Iiiiiiiiiiiii liberate...

Fired up from yesterday, I cracked on with The Liberator!

Armed only with an old model guide, a craply put together plastic kit I made years ago, and some TV screenshots, I got a fair way in, and it's looking pretty good so far!

Actually, all that's left to do is all on the central core:

● Laser cannon on nose

● Nose fin

● Rear-end housing for the power core

● Power core

The latter are the most problematic, mainly the design of the core container, and getting the light green lines on the dark green ball. That may take a while, and I may not get a chance to play till next week, so - here is a preview of progress so far...

Wireframe model: 

Basic render:

Textured render:

Full scene:

Mind The #BoxGap...

No, not that CGI! 3D modelling!

A few years back, I created a Fighting Machine based on Michael Trimm's tripod for Jeff Wayne (see below).

Rather than rebuild it, thought I'd do a handling machine, but that seems to be somewhat even more fiddly, so instead I tried creating LeMarchand's Lament Configuration...

...and boy did it turn out good for a first attempt!

[EDIT 17th Jan: Arse - there are actually FIVE different panels, not 3! The top & bottom are the same, but the side panels are slightly different. Will correct this once I finish the B7 glass cube logo)

So, to showcase my CGI work, I'm creating a virtual cabinet of my 3D modelling for me facebook cover! So, here is version #1, with the Tripod and three boxes (to show off the three faces). Shame there's light bleed from the martian. Oh well.

The 2 Alice frames will probably change - maybe Catwoman on one wall with Harley Quinn (arkham Asylum game version) opposite... or maybe just the Bellatrix Lestrange wanted poster! May even add glass, rather than just a wood frame.

I think next model will be The Liberator from Blake's 7, and if I can, make the B7 logo out of glass cubes! 

Creative Xym is creative once more...

As mentioned above, my first tripod build:

Fuck you, Shima...

So, that Fukushima blowed up, filling the Japanese seas with radioactive monster mutation essence, so it was only a matter of time before Gojira arose once more!

And slowly, but surely, unspeakable things are emerging from the deep to expire on the Fukushima shores.

First, we got Fukuppy,  some kind of mutant Pokémon adopted as a mascot.

Then, recently, a great big fuck-off Whorefish washed up. Nothing new about that - Whorefish are fucking massive anyway, and believed by many to be the origin of the sea serpent "myth". But these are GIANT oarfishies! 

And just a month ago, a kraken washed up. 160lb of giant chthonic colossal killer cephalopod, all suckery tentacles snatching up Japanese sunbathers and gobbling them up with it's terrible gnashing beak.

And today, the Fukushima folk are trying to convince us it's all a hoax, and their genetic behemoths that would trample us all under-tentacle are just made up scaremongering.

As if! The power plant leaked nuclear abnormality accelerant into the oceans, and we're all going to be overrun by supersized psychotic sushi!

Did they never learn from the Tagruato incident? Mining for milfshake sludge, they awoke a monstrosity that swam over to New York, ripped the bonce off the Statue Of Liberty, and then buggered up Central Park.

And unless they stop this cover-up and tell us the truth, we'll be woefully underprepared when a killer clam and pissed off puffer fish of ginormous size invade Castle Mall Gardens and rip the bonce off the Lion Statue outside City Hall!

I came in (your hair) like a goldfish bowl...

"Roll up, roll up, all the fun of the hair! Step right in, Sir! A finer coiffure of such wanton abandon you will never see! See it's erectile verticality - yes boys, this is one fine follicle arrangement you don't take home to your momma! Yes siree, this is memory you will take to your grave, a cranial adornment you will NEVER forget! Gentlemen, I give you Xym's Barnet to bugger!"

Say whaaaaaaat?!?!?!

Clearly The Xym is sporting one of them there "hidden indicators" what tell "those in the know" he's gay, when he clearly ain't.

You know, like wearing them low slung jeans with yer ass hanging out and pants on show means "I've been in prison for, like, ages and stuff, and I'm lowering my trousers to indicate I want someone to do me up the shitbox"

Obviously there's Something About Xymni that sends out a message that gayboys interpret as "oh hello, there's a fellow gayboy" resulting in the misinterpretation of Xym sexuality and last nights offer of Cameron Diazerry.

For after heaping much praise up one one's luscious locks, a request was made as to whether he could copulate with the crimpy Mohawk of lustful arousal.

He wanted to sex my hair! To fuck my fullsome follicle forestry with his fapped up phallus! To bukkake my barnet!

Ewwwwwww!

Well, that certainly put the wind up my manly mane (coz no-one putting the willies up MY plumage!) and from then on it was doomed. Rapidly descending into a wilted impotent mop, and where Princess Fiona might like to take Adam Sandler's chucked muck into her quiff (queef?) to stiffen her alicorn, I refuse to let another man jizz in my mowie just to maintain perfect plumage!

If anyone knows what the hidden signal for "I am gay" is, please let me know so I can remove it - I have no desire for unwarranted surreptitious spunkings to gel up my hair!

It would make my hair look terrible under the UV lights.

Do you believe in the FriendZone...

♪ A yellow sun was rising in Norfolk

Xymni had gone but not to his home

Like a freak, The Xym, all the Pretties think he's gay

O'er the wind and dust you hear them say

"Do you believe in the FriendZone" ♪

Right, clearly I's getting old, as them young guns (what go for it) garner more & more incomprehensible incomprehensibilities, such as Dryathleting and FriendZoning.

Now, I thought "The FriendZone" was... your circle of friends. So, when you're friends, you're in the FriendZone. When you have a huge bust up, then you're outta the FriendZone. Fuck off - you no friend of mine.

But today, I find out it's not.

Apparently, The FriendZone is "People you don't want to shag", and by "escaping the FriendZone" means you've become eminently fuckable. even by all your friends. or something.

Which confuses me, for them young 'uns and their new fangled fashions all have them "FuckBuddies" because they invented it to sex-up TouchCloth to make it more adult than Dr Who when shown at teatime.

But these mythical FuckBuddies are friends you shag because you haven't got anyone to shag, so friends help each other out. Which surely puts them slap ban in the middle of this "FriendZone"...

...with the emphasis on the slapping & banging.

Perhaps Facebook should recategorize it's Friend Request. Once someone ads you as a friend, you drop them into a friend category:

Non-FriendZone 1: Family

Non-FriendZone 2: Gits I work with but loathe but had to add them coz I work with them. Bastards.

FriendZone 1: Friends I'm just a friends with

FriendZone 2: Friends I'm fucking till I find a partner

FriendZone 3: Friends I'm fucking, and will cheat with after I find a partner

FriendZone 4: Friends who are munterescent trolls - never fucking any of them

FriendZone 5: Friends I wouldn't mind fucking

FriendZone 6: Friends who are friends purely coz I want to fuck 'em

FriendZone 7: Friends who are friends only because they have to be, coz they're friends with a proper friend and you have to befriend them in case they feel left out or upset

FriendZone 8: Friends I've made at work, but wouldn't shag

FriendZone 9: Friends from work I would shag

FriendZone 10: Friends I REALLY wanna roger senseless given half the chance 

FriendZone 11: Friends just to monitor relationship status, so you can boff 'em as soon as they become single...

Etc, etc...

"FriendZone" my arse!

Poor Xym's head, poor Xym's head, Zombie Xymni...

Not much in the way of bloggery again, because I've been Ill.

Not ill in a Pretend-To-Be-Ill-To-Avoid-Stuffs ill, but actually ill as in confined and barely able to move ill.

I almost died on Saturday. Literally. But unfortunately for you lot, I survived. Just. But it was a very near miss. One shall try and kick the bucket properly next time. 

Thought I was on the mend, and then became mega-sick on Weds.

I have replenished my stocks of urghy Lemsip (Apple & Cinnamon!), and has been devouring them like there's no tomorrow.

Which there almost wasn't on Sat!

Anyhoo, I's now been up for well over 24 hours (now that's what I call... anarchy!) and not at all sleepy.

Damn you non-drowsy formula and cough.

Still, attempted to become a writey man, and has submitted an article... which may prove to be a but too bloggy for publication. In which case, pending rejection, it may appear here! 

♫ Friday, Fry-Day

Sausage bacon and fried egg

Everybody's waiting for some big black pudding ♫

If you know what I mean, and I'm sure that you don't. But you will. Oh boy, will you...

Lucy, are you sure you're not going along as his 'gal pal'...

Why is it always me?

So, me & my Sister are at HitParade & 80s night, and it's pretty empty apart from a few groups of dancing Pretties.

And I finds meself alongside a pair of continental cuties as that there son always shites on the TV.

"Excuse-a me plaise, vot eez diss?"

"It's A-Ha. Morten Harkett? The Sun Always Shines On TV. "

"Ay cannot daynse to diss!"

"just go with it, feel the rhythm!"

So we carry on dancing, and (as ever) get separated as more dancers fill the floor.

Nip out to the smoking area to cool down... and there's the little red dressed pretty, so we joins her at table.

"Hola! What you do out here?"

"We've come out to cool down after all that dancin'"

"I really want to dance with you, but dance on your own"

"You should have said something or come & joined me!"

"You have rhythm. You has moves"

Now, here's Xym thinking "Blimey! A Pretty taking an interest in Xym... and Xym bantering back! Looks like I'm actually gonna pull this time!"

"You are gay, yes?"

"WHAT?"

"You are gay"

"No! I'm not gay at all!!"

"You are not gay?"

"NO!"

"But you don't look very masculine"

"                     !"

"And you dance... you really aren't gay? Are you sure"

At that point, her friend dragged her off apologetically for her inebriated desire to be a "fag hag". or something, 

And then, on the stairs, my Sister was taking the piss out my Polish accent sounding Welsh... well, Indian, and we think they overheard and got all uppity and left the club.

Just my luck. I'm finally not being hit on by gayboy chavscum, and it turns out the Pretty is only interested in me coz she thinks I'm gay because I'm a fabulous dancer who can move to the beat. And I get dropped like yesterday's jam as soon as she realises I'm definately not gay!

♪ I'm thinking of thinking of calling her 

right after my afternoon nap. 

I'm thinking of thinking of sending her flowers

right after Bonnie gets back. 

So many fishes left in the sea, 

so many fishes,

but no one for me ♪

Looks like a need an image revamp. I thought I would remain single for ever, due to the slim chance of meeting a Pretty with a penchant for short fat gothboys with preposterous hair, ludicrous glittered hair, ridiculous twiddle 'tashe, and occasional millinery headgear. 

But no.

Turns out I've no chance with Teh Oretties coz they all thinks I'm gay.

(and I'd just like to reiterate, ladies, despite my dancing skillz - I'M NOT GAY!)

Oh noes - 80s night...