Homie Dancing

I just finished writing a blog entry that could have rivalled Shakespeare when my frigging computer died in the arse. I got a bloody blue screen of death. Who gets those anymore?? I remember reading somewhere that Microsoft had done something whereas they display something different in place of the blue screen of death to lull the masses into a false sense of security that something isn't really all that wrong. Anyway, I lost my unsaved entry! Damn it! When is my new laptop gonna get here??

So, this entry is not going to be nearly as good. Don't worry, I am continually saving this one. It went something along the lines of this:

Don't you hate it when you find something out about yourself that you didn't want to know? Especially something embarassing?

Conversation with nb last night got onto the topic of the fact that a photo of me appears on his mobile when I ring him. Went something like this:

ng: How embarassing! How come I have never seen it?
nb: Durr, maybe because you are on the other end of the phone when it is displayed?
ng: What if your phone is on your desk and people at work see it? When was it taken? How embarassing! You must have drugged me to get me to do that pose.
nb: Nobody sees my phone. June 2005. Yeah, I drugged you to make you look like a dork, that sounds totally logical.

It is a photo of me dancing. Not just any dancing. Homie Dancing. I can guarantee I know what song was on too. It would have been The Nosebleed Section by Hilltop Hoods. Embarassing. Not sure if I can upload it here for two reasons. Don't know if I have the courage and also not sure if I know how.

I heard something really disappointing on the radio today. I was channel surfing with the radio in the car on the way home and got to Bogan FM (aka Triple M). All I could hear was 3 blokes laughing at their own jokes, with one in particular continually saying "Maaaaaaate, Maaaaaaate" and I thought, who is this wanker? I was saddened to realise it was Wil Anderson.

Things can't be that desperate can they Wil?

I know you have to pay the bills and I realise you were going to be doing the drive shift on Bogan FM but did you have to agree to the lobotomy in order to get on air? A real shame.

Anyway, they were doing a segment where they were getting people to phone in if you shared a name with a famous person. I got the tail end of the conversation of a guy named Michael Jordan. The next caller was a woman with the surname Bond. Her uncle's name was James. No surprises there. But then she went on to say what she had named her kids. Her son was Jet Bond and her daughter was Shaquille Bond. Yes, Shaquille as in the male American basketballer. She thought they were cool names. That woman needs to be smacked. Actually, she should have been nominated to the Chaser boys, who did this great skit on bad baby names.

Once you have been there, if you need more laughter in your life, go here. However, there is a rule. You need to say them with a Scottish accent aloud to yourself. What a cack.

Also got to catch up with Phuc today as I was in the city. She's so excited about seeing Dylan Moran this Friday. So am I. Stay tuned for a review.