Katie Price's perfect ponies

Seen in asda today:

W, T & indeed F?

Hands up those who believe any part of this publication was scribbled by the aformentioned person?

Even more awful, t'interweb says she got paid 300,000 quids upfront for this guff. Has there ever been a more dodgy book deal? Answers on a postcard.

I confess: bongo translation

~Insert wibbly lines as we go back to secondary school~

Back then C'riz was a swot. So I got put in the group that was learning both French and Spanish at the same time, while most people just got landed with learning how to ask for a croque monsieur.

One of the group of mates I used to hang around on street corners with had the (mis)fortune of having his dad do a runner one night leaving everything behind. Everything. Including, it turned out a collection of gentleman's literature brought back from Torremolinos. He shortly had a fine business running based on his new bongo mags.

Then, one dark night I was asked if I would like to perhaps have a look, free of charge. Oh, go on then, after all, I'm sure they are full of artistic poses in the best possible taste. Underneath the dim orange glow of a street light the collection is examined. This is before the days of teh interweb, so no midgets, donkeys, golden showers or fisting, but by eck, there was everything else. If it could be inserted in an orifice, it was. For someone who had previously only seen a razzle stack it was quite the eye opener.

Er, lads, why do you need me? 'Cos there was speech balloons on all the filth. Even the ones where the lady in question clearly had her mouth very full. It was like a hardcore version of the beano. And they wanted translations...

Do I
a) tell them school Spanish is ideal if you would like to buy train tickets and do shopping?
or
b) make it up as I go along?

I just may have gone for b).
Sorry....

I'm not ashamed

to say that I have moobs.

Indeed, for quite a long period of time they where part of my mental arsenal of reasons why I shouldn't go out into the big scary world. I could either say to myself the old quote "If I had boobs like those I'd never leave the house", and thus have a perfectly valid reason for staying in. Or I could think I mustn't scare small children, and thus must stay in until my moobs are gone.

If I had to get a piercing (I'm not over keen on the whole additional holes thing to be honest) I'd get a nipple done. Not that I will, the whole not sure thing, and I have innies. Can you pierce innies?

If I did it would only be for me to see. Not that I'd be embarrassed to show my pierced moob in public. I'd be ashamed to show my arms / shoulders in public, and so far outside German latex fetish porn, garments don't exist that reveal moobs but keep arms covered. I need to keep arms covered as one of my "reliefs" for being mental is to make holes in my arms. So after many years I now have some pretty ugly scars, and we're back to scaring small children again.

Hmm, there's not much in the way of teh funny in this post. Never mind.

Edit.. found this on da tube... Suggest you don't search for moobs on there unless you want to be scarred for life...

On blogs

I read other peeps blogs, but rarely comment.

This is for a few reasons, eg.
Random acts of reality is very clever written stuff, but I know bog all about the topic, so I'm not worthy to comment.

Then there be that scaryduck person who drops LOL bombs frequently, but gives the feel in comments of playing to the in crowd only.

Poor little Misty has had to suffer my comments. It's her own fault for being warm and welcoming to the most stupid of fools. Though I'm not commenting at the min as once again I have f*cked it up with her and am busy feeling miserable and persona non grata.

I note from the swish and uncontrollable control panel thing, that rad mamblings be following my blog. For the love of Pete, get out while you can! I don't comment there either, as, er, only found out about you today. And you're one of those bloody clever people who can write.

Other blogs that get the odd glance over that would be in the sidebar if I could work out how to do it are:

RikAitch
Nee Naw
Waiter Rant
Cocktail Doll

Teenage fantasy #2049

The year: 1989

C'riz is 15. The fool still believes one day a lady with lady bumps will be interested in him. So he still plays the game with the rest of the boys of "would" when spotting the females.

Cher releases "If I could turn back time" with that video. The one with the guns and not a lot of clothes. C'riz joins in with stating "would". For it cannot be denied, despite her being 43, had the word MILF existed at the time, it would have been used. Oh yes.

If you'll excuse me, I'm off to take a shower in liquid oxygen.

Cher- ( If I Could )Turn Back Time

Your horrorscope for today

By guest arsetrologer R. Grunt.







Pick your sign below, and find out what my magic balls say is in store for you.


Scorpio:
You should shortly find coming thru your door a Duck? Truck? Hockey puck?

FFS! Hang on a minute love, my ball's gone all fuzzy, bastards making me go digital, it used to work fine before, why mess with it, I never watched channel 5 anyways. Where was I? Oh yes, D, T & H.

If it turns out to be a duck, you may think that despite all the f*ck ups he makes, you'll miss him when he's dead and gone. Or you may think not again, next time send the money. Or you may think that's very nice, I'll send him a photo of my bottom. You could even tell him what you think, but that would put me out of a job guessing, er predicting things.
If it's a truck I'd think about having a nice cup of tea after you call the driver a silly chuff.
Anything else, well you're on your own, unless you can call ghost busters.

Aquarius:
People like you for who you are, not for what you can give them.

Off the record, having checked your file nobody has ever liked you for any reason at all. I'd give up now if I was you.

Other signs that I can't remember right now:
The moon is in uranus. I'd take an umbrella if I was you.

On false advertising

<---- See this?

a) What would you say is the major ingredient?

b) What is there least of?

If you answered a) chicken and b) red pepper then go and put on the hat with the big D.

Chicken scores only 4%!

What this product really is tomato soup. Tomato soup for people who hate vegetarians, and are scared one will call round and steal your lovely tomato soup one day.

So add a hint of chicken, and you can say sorry mate, chicken in it!

This is good, but for one minor problem. You may get used to calling it hint of chicken soup for the LOL's. Then you may send your blind mother to the shops to buy some more. Just possibly she won't be able to spot it mixed in with all the other similar looking tins of soup, and will ask the adsa drone if they have any hint of chicken flavour.

Put it back!

Today I was in tesco. And I noticed something I've prolly noticed and been annoyed by before, but this time I took pictures.

What doth we have here?
We have the breeding grounds of the species known as lazy bastards.

Take a bottle of fresh orange juice out of the fridge, bimble to the crisps row to shut up your stupid offspring, and spot the value orange juice. Hang on, this stuff is dirt cheap compared to the fresh stuff. No problem, put the fresh on the floor, fill your trolley and bugger off.


It doesn't matter that you've effectively rendered the fresh bottle useless.


So I go round the corner to the next row, which be ice cream. And I see this. Is this from the previous idiot? Or another twonk?

Yes, fresh from the fridge trifles. Dumped in the freezer. Genius.





Now you may be asking, C'riz, why do you care? After all mr. Tesco made billions of quids. What does it matter that some lazy scum is ruining food?

Well,
a) it's not nice when there are people starving for you to ruin stuff 'cos you're too lazy to take it back.

b) Mr. Tesco likes to make billions of pounds. You can bet he has a team working out just how much stuff gets destroyed in this way. And he's putting it on the prices of stuff. So I'm paying for the lazy bastards.

Grrr!
So, dear imaginary reader, what annoys you about other shoppers?

No dark sarcasm in the classroom

There are those that will tell you "school days are the best days of your life". These people, are, in fact, totally and utterly wrong morons.

True, certain persons such as S. Duck have made a bob or too out of tales of skool. This does not change the wrong-diddly-wrongness of the phrase. As any fool kno, the best educational days of your life are university.

Teacher a clueless git? No problem, go to the pub and learn it from a book in the library instead.
Nice day and you don't feel like going in? Pub it is then. Preferably one where you can perve at the nice ladies from textiles.

Er, kind of lost my thread a bit there... for this was supposed to be a rant about the useless fuc teachers that cannot be avoided.

~Insert wobbly lines as we go back in time to junior school~

This is before young C'riz discovered beer, and (more importantly) being workshy. I was, in fact a bit of a swot.

Until I got put in the class with the sour faced old harridan who had the same surname as me apart from one different letter... Something the old bag must have noticed, and decided that I was not to be shown any favouritism because of it. In fact it may be better if I get some anti favouritism, or total and utter hatred. By xmas the uber motivational class star chart has lots of stars stuck on it. Even the future village idiot has stars for not drooling in class. All apart from young C'riz who has a grand total of none. Bugger.

I survived that year, and next time got a nice one. Mrs. Naylor. Who may not have totally shaped my future, but definitely pointed young C'riz in the direction he ended up going in.

C'riz is afflicted with being sinister. A problem not helped by a previous harridan who decided good old fashioned teaching methods are best, namely administering violence should any hand other than the right be used. Consequently handwriting has never been a strong point.

Mrs. Naylor worked with young C'riz, and I improved. I even got a shiny prize that year for "most improved". But while the other kids got to choose what their book token went on, Mrs. Naylor made a choice for me. I received "how things work", a book all about mechanics and well, how things work. Thus it is prolly her fault that I went on to become an engineer, a thing I thank her for.

So now new improved C'riz moved up a year... to Rike Meid's class (think grittish bass, as I don't think he will be dead yet). I believe the man came from Stoke, which of course means he was, and prolly still is, a complete and utter f*cktard.

Young C'riz's writing is awful. So the obvious solution is make him re-write everything out again every bloody day while everyone else is out playing in the sun. Yes, that'll motivate him. For some strange reason the actual result was a reduction in work produced... nothing to do with the fact that if you know you're going to have to copy it out again, writing less in the first place is a smart move. Oh no.. can't be.

For unknown reasons, biros where also banned at skool. You shall use a fountain pen, these frenchie things will never catch on. Why are you writing so slowly boy? Er, liquid ink, writing goes left to right.. spotted the problem yet quark brain?

Er, rather a distinct lack of funny here.. but was therapeutic for me... Normal service will be resumed shortly..

On discrimination

Being a nice chap I took my mum to an exhibition in Birmingham she wanted to go to. Mum is registered blind, 'cos, well, she is technically blind, just too stubborn to admit to it. Said exhibition is full of gadgets to make the blind person's life easier.

Birmingham is a big city, with complicated roads. I'd much rather drive in London than Brum, it's that bad to get anywhere. But it's an exhibition for blind people... so they won't be driving cars... so we don't need to spend money putting out signs that say blind exhibition this way... they'll all just teleport in or something.

So we eventually got there, and it's rather busy. We go round the stalls and look at amazing* gadgets and aids. Only, there is something wrong... We must be wearing invisibility cloaks. Trying to find out information, prices, etc we are totally ignored.

Then I twigged it. We don't have a guide dog. Or a white cane. Therefore we aren't blind, and must be staff, and should be ignored because we're not people come to spend money. This of course is because of mum's stubborness / Dunkirk spirit etc, she won't admit she has a problem, and doesn't want to warn people in advance that she's a one woman destructive force.

The solution is thus obvious. You want help, give the table a sound kick and they will assume you're blind and just didn't see it and come to sell you something help you.

Not being a guide dog owner also means you don't know the euphemisms of guide dog ownership. It turns out "guide dog spending area" is not a good place to visit. We thought maybe something for dogs to spend their bonios on, but turns out it means "your dog can sh** here". Still, live and learn eh?

*amazing if you're an idiot designer who never even met a blind person evah! Grey letters on black keys may be stylish, but kind of fails in the easy to see department.

It's a boring day and there's nothing to do

'cept to get a load of retards and drive them to the zoo.
'cept Barno-on-sea hasn't got a zoo... But it's the Locke park carnival, so that'll do.

The big attraction be: "Levity II luminarium, a sculpture of light and colour". From the outside it looks like this:

Yes, it always looks like it's about to pee it down in Barno-on-sea.

Hmmm, it's a) inside and b) dry. Lets queue for yonks and give them our £2 per person. Post currency extraction you are instructed to remove your shoes. Ohhh. is it bouncy?
No, it is not. Which, if you want my opinion, is a damn shame.

What it is, is trippy. And slightly disorientating.

They're very keen on telling you it's all natural light. Not sure there's such a thing as fake light, but there you go.

You are given 15 minutes, during which you're free to sit in a corner and mong out should you wish.



Not bad, but I still wish it was bouncy as that would be awesome!

Que?

Seen on evilbay:


A display model of horses head. Used to show bridles/bits. etc. Life (ish) size. 24" inches from ears to end of nose. Ideal for Sadllery, cafe bar, Pub (The Red Lion, The Black Bull) ??

Er, call me stupid, but how does a horse head fit with "red lion" or "black bull", given a) it's white, and b) neither lion or bull?

I also think they're missing out by failing to suggest "Ideal for putting in bed of person you don't like".

What else could you do with a £30 fibreglass horse head? Answers on a postcard plz.

Somewhere in a parallel universe...

Today we face an uncertain economic future. The enemy is recession. What if Alistair Darling was to come up with a way out?

Whilst being driven to work he reads the "ohhh ahhh daily star" and learns that the "pink pound" is strong. On goes a light bulb....
"Gordon, Gordon, these pink people have got real strong money! Lets tax them on it!"
"Don't be silly Darling. Haven't you been watching Torchwood? That Captain Jack is very clever, and will find a way to defeat us if we did that. No, we need more bummy Jacks, if only there was a way."
"I know! Lets make a new law like that Bevin chap did in the war, and conscript 10% of the population to be bummy. More Captain Jacks than you can shake a stick at! We can call it Darling Bummy Boys!"
"Make it so number one. Engage!"

2 days later I get my calling up papers... The only bribe to this whole dastardly plot, I get to choose my new partner, and if no-one else has already chosen that person, a squad will kidnap them for me (thus solving unemployment, well as long as kidnap gangs are still required).

"you must choose, choose wisely"....

Er, ok.. bring me.... Christian Slater... the 1990's version... When he played "Hard Harry" in "pump up the volume". Yeah, that'll do it.

Now you may be thinking, that was a quick choice C'riz. Well, lets review the evidence:
(caution, contains Samantha Mathis boobies, so maybe NSFW)



Now tell me he's not a buff guy in this?
And... he has a friend who doesn't mind showing off her assets... Methinks he'd also be a generous type who wouldn't mind you borrowing said friend on your weekends off from saving the world by being bummy.

C'riz also quite likes the song (Ivan Neville, why can't I fall in love?") In fact the entire soundtrack cd is pretty good, apart from the concrete blonde cover of "everybody knows".

So, er there you have it.. you now know what an alternate universe version of C'riz would do.. Though as things are different I'd prolly be called C#riz, or C'Rizz or something.

****************

Bizarrely, I once had a rare phone conversion with a human friend, and the topic got moved round to which sexy female type off tv I would fancy. And I could give no answer. This doth not mean I am bummy... more to do with a) not watching tv, b) not wanting to reveal weaknesses, and c) why torment yourself?

T'would be like being told you're deadly allergic to jaffa cakes, then being asked which is your favourite ones? You'd be much better off moping in the baked beans aisle than even looking at the deadly jaffa cakes... Even a wagon wheel could be too much..

On broken things

Idiot girl models her new easy to find broken leg.

"How will I know which is broken?"
... er.. ok, we'll colour that one pink love...

Leg now has 3 breaks (& 2 metal plates) in it. As Dr. Nick Riviera decided to break it as well for some reason.




Land rover with 3 warning lights that shouldn't be there. Googling reveals they are known as "the three amigos". And you have to get a man with a computer to turn them off again, or as some suggest "run them out of town". This can be expensive... it is suggested the more Mexican you can sound when phoning up, the cheaper the job. So I've been practising dropping gringo, tequila, senorita etc into my sentences.

Death

Part 1 in what will prolly be an ongoing series about death. C'riz thinks a lot about death ya know...

A black musician dies unexpectedly, and the world goes crazy. He tops the charts, the record labels scour the archives for something, anything that's new to release for a quick buck before his legend dies and he fades into history. Why? say the people, why did it end this way, what could have been if he hadn't died?

No, I'm not talking about boring Wacko Jacko. The clue is in "black". I'm talking about this fella:

" C'riz, who the hell is that? " I hear you say. He's Johnny Ace.

Backstage during a gig on Christmas eve 1954 he shot himself in the head. Some say it was russian roulette, some say it was an accident. The wacko effect kicked in, and "pledging my love" went on to be his biggest posthumous hit.

Sends shivers down my spine every time. RIP Johnny.

I love you...

How often do you say those three words? And who to?

Mother?
Brother?
Significant other?
The man who let you eat his chips at 2am on a cold Saturday night?
A chance encounter with a famous face?
The bus driver who let you on with no money?

They're not words I use often. Unlike Katy Perry I haven't kissed a girl (though I'm sure I would like it), so that cuts it down a lot. Plus when I say it, I have to feel it. More than words, it has to be more than real.

My sister, or Idiot Girl as she is more commonly known, is in hospital with post horse falling off at speed injuries. Generally speaking, I don't like her. Or what she does. So I cannot use the L word.

But I'm not totally cruel... I gave her an Ouchie bud duck. If I'd thought about it a bit more I could have given her a box full, and got her to sell them to other people's visitors. Well, you've got to take any opportunity you can, non?

Oh, back to love... video time.
Yello: Of course I'm lying.



I could have gone for the predictable "I love you". But I like this song better.

Julie stopped her car.
The sun had gone and left one of these dark red skies.
She looked in my eyes and with a smile in her face she said "of course I'm lying. But I think I love you."

Previously on CSI....

"Grissom, Over here. I found some cast off."

"Well done Nick. Judging by the angle and size our killer was probably moving at only walking speed."

Nick expertly swabs and adds reagent. Nothing. It's not blood.

"Get a sample to trace."

"I'm on it."

"Nick, while we wait for Hodges, how do you fancy a bit of hot man love?"

"I'm the cute white straight guy remember? But just this once I'll let you toss my salad"

"Salad ... Beetroot... It's fucking beetroot!"

"Cancel Hodges then?"

Something tells me I'm going to have to work on it a bit if I'm to become a slash fiction writer...

My name is David*

Ye gods, another blog started by a nobody with high hopes that will fizzle out within a fortnight. If you're the real Al Pachinko, and are outraged that someone has stolen your name, I'm sorry, K?

My excuse is someone has taken criz, crizz, crizzz etc right up to crizzzzzz, and well, after that it's just silly isn't it?

5 bonus points for knowing which film al pachinko comes from.

I think I'm going to pretend that one day someone will read this. Yes. Pretend = on.

So who am I?

Bloke. (99% of readers just left)
Boring.
Mental.
Special skill: Moping.
Lacking skills: Social.

Current miserable level = 9.7

They say finish on a song... so...



Alooooooooone.... I loved this song in the 80's, and still do, but perhaps now the reason has changed.

*Actually, my name isn't David. That's just what the lesbians** from a few doors down call me, and I'm too polite to tell them David was the bloke from Stoke who used to live next door 10 years ago.

** Maybe they're not actual lesbians, but it's generally believed by the local community that they are because 2 women live in the same house and sell shoes***

*** Not sure if it's the house sharing, or the shoes that gives them away. I will stop now.