Animals

It may be a bit overdue, but I am back with another installment after over 3 months in the blogging wilderness. I do apologise for my unintentional and unplanned hiatus, but I've had loads of exams (one) and several assessments to do for University. I've finished everything and I'm back in Hull now so I thought I'd crack open a can of Emerge (a cheaper, more deadly version of Red Bull) and sit down to write a blog post.

Myself, Sam and Fozz are going to see Nickelback next week at Sheffield Arena. We've had the tickets a week or so, but since then I just cannot stop listening to them. The title of this post refers to possibly one of my favourite songs of all time, Animals. For those of you who haven't heard it, and have Spotify, here's the link...

http://open.spotify.com/track/6Bi7ug9F2eetHXDiAU2SBd

The lyrics are so, so good. Basically it's about a guy and a girl sneaking out and "gettin' busy" in the guy's car, only to be caught by the girl. Brilliant. Nickelback are, in my opinion, wrongly hated by many people (mainly those who base their views on 'How You Remind Me' and 'Hero', the Spiderman soundtrack). Give them a chance, you never know, you might enjoy them.

Since my last post, we've also booked a holiday for this summer; a 21-day coach trip round Europe, covering 9 countries, camping in a different place each night. I cannot wait.

Also, if you have Twitter, please feel free to follow me...

http://twitter.com/alexbrfc

Just a quick one

I hope you all haven't missed me too much since my last thrilling installment here, but I've been pre-occupied my my other blog (a football-based blog, 'Left Back in the Changing Room', which I set up for my Uni course). You can find it here:

http://leftbackinthechangingroom.wordpress.com/

I will be back soon with my usual array of quirky anecdotes and opinions which I know you, my adoring fans, love.

Thank you, and goodnight.

p.s. if you happened to have stumbled upon this blog for the first time, and this is the first post you've read, then I don't think I do have any 'adoring fans' just yet (not that I know of anyway. Incidentally, if you are an adoring fan, please message me). It was said kind of sarcastically; so I hope it hasn't put you off!

There's snow place like home!

Firstly, please excuse the terrible pun in the title. I just couldn't resist. So yes, this week's news has revolved around the adverse weather conditions we've had, with the majority of the country getting at least a light covering of the white stuff (that's snow, not milk). Personally, I'm not too keen on it though. I used to love it, but since I've got older, the novelty of it has worn off and now it's just annoying and causes havoc. Don't get me wrong, I used to like a good old-fashioned snowball fight as much as the next young whippersnapper, but not so much nowadays.

Incidentally, "whippersnapper" is a word I've never actually had to spell, and I actually had to Google it, just to check that I'd got it right. On the subject of words I've never had to spell, "Jiminy", the name of the anthropomorphic Cricket from 'Pinnochio', is another. Nobody is called "Jiminy" though. I mean, you hear about all these babies called "Jack" or "Thomas" or "Stan", but never "Jiminy". It's strange really; some names just never come back into fashion, although it's debatable that "Jiminy" was ever in fashion in the first place.

Going back to the snow, I remember once building an igloo in my back garden with a few friends. It really was amazing, and I definitely recommend the activity to you if it happens to snow again in the near future. All you need is one or two ice-cream boxes, plenty of snow, some good friends, determination and the will to succeed. Sorry for sounding like a cross between Winston Churchill and Neil Buchanan there by the way. So anyway, simply fill the ice-cream boxes up with snow and use them like bricks. It's fairly straightforward.

Once again I seemed to have gone off on a tangent, but to be fair I didn't really have a particular discourse in mind when I started writing this post. It could've been solely about snow, so count yourself lucky that I expressed my views on the name "Jiminy". Have fun building igloos, which I'm sure you will do, and I will be back sometime in the near future with another thrilling installment.

Ciao!

Guess who's back...

Yes, it's true. I have posted a new blog after my 6 week blogging exile over the Christmas holidays, which incidentally were good, albeit not as 'magical' as when I was a kid. For the record, I once again didn't get a Stretch Armstrong, but as I explained in the last post, I'm not too bothered about that now.

I didn't really make any New Years resolutions this year. Not that I usually do; I would like to tell you that I take the view that I don't have anything to give up or anything to do more often, but the truth is I actually like doing the stuff I'm doing now, so why should I stop? The only thing that could possibly class as a resolution is the fact that I've said to myself (and Loz) that I'm going to go to the gym more often, and even go running, just to get rid of the excess baggage from Christmas, caused by chocolate, sweets, mince pies and a fair bit of alcohol. It's not 'set in stone' as such, but hopefully I'll carry it through. I don't know how successful this new regime will be in the long run, but I've already been to the gym twice. So far, so good I think!

I'm not sure what else to write really. I only posted this to let you, my adhering fans, know that I am still alive and well, which I am. So yeah, I promise to write another enthralling chapter in my blog very soon, which will hopefully have more content and meaning than this one, in which I have actually started to ramble on and most probably bore you, so I will sign off shortly, and sweetly.

Bye.

Jim should've fixed it, because Santa definitely failed

Some of you may be wondering where I've been for the past 11 days. Some of you may not have been wondering this. For those who are interested, I've had so much Uni work to do that Blogging had to move down my list of priorities, behind the work itself, Football Manager and Nickelback's new album.

I'm finally feeling kind of Christmassy too. Due to my humongous work load, I haven't really been in the mood for it to be honest, but now that it's all over and done with I'm well up for it. However, I'm beginning to think that Santa isn't doing his job properly because I've had a Stretch Armstrong on my Christmas list for the past 10 years or so, and I still haven't got one. I mean, how good did he look on the adverts?! I was envious beyond belief of those "perfect" American kids who seemed to be having hours of fun with Mr. Armstrong, fighting crime and tying him up in knots. He seemed to stretch for miles too. Thing is though, I probably would've been let down by it if I had of received it as a gift, because let's face it, nothing is as good in real-life as it is in adverts. Here's proof...



Just look how happy they look, and how amazingly fun it looks to play with Stretch! I mean, who wouldn't want one of those really! As I said though, the likelihood is that after a long stretching session on Christmas Day, Mr. Armstrong would just be a long floppy mess the next day. This is why I believe it is better to have dreamt about all the good times I could've had with him, rather than had a couple of good days stretching. So yeah, I don't want a Stretch Armstrong anymore. I'm clearly over it.

Before I go, I was told a few weeks ago that Space Raiders, every British child's favourite crisps, known for their distinctive flavour, wacky shapes and most of all, the fact that they're only 10p, have gone up in price. They're now 15p, which for those without an A in GCSE Maths, is a whole 5p more than before! I'll leave you all now, for that ridiculous fact to sink in, and before you get too angry.

We shall fight on the beaches... and in Lincolnshire, near a little village called Kettlethorpe

I've come to the the decision that I don't really want to be in the Army or the Navy, or the RAF, or any other war-based profession for that matter. This conclusion came to me whilst I was knelt in the mud behind a wooden board, dressed in camouflage overalls and protective mask and carrying a gun loaded with 100 paintballs. I was knelt there, along with 20-or-so other would-be soldiers, waiting for the other team to come and attempt a siege on "the Island" on which we were guarding. It reminded me of something off Lord of the Rings; we could see them all running at us through the trees like a bunch of slightly more unattractive Orcs.

It's not that Paintballing wasn't fun, because it was. It's just, I couldn't help but be a little apprehensive and hesitant when it came down to confronting the opposition. It's not that I was scared of getting hit, it's just war isn't really my "scene" to be honest. I wouldn't really fancy it if we were called up to do National Service tomorrow (Mr Brown, if you're reading this blog, please cross me off your list). I've got too much on my plate as it is to think about killing people and that. Anyway, it was a relatively successful day. No major injuries to speak of, although I ache a little bit now. Through the course of the day, I got hit "properly" three times, once by Matt, who was on my side. It was Rob's fault that happened though really. He shouted, "there's one over here Matt", pointing right where we were standing in the not-so-safe "Safe Zone". I didn't cry that much though.

I should also mention that on Saturday night I had possibly one of the worst nights sleep ever. Well, it was uncomfortable, but I was sharing a single bed with Matt which was kind of cosy really. Rob and Sam drew the short straws, and had to sleep next to each other on the floor, which was apparently also uncomfortable. We ended up going through Sam's contact list on his Phone and ringing random people (including a couple of Canadians, who didn't answer even though it would have been a relatively "normal" time for phone calls in their neck of the woods). If we rang you in the early hours of Sunday morning, and you're reading this, then I'm sorry for any inconvenience we caused to you.

All in all, it was a good weekend. I've never appreciated a single bed all to myself before though. Anyway, I must leave it there. I've got loads of work to do, and shouldn't be spending my time blogging...

See you all tomorrow then!

The Clichéd Winter Blog

OK, I know what you're all thinking; "Where has Alex been for the past 3 days?! Why hasn't he written a blog?! Doesn't he know that some people thrive off knowing his daily thoughts and feelings?!" To answer all these questions in one sentence, I've been in Lincoln for the past 3 days, I haven't written a blog because I've had no motivation and nothing interesting has happened in my life since the last one, and yes I appreciate the fact that people want to know my thoughts and feelings but there's no point writing just for the sake of it. Phew! Glad I cleared that up.

(Note: I sincerely hope there isn't anyone out there who has been thinking any of these things. That would just be weird...)

So back to this blog. It's winter now, well almost anyway, but it's still bloody cold! I'm sat here in my room typing this, and I can't feel my right hand (my "mouse hand". I've been sitting on my comparatively useless left hand to keep it warm). I've also just realised that I've got my window wide open and my radiator isn't on. Well, I say "wide open"; the windows at Uni only open about three inches. We haven't had snow here unfortunately. Everywhere except Lincoln it seems. Typical.

One thing that is good about Uni is that there isn't hundreds of little kids running around with snowballs like there was at school. Don't get me wrong, I like a good old-fashioned snowball fight as much as the next guy, but there's a time and a place isn't there. I didn't mind getting hit with snowballs, as long as I was expecting it. I hated being caught unawares by them though. I must say at this point that I was going to tell you about the time I got hit by an ice ball in my French class at school, which would back up my point about being hit unexpectedly, but then I realised that it wasn't me who got hit, it was someone else. Incidentally, and also a bit off-topic, I once got hit on my head by a flying piece of pottery, also in my French class. Ahh, the good old days...