Huzzah

Massacring The Horde

Monday, May 28, 2012

Ian's Quote O'The Day
Tom: Which historical character do you think would most want to form a Jo

urney tribute band?

I am currently sprawled out in front of Dog The Bounty Hunter, clutching a cup of tea and having just returned from the gym. My arms ache, it's a deep burn, I can barely lift my right arm 'cause I did so many. Anchorman quotes aside, it has been a good morning and a good weekend.
Saturday saw a number of family friends convene upon our abode to enjoy a barbecue and celebrate twenty five years of my parents marriage. It was a good evening, I haven't seen some of the people there in a considerable time and it was good to see people again. Beer was consumed, barbecued goods were enjoyed and the evening seemed to proceed nicely.
Alun Murray and I journeyed to Twickenham on Sunday and enjoyed uncomfortable amounts of sunshine and a surprisingly high score clash between England and the Barbarians. Considering how strong the individual Barbarian players were I'm surprised at just how diabolically they performed. Mistakes were made which you would expect in the lower echelons of club level, not at Twickenham. Once again the experience left me somewhat perplexed. Why do we sing "Swing Low"? It seems somewhat surreal to me to see a gaggle of middle class white men singing a slavery song. Aside from this and a horde of hideously annoying children who were sitting behind us I have no complaints of our journey. Seriously, these children were an argument for neutering the whole human race and I feel sorry for the chaperone who appeared to be close to killing someone. After the game we walked the mile or so in to Hounslow where we believed a drink was medically needed to soothe our sun tainted souls.

Upon the completion of our testosterone filled day I returned to Elise's where we watched Crank, it was her idea. How awesome is that? My girlfriend likes Jason Statham movies. It's one of the many, many reasons why I love her.

Goodbye Greg

Thursday, May 24, 2012

Ian's Quote O'The Days
Murray: Just step away from the drum circle and get a job.

House is over. After eight seasons, one hundred and seventy seven episodes and a plethora of diagnosis House has hung up his cane and ridden off in to the sunset. It was a fitting end to the series, it wrapped up everything that had to be wrapped up while also leaving just enough open that you could ponder the characters future after the credits rolled. I think that makes for a good finale. It was the kind of finale I couldn't complain about and I struggle to think of a "Last Ever Episode" that hasn't been bested by this one. I could continue writing about the programme but I refuse to get involved in the debate surrounding the show that has been championed by a number of my close friends, instead I shall just say this: If you haven't watched House, watch it from episode one, I have the first six seasons on DVD, if you want to watch it I will flat out let you borrow them. You can only appreciate the show when seen as a whole, when the over-arching storylines are seen in full, when the character development is witnessed and when the bromance between Wilson and House blooms. I shall miss the programme, it pushed me through first year and is one of my favourite TV programmes, constantly well acted, well written and had some stand out moments that rank the season and the character, in my eyes, up their with some of the best programmes to ever grace our screen. What shall I watch now?
Speaking of watching, I just returned from the cinema where Murray and I watched "The Raid". It has immediately taken it's place as one of my favourite action films, it's uncanny simplicity and incredibly choreography is sublime. You don't need complexity in an action film, you barely need character development and romance subplots usual serve to hinder events rather than improve them. All you need is a man killing someone with a door.
Elise and I spent the weekend together once again and it was, once again, a lovely weekend. We ate chinese, watched the new episode of Game Of Thrones and insulted Final Destination for the entire duration of the film. I wouldn't have changed the weekend for the world. On this note, Elise is ringing me.
It's now 1230, so I shall speed up the conclusion of this entry, I have a gym to attend in the about five hours after all.
It is hot. Hot enough for me to want a can of Lilt. And so ends this blog entry.

Unfortunate News, Parties and Finales

Thursday, May 17, 2012

I have decided to forego the traditional Quote O'The Day to reflect the sober tone of this blog, as much fun as a quote about something nerdier, grotesquely out of context or wildly insulting and surreal would be, I believe it would be somewhat strange to have that and then delve headlong in to a relatively morbid subject.

Unfortunatly Elise's cat, Mac, had to be put down at the beginning of the week. The cat had been ill for a week, we all assumed it had eaten something that didn't agree with him, but had in fact found himself in some kind of cat-based fight that and left him with a pretty severe infection. It was for the best, the cat was obviously in pain and the vet apparently said their was no guarantee, even after medical intervention, that anything would actually improve. I never used to like cats, I would go as far to say I abhorred them, but Mac was different. Elise loved him and therefore I did and, as far as cats go, he was a pretty damn awesome cat. He shall be missed.

In other, somewhat lighter news, the weekend brought about Lauren's 21st, an event that was greeted by all with vast amounts of alcohol consumption. Tracker people, Bishopshalt folk and members of both the Campbell and Harries clans were in attendance and it was really good night. Tom proved he could down a beer in three seconds which was marvellous, my father jived and two members of the Tracker team did the splits. What more could you ask for from a party? Baby by an artist I refuse to name on my blog was played twice however, but nobody is perfect.
In other sad news, though obviously nothing compared to the other sad news in this blog, Fringe has jumped the shark. I love Fringe, I thought it was brilliant, but I fear it has pushed too far away from what made it awesome. It suited the "monster of the week" format and drifting entirely away from that has damaged the show, The X Files had a good mix of stand alone episodes with those heavily laced with mythology. Fringe was epic when it stuck to this formula, the nice stand alone episodes that hinted at something bigger and then the odd episode that tied things together, Fringe now is a mess. You aren't sure what the characters know anymore due to various universe shifts and the recent observer episode was so out of the blue I fear it was simply a publicity stunt aimed at blackmailing a few extra episodes out of the commissioning network. It's a shame really.
Castle is still awesome though.

The Heroic Conclusion of Spiced Goat and Mightiest Heroes

Wednesday, May 09, 2012

Previously on Huzzah: Elise returned from Wycombe in time for a Harries' family celebration at a Nepalese restaurant, here they drank Nepalese beer and wine, along with consuming vast quantities of spiced meet ranging from squid to goat. Meanwhile, Ian started viewing a cartoon involving Thor being punched through a mountain by The Incredible Hulk.

Thursday was spent in a less spicy restaurant; pizza express. The pizza apparently was laden with "cajun spices", though after spiced goat these spices appeared pitiful, I assume they were jealous of the goat spices, perhaps they cry themselves to sleep at night, well they would, if I had not eaten them. I rarely personify my food, it feels strange giving personality to foodstuffs, only to then devour them, there's a definite sociopath element to it. I don't intend to make it a habit of imaging spices weeping, it's strange. I digress, after the pizza Elise and I made our merry way to the cinema where, finally, we watched Avengers Assemble. It. Was. Awesome. I was worried before watching the film. I had been looking forward to The Avengers since the Iron Man post-credit sequence thrust the idea in to existence, the subtle and not so subtle hints through the course of The Incredible Hulk, Thor and Captain America only served to send me to a veritable Nerdvana, a place where all was possible and the end result would be glorious. I was worried this would be another Phantom Menance, I was worried I would leave the cinema in a daze with nothing left to look forward to, some of my favourite films ruined and my future seeming bleak. Luckily, Joss Whedon is a God. The film was incredible, a true ensemble piece rather than the "Tony stark & Friends" I feared the box office would make it, but what else to expect from the Whedon? He's one of the best ensemble writers in the movie industry, the film was funny without seeming forced and to talk further on just how much I loved it would probably result in your opinion of me lowering, this blog becoming flagged for various deviations on censorship terms and, in all honesty, I doubt I could do the film justice without fully structuring and planning a review. Needless to say, watch the film. Elise and I shared an incredible meal, an incredible movie and everything was stunning perfection. I struggle to think how Thursday could have been a better day. In all honesty, I am struggling to think of what I actually did on Friday? I believe I attempted to carve out an empire for myself and the Aizu clan amidst the turmoil of late-19th century Japan. But how am I expect to remember in vivid detail what I did on a Friday? Especially when the Thursday was so incredible, anything I did would have paled in comparison. I remember the weekend much clearer. Father and I journeyed to Wales to catch a Scarlets game, something we have long said we would do but due to University were unable to find the time for. We ended up two rows from the front, practically in the middle of the pitch. It was a brilliant game, Llanelli Scarlets vs The Cardiff Blues. I realise I live in NW London, but being a Welsh supporter due to me backing my paternal heritage, I thought I may as well choose my Dad's local Welsh side as well, the stadium is less than a mile from the abode of the Elder Harries'. Ultimately the Scarlets were victorious, winning 29-20. We made some foolish mistakes, but luckily a diabolical kicking game by the blues kept us in the running. A Welsh song called "Sosban Fach" was constantly sung by various people throughout the stadium, being what I can assume their "Sweet Chariot", and it was surreal as fuck. I whole stadium singing in Welsh a song that sounds hideously Soviet:

Upon returning from Wales I spent my Monday once again returning to 19th century Japan and kicking up a shit storm. I'm a bit worried that an ally is massing his forces on the border, if he fucks me over I will be forced to kill him. That's a lie, in actually fact I'd probably have to yield a few towns over to him before the main bulk of my forces even reach him, and even then I think they'll be out numbered and that would leave my contested border undefended. Fuck you Shogun. Fuck you. And now I must pack my bag, Elise is returning from Wycombe once again and we have a couple of marvellous days together before she must return. To summarise everything else of note: I'm still going to the gym. A customer at work blamed the state of the country on "people like me". I feel hideously rough. The Prince Charles Cinema is airing action films including a free bottle of beer and a free slice of pizza with the ticket. I'm starting to lose motivation when it comes to work, but nothing a few days off can't handle. I have figured out the bulk of the plot to my glorious entry in to the world of "the unpublished novelist" but fuck it, it's a good idea, I like it and I want to right something now when I actually have the time. When I take the reigns of a Masters I doubt I'd have the time to write in my own time, so why not now? In the years I have set aside to gather money? WHY NOT?

Spiced Goat and Mightiest Heroes

Monday, May 07, 2012

Ian's Quote O'The Days
Alvarez: I had a dream last night I was getting a brilliant blowjob from the blonde one from ABBA. Sadly I woke up because his beard was tickling my bollocks. Such a shame.

I'm currently in the throes of being unable to sleep and have found myself reclining in front of a Marvel produced cartoon in which the Hulk has just punched Thor through a mountain. As far as cartoons go it's on the more badass end of the spectrum. My current unable to sleep state appeared to be the perfect state in which to blog, and blog I shall. Wednesday saw the return of Elise from Wycombe and my parents twenty fifth wedding anniversary. These two events culminated in a family excursion to a Nepalese restaurant on the outskirts of Uxbridge. I ate goat, squid and we all enjoyed a meal of epic proportions. Nepalese beer was drank, spice was consumed and fun was had. I'm going to stop writing this blog now as I'm in a shit mood. I'm going to drink some form of fruit based beverage and absorb myself in Hulk versus Thor. I'll resume the week's tale tomorrow.

Mr Mojo's Rising Gout

Tuesday, May 01, 2012

Ian's Quote O'The Day
Tom: Did you see the lightning?
Mother: Where?
Tom: The sky?

There is no easy way to say this, and for some bizarre reason whenever I write the following I interpret it as some kind of disgusting euphemism, but our favourite chameleon has gout. This isn't exactly a nice realisation but I have faith in our reptilian friend and I'm sure he will oust the gout from his system soon; if the Lord of Sunspear can rule Dorne with gout, Mr Mojo can eat locusts with gout. If it comes to it I am sure I can peruse the eight seasons of House and discover a cure. Gout will rue the day it crossed our lizard.
Aside from the above medical discovery the day went by as any normal Tuesday would: I went to work and I watched new episodes of the usual nuggets of television gold. House is entering it's last ever story arc, with the last ever episode being aired at the end of the month, and I am sad to see it go. Many people may have issues with the programme, my girlfriend and my best friends being among their number, but I absolutely adore it. I have always maintained you need to watch the programme from episode one and in chronological order to get the most from the programme, each episode features a patient who the doctors attempt to cure and if viewed separately these may seem similar, but if viewed separately you miss the strings that draw them all together and it's these that I watch the programme for; that and it is incredibly well written, particularly the relationship between House and Wilson. Hopefully the finale will do House justice, if it doesn't heads will roll.
As today is a normal Tuesday and is unfolding as any normal Tuesday does I will now stop writing and watch an episode of 24 before sleep claims me.

Surely Gamma Rays Would Be Easier?

Monday, April 30, 2012

Ian's Quote O'The Day
Alun: Feeling Hulkish. Will do for an hour or so, then I'll recover and be back to normal.

Today's blog is brought to you by a fairly disgruntled Ian. While manning the phones at the occupational headquarters I happened to stumble in to dealing with a customer who ranks so high on the cunt-o-meter that I am fairly sure discussing in any detail exactly how cuntish this particular cunt was would result in metaphors of a near Serbian Film level of depravity, metaphors that would make Malcolm Tucker blush and probably result in prison time. I won't go in to the nature of the inquiry but when I attempted to explain to him in terms he apparently was unable to comprehend - perhaps he couldn't make these terms out past his massive ego - he uttered the phrase "I can't believe they let people like you talk to people like me". Various rebuttals swarmed through my head, none of which I could use in the professional realm that I found myself in, instead I did the telephone equivalent of smiling and nodding and then excused myself to the vending machine where I took my fury out on a cup of tea. Who the fuck does he think he is? I was doing my best to help the cretin and all I got was abuse? Not just abuse but abuse which slowed the pace that I could actually help him. Aside from this and waking up at five thirty the day went swimmingly. The reason for this grotesquely early rising time is that I have joined the ranks of the local gym. The Alun Fitness Regime (tm) is being pursued and soon I may finally have some form of upper body strength. No more will crates of beer be my undoing, no more will amps be struggled to be taken upstairs, no more will Louisa mock me, no more will Ian go through his days contemplating levers and pulley systems, NO MORE I TELL THEE! NO MORE! NO MORE AM I A SLAVE TO MY DOUGH-ESQUE PHYSIQUE! NO MORE MY FRIENDS! NO MORE! Just to put in to context how early this early start was; when we finished I went to subway to get a mega breakfast and it was closed. This is the first, and hopefully the last time, I am faced with such disappointment. It is on this gloriously hyperbolic moment that I shall descend in to an episode of 24 and then sleep. Have spent the last half an hour looking in to hotels in Norway and Rome, I realise there isn't much similarity in here other than "they're awesome places to go" and in all honesty I have no real idea which I'd prefer to go to, Rome has the history aspect while Norway has the fact it's Norway. Norway also happens to have the added delight of Frostbite while Rome has pizza, so perhaps the latter is probably the wiser option considering that my winter clothing consists of one knee-length coat, a scarf I brought from the bowels of a Topman and a hat which, if I'm not mistaken, has vanished. I still want to go to Norway though and Peru, Japan and Australia and China, Moscow, San Fransisco, New York, Las Vegas, Vietnam, Egypt, Cuba, Iceland, Canada and a whole host of other countries, cities and places I wish I had the sheer motivation and drive to have travelled to before debt and money woes starting looming into my peripheral vision. Would love to have travelled like a family friend of ours did, or how Liz is doing now, just go to a city and see what happens. Our family friend spent a year travelling the world, ended up going from some distant far east country to Ghana because she heard from a back packer that a watermelon farmer needed help harvesting his watermelons. How crazy is that? I'd never have the drive to do something like that, I fear the unknown and obsess over everything that could go wrong to the point where, instead of enjoying myself or being in the moment, I'm on the look out for the next disaster that ultimately will never arrive and, if it did, probably wouldn't be half as bad as I was making it out to be. This outlook cripples some aspects of my life and I utterly loathe it but, try as I might, I can't seem to shake the horrible feeling that shit of a colossal degree is about to go down.

Seven Years

Sunday, April 29, 2012

In my spectacular April I some how managed to miss the fact that my blog is now seven years old. This is partly terrifying and partly awesome. I shall write some kind of entry around this news but that isn't happening right now, I have an episode of 24 to watch and bed is calling my name.

An April Summary

I walked past a popular stuffed animal emporium today. I had a handful of minutes to kill and was making my way aimlessly around the local shopping centre and saw, in the window, various cuddly animals clad in Avengers attire. I made a strange noise upon seeing these; an involuntary yelp, a noise that sounded as if my diaphragm wished to interject and inform the world as to how awesome this selection of teddy bears were. Upon making this noise I attempted to compose myself but suddenly I heard the noise again; I was not alone! My appreciation of nerd was echoed in a counterpart and upon turning around to see the source of this noise I discovered a four year old standing a few feet behind me pointing to the window and tugging on his Dad's arm. I'm not sure what I expected to see; another bearded nerd realising that a Giraffe Thor was exactly what he needed or perhaps someone I knew mocking me for my appreciation of a Monkey Iron Man. It was a strange moment and a moment I escaped from as quickly as I could. Firstly, well not firstly as firstly belongs solely to an Avengers anecdote, I must accept that I am two weeks late with this particular blog entry and as of yet my journey through April has been chronicled by one blog entry that detailed my dislike of the latest outing of Gervais. This must be remedied and remedied now. The only problem this leaves me with is I must condense an entire month in to an easily manageable piece of prose. A lot as happened over April and it would be impossible to recall all of it and I've decided that it is best that I do not. April can be summarised in a number of ways primarily that it was particularly awesome. Elise and I had free reign of her house for three weeks as her parents had fled to the Spaniards. It was an incredible three weeks, weeks that featured more pizza than I'd care to mention, the entire first series of Game of Thrones, a Game of Thrones evening that involved Rea Rea, the first two episodes of Season Two, Steak, Bacon, Sausages, Ham, Halloumi and mead, countless movies, hours of laying in each others arms and a party. This part spawned the following photo:

Need I say more?
The three weeks went past all too quickly and before long I was back to the abode of the Harries'. The abode of the Harries' however was distinctly lacking in Harries; my parents had fled to the Portuguese and my brother, as he is wont to do, spent the week at the Campbell residence. This left me, for the better part of each evening, alone. It was a shock to the system actually, going from three weeks with Elise to a week alone with noone but Ezio Auditore da Firenze for company. It was during this week that my homeward journey across Brunel lead me to the single greatest spontaneous purchase I have ever made: shark steak. It was a glorious steak and the meal of "shark and chips" may be one of the finest culinary events of my existence.
The above was but a short summary of April, I could have delved in to greater detail on certain aspects I am sure; context in the above picture, a run down of the Game of Thrones evening, Wednesday's at the met, my first gym experience and the four days of not being able to climb down stairs that followed, my epic 18-2 round on Battlefield 3 and I'm sure they're a host of other events which I am struggle to remember through the haze of my sieve like memory. I need to start writing more, the framework for what will hopefully become my magnum opus is growing and my literary skills must once again flourish. Egotism aside, though hopefully I'll at least crank out a few chapters in the coming weeks, I need to keep writing. I plan on trudging the route of academia and it's somewhat integral that I continue writing, I must hone myself in to a wordsmith. The English language is grass and I'm a lawnmower if you catch my drift. I'm Bear Grylls and the English Language is the wild.
On this note I am going to flee to slumber, I must arise at 530 tomorrow as I must be at the gym for 630.

Yes.

You heard me correctly.

Gervais Induced Blogging

Thursday, April 12, 2012

My original plan for the evening was to sit and play Assassin's Creed Revelations and listen to the new Suburban Legends' album on repeat until bed became irresistible which, given my current levels of exhaustion, will be sooner rather than later. I would then have blogged on Sunday, giving an epic run through of the past two weeks and a brief narrative, speckled with metaphor and references, of the events that had lead up to what will probably be a near fatal hangover. I've been living at Elise's the past two weeks, her parents have fled to sunnier pastures on holiday and left us to look after the house. It has been incredible, took some getting used to at the beginning because her house runs differently to mine and by this I mean she keeps the ketchup in the cupboard rather than the fridge. O how the other half live.
Ricky Gervais made me change these plans and pushed forward the blog deadline. This isn't supposed to be taken literally, I didn't receive a phone call from a Gervais yearning to read more of my ramblings, rather I just watched "Derek". "Derek" was painful. Gervais went full retard and, as we all know, you never go full retard.
The entire reason for this blog was the above paragraph, my original plan still stands and I shall compose a blog on Sunday. I shall blog on Sunday, O yes, I shall blog on Sunday.

Breakfail And The King In The North

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Ian's Quote O'The Days
Nate: A Dance with Dragons and Ice Cream. Imagine if that was the name of the book: "Winter is coming. I made ice-cream"

It would not have taken a soothsayer to foresee that my breakfast plans result in a battle between sleep and the promise of breakfast, a battle that sleep once again claimed victory in. However, after this disappointing morning the week took a definite upward turn.
I turned up to work Friday with a slight hangover, an affliction that was cause by a night out Thursday. It was a social affair, one where the alcohol flowed a lot faster than I predicted it would. I only realised how far I had succumbed into the throes of alcohol when I thought the idea of a kebab was truly a plan of kings. The hangover was in no way severe, it manifested in a way that required water every twenty minutes rather than in the more guise of being forced away from bright lights and having to remain in the foetal position for extended periods of time.
The week continued to head in an upward direction with Elise's return and the coming of pizza. Obviously I do not count these two events on the same level, Elise is far superior to the pizza in every possible way, but as this blog is covering a few days I must consolidate where I can. We spent our Friday and Saturday watching Game of Thrones. Elise was yet to watch it and we powered through the boxset accompanied by our pizzary friend. I can now say that Elise has pledged her allegiance to the Starks, hates the boy King and morns the loss of Eddard. This was all in preparation for season 2 and a promised "Game Of Thrones Day" which shall bring meat, mead, Starks and an assortment of companions.
Everything continued to head upwards, we shared a marvellous dinner Sunday in front of a distinctly marvellous, yet disgusting, Korean film called "I Saw The Devil". I recommend this heartily but only on an empty stomach. Upwards we continued to climb as Monday brought a barbecue, an incredible barbecue helmed by Elise who steered us through pork and prawn perfection. I refuse to believe this was her first time as the primary barbecuer. I am yet to captain my own barbecue and now I fear I may not as it shan't be a shade on hers. Tuesday brought more good news, I had the most sales in our team and found myself at the top of a number of league tables. However our upward incline would be no more as Elise found herself back in Wycombe. She is only there over night however, so tomorrow I am sure things shall continue on the road to awesomeness.

Break Fast or Die Hard

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Ian's Quote O'The Day
Murray: I was trying to find a phrase with tease in it, but ass trident is good.

Tomorrow morning I intend to wake up early and prepare breakfast. This won't just be any breakfast, this will be a part fried, part grilled leviathan of a breakfast. It shall be the cornerstone of the week, a breakfast that would bring tears to the eyes of the culinary gods, a breakfast that will echo through the ages. I shall lightly grill bacon and as this bacon crisps alongside it's sausage brethren I shall fry egg and as this segment of glory reaches it's magnificent, over easy crescendo I shall throw mushroom and bread into a pan, frying them to the point of epicness as the blood of a black pudding boils and beans bathe in a microwaves light. Tea shall be poured and as the magnificent smell of a breakfast well prepared reaches my nostrils I shall survey my breakfast kingdom and see that all is good.
This is the plan and it shall be an incredible and breakfasty plan indeed. This however has also been my plan literally every morning since I have started at my new place of work. My glorious breakfast seems an incredible idea the night before but upon rising in the morn' and the choice ultimately comes down to an extra 45 minutes sleep or a breakfast worthy of the Gods: sleep wins. Tomorrow breakfast will seize the day.
It is growing let so the next hyperbolic paragraph you can construct yourself. The yarn I was going to spin regarding me rescuing a cat, the true tale that would have been hilarious unfolded at the end would have been me opening the back door at Elise's house and letting her waiting cat inside.

Dancing With Dragons

Monday, March 19, 2012

Ian's Quote O'The Day
My Bosses Boss: I need to talk to you at some point about your guitar heroics

I have finally returned to the land of Westeros; once again I find myself walking the Wall, once again I'm surrounded by direwolves, dragons and people who seem slightly too infatuated with embroided animals on banners and once more I am completely and utterly engrossed in The Song Of Ice And Fire. Lunchtime at work now finds me seeking out the far corner of the break room, an area where few people are likely to bother me, and it is here that I sit and read. Today I sat down attempting to pursue this plan only for the person sitting next to me to start talking to me as soon as I took my seat. Luckily however, this was a conversation I appreciated. This person too had sort out the far corner to sit and read the Song Of Ice and Fire. We had a brief conversation regarding the characters and the new series and then I delved straight into my book. As nice as finding another fan was, I have been waiting for this book for close to four months now and nobody was keeping me from it for another second.
The vast majority of the coming days will be spent reading these books, when I'm not reading these books I will be watching 24 and when I'm not reading these books or watching 24 you can assume Elise is back and I'm spending some well deserved time with her.
In other news, my bosses boss today rather cryptically told me he needs to discuss music with me. I have little to no idea why and am rather perplexed. Nice to know he remembers me from my interview. Beards leave impressions.

Grand Slam Profit And Gun Crime

Sunday, March 18, 2012

Ian's Quote O'The Days
Tom P: No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO! I honestly don't think I have the capacity to articulate my rage over that.

The past week has brought highs and lows careering in my general direction. Two of which are of particular note.
Firstly a low, and a particular low low at that. Elise was literally held at gunpoint. I won't even pretend to comprehend how horrific that must have been for her but luckily she is fine and nothing was taken. I'm not a naive person, I realise that the world isn't comprised entirely of flowery meadows and rainbow skies, and rivers made of chocolate, where children dance and laugh and play with gumdrop smiles, but I still can't quite believe that something this vile happened to somebody that I care so deeply for. I loathe the bowels of humanity that sprung people like this into the world and if my journeys in Wycombe ever bring them across my path I shall put in to play a plan of vengeance that is rarely seen outside of Japanese cinema. People like this deserve pain. Nobody fucks with my Elise.
On a more positive plane, the weekend brought a Welsh Grand Slam and with it £35. this doesn't balance out the sheer grotesque nature of the above event, but it was still nice. Though the Welsh weren't as consistent this year as they were during the World Cup, they still showed their brilliance when it mattered. Though luck and a few kind decisions helped us along the way, I would say it was a Grand Slam well deserved. The swathe of destruction this Welsh team will carve in the 2015 World Cup should be impressive.
The week, as a narrative, was predominately spent at work and delving in to more detail on this front would probably be boring to the point of offence, would repeat a the same tale five times over and would also probably infringe on a couple of data protection laws. This isn't the case with the weekend which was spent in the company of Elise and SAMCRO. It was a glorious weekend, one which I had been looking forward to since last we parted ways. I always hate time away from her, and the one thing that gets me through is thinking of the time we will spent together. The weekend didn't disappoint. Furthermore, I have just discovered that the new "A Song Of Ice And Fire" books have arrived, they were nestled covertly on my pillow, and in looking over to my bed I have seen them. Just as a warning to people, if you see me reading these don't attempt to talk to me. You will be ignored.

The Ineludible

Sunday, March 11, 2012

Ian's Quote O'The Days
I'm not entirely certain how to spell the noise Lee made. All I know was that the train was completely silent and he made a loud noise that sounded a strange mix between a duck, a dying sheep and a whoopee cushion.

Since the thirteenth day of October of the year 2006 I have been attending gigs. For those unaware of how the passing of time works - that is closing in on six years as an active participant in the audience realm of music. What happened yesterday was a painful moment, it brought me to the brink of a Hulk-esque transformation and shook me to my very core. I managed to lose gig tickets. By the time the investigation was called off we had reached the fifth tier of search locations, the kind of locations where the tickets could only be there if someone had gone out of their way to put the tickets there solely to bring misery into the lives of the Harries Clan. What made this loss even worse was the simple fact that these were tickets for Protest The Hero - my favourite band and the favourite band of my gig companion Lee.
Luckily the gig was not sold out, which though a travesty, was fortune that is usually not bestowed upon me in such horrendous situations. Lee and I rolled in to London, I brought us tickets on the door and we headed toward the nearest Burger King for the traditional pre-gig XL Bacon Double Cheeseburger.
Protest The Hero, as always, were utterly incredible. As the lights dimmed the crowd were greeted to the sight of Rody Walker walking to the microphone before hushing the crowd and pulling out an iPhone, he then proceeded to play the Star Spangled Banner on a guitar app before being joined by the rest of the band after a minute or two of rocking out on a phone. The gig then proceeded as it always does, with infuriatingly technical, brilliant mathcore and no sign of Heretics And Killers. This was my fifth time seeing the band and they still haven't lost their impact. I must see them again. On leaving the gig I noticed a piece of paper on the floor near the exit, being part of a large crowd of people fleeing the scene I attempted to kick the paper over to see what was on the other side before realising that I was currently kicking a setlist. I proceeded to pick it up, looked around and folded it while feeling overly content with my cunning approach to setlist pilfering. Not sure why it was that far back, I assume someone was lucky enough to get one from the stage and then unlucky enough to lose. All I know is that it is now mine and I intend to keep it that way. Want to fight about it?
Today featured a distinct lack of mathcore but made up for this with an abundance of Rugby: Wales versus Italy - a distinctly demeaning game with Wales missing easy penalty points because they were playing as if they were guaranteed a win (which they were but that's beside the point) had they kicked for the posts rather than touch on a number of occasions the scoreboard would've been pushing bonus point territories, but alas. This game was followed by Ireland versus Scotland - a game where the second half didn't quite live up to the promise of the first. Alun joined me in the viewing and rugby and politics were discussed, as men this was our duty.

I'd Buy That For A Dollar

Tuesday, March 06, 2012

Ian's Quote O'The Days
Lee: Apparently when I got home I fell asleep on the toilet and when my Mum asked what I was doing I told her I had to phone my wife.

Working to home has it's perks. The other day I walked through my front door and noticed that the hands of the clock were pointing towards half five. Upon verifying that this was a true chronological reading I dove head first in to an hour of sheer happiness. I finished at five. Usually I wouldn't have arrived home until just after six thirty and that after an aggravating commute. It scared me just how happy this clock made me that evening.
It has been quite a good week. Work is more interesting than my previous place of employment, though my days will no longer be spent flicking between my social network feeds and the telephone. My days have been spent eavesdropping on the teams calls and attempting to wrap my head around the hideously illogical and outdated system that they use.
Elise returned from Wycombe over the weekend which coincided with the long overdue, albeit brief, return of Lawson. To celebrate his birthday a number of us encroached upon Uxbridge for the evening and all participated in one of the better nights out I have had in quite some time. This night ended with a walk home that will soon become the crux of many a beerside anecdote. I practically had to support him the entire way home and at one stage of the journey he entered Metro Pizza wherein he was denied food, Lee then proclaimed his intention to steal the carpet which he promptly picked up and threw out the door. I am struggling to put into words the sheer brilliance that unfolded so instead I shall post the following picture and hope it sums it up better than I could:

Saturday was spent far from drunk, infact Elise appeared to be in the throes of a fairly severe hangover for the considerable part of the day. The day however did involve a substantial amount of Chinese food and Sons of Anarchy. Season 4 features Danny Trejo. Why was I never informed of this? The Trejo automatically makes something worth watching.
On Sunday I decided that my time was best spent having a cold, it wasn't a pleasant sensation and I'm not sure why I decided that this was the best option for my day but I persevered with it anyway. Luckily Elise was with me for the bulk of the day and she attempted as best she could to throw me towards healthier pastures. I thanked her by giving her my cold. Sorry about that my love.
Monday I found myself back at the Prince Charles Cinema in the presence of James and Robocop. Nothing beats sitting in front of a big screen, surrounded by cinema fans and watching a brilliant movie. I haven't seen Robocop in a long time and I fail to see a better way that I could have watched it. A membership card must be brought, The Goonies must be viewed and a discount is always awesome.
My cold has forced my exercise goals into a lull, walking is proving tiring with blocked airways let alone jogging and I'm feeling run down to the point that the weights hurt to even comprehend. Tomorrow I plan to man up and push through, but the first half of the week I caved to the colds demands. I wouldn't make a very good President.
This blog must end here, it is growing late and 24 isn't going to watch itself. It is yet to feature Danny Trejo, but it's still watchable.

The Last Commute

Thursday, March 01, 2012

Ian's Quote O'The Days
Murray: Next time your welsh blood should slap the filthy poultry out of my mouth.

No more must I trawl through the tunnels of London daily, no more will I be forced into a carriage, surrounded by suit clad business men clutching their coffees and briefcases, rhythmically swaying to the beat of the track as we all issue a uniformed sigh and swear that one day, one fine day, we won't have to keep making these journeys. For me that day was yesterday. The event I was working on finished and we breached our glorious deadline, bringing me an extra £200 and signalling a celebratory burger and milkshake at a nearby American diner. It was a good day, it was a good burger and they are two hundred good pounds.
Tomorrow I start a new job, the base pay isn't as good but this gets balanced out by the fact that I no longer have to spend £200 a month journeying around our nation's capital. I'm also fairly sure I get commission at the new place, which would shift my economic fortunes in an upward direction.
Last night was spent chiselling out a tradition at the Met. Alun, James, Murray and I took up positions in the garden and drank the evening away. It was a good evening, even if an old man at the bar told me to "fuck off" after I moved his drink in an effort to avoid knocking it over. I realise this breaches bar protocol, but he was reading and seemed oblivious to all around him.
I finally have objectives to work towards, these aren't career ambitions but it is a distinct start in attempting to do something with my life.

Objective One: Upload the "achievement sound" from the Xbox and place it on my phone. This will then be played when goals are achieved.
Objective Two: Get to a point in physical fitness where I can start playing rugby again. Inside Centre seems like the ideal position; I'll never have the sheer bulk to be a forward or the speed to go on the wing.
Objective Three: Stow enough money away, preferably in a chest on a desert island but this isn't a necessity, so that I can move out, preferably in September.

These goals shall be worked towards and hopefully supply the incentive to push myself further in this new job. It's difficult to fully motivate yourself without a direction, but why does that direction have to be a career direction? Why can't it just be the promise of rugby and a house with a big TV and an Xbox?

Amendment

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

In my Baozi induced daze I appear to have forgotten that how the concept of time works. I noted that my previous entry was written on Friday, which would obviously me that the new entry would have to cover Saturday onwards. This was also obviously wrong and involves missing out talking about Friday evening. This is unforgivable, primarily because Friday evening was home to Elise's birthday celebrations.
Our first stop was the Met which, as we expected, was completely and utterly rammed. Here I discovered Dain, a person I have not seen in a number of months and I person I haven't seen sober - and still haven't - in what must be a year. I spoke to Dain while Elise and the birthday entourage started siphoning alcohol from the bar. It was here that we were informed that a prospective entourage member was denied entry so we dove into Stage 2 of the night. Stage 2 took us to the Yarn which, as we expected, was completely and utterly rammed - though with a lower density of bastards than usually can be found there. Here I felt old. This feeling of senility was created by someone introducing themselves to me as "being four years below me in school", apparently I was memorable in Bishopshalt and they wished to compliment my beard. He was 19. Four years below me and 19? That isn't right. Infact I think it isn't right at all? Perhaps he was a fool and meant three years? Either way, it's strange having a 19 year old know who I am.
We passed time away in the Yarn and then headed to the Treaty for a while, here we drank further, sat on a picnic bench and talked away the night with a number of people we found there.
It was a really nice night. I haven't gone out like that around here in a long time, and what better reason to go out than for Elise's birthday? And celebrations aren't even over! For her birthday, along with over a kilogram of Haribo, I brought Woman In Black tickets. What better way to celebrate a twentieth birthday than spending two hours in a dark theatre being scared shitless? I can't think of anything.
These celebrations also left me hungover for the journey to Twickenham the following day. On this journey we went over a speedbump. I never want to experience a speedbump while hungover again. Ever.

12-19

Monday, February 27, 2012

Ian's Quote O'The Days
Nate: I am having doubts because I am angry at all Welsh people for an indefinite amount of time

The catalyst for this particular rambling, a rambling which will use descriptive words usually reserved for Elise and Elise alone, began in Chinatown. I'm midway through the first day of my last week working in my current occupation and with this came the realisation that I would no longer have easy and convenient access to Chinatown. With this realisation came the desire for the food of the orient which, as we all know, appears to be noodles and things that are fried. As lunch loomed I waltzed from the office into the throngs of Chinese people, past the parade of shops displaying the macabre, yet deeply delicious, sight of hanging dead ducks and into the China Buffet. I have a soft spot for the China Buffet, a soft spot that is simply derived from the fact that everywhere else in China seems to loathe the English language and I am worried that I'll walk in and, upon ordering, accidentally commit some form of historical social faux pas that results in shocked faces, gasps and some kind of death sentence. Chinese culture is confusing at the simplest of times, let alone when nothing is written in English. This however is my fault, not that of the Chinese, and in time I am sure I will overcome this fear and be able to walk, with confidence, into whichever purveyor of oriental food I wish.
Upon leaving the China Buffet I ended up walking past a stall selling some form of steamed bun, a steamed bun that wikipedia later would assure me were called Baozi. A couple were buying a couple in front of me and I caught a smell, a smell which seemed to say "Ian, my name is Baozi, trust me wikipedia it later, and if you don't buy me you spend eternity contemplating what epicness I could have brought into your existence". I gave in to this promise and purchased one. I tentatively brought it to my lips and in my first bite I saw God; reality seemed to bend and warp and speak to me, I heard colours and saw sounds, the very fabric of existence seemed to whisper to me and tell me that "everything is going to be alright". I don't know where Baozi has been all my life, but it is here to stay.
Aside from a quasi-religious experience induced by steamed dough the weekend brought other incredible things. Saturday I witnessed my first international game at Twickenham: England against Wales, in one of the most exciting games of Six Nations Rugby I have seen in quite some time. We were the back row of the upper tier, literally the furthest you could get away from the pitch, but our view including a side on view of the entire pitch and it was truly spectacular and gave what could only be described as "the video game" angle of proceedings. I would ramble and dissect the game further but I spent the majority of Sunday doing that on a bench outside the Met while watching France against Scotland on my iPhone with Alun and I'm worried that if I start to write I won't stop in time to get any form of constructive work done come the afternoon.
We are three years away from the Rugby World Cup in England, terrifying thought actually because I'll be 25 by then, possibly even 26 if it starts later in the year as 2011 did, but I intend to utilize this opportunity to see as many matches as I humanly can. At some point soon I shall make a list, a list of teams I must see in 2015, and this shall be a glorious list and a glorious day for all.
This weekend also brought to an end Elise's reading week and this morning she returned to the depths of Wycombe. I don't like seeing her go but Easter isn't too far away and then I get to steal her from Buckingham for a whole month and before you know it Summer will be upon us. It is somewhat terrifying how fast the year is going, but I guess that's what working full time does to you. I honestly can't wait until she returns for Easter, it will be a good month, full of revelry, Sons of Anarchy and probably an abundance of Chinese food, preferably Baozi.

Birthday Marsupials

Friday, February 24, 2012

Ian's Quote O'The Day
Lee: Can't wait to give it a good cyber shafting

Apparently it takes 10,000 hours of practice to become an expert in a field, I don't mean a literally field - unless of course your chosen expertise is some form of botany - I mean an expertise, something you excel in that unleashes a degree of awesomeness into your life.
I have been dwelling a lot on this number recently. Do you know how hours it took me to decide on which character and class I would be back in my Warcraft days? It took a month. Literally. I spent a month before even buying the game deciding exactly what I character I would embody. The character creation screen on Dragon Age held me up for over an hour as I tried to figure out exactly who would be questing their way through the fiction realms of Ferelden and I dare to think whatever menial decisions in the realms of fiction have waylaid me for longer than an hour. If it takes me that long to question my character in a fictional setting can you imagine how long it will take me to decide what I want in reality? So far it's twenty two years and counting.
For some reason, in deciding what I want from my future, I inevitable drift away from my actual interests. History interests me; I am fascinated by the past and the sheer proximity our species have come to complete and utter disaster, and any plan for my future seems to, ironically enough, revolve around the past. But why do I always drift toward academia? Do I truly want a life rustling historians feathers or am I just too scared to pursue other interests. Vast swathes of my free time are taken up watching movies, reading books and listening to music, why have I never truly considered these as legitimate options for a future? Why do these skirt on the periphery of any serious decision about where my life is taking me while history dominates the bulk of discussion? Who knows, but I should probably figure this all out at some point and stop living by the mantra of "what can be decided today, can also be decided tomorrow". It hasn't served me very well, infact as a mantra I suggest you steer clear of it and attempted to find something more worthwhile to develop your life around: "It's never Lupus" is always a good one.
My week has been spent in the company of Elise and work. Time with Elise, as always, has been fantastic. After a day at work there is nothing better to return to Elise and catch up on whatever season of television we are currently ploughing our way through; this week it is the third season of Sons Of Anarchy. Her being home truly makes the working day seem nicer. Wednesday however was different, for Wednesday was her birthday and for this we spent the evening at Cafe Rouge where we worked our way through a rite of passage that any budding, young couple must find their way through; our parents meeting. It was a lot less awkward than I thought it would be, by this I mean I was worried Father would mention a now infamous, one armed, one legged Crack Whore, in a lull in conversation. Such a lull never arrived and we all ended the night at Elise's drinking tea until my parents gallivanted home. I hated having to work during that day, I wanted nothing more than to be at her side all day, in front of the 2.75577lbs of Haribo I brought her and watch Jeremy Kyle while sampling the finest tea her kitchen has to offer but alas, instead I spent the day reminding business men of an event in Cambridge.
With the opening rant in mind, there is only one thing I am certain of: I want many, many more birthdays spent with Elise (hopefully spent with her, rather than phoning Cambridge-based businessmen).

Street Where The Riches Of Ages Are Stowed

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Ian's Quote O'The Days
Ryan: The name 'indiana jones 4' now means 'disappointment' as much as the word, 'disappointment' does

Sonisphere have finally announced their festival line up and once again the world was bathed in disappointment - it was the Phantom Menace all over again. I'm not sure what has happened this year, either the festival season is woefully substandard, my music taste has evolved into the next echelon of taste or perhaps I have seen too many bands live. Each year I have attended a festival a line up has grabbed me by the shoulders, threatened my well being and practically forced me at knife point to buy a ticket. Last year it was System Of A Down, if I hadn't seen them live I doubt I would ever have known true happiness. The year before that AC/DC proved too good to deny. 2009 brought Limp Bizkit and Slipknot. 2008 brought Rage Against The Machine when their reunion actually mattered and wasn't in the fourth year of being flogged for all the hypocritical, capitalist gain they could draw from it and 2007 was my first festival and the general yearning to attend a festival overruled all else, though saying that there were some incredible smaller bands on the line up: New Found Glory, Turbonegro, Gogol Bordello, Eagles Of Death Metal and a number of other bands of various sizes and quality that 2007 Ian wanted to observe.
Download and Sonisphere this year however fail to have that band, the band that makes the camping and the queues and the abhorrent hygiene and the close proximity to utter, utter bastards tolerable. Download has some good bands though, many I would see in fact and a couple I have actively attempted to seek out but have, as of yet, failed in my quest to witness. Kyuss Live would be interesting, even though the lack of Josh Homme somewhat defies the entire point of them, Tenacious D are always a laugh, Steel Panther are one of my favourite live bands, Periphery are one of my favourite bands anyway, NOFX should be funny, Killswitch Engage with Jesse I need to see and I couldn't say no to Black Sabbath (even if their drummer did). These however to me are diluted by the presence of bands I've seen and found boring and bands I haven't seen but find boring; but perhaps future announcements will wrench the average up for me, but as of yet I'm not overly enthused. Perhaps Hevy this year instead? Who knows. Soon a festival summit shall be had and a decision be made.
The weekend brought rain and a trip to Portobello Road, a road I have never walked before but a road that is truly an incredible, and long, road. We found a plethora of strange items being sold by a number of strange people in an abundance of strange locations. We found Waterford Crystals, Napoleon's pistols, Society heirlooms with genuine gems! Rembrandts, El Greco's, Toulouse Letrec'os that were painted last week on the banks of the Thames. Sorry about that, I got lost in Disney. I love exploring with Elise and Portobello Road was a fascinating place to explore and in all seriousness, and without embedding lyrics from Bedknobs and Broomsticks into proceedings, we did find some incredible things. We found a box of letters recovered from the front of pubs. We found a mannequin adorned in a full suit of chainmail. We found an old flare gun. We found endless rooms that were literally brimming with long forgotten objects. While wielding a waffle (and later, a bratwurst) we scoured the road in the shine and rain for a number of hours before whisking ourselves away back home where the evening was spent in the company of the Sons Of Anarchy and pizza from our favourite hut. An incredible weekend on all accounts.
I would write more but I believe this is enough, that and my lunch break is drawing to a close and I should really man the phones for a while.