Something For The Weekend 19

Dave, Dave, Dave… there you are, sitting at home with your wee pudgy face still trippin’ you because Spiderman 3 wasn’t any good and you’ve logged on here in the forlorn hope that I’ll recommend something fun for you to do this holiday weekend so that your life retains some semblance of purpose and meaning.

The best thing you could do, of course, is hop a flight to Vancouver (that’s in Canada; which is a bit further west than Bathgate) and try and scalp a ticket for the first night of The Police’s World Tour. Despite what your pal Blousie says (and let’s face it, with a name like Blousie how reliable is his opinion gonna be on anything? Other than home furnishings?) The Police are so totally not pish and would be well worth the thousands of pounds and logistical travel nightmares it would take to see them on Sunday. And even if you couldn’t get your frisky wee hands on a ticket, Canada also has Mounties.

I would jump at the chance of making the trip myself (for the gig, not the besaddled law enforcers) but three girls have gently persuaded me (and by “persuaded” I mean “forced at gunpoint”) to go and see the new Pirates of the Caribbean movie on Saturday night. This is troubling because…

1. I thought the first Pirates film was one of the worst films I’d ever seen; I saw better acting from the animatronic characters in the original Disney theme ride.
2. I haven’t seen the second Pirates film but apparently I’m being “gently persuaded” to view the dvd later tonight.
3. It doesn’t star Gillian Anderson.

Thankfully I’ve got pizza on Friday, a fry-up on Sunday and golf on Monday to retrieve some crumb of fun from what is sure to be a downright miserable three-day weekend. On that bombshell, let’s just hope I can power through and endure the whole going-to-the-movies-with-three-women-and-having-my-Sunday-breakfast-made-for-me fiasco.

Hope you find something fun to do Dave… which doesn’t mean you can jump out your bedroom window again wearing your Spiderman suit. For one thing, it does not have “totally special flying powers ‘n aw that like”. And for another, you live in a third floor flat.

Commercial Break

Once I’m finished with The West Wing, 24, Lost, ER, Prison Break, Heroes, Six Feet Under, Battlestar Galactica, The Apprentice, Grey’s Anatomy, The Closer, Ugly Betty and… ahem… Desperate Housewives, I promise I’ll make full use of the glorious summer months by once again locking myself in a darkened room to tell you some exciting stories about prospective gigs, new recordings, website launches and questionable fashion choices from the 80s. Until then…

Something For The Weekend 18

Dear Dave,

Apologies first of all for not supplying you with your regular fix of culture last week. I’ve been a bit distracted lately with one thing and another and I figured that since we were meeting in the pub on Friday I could give you my report on how disappointing Spiderman 3 was first hand. But alas, you’d already been to see it with your “girlfriend” and had formed your own similar opinion. Was that why you were looking a wee bit down? Or was it because you’d just been beaten (up?) by a couple of talented women on the golf course during the company’s annual Gents v Ladies match? Sh#t, was I not supposed to mention that?

Anyway, if you’re looking to meet some new friends this weekend, there’s a gathering of interesting people who write blogs taking place at the Jolly Judge pub in Edinburgh on Saturday from 2pm onwards. You can find more details here. I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it but I’m sure they’ll welcome you with open arms and wallets as long as you don’t do your hissy-fit-arms-folded-scowl thing when someone uses a big word you don’t understand. And remember and wear your drinking boots ‘cause these people can partay dude.

Cheers, Edge

Missing...

I had this hilarious thing I was going to do that involved not writing anything here for a while. Then I was going to ask you if you’d visited in the intervening time and wondered whether I’d been knocked down by a bus. The idea was prompted by an exercise I carried out recently helping Gordon go through some of the Scottish Blogs sites to identify any which seemed obsolete. It was quite surreal reviewing some that had just stopped abruptly for no reason, without explanation, a bit like the Marie Celeste with the stove on cooking food, the table set for a meal but no-one to be found anywhere.

But all of that seems utterly trivial and pointless just now while a wee girl called Madeleine is still missing in Portugal; gone without reason or explanation. If I had the same level of technical knowledge as Lesley (and I know exactly how no.12 feels Lesley), I’d embed Madeleine’s photo in this blog. But I don’t, so instead you can find all the important information by clicking on these pink words that are underlined.

Something For The Weekend 17

Usually on a Friday I’ll try and make a little cultural recommendation to my young friend Dave so that he can try and better himself and not just remain cooped up in his flat all weekend wearing his favourite Spiderman costume. You may remember that last week I tried to get him to read a book, despite the fact it contained no pop-up pictures of Spiderman, but on Wednesday he gave me some motivational feedback – “Am no reading that pish” – so I’ve decided against telling him about the new book I’ve started; something to do with Ukranian tractors which, frankly, isn’t as racy as the title suggests.

Dave and I (and about 70,000 other people) work for the same organisation (no, not the Scottish parliament) and up until recently we used to be able to access this blog no problem. Then things started to change and the text would appear but none of the associated images. Finally this week, the Big Brother-types and their fiendish security software have deemed neilwritestheblog unsuitable for young minds and if you try and access it at work, an “Access Denied. Unsuitable Content. Step Away from The PC. Slowly, With Your Hands In The Air. Yes YOU With The Box Of Kleenex.” message appears in the same manner as if you’d just tried to google “Donkey Porn Gere Hamster Richard Photos Please”. Hypothetically speaking.

So since Dave will be sitting at his desk this morning actually doing some work after being told for the fifth time to stop bugging colleagues with his fake web-spinning, I’m wondering whether to bother continuing his cultural education. Besides, the highlight of my week was going to the supermarket, so whilst I’m contemplating the future of this feature, here’s my top five favourite things in Tesco.

1. Golf Tees And Little Sponge Practice Balls.
I’m not going to bore you with the story of how I severely damaged my ribs last week and had to go to hospital on Tuesday so let’s just say that these items brought a smile to my face because they were SO cheap and they allow me to continue practicing my chipping in the living room. I don’t need to tell you that the short game is EVERYTHING!

2. Lenor Fabric Conditioner With The Febreze Effect.
Holy Sh#t, where has this been all my life? Makes me want to sniff my boxer shorts even more than normal.

3. Olives
In a jar. With the stones taken out. AND pre-sliced for your convenience. It’s like having a concierge organise your life.

4. Days Of The Week Socks
£5 for five pairs, each with a different colour and a different day marked on them. Who needs a Blackberry? And if you’re feeling subversive, try wearing your Friday socks ON A MONDAY! Man, what a rush!

5. Double Pepperoni Pizza
They’ve been on “buy one, get one free” special offer for weeks now. I have 93 in my freezer.

Have a great holiday weekend and I’ll see you soon. I’m going to try a little experiment on this blog next week…*cue Twilight Zone theme tune*…

Gottla Geer

“So I noticed there’s no much about politics on your blog,” remarked my good friend Donald – stocky bass player of soon-to-be-reformed-rockers-The-Signals – when he dropped by for a visit last night with Hamish the Dog. “Don’t you wanna win over hearts and minds?”

“Just hearts,” I replied matter-of-factly as I reached for another Caramel Charm from my large stockpile of Cadbury’s Milk Tray.

“Ha, ha, ha, you’re dead cool Neil,” woofed Hamish, panting with excitement.

But Donald’s right; there’s absolutely nothing about politics on this blog because I find politics about as interesting as shaving my head and chewing tin foil. And that’s a lapse in judgement you don’t make twice, let me tell you.

However tomorrow, literally tens of people in Scotland will be rushing to the polls to complete incomprehensible ballot papers in an effort to elect local councillors for their area as well as more highly paid councillors to sit in the Scottish Parliament building in Edinburgh which, by the way, cost ten times more to build than the original estimate. I’m sorry, but if you can’t manage a tangible building project like that, you’re not getting extra tax-raising powers from me to pay for your taxi expenses.

One of my votes is going to Margo McDonald who, when she was young and foolish in the 70s, was a member of the Scottish National Party (SNP). Now she’s an independent with an impressive record of getting things done and always projects herself in a sensible and articulate way in the media. I’m voting for her ‘cause she smiled at me the other week when we were both sitting outside in the sun sipping coffees at Starbucks.

I can tell you that I’m definitely not voting for the SNP, not because of their policies (although that’s reason enough) but because the view from my new office is now marred by a billboard featuring their smug git of a leader who thinks he’s funny but he’s really, really not. Although I have to say I had a good laugh at this poster when I saw it up close. Is it just me or does Alex look like his right hand is up Suzi Quatro’s arse, working her like a ventriloquist’s dummy and fretting about whether his lips are moving or not? If nothing else, the two of them look like their future’s secure touring as understudies for The Krankies.