Something For The Weekend 20

Dear Dave,

Culture-wise, it’s been a bit of a lean week. I know we’ve already had a long debate by email (during our lunch break and definitely not on the company’s time) on just how rubbish ‘Pirates 3’ was. Seriously, I was in that cinema so long, I expected to find flying cars and lightsabers had been invented by the time I came out. Well I compounded that movie-going fiasco on Tuesday when I went, with Bruce, to see ‘Zodiac’, which was an interesting story but also very, very, very, very, long. It contained way more information than could reasonably be absorbed on a school night so as you can imagine, Bruce was all “Who’s that guy again?” and “What’s he got to do with it?” and “Me need to go pee-pee again” throughout. Nightmare.

Elsewhere, I’ve been enjoying John Mayer’s new album, ‘Continuum’ and I’ve started reading a book on stand-up comedian Bill Hicks. He’s a bit before your time – ask Blousie – but very funny and thought provoking. As you may have noticed, I’ve written hee-haw here because I’ve been too busy shooting low scores on the golf course and wondering what the hell is going on in ‘Lost’. I was also supposed to have written a Players Form Guide for The Greatest Website In The World but don’t tell Blousie because he probably won’t receive it from me now until Sunday. Maybe.

This lack of writing activity may well continue here throughout June because I’m due to be down south a lot (in England, that is; not Penicuik) and, through no real fault of my own, I also seem to have got myself mixed up with a rough crowd of weirdos and gratuitous attention-seekers. Which is so not me of course.

You know how sometimes you can be out shopping – for, say, scented candles; or cabbage; or anything really – and you stumble across people queuing for something and you join in hoping that free laptops or pizza might be handed out, but in fact you end up joining The Moonies and getting carted off to the Orient in the dank hold of rusty freighter? It’s annoying, isn’t it? I was seriously pissed off when that happened to me. Both times.

Well the other evening, while I was avoiding Blousie’s relentless pestering texts and emails to “get my effin’ finger out”, I was cruising around the internet – in a similar manner, I guess, to the “cruising” you do on a Saturday night – and before I knew it I had been selected as a contestant for Big Blogger 2007. Mind you, I wasn’t one of the original selectees, but a couple of people dropped out so as 2nd Reserve-In-Waiting, I was bundled into the back of a dark, windowless van and ended up in a virtual house where, potentially, I might spend the next seven weeks. Which, by my reckoning, makes me Ginga! Remember her?

Anyway, I don’t really understand what it’s all about but I believe I’ll have to undertake a series of writing tasks so you can find all the details – together with anything I can conjure up – here at the Big Blogger 2007 website. There are also a number of rules I have to follow to avoid automatic eviction but I’ve only read the first 250, so until someone tells me otherwise, I’ll be smoking at the dinner table, farting in the jacuzzi and making sure all the other housemates keep the canned goods stored in strict alphabetical order.

One rule I do remember however is that I’m not allowed to shamelessly pimp for popularity votes on my own blog so whatever you do Dave, don’t tell everyone you know to go to the Big Blogger 2007 site and vote off any of the other housemates. ‘Cause that would just be plain wrong. Obviously.

Have a great weekend and I’ll hopefully see your chubby wee face in the crowd whenever I get evicted for making prejudicial slurs about whichever annoying f#ckwit steals my moisturiser… um… I mean yogurt... eh no, I mean condoms. Obviously.

Cheers, Edge