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".