Quick Exam Result Prediction

Aloha, Konbanwa!
With exam results day edging closer and closer myself and Joe were today discussing results.
So I figured I'd post my predictions, we'll see how accurate they are in just two more days.

English Language: B
English Literature: B
Maths: A (*)
Science: A\A
Geography: A*
French: C
IT: A*
Drama: A

Mr Joe predicts he will fail English. I laugh at his foolish negativity...

I dreamt I failed everything except Drama and Geography. Though, I can't really take that dream as upcoming fact, as the grade system in this dream was pretty twisted:

A B C D E...
Followed by the fail grades:
T U T E G X A...
Amongst other letters.

My results were also enclosed with a book, which I had actually written and published, about how to revise. Though, flicking through, it was actually full instructions to burn all work, sleep in class and generally do no actuall revision. The final chapter was detailed steps to build a "Grade Editing Machine".

Sounds like something I'd write.

Sam.
Mood of the Day: Dun Dun Duuun Happy
Listening To: Rusted Root - (Send Me) On My Way
Current Theory: Failing a GCSE isn't all that easy.
Quote of the Moment: "She's got ginger hair... She's not a real person" ~ Boston Jonny

(*)An A or A* means I can shout at my Maths teacher with a sense of overpowering glory: "WHO'S ON TRACK FOR A C NOW?!"

The Multitudes Of Things...

Aloha, Konbanwa.
Well with the dawn of my GCSE exam results just mere days away, I thought I would leave you lovely people with a post about the many, many multitudes of things I've been up to the past few weeks. Short, vaguely interesting post then.

The first thing that comes to mind is the MusicMix gig, you see Joe had been spending a week in Cardiff at an event called MusicMix, where, he learnt to be cool and along with the rest of his group, wrote some pretty damn awesome songs for the final show, which I was kindly invited to.

Now, I've been to Cardiff once, to see Rhi, so I was lost as soon as I stepped out of Joe's dad's car, but after walking around pretending to be a stereotypical American tourist and narrowly missing getting hit by a Cardiffian bendy bus, which I'd like to add would have been an awesome way to be hospitalized, we found the St. David's Hall Auditorium. Myself and couzin Ki averted the suspicious gaze of security as we ran upstairs, I looked incredibly conspicuous running around with a tripod, especially seeing as I wasn't really supposed to be filming. But still, I took some awesome footage and pictures:

Take that Bev. You may be The Photo, but mine are still pretty damn good.

I spent most of the gig screaming applause for every single person who walked onstage as well as shouting at the presenter, lines such as "I like biscuits, biscuits are nice..." can be heard on the filmed footage even though I was hiding all the way at the top of the auditorium. Ki also dared me to run with my arms flying in the air past the front of the stage, so I did, screaming "I'm my own one man Mexican wave! Woooooo!".

After separating Joe from his new rockstar chums, we made our way back to Joe's, for the usual weekend of shouting, dancing, eating junk, drinking chocolate filled milkshake creations as well as singing obnoxiously out bedroom windows at unsuspecting passers-by. But of course it wouldn't be a proper stay at Joe's house if I didn't make an arse of myself in front of Alice's friends or some other poor girl...
To fulfill this task, I discussed my future wedding with Jade, where I eventually came to the conclusion that no girl could ever survive tolerating me for the eternity of our marriage. So instead, I would hold a grand farce wedding, where there would be no bride, barely any congregation* and no real church as I'm thinking Hawaiian beach.
The brilliance is, this set-up would allow me to keep the presents and giant cake to myself, you see you can't buy love, but a ton of free gifts and cake would probably help you live without it for a little while longer.

The day after was cleverly spent walking around the coast and promenade taking photo's of the annual raft race, with no shoes or socks for about three hours, because I'm dedicated and rather stupid.

Yes Bev, my eyes are 16% Carl Zeiss Lens Glass. That's why my photo's are awesome.

The rest of the holiday has been filled with debit-card-declining-attempts to book tickets to various countries including Australia, New Zealand, Tokyo and Portugal. Oh c'mon, it was worth a try...

Well, must go, the Magic8 Ball predicted Epic Sex with Hayley:

The Amazing Sam says:
Will Hayley have Sex in her cupboard with Sam?
Magic 8 Ball says:
It has been foretold.
The Amazing Sam says:
Will it be epic?
Magic 8 Ball says:
I see that it will be epic for an extended period of time.

Can't let fate down now can I?

Sam.
Mood of the Day: Happily-Rewinding-Rewind-BreakItDown!
Listening To: Regina Spektor - On The Radio
Current Theory: Vol. of Cake Is Directly Proportional To Happiness.
Quote of the Moment: "Well, if I was going to throw Heathrow in chaos. I'd do what everyone else does and book a flight." ~ Mock The Week

*Though you're free to come. Bring a gift though.

Good Morning Illegal Dune Campers!

Aloha, Konbanwa!
I've recently returned home from "Probably The Best Camping Trip Ever Recorded In The History In The Universe". I'm sure, being an avid fan of my life you have been needing an update, so here it is.

I left couzin Joe's for my adventure after spending pretty much the entire night annoying dear Alice and friends, but that's for another day I guess...

I was repeatedly informed by various phone calls and texts to meet all my lovely people outside the headquarters of evil, better known as the supermarket giant TESCO. I arrived to see Rhi, Bev, Becky, Rach, Jamie, Joel, Mr Joe, Bulb and Matt circled around a cluster of sleeping bags and rucksacks and carrier bags. We looked incredibly conspicuous, like some sort of teenage-terroist-team. I noticed a security guard sat on a bench not too far from us, trying not to make it look like he was spying, though, in fairness to him, he did nothing while I sang to the air conditioning vent or while we tried to kill each-other with trolleys, I do have some amazing dodging skills...

Myself, Bev, Mr Joe and Matt disappeared to find some cheap sunblock at any store that was open. We returned to the troop with a few bags of cheap 2-for-1 soft drinks, a large box of dissolvable Anadin Ultra's and the assorted sunscreens. I chose the safe SPF50, because my natural skin defence has been slowly and carefully destroyed over the past four-five months by every dermatologist's friend, Isotretinoin*.

The bus dropped us off at a crossroads a few million miles away from the beach, so we made the dangerous trek down the small, winding roads, through fences and over dune after dune, until we finally arrived at the beach, where I instantly ran to the sea. It had been awhile, I had missed my home the waves.

"Sam, do you have spare clothes?"
"I hope so."

Moving back to that suncream for a moment, I kind of regret buying the strongest formula they sold, as it was more like thick glue than sunblock, like some sort of Copydex; would have required tools to spread and even changed my eyebrows as white as humanely possible, along with the rest of my face, though, at least I was now protected against the heat and light created by a large solar explosion.

Think of it like, new and improved, whiter than white Daz, but for your skin.

After an hour or so in the sea, myself, Mr Joe, Joel and Jamie set off to the tallest, distant dunes to do some sort of demented long jump to our plummeting deaths, after which I ended up drinking Pepsi, running down the steepest dune into spiky grass and helping the others construct a "perfectly formed" woman out of sand to become a potential love interest for Matt.
Though, I don't think she was quite his type, being made out of sand and everything, as well as her disturbing "Bulb-added tunnelerized lower anatomy", which I'm not going into here, if you care so much about it, you sand-pervert, take a look at Jamie's blog; Here.

Here's a picture of her wonderful, fake, sand-botoxed face, before her mouth was turned into a long tunnel and collapsed:

She looks happy.

Slowly yet surely, darkness soon cast a gentle, sweeping hand over the beach as the sun arced away into the distance. We set up the tents under the shade of the sunset, with the infamous cake tent returning, kindly put up by Becky. Though, this time round the cake looked more like shite and scared the hell out of me and Bev. As well as this little conversation I had with Becky early in the morning:

"Hey Becky!?"
"Yeh?"
"What are these little hook things around the tent?"
"Oh, they should be in the ground..."
"Oh right, fantastic, six out of um... Six of them aren't secured. No worries!"

The drinking began, one can became two, two cans became four bottles, four bottles became two boxes of cookies and other such games, the usual, basically.
Though the constant reminders on how much closer to "midnight skinnydipping" stopped, it hit twelve and the brave few of us made our way to the beach and stripped down to nothing next to a random washed up log and then sprinted down the sand for the sea.

And bloody hell, was it alot further than I first thought. Damn tides.

I looked back, to see if any of the others had dropped dead yet, the distance between me and the rest grew further, I could see distant and faint outlines of fellow naked-people behind me as I hit the sea and headed for waist deep water. It was unbelievably warm, which was odd, seeing as it was midnight on a Welsh beach. Was it the hotness of beach girl? Was it the excessive volume of drink? Or was it some unknown magic-moon-related-heat?...
Who knows, but it was amazing.
After we'd all shouted and Hi5'ed and hugged in the safest way possible, I remembered how I earlier attempted to carry The Bev to the moon, but was soon crushed by the dawning realization that I could not reach it simply by walking. So giving up my new dream of being the first man to not only walk to the moon; but to walk there naked, across the sea, we raced back. I don't think I've felt my legs burn so much but I was determined to win.

I did indeed reach the shoreline first, and with a smile of glory and pride, I then collaped, naked, face down in the sand in front of Becky, screaming:

"I f***ing won dammit!"

I regained a small amount of composure, not that there's much to regain walking around naked on a public beach in the beautiful silver moonlight.
On the way back, far in the distance we heard shouting and dogs and some sinister looking shadows, someone asked me:

"Is that the Police Sam?"
"I don't know, but if it is, I'm all fine for getting arrested. But not naked."

We were later informed us it was just "some poor couple" who thought with the help of their barking dogs they would assist in attracting out attention to the log which I was already heading for. I still found it odd that these people had come all the way to walk their dog around the beach at midnight.

So, we returned to the dunes, fully clothed, to continue the usual, deep, life related chatting on a small edge, each of us acting like a radiator to someone else. Time drifted by like the waves of the sea and I soon found myself in a tent with The Bev, now we could have both fallen asleep perfectly, if not for Mr Joe; who had previously decided to sleep outside, on a soaking wet towel, with dew on his face finally awoke and tried breaking into my tent, though, clever me tried to get rid of him by holding the door's zip shut. After an intense five minute struggle, I realized Mr Joe would probably die outside if not for me, Bev and our magic-Cat-Face-singing-warmth, so I let the dew-soaked Irishman in, still, it was probably one of the most stupid decisions I've made, ever...

You see I forgot how badly this git snores. Think of a truck, racing a train, whilst gunfire is going on either side of the track and bombs land in the distance, Joe could still blow them all away. Except for the bomb I guess, but that's ok as I have my SPF50 suncream to protect me from burns and radiation poisoning. I got about ten minutes sleep max through the whole night.
So to take revenge I steadily punched him in the face, the side of the head, slapped him and jumped on him as the sun slowly rose, as well as having Bulb drag him out of the tent mid-morning while I shouted "I should have left you to die outside!" and other lovely phrases such as:

"Mr Joe, for the love of god, the love of the world, for just everything including my sanity and need to sleep, please SHUT THE F*** UP!"

As semi-terrible, yet hysterical as my "night's sleep" was, it was a fantastic morning to "wake up" to:

Wales does have its beautiful moments.
What a sight to wake up and fall down a dune to.

Of course, nothing says good morning like that view, two Anadin Ultra's fizzing away in a cup of sandy water, an expensive creamy-jam filled scone and a cheap, sickening bus journey home, only to fall asleep on the living room floor.

What a campout.

Sam.
Mood of the Day: Beachy
Listening To: Rupert Holmes - Escape (Pina Coladas)
Current Theory: I Need To Go To The Beach More
Quote of the Moment: "F***" ~Everyone.

*Often marketed as "The Fun Way To Induce Suicide", "Death Pills", "Happy Capsules", or in North America, "Accutane".

Finally Home... Special Long Edition!

Aloha, Konbanwa!
You better read it all. I sat here and mentally regurgitated this for YOU.
Now I'm sure that you've been sitting there, in your slightly-comfortable chair for the past few days, occasionally eating, constantly refreshing this page, wondering to yourself "Where is he? Where is my fix of babble?"...*

Well wait no more. I have almost all of the interesting details, you could even consider this a special edition, in fact, now it is, that's going in the title.

Well, dear reader, I've been up to numerous things**, to begin with I've been away character-developing with Tom for Studio8's sitcom, 'Delivered'. I could give you a seemingly unimportant snippet if you like? Yes?
No. It'll spoil all the surprises.
If you're a hardcore Studio8 fan, you'll come to the screening, not because you're a fan just because you're a cheapskate as it'll probably be illegal to charge entry, even though I'd love to see your face when I inform you the money goes towards trips to Starbucks and pots of Jam very important Studio8 related things (Like pots of Jam).

I also disappeared to couzin Joe's once again, for a weekend of singing out windows, eating toast, destroying Joe's relationships, social image and morale as well installing wireless routers.
As well as taking "scenic" images such as this:

Yes, this was just to show off my amazing new tee.

So was this.

So, I returned near-home***, to a social-gathering with Mr Joe, Bev and briefly, Anna.
There was little to drink, quantity wise; Bev had a Strongbow, a Stella or two and some "blue crap" which simply tasted like lemonade, just, it was 4+% vol.
Now, this would possibly be enough to get one of us tipsy, if not for what Mr Joe brought...
An innocent-looking bottle, containing a stinging concoction of Whiskey, Vodka, lemon juice and god-knows what else.
I remember singing Modest Mouse songs while swinging in the park, semi-dressed. I also remember eating chips, staring at the sky.
I love the chips from that place:

"Your chips are amazing!"
"Sam, you're shouting."
"Thank you!"

Ah, a good night.
For those interested Mr Joe also offers an extended, shoe-uncut version of events, HERE.


So, again changing the subject, a talent of mine, today I had a "recruitment day" at Argos, as part of my futile attempt to become employed for the Summer and pay for the endless stream of needless crap I tend to buy.
I began the day in a lucid dream in which I was desperately trying to turn an alarm off, waking up, I found the IKEA clock by the side of my bed was the culprit of the noise that had found its way into my dream. I whispered obscenities while turning it off and carelessly fell back asleep, only to wake at 10:30, the time I was supposed to be leaving home for the bus to town. A positive start.
I arrived at Argos, dead on 12, joining a quiet, nervous room, in which possible job candidates were dotted around sofa's and various chairs, biting their nails with scowls on their face.
I scribbled my name onto a sticker and slapped it to my tee-shirt, which depicted a giant, screaming chocolate chip muffin, the perfect choice of clothing for an interview.
A Polaroid-picture of me was required, I thought I'd pull a face, but one of the hot girls was looking over, I at least wanted to give off the illusion that I was sane before I ruined it by speaking.

Silence ensued.

I began to think that we'd be abducted, one-by-one to a dark, dank room with a blinding spotlight, to be interviewed "under caution" and pushed to breaking point only to be told we were too weak for the hectic, warzone-esque scene of a catalogue store.
However, after drinking some much needed water we were led away to the 'Staff Training' room, the door of which automatically slammed behind you****.

It was rumoured that perhaps we'd have to describe a product, I discussed with Mr Joe how that whole process could go:

"It's... A wok.
You could, cook bacon and eggs with it...
On an hob thing...
You could also beat people with it...
And, as it's Teflon coated, their blood won't stick to it..."

Perhaps we'd have to role-play with an angry customer?:

"Ok, I'm an angry customer."
"Good for you?"
"Um, yeh. So, this thing I bought doesn't work."
"You think this is a repair shop? You think I can fix this? I SELL the product, this is Argos."
"But?!?"
"I didn't make it, I don't know how it works... Send it to the manufacturer, this isn't a sales problem..."

Anyway, the tense air lifted as we were greeted by some of the store staff, after introducing ourselves via others and filling in a few catalogue-number-related-test-sheets we came to the final challenge, where three teams must build a bridge out of mega-blocks, using the least bricks possible plus this bridge must also fit a team-member underneath.
So, we began building with one of my brilliant plans, then realizing although it was sturdy, we were using way too many bricks compared to the others, one of the staff pointed out:

"You've used alot of pieces there..."
"Well, ours looks alot grander and prettier than the others, it's also very sturdy."
"The workers won't get wages though... You spent all the money on the bricks..."
"It doesn't matter, it's a communistic bridge, it's all equal and fair and they are all just happy that the bridge is there for them, they're a happy communist community."
"I see."

With ten seconds left, realizing we'd still used many more bricks than the other two teams, I quickly grabbed some mega-block men that came in the bag and chucked together a 5-brick bridge:

"And, Team 2, how many bricks have you used?"
"Five!"
"..."
"You see, the rules stated that a member of the team had to go under the bridge, now I have elected these mega-block men to join our team, therefore, a member of the team is passing under this bridge, built of five bricks."
"What's that behind you?"
"Oh that? It's just the 28-brick prototype... *Whispering* Kick it over. Kick it over."

I have a feeling I have left a lasting impression. Whether it be good or not, is something else entirely...


Moving on, this week I also found out that I have a "very rare personality" and that only 3.8% of people have a similar one, which was quite an interestingly-nice find. Oddly enough though, as small as the chances are, I've known Rachael nearly all of my life who has the exact same result as me*****. We're magic you see.

Talking of Rach, she reminded me of "one of the funniest things" I have ever said in Maths.
Our teacher was just chatting when I shouted across the classroom:

"Sarcasm is great Chris... Just like you..."

The good old days... How I will miss Maths...

Sam.
Mood of the Day: Happily-Here
Listening To: Simple Minds - Don't You (Forget About Me)
Current Theory: I'm Never Going To Get Employed
Quote of the Moment: "Sarcasm's great Chris... Just like you..."

*It's fine, honestly. It happens to the best of us.
**Operation: Fill-The-Holiday-With-Stuff-To-Do-To-Avoid-Boredom-
And-Not-Waste-It-Away-In-Bed, working at optimum levels.
***After making fun of the fact Joe was at school, by sending him there with a note I'd written at 3am. Haha, it never wears out.
****The phrase "Don't let the door hit you on the way out" came to mind.
*****That's ENTP, one of the 16 possible results with the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, now, to avoid sounding like I know what I'm talking about, I'm going to say: "Peppered Firecake Sandwich".

22

Aloha, Konbanwa!
So, it's Night 22 of the holiday. I'm proud of myself, I feel that, so far, my holiday has not been wasted. I even woke up Pre-Midday today, a bizzare and rare event. I then ate my breakfast of two packets of "Maryland Choc Chip 'n' Hazlenut" cookies*.

I was greeted by Bev, digitally, not physically, she spent her morning trying to, as I put it, "Scare the crap out of a retard":

Thanks for that Bev...

So, I Spent the day at town today in an attempt to fill every few days of Summer with some sort of activity, although I'm hoping The Sun will actually enter the sky stage before the curtain closes, I want to go to the beach, to the waves.

Seemingly the new terroist target is between two small villages, probably with a maximum population of three, as the bus journey, for five minutes was "guarded" by two police officers...

It was an eventful day, we had a fantastic lunch in a random cafe we found where we noticed that not only can none of us add up correctly but that Jonny and I have the rarely found skill to make a teapot sing.
It's odd, finding myself in a cafe, like we're all on some sort of "cafe crawl", getting smashed on cups of tea and large slices of chocolate cake, stumbling around stealing salt-shakers.
It was nice though, and I don't think I've seen Tom that happy since the Real Belgian Waffle in Bruges.

We then rushed to our private showing of Ocean's 13, where I once again pretended to be a student to gain the £2 discount, a close one this time. We caught the late-afternoon showing, where apart from us, the cinema was deserted. We spent the adverts hiding from each-other and arguing over which of the 200+ seats we should sit in. The film itself was fantastic, one of the best films I've seen in the cinema for awhile, you can tell when a film is good, me, Bev and Tom don't make fun of it.

Note to Self: Studio8 should show 'Delivered' and 'Sam and Tom Today' in the cinema.

Waiting for the bus home with Bev, Becky and Tom could only be described as interesting.
I heard this noise of something being tipped on the floor, accompanied with the loud laughter of some tracksuit-clad locals, I looked over to see that one of them was standing there, "taking a leak" on the floor. Wonderful. I can only thank fate that I could only see the "stream" thanks to the layout of the pillars in the retro bus station.

One of them then came over and stood inches away from me, I wasn't sure whether he wanted to punch me, so I smiled, he then spun around and asked Tom if he wanted some drugs. He then began babbling about how he wanted to take Becky and Bev out, treat them to some good Italian food** and all they want, he didn't quite get to finish his offer as he was interrupted by his friend on a bike, who not only seemed to think he was on a motorbike, also seemed to be having a identity crisis between himself and the crazy frog. Fairplay to him though, he could ride a bike damn well for someone who seemed permanently drunk. Though, I'm sure the cuts on his face were probably from falling.
We sat around, just laughing as he stared at the wall, his pedal-bike stationary, bobbing up and down shouting "Vrrrm, ring, ring, ding, brrm!" We were told not to anger him as he "runs over people's heads with his bike".

I wasn't sure whether to be scared or in hysterics...
We chose the latter.

They then returned to their stop, where the crazy-frog-bike-human hybrid jumped into a trolley and was pushed at high speed down the station, his trolley aimed for a wall.
I couldn't help but clap when we heard the well known giant-tuning-fork-shattering noise that we all know a trolley makes when you ram it into something, such as a friend, another trolley, a car or a brick wall.

While all this was going on, out the windows, in the bus manouevering bay I could see someone carrying a bright red traffic cone chasing a rolled up advertisement behind some of the buses. It was all like some huge orchestrated show, part of me was sad to see the bus home pull up to safely escort us away.

As our bus reversed to leave, the police pulled in, I figured it was to begin a high-speed chase with the crazy frog imitation, who had now disappeared. We could just imagine the live chase on the news.

"Channel 8 News has now linked to a live audio feed of the chase:"
"Mrrrm! Ring, ding, ding, ring! Hahahaa!"

"This is going in the blog".
All in all, another awesome day.

Sam.
Mood of the Day: Happily-Fulfilled
Listening To: Toploader - Dancing In The Moonlight
Current Theory: People are afraid to comment my blog.
Quote of the Moment: "I think I'd make a good terroist..." ~Graham

*Which is, 101.3% of the Recommended Daily Allowance of Fat. Whoops, but as me and Jonny say "Doctors know nothing!".
**Now here's a "chav" with some class, although perhaps it's some sort of Italian special at McD's, who knows.

Yum.

Aloha, Konbanwa.
Just sitting here, watching House, dressed in my retro-caveman clothing status* enjoying my hearty, healthy lunch, consisting of:
A mountain of butter laden toast, with 60mg of Isotretinoin, the world's favourite acne and soul-destroying drug, quickly followed by 1000mg of Flucloxacillin, possibly the best, and most tasty antibiotic so far; as not only is its smell an alarmingly interesting compound of petrol, paint, magic markers mixed with a hint of egg, it comes completely free with headaches, stomach pains, shivers and numbing of the thumbs. That's good value.

I feel like a cat. Or some no-thumb-man.
At least I'm not like, some huge piece of walking bubble-wrap anymore, I guess?

Perhaps the dermatologists are just prescribing everything and anything to see how far I can hold out before the medication kills me off... Abit of a demented sweepstake, perfectly legal in the NHS I assume though, after all, you get what you pay for, which, in my case, is everything for nothing.

However, this would explain why one of the nurses used to dislike me, I guess she thought I would flake out and kill myself after being unable to cope with all these "Hard-X-Core-Pills\Death Pills" and that would lose her some sweet cash. That's standard patient protocol you see.
Then of course there's another nurse who keeps telling me "You're doing so well", with a smile.
If we were to extend that thought trail for a moment it becomes: "You're doing so well Sam, we've never given any living person this much medication before, you're making me stacks of cash."
It would also show why a consultant and doctor wanted to get involved in my "case", so they could get their latexy-gloved hands into a slice of the backhand "How-Long-Until-Sam-Dies?" sweepstake cash pot.

If they are running such an event, I'd like to at least be involved, I could do with the money...
I bet that the hospital will run out of pills and close down before they can kill me.

Sam.
Mood of the Day: Pumped-Poison
Listening To: The Hoosiers - Worried About Ray
Current Theory: Chocolate Is Not Suitable For Someone On Pills
Quote of the Moment: "If There's Any Justice In The World, He'll Be Struck Down... Strike Him Down! Strike Him Now! ... Any Good Mother Would Have Smothered Him In His Sleep..." ~Jonny, Regarding An Emo

*Oh wouldn't you like to know? ... Fine, boxers. Happy now? You ruined the air of mystery.

My Weekend...

Aloha, Konbanwa!
I return from another visit to couzin Joe's house, which is one of my ideal ways to spend a weekend; eating incredibly unhealthy amounts of caffiene, cholesterol and chips, watching Bleach and assorted films, vocally re-dubbing YouTube videos, kicking Joe's ass on the Wii, ruining Joe's life and property, hitting Joe with a curtain rod* and singing "I love you baby" to girls walking past his house.

This week I worked on damaging Joe's online reputation, so while Joe chatted away on MSN downstairs, I had the brilliant idea, along with fellow-couzin Ki, to log-into Joe's Bebo** account and deface it, secretly, upstairs on the Wii, because we're lovely like that, and might I say, we did quite a good job of ruining his social status:

Click To Enlarge

Of course, sending an e-mail to his future-girlfriend-to-be containing the above evidence was another pro decision of awesomeness on my part.

I'm incredibly childish, I know.

Sam.
Mood of the Day: 1-Upped
Listening To: David Grey - Babylon
Current Theory: Coco Pops Should Be A Rock Band.
Quote of the Moment: "That's Rich Coming From Someone Who Plays Starcraft, Jonny"

*It was self defence, he threw one at my eye.
**MySpace Bebo; "A Place for Friends Vain 13-Year-Olds to Dress Up Like Prostitutes"

Good Morning Campers: The Expose

Aloha, Konbanwa!
Warning, This Post Is Written By The Resident Drunkard, Sam.
For Becky's Version of Events, Click Here.
It was a cold morning, although I had managed to fall asleep next to the sidewall of the tent, where the rainwater-condensation-combo pooled into, though. I was in good company...

So yes, we went camping this week, despite so many signs from fate telling us we were all to die, yet, we're all alive, well physically. There was the ominous falling tree, the inquisitive "WHY" number plate and the fact it was to be THE wettest day for 50 years.

Of course, we then had "The Tom; the lost phone, the low battery and lost keys saga" which ended up with Tom being driven to our secret location after missing the bus. Whilst myself, Mr Joe and Bev attempted to check out a local inn to pass the time. After sitting down and looking at the menu, we came to the horrible realization that the price, for even a small plate of chips was extortionate*, for we had mistakenly wandered into some, hushed, posh pub... We had to establish a plan to get ourselves out:

Bev came up with the unused "Let's just get up and run" technique while Mr Joe, with a sly, smug smile leaned forward and whispered:

"I've got it... You two, are a ravenous couple and run off to the bathroom with each-other, while, I, am an important business man who must make an important phone call.."

No, I really don't know either...
So, basically we ended up storming out of the place, with me loudly shouting
"Well, if he isn't coming here, we'll leave!".

Tom eventually arrived, to find us sat opposite the offending restaurant, alert and ready to run from some sort of angry Mexican chef and his prized, oversized IKEA knife set.

We returned to camp, where the lovely Becky, Rach and Jamie had set up the little Glastonbury of our own. Just, without the thousands of other tents, serious mud problem, stack of weed and live music... So, I guess, not like Glastonbury at all**.

Yes. I'm sorry the picture is not better. I was hardly able to take a beautiful one at the time.
I believe I fell into the grass to watch some stars after this, so ner, to you.

However though... From this moment, the few hours afterward, when the first, offending can was cracked open, normal time and energy, sober time and energy is disrupted by an evil, terrible substance, in the form of cans of Strongbow, Stella, Smirnoff*** and some other liquids secretly brought in regular looking, concealed plastic bottles... Oh, aren't we the rebels?...

I remember everything though, I never forget what happens. I remember the sun setting, I remember the sky's billowing grey clouds shifting away to "Hell" for the night. We talked for at least 4 hours. It was pretty perfect.

I remember the night, I remember staring at the stars and singing, very loudly.
I remember falling into thick reeds and screaming random words, as well as attempting to speak Japanese.
And other such moments like when I found myself running back to camp after hearing fireworks, screaming:

"GET DOWN! THE HUNS ARE COMING!
I HAVE 54p TO GET US TO SAFETY!"

...Yeh. Well, screw you too.

You want more absurdity? How about Mr Joe's "Blue eye"? It's cause?
A high-speed, low-range, light-weight, inter-tentary ballistic weapon, in this case, a BITESIZE TWIX. You think I'm joking? Take a look:

And you thought the calories were what was bad for you Mr Joe****...

Of course, the worst catastrophe, occured beyond any measurable scale...
Where, an innocent, fantastically-awesome tasting cake was destroyed into thousands of cake-dust-fibres and cake-blobs that resembled what can only be described as something a cat would eject from its little kitty face. It was also in my hair (Yes Joe, PROPER cake hair) and stuck to the side of my jeans. Evidence of the evil, cat-cake-mashup seen, below.

We're just thankful it was cake...

Friends, this is the life.

Sam.
Mood of the Day: Pitched-Up-Tented-Tiredness
Listening To: The Mario Football Strikers Charged Menu Tune
Current Theory: Ice Cream Improves Brain Logic
Quote of the Moment: "That's not very communist of you..."

*Which seems to be the buzz word of my life recently, apart from words like "Sandwich", "Microwave" or useful, well known phrases such as "Oh f***".
**If you came for a blog that made vague sense and you are now upset with the service you are receiving you can call: 0900-No-Body-Gives-A-Damn-Start-Your-Own-Blog-And-Try-It.
***Usually marketed under the secondary brand name "Lemonade".
****And WOW Mr Joe, your snoring, is UNBELIVABLE.

Final Health Warning:
According to dearest couzin Alice, who has been locked away in her home, you can now, comment YOURSELF on the evil, soul-destroying "social network" MySpace.
I guess that means you can now hold conversations with your former self.
I think Alice has a new pastime...

Oh dear...

Aloha, Good Morning.
I though I'd just pass on the results of a sleep-related test I took a few minutes ago...
It's not looking good..

Your answers to the Epworth Sleepiness Test indicate you may be significantly sleep-deprived. You may wish to consult with your physician to discuss futher investigation.

Sam.

Flash!

Aloha, Konbanwa!
So, just came home from Starbucks, pretty early, less people than usual...
I could barely afford my bus ticket, or the large hot chocolate with cream, yet I still go. There must be something clinically wrong with me.

Being incredibly poor I checked in with the job-world, Borders said there should be some jobs going in August and TESCO told me to drop in my CV. Consider it done.
See now I can work in TESCO undercover and get my burnt out toaster back. Inside job and all that.

Of course, the highlight was walking to the bus stop with Becky and Matt where a large white limo went literally screaming past, with three girls hanging out the side window, flashing us.
So, I screamed and waved back, it was as if they thought it was a bad thing for us? Well they're not my breasts are they?

Obviously, that's the effect I have on the ladies... A change from the usual screaming and crying.

I think Becky speaks for all of us:
"That made my day."

Sam.
Mood of the Day: Suitably Caffeinated
Listening To: Lou Reed - Satellite of Love ('04 Remix)
Current Theory: Water is 94.7% Evil
Quote of the Moment: "...Because one day Sam, you'll look clean..."

Extra Special Message:
Happy Birthday for Lydia. She can have sex with me now. But shh. She doesn't know she wants to yet.

Currently, You Don't Have Enough Credit...

Aloha, Good Morning.
Day 3 of the holiday, it's 13:22 and I'm eating my breakfast, chocolate ice-cream.
I must admit, so far I'm pretty pleased with myself, I've actually been getting of my ass and going places, such as Rachael's house to eat biscuits and Tom's house to watch house and well, TESCO.

Because TESCO is the place to be.
No, seriously it is.

So, Tuesday, I found myself at TESCO attempting to script for Studio8 with Tom and Bev whilst co-eating trifle stolen from the managers table, we have a contact in the catering and cleaning department you see. Wonderful stuff.

Leaving TESCO, with the joy of theived-jelly in our stomachs, we walked back to Tom's when the sky, decided to crack open and not just pour rain, but really POUR rain. Our effort to hide under some cruddy little banzai tree failed, leaving us to take in the beauty that was the rain. It was amazing.

So, in true Studio8 style, photographer Bev pictured us presenting our Late-Afternoon Weather Show.

I'm supposed to be getting some sort of job, for money and that because, when you struggle to pay £1.14 for some chips, you know you're hitting a new low.
The thing is employment seems like a great idea on paper but not so much in reality...
I guess we'll see how that works out. I'm still living on the dream that Borders will call me anyday now...

Well, inevitably I was going to take another crack at the exams, I couldn't let it slide by once more, people keep asking me when I'll get the results back, as if they contain any real importance such as high blood sugar.
Well basically we've all gotta wait a good two months for the results, mainly because the examiners mark about one paper a day due to their arthritic hands and obsession for television soaps.
We all know they'll end up marking our work with a series of tea-cup rings and microwave-spaghetti stains, leading to everyone receiving the wonderful, "prestigious" A*.
Yet, we both know that F stands for "F***ing-Fantastic"...

According to T-Mobile, I "Don't Have Enough Credit To Make A Call" and my balance is "Zero". Well, thank you very much T-Mobile, for your poor, poor signal coverage and extraordinarily-extortionate tariff, I'm probably paying £1 per text now.
I don't need you T-Mobile, I'll start my own network, see how you feel then? Hey?

...I'll just E-MAIL everyone instead.

Sam.
Mood of the Day: Microwaved Rain, Soaked in the Warm Glow Of Happiness
Listening To: Motion City Soundtrack - The Future Freaks Me Out
Current Theory: I'll Never Get A Job.
Quote of the Moment: "SO TOM, WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE CURRENT WEATHER SITUATION?"

The End of Another Chapter, Or Something

Aloha, Konbanwa!
Wow... I stepped out of the school today with the knowledge that I'll never be officially attending it again.
I finished my final "exam", Drama. I wrote the least out of the entire year, but it's AQA, turning up got me the A*. Still, it was odd, I scarwled "NO MORE EXAMS XD" onto myself upside-down, pretty well, may I add and smugly paraded around, yet I can't say I felt overwhelmed with any sort of feeling of happiness or relief.

I'll miss it though. It was an awesome five years.

So, Summer. 14 or so weeks of lying on my arse, hopefully every now and again churning out some brand new stuff for Studio8. Or, as my dad demands, get myself a job...


Ah, if only life was as easy as it was two weeks ago, where I, Becky and Tom nearly choked to death eating a large chocolate cake as fast as we could just so no-one else could join us. I used my magical power to quickly and effectively snap the spoons and souls of anyone who tried to steal our precious chocolate.

It was the same day I discovered the destructive buying power of TESCO. I noticed a small LCD television placed above the lemonade on the drinks isle, it played elevatorish music and pictures of the country...

EVERY person who walked down that isle picked up two bottles of lemonade... It's a terrible conspiracy. I wan't fall into that trap, not for your damn lemonade.

Sam.
Mood of the Day: Tomato
Listening To: Nothing Much
Current Theory: I Have Nothing To Do
Quote of the Moment: "No Matt! This is the Studio8 Cake!"

Quick Tee-Related Post

Aloha!
I designed a Tee for Threadless!
It's incredibly low score will be shown below if it's approved =)



Sam.

! Update !

Yeh, so, my tee wasn't approved. Shut up. Obviously my work was too amazing or whatever, for those interested, here is what my design looked like:

And, yes. It is copyright. Steal it, you die.

The TESCO Toaster... Continued

Aloha, Konbanwa!
So, we received a letter from TESCO's Customer Service Centre, in Dundee* this afternoon.
After spelling our surname wrong they claimed to be "sorry to learn about the problem" with our toaster and they "sincerely for the inconvinience caused".

Yes, you did read that right, not only did they spell the surname wrong they also left out the word 'apologize' or 'jumped off a bridge'.

My favourite part of the letter is where they "ensure" that this toaster complies with "the safety standards" and this "incident has nothing to do with this product being dangerous".

Wooah! So hold on... You're telling me, that, my toaster bursting into flames, in the middle of the night, has nothing to do with a faulty or dangerous product? Ah, so, the whole catching fire and scorching the kitchen wall is a standard feature, sorry. My bad.

TESCO then continue to subliminally place the blame upon us, claiming our "electrical trip is sensitvive and interrupted the current supply quickly before the electric settled in the product."
Does that even make sense?
See, I know little about electricity, but can electricity "settle"?
And I'm sure our electrical trip is a hardcore, man-trip, with no sensitivity or feeling, he just trips out when he's needed dammit! *Salutes*

"...although I can appreciate your concerns with your toaster, I am afraid that we are unable to assist you further on this occasion."
Concerns? It nearly burnt my house down! We were, ever so slightly more than concerned.
And assist me further? It was you, TESCO, who nearly killed us all, your assistance is a joke!

"Thank you for letting us know."
Oh f*** off.
You make it sound like I told you that a lift in your store didn't work properly. Imma take your asses to court.

Sam.
Mood of the Day: Collapsable
Listening To: Strip My Mind - RHCP
Current Theory: French Exam Tomorrow... Haha.
Quote of the Moment: "First Rule Of The Tea Club: NEVER Talk About The Tea Club"

*That's Freephone 0800 505555 if anyone fancies giving them a call one day.

Borders and Toasters

Aloha, Konbanwa!
So, I finally got off my ass and took my CV to Borders today.
I hope I get some sort of job, even if it involves working as an automatic door, it's a really nice place.
Do you think they shredded my CV as I walked away? =(

Moving on though, I woke up the day before yesterday, very late as usual, finding my stomach demanding its morning skyscraper of toast to munch down for energy to stop me collapsing in the middle of book shops*.

However. entering the kitchen, I was incredibly confuzed by the lack of the toaster.

Where the hell is the toaster?

Obviously, someone hiding the toaster wouldn't go down well. So something odd's happened.

And what could that possibly be?
Yes, my TESCO Value Toaster caught fire in the middle of the night. Almost burning down the house with me and my family inside. I first found the fact my toaster burst into flames hysterical, spontaneous combustion is pretty damn amusing, right?

My dad asked me if I had been making toast in the middle of the night, as I often do. To which I replied:

Why, do you think if the toaster burst into flames infront of me I'd just leave it and go back to bed? I'd obviously be screaming "Fire!"** and other unknown words.

Being a fan of conspiracy*** and law suits I have decided I want to sue TESCO for damages**** everything they have, as they tried to kill me, obviously in an attempt to stop Studio8 wiping out the rest of the film industry by 2018. They'll recover anyway, they'll just buy out some other small supermarket chain and continue their takeover bid for Earth, finally turning the planet into one huge supermarket, where you will travel to once a light decade from your intergalatic home, to do a light month of shopping.

So really. I'm just trying to save the world. Your everyday hero...

Sam.
Mood of the Day: Optimistic
Listening To: I'm A Bitch - Alanis Morissette
Current Theory: TESCO's going down.
Quote of the Moment: "http://uncyclopedia.org/wiki/The_Flying_Pear"

*I managed to collapse in Borders today. The best part was Mr Joe didn't notice, even though I fell less than a metre away from him.
**In Japanese of course. Just to bring some culture and increased confuzion to the moment.
***Myself and Tom have concluded to agree to disagree on 9/11. He makes good points. I'm scared to debate with him. A tip from the wise, never debate with Tom on politics, I've never tried and never will.
****Such as the fateful electrical damage to my computer (Sssh, I'm posting from another computer... Far, far away... Somewhere...) as well as my fear of toasters and other toasting devices, including sunbeds, microwave ovens and lightbulbs.

Good Morning BlogFans

Aloha!
So, It's 0:24...
It's relatively warm and my Logitech Wireless Desktop has lost all it's settings.
It's been awhile again, so I've returned with fireworks* and screaming**, with my bowl of ice-cream to tell you about recent happenings in the Realm. Revived, may I add.

Perhaps you thought I was dead?
Ah, young fool-san, you are yet to learn nothing can defeat my amazingness, (Apart from a very short list of fears and disorders***) especially something an unimportant as GCSE's.

You're probably wondering how badly they went, seeing as my revising ethos, involved setting fire to my materials. Well, it wasn't too bad, so the people who worked their arses off for the past two or three years will get the grade they deserve, while I, who did NO work, will get the one underneath, or fail, either way, it's only English Literature. What possible job would REALLY require that?

Well, your job application seems perfect...
Oh, wait. Wait a moment...
You FAILED English Literature? I'm sorry, you cannot become a games programmer now that we have found that you do not understand the relationship between Lennie and George in 'Of Mice and Men', a book which has absolutely no relevance to the gaming industry...

I spent most of the exam staring at the ceiling fans and wondering how the hell people could write so much over such little questions. I used about four pages in all, the booklet is twelve pages. My favourite question, beyond doubt was the "unseen poem" question - also known as the "SURPRISE! AHHHHHHH!" question - entitled "Shopkeeper".

What the fuck?

(And there go the innocent readers.)

I had half an hour to answer that question. Let me give a break down of how I went about that.
10mins - Hitting my head on the desk, repeating obscenities and promising to kill whoever chose this poem.
10mins - Staring at the ceiling, wondering what the subtext could possibly be. It's about a man and his shop, WHAT THE HELL ELSE CAN IT MEAN?
10mins - Blagging about how the poem is a call to those who live in the city to contrast their own lives with that of one in the country.

I'm not even going to continue, I'll end up tangling myself in loose anger about WJEC.

--------

So, I found myself at Joe's (Also known as Joe The Pleb or Fatty-Chan) again this weekend.
I spent my time; sleeping until absurd times of day, eating stacks of toast, playing the Wii, watching Bleach, screaming, destroying the curtain rail and keeping a lookout for babes walking on the prominade, unfortuantely all I spotted was a questionable and soul-scaring, old, bearded man.

As many of you may know, I have a history for creating destruction at my couzin's house.
Such as when I fed a large tin of pringles into his fan, spreading thousands upon thousands of 'pringle particles' across the room.
Or when I co-stuffed a fan with caramel and completely stopped it's function.
Or when I began firing jaffa cakes out the third story window, one, succesfully landing in a convertable.

But, well. I have exceeded all possible previous feats, after burying Joe under a pile stuff I found in his room, or, to be more precise, pretty much everything he owned. Including his chair. He did fail to make an emergency call with the phone I threw at him, but don't worry, everything was A-Ok:

There he is there, Fatty-Chan, looking slighly dead. But don't worry, as far as I know, this didn't kill him.

See, everything is fine, thumbs up there. Everything is A-Ok...

...

I'm still here. I'm just waiting to see when the AutoSave function will save again, apparenltly it's after I've stopped typing. So I'm typing, waiting for the button to turn grey. Now. Magic. Now I can sleep easy.

Sam.
Mood of the Day: Tired
Listening To: A Door Closing, The Early Morning Remix
Current Theory: Big Brother will kill off contestants this year.
Quote of the Moment: "The second most popular drink is Gravel"

*Aimed at me, for some bizarre reason.
**And running alot of running, it's as if people don't like reading this blog?
***Edition 7 - Now Includes DisneyLand! -- Availible from all good book shops.

34 Hours...

Aloha!
So... My GCSEs begin in just thirty-four hours...
Plenty of time.

As you can see, I have begun my sorting my notes:


Exams are very important to me, which I why I'm going to spend all of tomorrow, sleeping.

Sam.
Mood of the Day: Happy
Listening To: The New Modest Mouse Album XD
Current Theory: Exam Tomorrow. Haha.
Quote of the Moment: "Sounds Like Hard Core Porn..."

! Important Note !
For those of you, out there right this moment. Sitting there, gazing at my words, thinking that you should be revising now, please read on. Those intrigued, do the same. For those who don't care, why do you INSIST on coming back?

I will now tell you what I told someone earlier today.
There IS actually more to life than exams, believe it or not.
The world will not end if you fail, which is highly unlikely anyway, I mean have you seen how many marks you need for a C?

Those of you working yourselves into a panicking breakdown, please remember and carry with you the fact that PANIC SOLVES NOTHING and if you actually want to continue to care and pass, get some Hot Chocolate (I've decided it has healing properties), and sit down with your notes. I'll be in my garden, setting fire to my notes, with my Hot Chocolate.

We weren't born to sit exam after exam, and be scrutinized for every little comma that's left out.
Don't get me wrong, I'm all for education. But do you really, REALLY, need to create an environment of fear to get people to pass?

If so, doesn't that tell you that your syllabus is wrong?
Useless?
Out of date?
Boring?
Un-motivational?

I think it does.


So, to those who think the world ends when you fail an exam.
It doesn't.

It's all OK, and you know what?
It always will be.

The Prom, The After Party, The End

Aloha!
It's been a week or so, don't say you missed me. I simply won't believe you...

So, this is the end...
5 Years of "Education", Exams, Friendships, Love, Loss, Cake, Screaming, Falling, Singing, Dancing, Hugging, Laughing and Pyramid Building, climaxed by "The Prom"*.

I haven't much to say about the events at the Prom, as no-one randomly burst into flames or anything interesting. Jamie did provide entertainment though, by drinking prior to the pre-prom gathering. A legendary quote from his stumbling self: "Don't Worry Sam, I've ONLY had ten cans of Stella."
Jamie did manage to fall over, taking me down with him if that's any consellation for all you dark cynics out there.

Everyone looked pretty damn amazing. Especially resident Prom Queen Bev of course.
Here are some pretty pictures:

Our Pink Limo. Don't ask.

Starbucks Crew-ish

Me and The Beautiful Bev

And of course, the after-party...
I constantly drank the Magic Punch, which had every alcoholic beverage in Chloe's house mixed with oranges. It was one hell of a partay.

...and The After-Party. Myself, Tom and Prom Queen Bev drinking Punch.
Joined by Alex, looking at his phone in confusion, which is fair enough, as through the night I referred to mobile phones and glasses of punch as shoes.

Myself and Bev also finished the amazing yearbook, and even printed it ourselves.
It was a nightmare scenario. Think about a photocopier, now, place a drunk in charge of the photocopier...

Now name that drunkard Sam.

Yearbook Trivia
About 1% of the Yearbooks were binded upside down.
Inky fingerprints belong to Bev and Sam.
An entire box of paper was used.
I changed the Ink Toner myself, the inside of a photocopier looks like a nuclear reactor...
I kicked the copier, twice.
I sang to the photocopier.
Mr Steer made Me and The Bev hot beverages.

See you all in the English Literature exam.
Hope you're all hard at work, setting fire to those notes.

That's right kids, exams don't matter.

Sam.
Mood of the Day: Musically-Hyped
Listening To: Stuck In A Moment - U2
Current Theory: This Town's Traffic Service Is Shite.
Quote of the Moment: "Don't Cry Because It's Over... Smile Because It Happened"

*Stupid American Phrase**. It's actually "Leavers Ball"..
**Don't get me started on the Yanks.

Another Pair of Legends... Lost...

Aloha, Konbanwa.
Well. There comes a time in your life, where, you must give up, something close to you, something, that's attached to you for most of your time... Your old shoes.
And that moment usually comes, when you damage them a little, like so:

Yes lovely children, there IS indeed a little gash down the side of my beautiful Converse shoe.
So, I re-ordered the same shoe, for the third time.*

Which, arrived this afternoon, I thought I'd add a little comparision shot for those that care.
Incidentally, those who don't, your presence is questioned. I hope you're happy...


However, that's not all I want to mention today.
I would just like to return to the WJEC exam board. Myself and Tom spent today's French lesson creating WJEC taglines about inconsistent marking, during the practice exam we were sitting.

The Higher Level WJEC Listening Paper, is THE easiest paper I have ever sat.
6 Questions. 30minutes and plenty of time to draw full scale drawings on every other page.

So, here they are:

We Jeopardise Everyone's Career.
"WJEC. Where standards don't exist."
"WJEC. Where your grade is picked at random."
"Pick a grade from our hat."
"WJEC. The Main Cause of Cancer."
"WJEC. Because everyone's stupid anyway."
"The National Exam Board. Pick 'n' Mix Gone Wild."
"WJEC. Because Exams Don't Matter, Happyness does."
"A Cold Welcome from the WJEC."
"The WJEC. What a waste of a career."
"The WJEC, we're not just robbing other exam boards of achievement, we're robbing the government too."

"What do I know?"
~ Head of WJEC

"Il fait blanc!"
~ Goodbye, in French, according to the WJEC.

Graphs created by Team Biscuit's Investigational Department shows that as difficulty levels decrease in WJEC papers, more A*'s are awarded.

We compared the average A* rate between the WJEC and a rival exam board:
"Other Brand GCSE" 10%
A WJEC GCSE 99.2%

The results say it all.

Disturbing results also show that the trauma from GCSE's can lay dormant and strike innocent people up to 80 years after taking their exams, which, just so happens to be the life expectancy of this country... Coincidence? I think not.

! Update !

Some more eBay feedback...

Sam.
Mood of the Day: Slightly-Thirsty-With-A-Hint-Of-Conspiracy
Listening To: Asterisk - Orange Range
Current Theory: WJEC Is Evil.
Quote of the Moment: "AQA: We're after every mark, and your soul."

*Why?
Because, it's my trademark. I tried some AirWalk's courtesy of Bev, to which people replied:
"That's, just... Wrong."

A Day In Town.

Aloha, Konbanwa.
Being a member of the Corruption Council* has a few features, like the possibility of biscuits at meetings, or the permission to leave school for half a day and hunt for some funky awards for our upcoming prom.
We had the pleasure to leave school (After being forced to stay in Maths**) and "chomp" a free lunch at the incredibly healthy McDonalds aswell as the task of buying hordes of plastic gags.

We began our dangerous shopping expedition at the 99p store.
For those of you who have never been lucky enough to shop at a 99p store on a Tuesday afternoon, it's a very scary place to be. It was also, interesting busy. I wondered if anyone was in TESCO today. We avoided the bustle with my traffic reports:

Well, its a fantastic cloudy and dull afternoon to be away from your classrooms, here, in the 99p store. However, we've got a backlog of people wanting nearly gone-off food after some split milk has threatened the ability to travel through the food isle.

The highlight of our day (And mostly Jamie's) was the visiting of some "questionable stores".
Worryingly, Jamie purchased some handcuffs for himself. We'll leave the specualtion fly.

I cannot say much more, as you, yourself may be a member of Year 11.
In which case, you should be setting fire to your revision material, like I have.

However, for future and vaguely comedic value, picture the following:

Me parading around town with a shiny blue bag over my head.***
A chav approches and says:

Fuck Off?

Oh! I'm sorry, the answer we were looking for was:
"Where did you get that hat? It's cool."

That's a new one... I'm trendsetting.

! Earth Shattering News !

Studio8 has JUST been informed by our Internet-Crap Correspondant Esther that:

Cillt Bang's Barry Scott...

IS A FAKE.

To quote:
"Barry Scott (as in "Bang!! and the dirt is gone!") is not a real person and is actually played by Neil Burgess, who incidentally was once a murderer in the Bill"

Later.

Sam.
Mood of the Day: TowninglyHaptastic
Listening To: The Ice Storm - The Go! Team
Current Theory: GCSE's DO NOT equal Happiness.
Quote of the Moment: "Drink it, I'd like to see you die..."

*Also known as "Team Corruption", "HardCoreXCorruption", "A Scandal" and "The Year 11 Council"
**Where, once again, I slept for an hour.
***I loved how the emo's looked at me, as if I'M the one whose weird. Blue shiny hat vs. Pale, lifeless looking facial makeup and more metal than your average metal-related-factory.

Everyone's A Critic.

Aloha, Konnichiwa.
I'm supposed to be out today, but I got up late.
I thought about walking, but I went to the freezer and got some Ice-Cream instead and then wrote this, just for you guys. Oooh, don't you feel happy.

I was in town yesterday, as most people happen to find themselves stuck in on a Saturday morning; we've all woken up in the middle of a busy shopping centre and started to helplessly flail against the glass doors, trapped until you actually purchase something.

Oh.. Just me then. Moving on.

The plan for town wasn't really made, leaving the meeting time and point left pretty much left to the imagination. We finally met everyone at around 3. Nice and early.

It was decided that we would all go see Spiderman 3, on behalf of Jonny.
I would like to take this moment to clarify that I wanted to see something "that was not crap."
After burning some time in the little coffee shop we found while filming for 'Charlie', watching Jordan eat sweeteners and drinking hot chocolate we headed back to the cinema.

And there was our first mistake. We actually WENT to see the film.

Jonny bought a trough of popcorn and we were all set, we took our seats, myself and Tom made sure we sat within distance to laugh at the film, which neither of us were really intent on seeing, however, it made Jonny happy; Seems you can put a price on happiness, it's £4.20.

I've got to say, now, before any of you fall under the illusion that Spiderman3 is worth seeing.
Spiderman3, is THE most awful film, I have seen this year. However, I will say that watching it was painful, yet hysterical.


Me and Tom could not get over the fact that Peter Parker looked like a french-man while on his scooter and I was nearly crying when he was plucked from the road into the air.
Honestly, I'm still laughing now.

Everytime someone was trying to flag down a taxi I wanted it to run them over, and then reverse over them.

Of course, then came the worst of it all, when the film suddenly transformed into "Spiderman3 - The Musical!" where we see Peter Parker dancing around tables, thrusting towards doorways and generally looking a complete pillock. It was like some terribly frightening advert that you cannot stop.

Peter Parker also shows his true colours when he hits a girl in the face. I couldn't help but laugh.

Spiderman turns evil, so logically, Peter Parker turns emo?
His haircut, his eyeliner, I couldn't stop laughing. It was really, not good.
Everytime it rained I was hoping it would "wash the emo out of him..." No such luck.

It was also a mind-bending film, with people you thought were dead, constantly coming back to life, in sand form perhaps.

We probably ruined the film for everyone else, our shouting and hysterics echoed around the room, but thinking about it, the film ruined itself, so it was fine.

Throughout the film, myself, Tom and Bev found ways to entertain ourselves, such as stealing Jonny's popcorn and his Sprite. Well done to Tom on such a well executed operation.
After leaving, I tipped the leftover popcorn over Jonny, providing myself with adequate revenge and providing Jonny with a makeshift hat:

And here is Jonny, proudly fashioning his Makeshift-Spiderman3-Popcorn-Cardboard Hat I made for him.

Sam.
Mood of the Day: IceCreamy
Listening To: Down Under - Men At Work
Current Theory: I Could Throw Up A Better Film Than Spiderman3 - Sorry Jonny
Quote of the Moment: "It seems you can put a price on happiness, it's £4.20..."