Never mind Space Monsters masquerading in Edgar Suits, now not even the oceans are safe!
For Space Monster Globsters have taken to the wearing of Whale Suits!
Great big feck off betentacled hairy Shoggoths, lurking about in mammalian collagen diving suits, inflating ladies lips as buoyancy aides and worrying the squids.
Hence the 'trout' pout! Collagen extracted from Dagonese fishfolk & icy wasted pseudopodic globolous masses being injected to give the plumpest, fishiest lips.
And the ones on the face are just as bad!
And not content with covering up aquatic spacemonstery, it turns out that New Delhi is overrun by simian supersoldiers bred by Stalin to prowl Indian rooftops, tossing off the women.
For apparently all Indian women sleep on rooftops.
And judging by the quality of their cheap, efficient IT coding (that I have to either fix, rewrite, or bodge around) the murderous monkeymen work in vast code factories. Literal code monkeys slapping their... keyboards... to try and churn out the works of shakespeare, and passing off the rejected randomly generated output as a program 'as per requirements'.
I'm all for Muders In The Roo Morgue¹ but taking pakistani pongo-pymæus and glueing a pair of torches on their bonce to toss off ladies isn't quite as good as murderous muslim monkeys doing dodgy things with a chimney.
A chimney, according to the urban dictionary, being a black chicks minge.
Presumably a chimey up to the roof, where these nudie black indian women sleep before being tossed of by pod primate-people from the planet Mars!
¹ AN A.A.MILNE REJECT
Friday, 30 September 2011
Thursday, 29 September 2011
Come, Mr Taliban - tally up me pandas...
Yes!
There hath been no bloggage!
There hath been no bloggage
For days!
For The Xym hath been bogged down in a stagnant mere of misery, combined with much tasks of employment, the creation of eBooks, research into Things Of A Varied Nature, the catching up of the ever-growing pile of unwatched Blu-Rays and diverse other creative works. Not to mention Lord Morpheus overusing his posing pouch of sand upone mine eye.
So, alas, I fear you have missed out on tales of raping, pillaging and murdering Xmas trees on the rampage. Of nudie superwomen Saving The Day with flange-in-face muffocation breath inhibitors. Of Space Monsters traversing the Norfolk skies, abducting farming folk and bunging beets up their bots for sexual experimentation. Not to mention additional assassinatory attempts at silencing The Xym.
And much more besides.
I shall try and find the time to regail you with more tales of the wonder and excitement in the life of The Xym (as he now seems to be eye-candy for nubile cleaning maids, sexy serving wenches, office strumpets and passing Pretties! In fact, Pretties in general seem to be taking A Shine to The Xym!).
And that's despite the Blue Tongue of Skink (not to be confused with the Blue Waffle of Skank. Although getting the blue tongue of skink from the blue waffle of skank... now that would be a result! Or something).
Anyhew, to compensate for the lack of recent words of wisdom, here's a picture of a bunch of baby pandas on a pink blanket in an oversized cot for you to coo at. And if you're not a pigeon, they're there for you to Awwww at. Especially the one top left what just wakey up.
Awwwwww!
Saturday, 17 September 2011
Jona (Lewie) and the Vast Bloated Beached Whale¹...
~ or ~
Music To Watch Perv (At) Girls (Go) By Bi
I'm no good at chatting up
Coz I'm too shy to speak
Enough to drive The Xym to drink²
And leer at waitresses
who always clear the mugs piled up
- I'd give her 'the wink'!
But you will always find Xym by the window in Starbucks.
I sit there and admire the viewWatch Pretties go to work³
They all fancy someone else
And never Xym the troll.
Sat there on me own.
Fat boy Xym sups up his brew.
That's why you'll always find Xym by the window in Starbucks.
You will always find Xym sat there perving at Pretties.
You will always find Xym by the window in Starbucks.
Then I met this gorgeous chickI said "I write a strange blog"
She was into Church and God
But I ain't no bible nut
(This was in the one on St. Stephens)
I had no luck with her :(
You will still find Xym by the window in Starbucks.
You will still find Xym by the window in Starbucks.
Some day I'll meet a pretty girlWho'll fall in love with me
We'll both walk into a Starbucks
And drink a new latte.
And I'll have done my time by the window in Starbucks.
Done my time sat there perving at Pretties.
He'll have done his time by the window in Starbucks.
He'll have done his time sat there perving at Pretties.
He'll have done his time by the window in Starbucks.
¹ DEDICATED TO THE PRETTY THAT IS JO WOOD, WHO MISSED BEING PERVED OVER DUE TO PASSING THE 'BUCKS SLIGHTLY TOO LATE...
² COFFEE. SPECIFICALLY VENTI ALMAND LATTE (OR GINGERBREAD LATTE AT XMAS) MON-FRI, AND MANGO/PASSION OR RASPBERRY/BLACKCURRANT OF A SATURDAY AFTERNOON
³ OR ANYWHERE ELSE A PRETTY MAY BE OFF TO EARLY MORNING OR SAT AFTERNOON
Thursday, 15 September 2011
The farce is strong in this one...
One for the geeks!
George Lucas has release Star Wars on Blu-Ray... and has been tinkering with them again. Many changes throught all 6 films (sadly, Jar-Jar is still in) and some for the worse (like Ben Kenobi scaring off the Sandpeople with a new Dragon Screech).
But here is the best response to the biggest change - eloquently put by none other than Adolf hisself...
George Lucas has release Star Wars on Blu-Ray... and has been tinkering with them again. Many changes throught all 6 films (sadly, Jar-Jar is still in) and some for the worse (like Ben Kenobi scaring off the Sandpeople with a new Dragon Screech).
But here is the best response to the biggest change - eloquently put by none other than Adolf hisself...
Wednesday, 14 September 2011
Graphing at the pieces (of pie)...
Maths lesson #1. Pie Charts.
Mmmm.... Mustard (mouse turd?) Pie...
Mmmm.... Mustard (mouse turd?) Pie...
Tuesday, 13 September 2011
Jellicle cats come out tonight, Jelly-cool-cats that shine so bright...
Will them Mad Scientists never learn?
I hopes not!
Not content with blending Sharks and Octopussies to get Sharktopie, in a case of life imitating art they'v only gone and blended Jellyfishies with Puddytats!
In trying to cure The Aids, they've actually injected Jellyfish DNA into taby cats, so that they give birth to some unearthly hybrid of JellyCatfish!
Apparently, them there Jellyfishies have a protein that halts Aids in macaque monkeys. So, as felidæ get FIV, they decided to test it on them kitties.
And what a bonus result - they created Glow-In-The-Dark pussy!
It's unknown whether it helps the FIV or not, but... Glow-In-The-Dark Cats!
Yeah, the Aminal Rights protesters may be up in arms about testing on Aminals. Why can't we test on The Humans, or Death Row gits?
A green glowing manic maniac on the prowl. No thanks! It may be good for casting these bad guys in Scooby Doo movies as the "ghost" with authentic glowyness, but what's cuter? A Green-Glowing Jack Torrance chopping through the door, or a sprectral kitteh scampering about!
The only drawback is that the green glow may warn the mices - but that's no different from the Blues & Twos alerting burglar Bill and he burgles away at a burglary.
The Incredible Hulcat. You wouldn't like him when he's angry.
But when he's being all sweet and cute...
Admit it - you wants one!
I hopes not!
Not content with blending Sharks and Octopussies to get Sharktopie, in a case of life imitating art they'v only gone and blended Jellyfishies with Puddytats!
In trying to cure The Aids, they've actually injected Jellyfish DNA into taby cats, so that they give birth to some unearthly hybrid of JellyCatfish!
Apparently, them there Jellyfishies have a protein that halts Aids in macaque monkeys. So, as felidæ get FIV, they decided to test it on them kitties.
And what a bonus result - they created Glow-In-The-Dark pussy!
It's unknown whether it helps the FIV or not, but... Glow-In-The-Dark Cats!
Yeah, the Aminal Rights protesters may be up in arms about testing on Aminals. Why can't we test on The Humans, or Death Row gits?
A green glowing manic maniac on the prowl. No thanks! It may be good for casting these bad guys in Scooby Doo movies as the "ghost" with authentic glowyness, but what's cuter? A Green-Glowing Jack Torrance chopping through the door, or a sprectral kitteh scampering about!
The only drawback is that the green glow may warn the mices - but that's no different from the Blues & Twos alerting burglar Bill and he burgles away at a burglary.
The Incredible Hulcat. You wouldn't like him when he's angry.
But when he's being all sweet and cute...
Admit it - you wants one!
Saturday, 10 September 2011
Papa's got a brand new pigdog...
Pressured by hot Polish pretties into presenting my presence at punk performances, The Xym tarted hisself up and went for fun and frolics at the B2.
And The Xym got a lapdance from the sexy Hexe!
Well, as he lounged on the pseudo sofa like a greek God awaiting the barmaid to disrobe into a flimsy toga and feed him grapes (or grateful gropes), she sat on his legs.
Which is as near a lapdance The Xym is likely to get!
Anyhoo, whilst later sat outside to the soothing sounds of the night (owls, crickets, the tweeting of of birds¹, and the dulcet tones of high-pitched karoke of sex being on fire {hence the squeaky redition due to genital arson}), it would appear that during The Festivities, The Xym acquired a blue tongue!
How exactly the discoloration occurred is a mystery. Accusations of oral pleasurement of the manky mouldy minges of skank ho punkettes in the toilets during the supports acts abound, as the blue dye in their mohican brazillian seeped down to fester in their fungal flange.
Or it could be the Black Wolf vodka - for Men who is Men, and not The Womens.
Or an allergic reaction to prevention of Business Elsewhere involving the perusal of Strictly Come Dancing.
But blue of tongue Xym be.
But concerns of being plague ridden vermin flee from mind, as distraction lies in pretties proclaiming that their fullsome funbags are all natural and containing no enhancement whatsoever. Whilst lifting them about in a most pleasing fashion.
Which was nice.
Alas, the cheery atmos is ruined by racist trollops with nowt better to do on a Friday Night than to promise Polish pretties transportation in 30 mins (after denying Johnny Foreigner a 15 minute wait.). Then, after 45 mins, laugh in the face of the stranded awaiters of carriages informing that they never took the booking.
Bloody immigrants - coming over here, using our taxis! Goldstar? PolishedTurd, more like!
But hurrah for The Xym! For his battery is full, and gets them a taxi within 7 mins!
You need a hero? You need The Xym!
And during that long wait for unbooked taxis, not only did I learn a modicum of Polish (since forgotten as the knowledge dissipated with the alcohol) and the mating cry of that rarest of creatures, the PigDog, the serving wench pressed cranial apparel upon us!
For we had left behind A Cap. Now, only Dan had a cap, and it's apparently not his. I think he telleth The Porkies. It is indeed a splendid cap. Why, it fair makes you look like a 50¢ Blazin' Squad too cool for skool dude! As Dan's disowning this icon of fashionwear, I may have to buy a Mr Motivator leoturd or mankini and go down the 80s night like a real righteous dude, man!
Check me out in the pic below - Is I da Fresh Prince, or is I the shizzle?
Sizzle Xym's schnitzel, blood! Word!
¹ ON THEIR EYEPHONES, SOCIAL NETWORKING.
WARNING: THE FOLLOWING PICTURE ACTUALLY ENCAPSULATES AN ACCURATE PORTRAYAL OF THE HORRENDOUS TROLL LIKE VISAGE OF THE XYM, AS CAPTURED BY THE SOUL-CAPTURING DEVIL BOX OF PAINTING IMPS. LOOK NO FURTHER IF YOU HAVE NO WISH TO SCOUR YOUR EYEBALLS WITH A BRILLO PAD OF VIEWING THIS FACIALLY DISADVANTAGED DEFORMITY. YE HATH BEEN WARNED!!
And The Xym got a lapdance from the sexy Hexe!
Well, as he lounged on the pseudo sofa like a greek God awaiting the barmaid to disrobe into a flimsy toga and feed him grapes (or grateful gropes), she sat on his legs.
Which is as near a lapdance The Xym is likely to get!
Anyhoo, whilst later sat outside to the soothing sounds of the night (owls, crickets, the tweeting of of birds¹, and the dulcet tones of high-pitched karoke of sex being on fire {hence the squeaky redition due to genital arson}), it would appear that during The Festivities, The Xym acquired a blue tongue!
How exactly the discoloration occurred is a mystery. Accusations of oral pleasurement of the manky mouldy minges of skank ho punkettes in the toilets during the supports acts abound, as the blue dye in their mohican brazillian seeped down to fester in their fungal flange.
Or it could be the Black Wolf vodka - for Men who is Men, and not The Womens.
Or an allergic reaction to prevention of Business Elsewhere involving the perusal of Strictly Come Dancing.
But blue of tongue Xym be.
But concerns of being plague ridden vermin flee from mind, as distraction lies in pretties proclaiming that their fullsome funbags are all natural and containing no enhancement whatsoever. Whilst lifting them about in a most pleasing fashion.
Which was nice.
Alas, the cheery atmos is ruined by racist trollops with nowt better to do on a Friday Night than to promise Polish pretties transportation in 30 mins (after denying Johnny Foreigner a 15 minute wait.). Then, after 45 mins, laugh in the face of the stranded awaiters of carriages informing that they never took the booking.
Bloody immigrants - coming over here, using our taxis! Goldstar? PolishedTurd, more like!
But hurrah for The Xym! For his battery is full, and gets them a taxi within 7 mins!
You need a hero? You need The Xym!
And during that long wait for unbooked taxis, not only did I learn a modicum of Polish (since forgotten as the knowledge dissipated with the alcohol) and the mating cry of that rarest of creatures, the PigDog, the serving wench pressed cranial apparel upon us!
For we had left behind A Cap. Now, only Dan had a cap, and it's apparently not his. I think he telleth The Porkies. It is indeed a splendid cap. Why, it fair makes you look like a 50¢ Blazin' Squad too cool for skool dude! As Dan's disowning this icon of fashionwear, I may have to buy a Mr Motivator leoturd or mankini and go down the 80s night like a real righteous dude, man!
Check me out in the pic below - Is I da Fresh Prince, or is I the shizzle?
Sizzle Xym's schnitzel, blood! Word!
¹ ON THEIR EYEPHONES, SOCIAL NETWORKING.
WARNING: THE FOLLOWING PICTURE ACTUALLY ENCAPSULATES AN ACCURATE PORTRAYAL OF THE HORRENDOUS TROLL LIKE VISAGE OF THE XYM, AS CAPTURED BY THE SOUL-CAPTURING DEVIL BOX OF PAINTING IMPS. LOOK NO FURTHER IF YOU HAVE NO WISH TO SCOUR YOUR EYEBALLS WITH A BRILLO PAD OF VIEWING THIS FACIALLY DISADVANTAGED DEFORMITY. YE HATH BEEN WARNED!!
Thursday, 8 September 2011
Wednesday, 7 September 2011
Jean Genies have now become slacks...
Treggings?
Seriousleh?
I thought them there jeggings were bad enough - leggings designed to look like jeans and decapitate photographers of prescient imagery of demise.
But no - camel-hoofing it in jeanswear ain't enough.
Now it's leggings designed to look like trousers! Essential Office Wear!
Well, more orifice wear, judging by the tightness of the trews aroung the groinal regions.
Treggings indeed!
Why don't they just call them Peggings. Pants and leggings, as that's basically all they are. Just coz some pervo had the great idea to flog The Women below-wear that is so tight, you may as well be out in yer pants.
Not that I'm complaining.
Well, I am, because all too often, they're donned by stereotypical butterball scummy mummies off The Council Estate, spending their days guzzling pork pie burgers from Maccy D's in front of Jeremy Kyle and staunchly agreeing with the sexits man-hating harrridans of Loose Witches. No muffin top for these - Hiroshima mushroom cloud spilling out over the top of their treggings, with their voluminous bare equator bulging below their crop-tops which their grey, misshapen bra hangs out the bottom of, and the crest of their mammoth mammaries bulge out the top of.
Giving them a quadrology of bike parking spots.
Hot Pretties who've "gone commando" - Oh yes! Great fat munterescent trollbeasts? Urgh - no - cover 'em up! No Diggety, Mr Blackstreet? No Giggety (giggety goo) for these lumbering tregging'd behemoths!
Treggings, my best hat!
Bring on the Geggings - Gimp Leggings, all zips and leather and chains and studs...
Seriousleh?
I thought them there jeggings were bad enough - leggings designed to look like jeans and decapitate photographers of prescient imagery of demise.
But no - camel-hoofing it in jeanswear ain't enough.
Now it's leggings designed to look like trousers! Essential Office Wear!
Well, more orifice wear, judging by the tightness of the trews aroung the groinal regions.
Treggings indeed!
Why don't they just call them Peggings. Pants and leggings, as that's basically all they are. Just coz some pervo had the great idea to flog The Women below-wear that is so tight, you may as well be out in yer pants.
Not that I'm complaining.
Well, I am, because all too often, they're donned by stereotypical butterball scummy mummies off The Council Estate, spending their days guzzling pork pie burgers from Maccy D's in front of Jeremy Kyle and staunchly agreeing with the sexits man-hating harrridans of Loose Witches. No muffin top for these - Hiroshima mushroom cloud spilling out over the top of their treggings, with their voluminous bare equator bulging below their crop-tops which their grey, misshapen bra hangs out the bottom of, and the crest of their mammoth mammaries bulge out the top of.
Giving them a quadrology of bike parking spots.
Hot Pretties who've "gone commando" - Oh yes! Great fat munterescent trollbeasts? Urgh - no - cover 'em up! No Diggety, Mr Blackstreet? No Giggety (giggety goo) for these lumbering tregging'd behemoths!
Treggings, my best hat!
Bring on the Geggings - Gimp Leggings, all zips and leather and chains and studs...
Tuesday, 6 September 2011
Oh good, I thought you had a problem...
yy u r yy u b i c u r yy 4 me
Why thank'ee, you smug, flappy eared git!
I b yy 4 ne1, let u !
faInct, u r an rs! Whr b yr aroma10-10-10-10-10 strt/end? 5th.m. anthophila if I brk it dwn n rerite:
yy u r not,
yy u b not,
i c u r not yy 4 me, but a c u nxt Tue.
Now go get an O-Level and write proper!
Why thank'ee, you smug, flappy eared git!
I b yy 4 ne1, let u !
faInct, u r an rs! Whr b yr aroma10-10-10-10-10 strt/end? 5th.m. anthophila if I brk it dwn n rerite:
yy u r not,
yy u b not,
i c u r not yy 4 me, but a c u nxt Tue.
Now go get an O-Level and write proper!
Monday, 5 September 2011
Vomit again for the impossible guest...
Yay!
Impossible 9sided cubes translocated, and Aaron blocks sorted!
And Dutton finally gets it, the smug git! "Lord! It smells awful too!"
Got through that pissing maze, and if hear "Getting loooooonely" again, I shall punch someone in the face!
But found Ye Olde Crypt, closed 'em up and got to the attic! Ooooh!
Lighty-up tower - solved... feck knows how!
And then ole Henry voms all over the miserable troll and she dissolves in a pool of puke! hah!
Now sit back, watch Escape From Tongue and the pulling down into the pits of Inferni.
Roll credits.
Now, off to K'Veer in D'Ni to pick up a linking book!
Impossible 9sided cubes translocated, and Aaron blocks sorted!
And Dutton finally gets it, the smug git! "Lord! It smells awful too!"
Got through that pissing maze, and if hear "Getting loooooonely" again, I shall punch someone in the face!
But found Ye Olde Crypt, closed 'em up and got to the attic! Ooooh!
Lighty-up tower - solved... feck knows how!
And then ole Henry voms all over the miserable troll and she dissolves in a pool of puke! hah!
Now sit back, watch Escape From Tongue and the pulling down into the pits of Inferni.
Roll credits.
Now, off to K'Veer in D'Ni to pick up a linking book!
Sunday, 4 September 2011
I'm gonna wait 'til the midnight hour...
Then I'll put the washing on
Coz it's cheaper after midnight
As the rates comes tumblin' down.
Or so I'm led to believe.
Tumblin' down?
I don't even HAVE a Tumble Drier!
Rumblin' Tum - deffo! Cure that with a Chinese as I watch The Killing.
And then it's Washing Hour.
And I cry more, More, MORE!
And I don't even HAVE any peanuts either!
Cure THAT tomorrow with a trip to the new Sweetie shop and some Reece's NutFiddler bars.
Or them new Mars Triple Choc Limited Editions.
And I just bet as soon as I bite into the chocolatey treat, it'll drop & smear all over me nice new washed top.
Then people will be wondering why I've got all shit down me shirt.
Good job it ain't toothypegpaste! It'll be like Midge's jizzmouth lippy all over again.
I don't need a mirror!
Saturday, 3 September 2011
I got sole, but I'm also a soldier...
Oh, when will secretive Governmental Black Operation types learn!
"Lets develop a super soldier!"
"OK, I'm a hot, pretty, scientistette. I can develop a serum!"
"OK, we need the element of surprise"
"Well, how about I blend the DNA of men and fish, so create a sort of mere-soldier that can sneakily swim up on our enemies?"
"By Job, I think she's got it!"
*Time passes*
"Ok, I've developed my super-serum!"
"Right, we're taking your serum and using it!"
"But you can't! What about side effects!"
"You're fired!"
"But..."
"Security - remove her! Now, inject these 5 death row inmates with the serum......oh, buggery! They've mutated into monstrous murdrous fishcreatures and legged it out the complex!"
And once again, A Town is under siege by rapey fishmen, tearing up the menfolk and taking their women off to their watery lair for The Impregnation.
But hurrah! Sexy Scientistette is here to save the day!
Well, tell all about how Major Bunghole has misused her serum to create an army of fishfolk whoserubber suit fishscaley belly is bulletproof (unless it's a harpoon on fire).
Yes, a METAL spearpoint ON FIRE! Lit by a handy lighter. Underwater.
But still, Major Fuckface is gonna blow up the reef and the fish monsters... oh, and all the babes cocooned in some incubatory sac. Which now includes Pretty Professorette.
But Our Hero dives in to save the dames... leaving him out of Aliens poorly diverting General Git to allow Our Hero (and friend) to don wetsuits and run across the open beach and into the water all unseen.
Yay! Rescue the women just as the reef explodes!
Check-up time - no sign of rapey babies, so everyone's ok! The Guy gets his girl... despite being ravished by fishmonsters and bereft of batrachian brood due to being On The Blob, they're remarkably chipper.
All's well that ends well. Even Pretty Professorette got a replacement lighter - the last one in the gift shop!
Oh no! Sexy Scientistette's chart was wrong and she's stuck at the lights!
G'aaaah! Chestbursting caviar all over the dashboard!
And I still didn't get to see mah HBC :(
And I really don't want to put myself through that again, just to find her.
Oh well, on with waxifications...
"Lets develop a super soldier!"
"OK, I'm a hot, pretty, scientistette. I can develop a serum!"
"OK, we need the element of surprise"
"Well, how about I blend the DNA of men and fish, so create a sort of mere-soldier that can sneakily swim up on our enemies?"
"By Job, I think she's got it!"
*Time passes*
"Ok, I've developed my super-serum!"
"Right, we're taking your serum and using it!"
"But you can't! What about side effects!"
"You're fired!"
"But..."
"Security - remove her! Now, inject these 5 death row inmates with the serum......oh, buggery! They've mutated into monstrous murdrous fishcreatures and legged it out the complex!"
And once again, A Town is under siege by rapey fishmen, tearing up the menfolk and taking their women off to their watery lair for The Impregnation.
But hurrah! Sexy Scientistette is here to save the day!
Well, tell all about how Major Bunghole has misused her serum to create an army of fishfolk whose
Yes, a METAL spearpoint ON FIRE! Lit by a handy lighter. Underwater.
But still, Major Fuckface is gonna blow up the reef and the fish monsters... oh, and all the babes cocooned in some incubatory sac. Which now includes Pretty Professorette.
But Our Hero dives in to save the dames... leaving him out of Aliens poorly diverting General Git to allow Our Hero (and friend) to don wetsuits and run across the open beach and into the water all unseen.
Yay! Rescue the women just as the reef explodes!
Check-up time - no sign of rapey babies, so everyone's ok! The Guy gets his girl... despite being ravished by fishmonsters and bereft of batrachian brood due to being On The Blob, they're remarkably chipper.
All's well that ends well. Even Pretty Professorette got a replacement lighter - the last one in the gift shop!
Oh no! Sexy Scientistette's chart was wrong and she's stuck at the lights!
G'aaaah! Chestbursting caviar all over the dashboard!
And I still didn't get to see mah HBC :(
And I really don't want to put myself through that again, just to find her.
Oh well, on with waxifications...
Friday, 2 September 2011
A Reptilian Sculpture's Ode to O'Dowd ...
I have vision in my eyes three-sixtee.
I can't listen to your lies coz I'm deaf
A reptile, with tail prehensile,
A reptile, who also knows
how to change his pigmentation:
chromatophores, chromatophores!
And my love is oviparous.
When I nest, I dig a hole.
When you go, you're gone forever.
You string along a single mom.
you're my lover, not my wife's hole.
Every day is like survival,
you're my lover, not my wife's hole.
A reptile, with feet didactyl
A reptile, who also knows
how to live aboreal:
up in the trees, up in the trees!
I can't listen to your lies coz I'm deaf
A reptile, with tail prehensile,
A reptile, who also knows
how to change his pigmentation:
chromatophores, chromatophores!
Copper, Copper, Copper, Copper, Copper Chameleon
I'm not a toad
I'm not a to-oh-oh-oh-oad.
Lovin' would be easy if your colours were like my dreams
Oxidized green, Oxidized gree-ee-ee-een!
Didn't hear your wicked words every day,
As I said, I lack ears, so I'm deafAnd my love is oviparous.
When I nest, I dig a hole.
When you go, you're gone forever.
You string along a single mom.
Copper, Copper, Copper, Copper, Copper Chameleon
I'm not a toad
I'm not a to-oh-oh-oh-oad.
Lovin' would be easy if your colours were like my dreams
Oxidized green, Oxidized gree-ee-ee-een!
Every day is like survival,you're my lover, not my wife's hole.
Every day is like survival,
you're my lover, not my wife's hole.
A reptile, with feet didactyl
A reptile, who also knows
how to live aboreal:
up in the trees, up in the trees!
Copper, Copper, Copper, Copper, Copper Chameleon
I'm not a toad
I'm not a to-oh-oh-oh-oad.
Lovin' would be easy if your colours were like my dreams
Oxidized green, Oxidized gree-ee-ee-een!...
Thursday, 1 September 2011
Load up a e-Book, reading it poorly...
Switch it off
Turn it on
Don't want it centered
With a smaller font
I need ser-ser-ser-ser-service
I need good ser-ser-ser-service...
Jizzpainted flangepaste!
I finally gets Robin Hobbs 9-part Fool saga, and the first one is all formatted to buggery.
Centre justified (but not ancient. Nor in an Ice-cream van. Mmmmm... ice-cream...) and a great big huge feck-off font that even on the smallest font setting only fits 7 words on a line!
All other books - open em up - looks like this blog do. Not so Assassin's Apprentice. Oh, no. It looks like this:
Imagine¹ if my blog was laid
out like this all the time, and
you couldn't reduce the font
size. At least if you start
small you can increase the font,
but when the smallest is THIS?
So I whined to Amazon. There lieth my mistake - mayhap I should have whined, dined and 69'd 'em, but knowing my luck I'd get one of them hot chicks off that Jeremiah Vile's Babez Calendar.
And their response:
Turn It Off And On Again.
As if a reboot will magically fix embedded formatting. Gormsters! Have they never heard of Microsoft Word?
Actually, probably not. Only in the context of them rappaz from da hood in da Norwich ghetto, ya get me, Blood? Word!
Never mind shnizzle mah shizzle, I'll splinter ya sphincter with a shitty shaft of sizzling red hot poker if you don't sort it ahhrt!
Turn it off and on again, my best hat!
¹ AS IF ANYONE COULD! NO-ONE EVEN READS THIS BOBBINS BOLLOCKS, LET ALONE IMAGINE READING IT! lIKE JONNY LENNON SAID - "IMAGINE ALL THE PEOPLE. WELL ALL THE PRETTIES. ALL NUDIE LIKE. AND THAT EXCLUDES YOKO ONO² COZ SHE'S ALL UGGLY BUGGLY WITH A BAIN SIDHE CATWERWAULING VOCAL EMITTANCE."
²
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