again. They were doing so well! Nikki came out fifth! Then Aisleyne came out third and, well, then I dunno. Went to another channel.