So, it's a new year. A new decade. And a new era for Bolton Wanderers. I suppose I should explain my 4 month absence. I can't be arsed to, but I suppose I should. I didn't exactly forget about it. I just couldn't be arsed, to be Frank. In fact, I was re-reading my posts the other day. I always say if it makes just one person laugh, it matters. I usually omit the fact that it includes me. Anyway, I've now gone on to uni(versity) and studying Law at Leeds Met, or Leeds *cough* as I pronounce it. In fact, I've just moved back to Leeds after the Christmas holidays, having done ALL my work, bar a few things. *cough*.
There's a few things different from Leeds and Bolton. For one, the weather's better. When it rains in Bolton, it drizzles in Leeds. When it drizzles in Bolton, it probably drizzles a little bit of the time, rest of the time is sunny. It's also warmer. Boo. Call me old fashioned (or weird, your choice), but I prefer it a bit nippy and a bit drizzly. Which makes Bolton almost perfect. Another thing different is it's in Yorkshire. Them who came second in 1485. My history around the time of Henry VII has drastically improved since moving, ha. The final difference,
the fact it's nice to match the scowls with a reason. In Bolton, I have no idea why folk scowl at me. Here, it's because I'm a (I'll paraphrase) "Lancashire bastard". No, good Sir, I'll have you know I'm a Greater Manchester bastard. PS Bosworth > you. The mystery of why they seem to dislike me may just be solved.
Also, uni(versity) is far different (see: better) to sixth form. Rather than in sixth form where I hated most, if not all, of my lessons, my LLB (that's Law degree to you, not that I have a superiority syndrome) is actually bareable. The only problem that's arised is that my sleep patterns worse than ever now. Although I suspect that's far more self inflicted than before. But I would like to be up at about 8/9 tomorrow to get cracking on with assignment work.
It's all change at the Reebok, innit? The fans have got their wish and the evil, maniacal, shit-but-not-actually-as-bad-as-folk-say-if-you-think-about-it Gary Megson has been given the boot. I remember the Hull game like it was last week (what? it was? Shurrup, I'm on a roll). In the 90 minutes, there was 2 (that's TWO) Bolton songs. They were the Campo chant (but for Klasnic) and the Super John McGinlay chant (but for Super Kevin Davies). There were 4 (that's FOUR) Anti-Megson songs in the last 20 minutes alone. They were Time To Go, We Only Hate Gary Megson, You Don't Know What You're Doing, and of course, that hit single, Megson Out. Each louder than the last. In fact, I've not heard chants that loud since... well, I don't think ever. Even when Okocha scored THAT goal against West Ham. Even when Bobic scored THAT hattrick against Ipswich. Even when Anelka scored THAT winner against United. Which speaks volumes for our fans (see what I did there? DID YOU SEE?). Anywho, it seems Coyle's the man who's gonna replace "Mugson" (oh hahahahahaha please stop your wit is too much, what next, "Smegson"? hooo hahaha), bar a dramatic change of heart. I'm a bit cautious myself, what with the lack of experience. Although it seems to please the fans. Not sure how good that is, seeing as they want Alan Curbishley, who has the same media persona, the same negative tactics, the same attributes as Megson. Except he's Cockney and not ginger. But hey, most of them attributes are instilled in the great-oh-wait-he's-a-fat-knobber-but-wait-he's-almighty-again Sam Allardyce. So that pretty much rules out every reason Bolton fans have had against Megson. Except one: he's ginger. And I don't put that pettiness past any Bolton fan.
That was rather longer and rantier (I know it's not a word) than I'd anticipated. But ah, well. I blame Megson.
Stay classy interwebz.
They Call Him Rutman... bringing you New Years since 2010.
4 January 2010
5 September 2009
Oops
So, I forgot to put up a post after results. Was it because they were so shit I was ashamed to? Was it because I forgot? Was it because I couldn't be arsed? Nobody really knows. I have, however come to the conclusion that revision is bad. Yes, that's right, revision has negative effects on me. Year 2 SATs, I didn't even know I had. I got top grades in them. Year 6 SATs, I knew about, but didn't revise. I got 5, 5, 5.5. Year 9 SATs, which I revised a little for, and I got 5.5, 6/5, 8. Then GCSEs, I revised a little more. I got 1 A, 6 Bs, 1 C and 2 Ds. AS Levels I revised a little more still, and I got CCDE (later bumped up to BCCE). A2 Levels, I revised shitloads. I got CDE, which brought me to an almightily unimpressive A Level result of CDD.
CDDe is 220 points. My first choice wanted 300, insurance wanted 260. Amazingly, my insurance (Leeds Met) accepted me 2 days before results day. Arguably more amazingly still, my firm (UWE) were pondering accepting me (but I phoned them and hurried them into offering me a course change. I declined).
So, I'm off to Leeds. I purposely leave out the "Met" in order for it to look like I'm going to a "good" university. In fact, this is my last Saturday night in Horwich (and the fact I'm doing this, is very, very sad indeed) before I move out. I looked around the flat I'll be in. It's quite good, size wise, my room is about the same size as my room at home. Lounge/kitchen area's a bit small, but I expected so. It's also blue. Very blue.
Anywho, that's that. Oh, and for the record, I started on neither novel I was planning on writing. And avoid IKEAs. They're horrible places to shop. *shudder*
They Call Him Rutman... I've lost inspiration for these last bits, tbh... since 2009.
CDDe is 220 points. My first choice wanted 300, insurance wanted 260. Amazingly, my insurance (Leeds Met) accepted me 2 days before results day. Arguably more amazingly still, my firm (UWE) were pondering accepting me (but I phoned them and hurried them into offering me a course change. I declined).
So, I'm off to Leeds. I purposely leave out the "Met" in order for it to look like I'm going to a "good" university. In fact, this is my last Saturday night in Horwich (and the fact I'm doing this, is very, very sad indeed) before I move out. I looked around the flat I'll be in. It's quite good, size wise, my room is about the same size as my room at home. Lounge/kitchen area's a bit small, but I expected so. It's also blue. Very blue.
Anywho, that's that. Oh, and for the record, I started on neither novel I was planning on writing. And avoid IKEAs. They're horrible places to shop. *shudder*
They Call Him Rutman... I've lost inspiration for these last bits, tbh... since 2009.
17 August 2009
A Favour...
So, this is a short blog post. Very short. Expect a large one after results day.
I like to think I provide at least a little bit of entertainment to you in this blog (if not, then meh). BUT I'd be incredibly grateful if you could grant me a favour? After all, I have helped a few of you out before (emotional blackmail ftw).
I recently entered a goal.com talent competition, where I can win a 1 month internship. Anyway, I need your votes for any chance at this opportunity. Just go here and vote for "Mike Nolan (68): It’s Lonely at the Middle"
Thanks to all who vote. :)
They Call Him Rutman - bringing you shameless self promotions since 2009.
I like to think I provide at least a little bit of entertainment to you in this blog (if not, then meh). BUT I'd be incredibly grateful if you could grant me a favour? After all, I have helped a few of you out before (emotional blackmail ftw).
I recently entered a goal.com talent competition, where I can win a 1 month internship. Anyway, I need your votes for any chance at this opportunity. Just go here and vote for "Mike Nolan (68): It’s Lonely at the Middle"
Thanks to all who vote. :)
They Call Him Rutman - bringing you shameless self promotions since 2009.
6 August 2009
I M Legal
So, after 18 years of waiting, I turned 18 on Tuesday. Thank you to the 10 people who bothered to wish me happy birthday. The rest can sod off, tbh. As for the day? Well, it didn't exactly go off to a roaring start. My sleep was interrupted by my phone vibrating at 2.15am, alerting me to the message I received at 12.30am (ironically, it was the first 'happy birthday' of the day. I failed to get back to sleep. So much for this melatonin supplement I'm taking. I've woke up 3 times since my appointment (a week before Tuesday) before 6am. Most of the time around 9am (but I've slept before 1am, so I ain't complaining). Anyway, I got beer and money, mainly, whoever's counting. I'm also having trouble getting any fucker to celebrate it. So I'm not exactly delighted with my acquaintances.
I've ordered something off the internet, costing about £7.50. However, it seems I can withdraw £20 less than what is in my account (usually it takes off the amount that you are in the midst of being charged). Which is about £12.50 less than it should. I'm hoping that money should reappear. Although I'll find out where it's gone if it hasn't. I signed up to an extra protection password thingy at my bank moments before as well... so I'm confused.
Speaking of my bank, they tried to take the liberty of automatically upgrading my account to a student account. Which would be alright if I didn't want a Natwest account (cos of the student rail card worth £120... 33% off tickets in off peak times). So it'll be a pain closing/downgrading so I can open a new one with Natwest. Bastards.
I'm struggling to see how I'll get through uni. I might just go to one local and live at home (although I want to move away). I've no job, and from the looks of things, I'll not be getting any grants. They want my mum's details (although my dad brings in all the household income). And she can't remember her login details. Don't ask me why she hasn't phoned up and asked for them. Seems I'll be shedding a few more stone these next few years. Although I spose it IS my fault for not job hunting... although I don't think I can face rejection after rejection cos no fucker's hiring. And my reference from Pizza Hut isn't going to be sparkling, even though I was fully trained (they disagree) and I trained myself on everything by myself.
Anywho, that's about it since last time. I've done nowt on my book, although I've thought of a more interesting concept for a different book that I may do instead.
They Call Him Rutman - why do I bother thinking of things I'm bringing you?... since 2009.
I've ordered something off the internet, costing about £7.50. However, it seems I can withdraw £20 less than what is in my account (usually it takes off the amount that you are in the midst of being charged). Which is about £12.50 less than it should. I'm hoping that money should reappear. Although I'll find out where it's gone if it hasn't. I signed up to an extra protection password thingy at my bank moments before as well... so I'm confused.
Speaking of my bank, they tried to take the liberty of automatically upgrading my account to a student account. Which would be alright if I didn't want a Natwest account (cos of the student rail card worth £120... 33% off tickets in off peak times). So it'll be a pain closing/downgrading so I can open a new one with Natwest. Bastards.
I'm struggling to see how I'll get through uni. I might just go to one local and live at home (although I want to move away). I've no job, and from the looks of things, I'll not be getting any grants. They want my mum's details (although my dad brings in all the household income). And she can't remember her login details. Don't ask me why she hasn't phoned up and asked for them. Seems I'll be shedding a few more stone these next few years. Although I spose it IS my fault for not job hunting... although I don't think I can face rejection after rejection cos no fucker's hiring. And my reference from Pizza Hut isn't going to be sparkling, even though I was fully trained (they disagree) and I trained myself on everything by myself.
Anywho, that's about it since last time. I've done nowt on my book, although I've thought of a more interesting concept for a different book that I may do instead.
They Call Him Rutman - why do I bother thinking of things I'm bringing you?... since 2009.
22 July 2009
?sdrawkcab I mA
So, it's week whatever after finishing sixth form. I am well and truly bored. So what better time for some inane ramblings. On a side note, is it wrong that I can read that title without much bother? Yes, I wrote it, but still. Sentences in a similar format. For those of you unable to crack the code, leave. Leave now and never darken anyones doorstep ever again. Ahem.
Anyway, it seems that soon I may be able to finally crack this insomnia thing. Doctors appointment on Tuesday. The one I missed in June (due to exams is my excuse) and the other time cos I was away in Spain. I'd have gone, but the taxi fare would have been insanely high. Twas going well, too, until we went to Spain. Dunno whether it was the fact that I went to sleep at 8/9am has thrown my sleep out of balance or what, but I've noticed an odd trend. Before my exams, I wasn't sleeping altogether that well. I got to sleep at decent times, I just kept waking up during sleep. After exams, I've gone back to my normal routine. However, the examination period provided me with the best sleep I've had for years. So no, Mr Doctor, it's not stress. I sleep BETTER when I'm stressed and under pressure (I realise doctor's aren't 'Mr's, but otherwise they'd be Dr Doctor, and that'll never do).
But yes, I've slipped back into my old routine, which means, once again, I'm immersed in the darkness of exhaustion (excuse the style there, I've been reading Jeff Lindsay books recently, and seem to have adopted his style). Need to watch Fight Club soonish, it usually makes me sleep better. Or worse. It usually has an effect, though.
My book's going along at a grand pace. I've done nothing since I scribbled down a few things on the main character. Maybe I should just hop to it, and actually start writing the books, and create the characters as I go along. Like I've said, they're supposed to be loosely based on people I know. Not so loose that they can't tell it's them, but loose enough for them to not be able to sue me for defamation of character or whatever they can sue me for.
Finally, just before we went on holiday, we had a power cut. Which usually means it's time to play cards. Me and my brother invented a new card game: Slaps. The slaps make it what it is. Otherwise, it's an abysmally shite game. I dunno if it's cos we were SO bored that made it great fun, but I think we spent 2 hours playing, half an hour of which was when the power actually came back on. Big fun. I'll post up the hows and whens of the game now, so you can play at home (I sound like a quiz show host, tbh). If you don't understand the rules, I don't care. Ha.
SLAPS
2 players
Deal each player 4 cards. Player to the left of dealer plays any card. Next player plays a card of a similar or higher value. Players continue to take it in turns in this sequence, until one player cannot exceed or match the value of the card down. If player cannot match or exceed, the player who put down the top card slaps the other player, and players pick up 4 cards in turn, one at a time. If the player can match, and the other player cannot exceed, all players pick up 4 cards in turn, one at a time. Game ends when one player has put down all cards in their possession, and slaps all other players.
It might work with more than 2 players, but I've not tried. Might be best combined with a drinking game.
They Call Him Rutman - bringing you the great card games since 2009.
Anyway, it seems that soon I may be able to finally crack this insomnia thing. Doctors appointment on Tuesday. The one I missed in June (due to exams is my excuse) and the other time cos I was away in Spain. I'd have gone, but the taxi fare would have been insanely high. Twas going well, too, until we went to Spain. Dunno whether it was the fact that I went to sleep at 8/9am has thrown my sleep out of balance or what, but I've noticed an odd trend. Before my exams, I wasn't sleeping altogether that well. I got to sleep at decent times, I just kept waking up during sleep. After exams, I've gone back to my normal routine. However, the examination period provided me with the best sleep I've had for years. So no, Mr Doctor, it's not stress. I sleep BETTER when I'm stressed and under pressure (I realise doctor's aren't 'Mr's, but otherwise they'd be Dr Doctor, and that'll never do).
But yes, I've slipped back into my old routine, which means, once again, I'm immersed in the darkness of exhaustion (excuse the style there, I've been reading Jeff Lindsay books recently, and seem to have adopted his style). Need to watch Fight Club soonish, it usually makes me sleep better. Or worse. It usually has an effect, though.
My book's going along at a grand pace. I've done nothing since I scribbled down a few things on the main character. Maybe I should just hop to it, and actually start writing the books, and create the characters as I go along. Like I've said, they're supposed to be loosely based on people I know. Not so loose that they can't tell it's them, but loose enough for them to not be able to sue me for defamation of character or whatever they can sue me for.
Finally, just before we went on holiday, we had a power cut. Which usually means it's time to play cards. Me and my brother invented a new card game: Slaps. The slaps make it what it is. Otherwise, it's an abysmally shite game. I dunno if it's cos we were SO bored that made it great fun, but I think we spent 2 hours playing, half an hour of which was when the power actually came back on. Big fun. I'll post up the hows and whens of the game now, so you can play at home (I sound like a quiz show host, tbh). If you don't understand the rules, I don't care. Ha.
SLAPS
2 players
Deal each player 4 cards. Player to the left of dealer plays any card. Next player plays a card of a similar or higher value. Players continue to take it in turns in this sequence, until one player cannot exceed or match the value of the card down. If player cannot match or exceed, the player who put down the top card slaps the other player, and players pick up 4 cards in turn, one at a time. If the player can match, and the other player cannot exceed, all players pick up 4 cards in turn, one at a time. Game ends when one player has put down all cards in their possession, and slaps all other players.
It might work with more than 2 players, but I've not tried. Might be best combined with a drinking game.
They Call Him Rutman - bringing you the great card games since 2009.
18 July 2009
Hola
So, I've returned from Spain, a delightful shade of... red. I'll start off on a positive note before delving into the true incompetence of Jet2, among other things. Firstly, I see England drew to Australia. True to form, the Aussies complain. Sore losers, sore winners, and apparently sore drawers (which actually sounds like a colloquial term for a certain type of disease), which I never imagined possible. Another positive is Bolton signed another player. The bad news is it's Paul Robinson. Not the goalkeeper, the left back. Although I'd say he adds about the same to our squad - nowt. Jlloyd for left back/prime minister.
If you were to google "Jet2 bastards" I'd be the top result (I was fourth, but the last blog post put me top.), I think this will consolidate my place. First of all, on the way there. We got to the airport on time, got the car parked, everything fine. Then there was no queue for baggage drop. Good times. The staff then offered us a letter, explaining that we would be delayed for 3 hours, due to the plane having a technical fault. The grumbling starts. Then, 2 hours later, this bloke (incomprehensible) called everyone on our flight to the gate... only to tell us it's so smokers can go out and take one larger stride to their death. We walk back to our seats, grumbling. Then, we were finally called to the gate (all this time ringing Hertz in Malaga Airport to make sure we could still get our car rental). We spent 30 minutes stood at the gate before boarding. We managed to all be on the plane 3 hours after the scheduled flight (ironically, that's longer than the actual flight). Then we sat there for an hour whilst the staff counted the amount of people wrong. Several times. Total delay time - 4 hours 15 minutes. On the way back, we were greeted with news that, shock horror, we were delayed 1 hour 45. We waited about half an hour because they missed the takeoff slot (again), so that's 2 hours 15. Total delay time - 6 hours 30 minutes. The flight to Gambia was 6 hours. We spent about 5 hours 45 minutes in the air on each journey.
So, our holiday started rather magnificently. We landed at about 1:30 Spanish time. We got our rental car no problems (our bags were off the plane pretty sharpish, for a change) and off we set to the villa we rented. Which was an hour and a half's drive, maximum. We couldn't find it. We drived around in the car until daylight (7am) until we finally found it. I'm no stranger to all nighters, but all nighters in a car are far worse. When we got in, there were ants everywhere. Anyway, we managed to sort it all out proper later on, after we all had a few hours kip.
Now, the only things that hadn't gone wrong so far were the car and the parking at Manchester. I've neglected to mention that when we were going down the hill to the villa that the car started smoking. We thought it might just be dust (as it was a dirt track), so we carried on as normal. On Friday, we decided to make the 2 hour drive to Gibraltar. That was the plan, anyway. We ended up breaking down on some Spanish motorway, the clutch having been knackered. We waited ages, trying to explain where we were to the breakdown company (Surely there's not that many places that are on the AP-7 heading westbound, 1km from exit 23? They certainly thought so). Anyway, eventually this motorway breakdown bloke came out to check if we were alright. Didn't speak a word of English, ironically we communicated better with him than anyone else we encountered. Anyway, we got a free taxi to Malaga airport and got a new car, and the holiday continued as normal. Not much else of note happened, except I've managed to strain my right shoulder on the last day, skimming stones, kayaking and swimming at a lake we stopped at (cos our flight was supposed to be at 8.20pm, and we had to leave at 10am).
So that was the holiday. A nice surprise is that I'm not actually burnt, and I appear to have caught at least SOME sun. For a change. I've also discovered that there's not only San Miguel worth drinking. Cruzcampo and Aurum are both also particularly nice beers.
The ice cream truck driver that disrupted my revision last year returned whilst I revised this year. Oddly enough, I've not heard a peep from him since my last exam, even when it was boiling (although I feel cold now). Maybe it's all in my head, but I'm a bit miffed. Especially cos I recognise his new tune but cannot name it. I'm starting to miss Yankee bastard Doodle.
They Call Him Rutman - bringing you sunshine since 2009.
If you were to google "Jet2 bastards" I'd be the top result (I was fourth, but the last blog post put me top.), I think this will consolidate my place. First of all, on the way there. We got to the airport on time, got the car parked, everything fine. Then there was no queue for baggage drop. Good times. The staff then offered us a letter, explaining that we would be delayed for 3 hours, due to the plane having a technical fault. The grumbling starts. Then, 2 hours later, this bloke (incomprehensible) called everyone on our flight to the gate... only to tell us it's so smokers can go out and take one larger stride to their death. We walk back to our seats, grumbling. Then, we were finally called to the gate (all this time ringing Hertz in Malaga Airport to make sure we could still get our car rental). We spent 30 minutes stood at the gate before boarding. We managed to all be on the plane 3 hours after the scheduled flight (ironically, that's longer than the actual flight). Then we sat there for an hour whilst the staff counted the amount of people wrong. Several times. Total delay time - 4 hours 15 minutes. On the way back, we were greeted with news that, shock horror, we were delayed 1 hour 45. We waited about half an hour because they missed the takeoff slot (again), so that's 2 hours 15. Total delay time - 6 hours 30 minutes. The flight to Gambia was 6 hours. We spent about 5 hours 45 minutes in the air on each journey.
So, our holiday started rather magnificently. We landed at about 1:30 Spanish time. We got our rental car no problems (our bags were off the plane pretty sharpish, for a change) and off we set to the villa we rented. Which was an hour and a half's drive, maximum. We couldn't find it. We drived around in the car until daylight (7am) until we finally found it. I'm no stranger to all nighters, but all nighters in a car are far worse. When we got in, there were ants everywhere. Anyway, we managed to sort it all out proper later on, after we all had a few hours kip.
Now, the only things that hadn't gone wrong so far were the car and the parking at Manchester. I've neglected to mention that when we were going down the hill to the villa that the car started smoking. We thought it might just be dust (as it was a dirt track), so we carried on as normal. On Friday, we decided to make the 2 hour drive to Gibraltar. That was the plan, anyway. We ended up breaking down on some Spanish motorway, the clutch having been knackered. We waited ages, trying to explain where we were to the breakdown company (Surely there's not that many places that are on the AP-7 heading westbound, 1km from exit 23? They certainly thought so). Anyway, eventually this motorway breakdown bloke came out to check if we were alright. Didn't speak a word of English, ironically we communicated better with him than anyone else we encountered. Anyway, we got a free taxi to Malaga airport and got a new car, and the holiday continued as normal. Not much else of note happened, except I've managed to strain my right shoulder on the last day, skimming stones, kayaking and swimming at a lake we stopped at (cos our flight was supposed to be at 8.20pm, and we had to leave at 10am).
So that was the holiday. A nice surprise is that I'm not actually burnt, and I appear to have caught at least SOME sun. For a change. I've also discovered that there's not only San Miguel worth drinking. Cruzcampo and Aurum are both also particularly nice beers.
The ice cream truck driver that disrupted my revision last year returned whilst I revised this year. Oddly enough, I've not heard a peep from him since my last exam, even when it was boiling (although I feel cold now). Maybe it's all in my head, but I'm a bit miffed. Especially cos I recognise his new tune but cannot name it. I'm starting to miss Yankee bastard Doodle.
They Call Him Rutman - bringing you sunshine since 2009.
5 July 2009
Traducir Esto, y Tienes Mucho Tiempo
So, I'm off to Spain for 10 days tomorrow. Any normal family will pack a few days before. We pack the day before. Go us. Anywho, there's still plenty of things (or in fool speak "many a thing") left to do. Like get Euros. It's gone up, hasn't it? Although knowing my luck, it'll drop to something like 1.06 for £1. Speaking of losing money, it appears I have been fooled into buying a 20p for £1.75. I re-read the eBay listing, and it said it was a 2006 coin. Damn my inability to read things thoroughly. Nevertheless, I'll try and catch someone else in the same trap. Can't have negative feedback if it's precisely what I advertise, even if it was somewhat pragmatic.
I have a slight beef (for a change) with parents. Saw a thing before where they said their child was beautiful, where in actuality, they're a complete uggo. Similarly, I've just had my hair cut. My dad says something like "handsome chap", as he always does. I won't lie to you. I'm no Brad Pitt. I'm more of a Harvey Pitt (yes, I googled Pitt and looked for a mug). In fact, I have actually made children cry before. In Gambia, I was walking to where everyone else was, and this kid ran, stopped in front of me, looked at me and started crying. He scriked (cried to you non-North Westerners) even more when I backhanded him.
I have a StatCounter thing on this blog. It tells me how many people have read my blog since I put it in. It also tells me things like IP address, location and what link they clicked. Most of them from Facebook. However, one caught my eye. It was from a google search. The search string? "Jet2 bastards" (check it, 4th result... oh yeah) I'm confused as to what would possess someone to search for Jet2 bastards, but hey, I'm not complaining.
I can't be arsed doing it now, but I have an update on our friend, the pesky, revising interrupting ice cream man. But this is more of a reminder for me for when I'm back, tanned (see: bright red sunburn) from Espana.
They Call Him Rutman - bringing you google search results since 2009.
I have a slight beef (for a change) with parents. Saw a thing before where they said their child was beautiful, where in actuality, they're a complete uggo. Similarly, I've just had my hair cut. My dad says something like "handsome chap", as he always does. I won't lie to you. I'm no Brad Pitt. I'm more of a Harvey Pitt (yes, I googled Pitt and looked for a mug). In fact, I have actually made children cry before. In Gambia, I was walking to where everyone else was, and this kid ran, stopped in front of me, looked at me and started crying. He scriked (cried to you non-North Westerners) even more when I backhanded him.
I have a StatCounter thing on this blog. It tells me how many people have read my blog since I put it in. It also tells me things like IP address, location and what link they clicked. Most of them from Facebook. However, one caught my eye. It was from a google search. The search string? "Jet2 bastards" (check it, 4th result... oh yeah) I'm confused as to what would possess someone to search for Jet2 bastards, but hey, I'm not complaining.
I can't be arsed doing it now, but I have an update on our friend, the pesky, revising interrupting ice cream man. But this is more of a reminder for me for when I'm back, tanned (see: bright red sunburn) from Espana.
They Call Him Rutman - bringing you google search results since 2009.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)