Category: Art

“When I Inhaled Alice”

I’m sure you’ve all seen the Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs in the eye of a needle images that doing the rounds on the geek news and social networking sites for some time now. Mainstream media finally caught up and proved that although they may be slow on the uptake, they generally do a much better job of reporting than bloggers. Must be the practice, training, etc.

“One of the worst moments was recently when I inhaled Alice,” he recalls.

“I was just putting her in position when I breathed in at the wrong moment and she disappeared. That was nearly a month’s work gone.”

Almost as infuriating was the night when he had just finished attaching a tightrope walker the size of a breadcrumb to a tiny strand of a money spider’s web.

“This fly came buzzing down past the lens and the gust from its wings blew the chap off his tightrope.”

Glastonbury Was Shit

It’s rained every year I’ve been there, including the torrential rain and thunderstorms two years ago, but it was just too much this year. There were hours when it didn’t rain, in fact we had a full half day when it was really quite nice; but the mud had zero chance to harden so even when the weather wasn’t too bad, it was a major slog getting anywhere.

On top of that we plonked our tent on top of what became a puddle and while that shouldn’t have bee a problem, the youngfella didn’t take care of it like he was told, so we ended up getting a big soggy. Luckily Sista brought a spare, but even that leaked a little bit so we weren’t madly miffed when Stena texted to say that the Express was cancelled and could we make our way to Fishguard, pronto.

And let’s be honest, the line-up wasn’t great either. The Killers were good but way, way too quiet; and although we thought that was the wind, apparently it wasn’t, they really were quiet for some reason. The Manics were good fun, but I spent a good half an hour of it trudging through mud trying to get to a toilet. Shirley Bassey was fun, as were the Marley Brothers, but it wasn’t… Glastonbury, you know?

So no Glastonbury for me next year, I’m taking a fallow year to see if Sista’s theory that I’m a jinx is true. If it’s not, I’ll go back the year after. With a camper. It’s a cop-out, but I get to bring as many clothes as I want. And it’s dry.

We saw lots of interesting things over the weekend – notably the Browne-Clayton Column, which so intrigued us we had to go back to Wexford to figure out – but the things we saw most of were Nolan Transport lorries. We knew we were going the right way on the road to Rosslare because there they were; ditto Fishguard on the way back.

You know the ones: white tractor with Movin’ On on the sunscreen, red trailer with in massive letters on the curtain. You thought you were seeing the same one over and over again, right? No. See the key facts on their website: 420 tractors, 900 trailers. They’re no Eddie Stobart, but by god they’re not far off.

Well done to the lads and lasses in Nolans for building such and impressive fleet!

SelfKiss (nsfw?)

People kissing. Themselves. Oddly disturbing, except, for some bizarre reason, the two black ladies. They’re a wee bit hawt. Am I racist in a really weird way?

[Image removed on request. I’ll remove the link too, you obviously don’t want the publicity. Where’s my :rolleyes: smiley?]