bright frog

this frog nommed a christmas light, luckily, it lived.

meh

getting old

a few things recently have reminded me that i am not the yoof i used to be.

well ok, i am reminded of this every time i go to work but i like to think that after office hours i am a lively silly dizzy young thing who contributes to binge drinking culture and the moral deteriation of our fine nation.

however

i spent about 7 minutes in Yates on saturday night. this is silly, i do actually like the place. even though they discriminate against cheapskate vegetarians who need a fried breakfast at 2pm, i love their food, i love their cheese and leek sausages, mash and peas, i love their... sameness as you go round the country, you know you can get a cheap slap up meal in yates whenever and it'll always be alright.

what i don't like is being surrounded by drunken sweaty teens, cheesy music and people that look like they have been getting ready to go out since last tuesday. i don't like no where to sit/stand/try and stay upright with all the people pushing past u, the feet stuck to the floor problem, the piss all over the floor in the toilets and the general feeling that i should have drank at least four times what i had done in order to have a decent time here. i couldn't really work out how this was to be done, since i couldn't even *see* the bar let alone get to it...

i spent so long in that sort of boozing establishment, and these days i have a short attention span, i know what i want and if it aint there, i'm gone. i can't decide if that's a clever trick you learn as you get older, not to put up with shite, or if it's a mere justification of the fact i am turning into a grumpy arse.

maybe i am just trying to pretend that i am strong willed and awesome, when in fact i am just moody and no fun!! arhh!!

*identity crisis*

whatever.

i am a sensitive artist

Sensitive Artist
by John S Hall
King Missile (dog fly religion) _Fluting On The Hump_ Shimmy Disc 1987

I am a sensitive artist...

I am a sensitive artist.
Nobody understands me because I am so deep.
In my work I make allusions to books that nobody else has read,
Music that nobody else has heard,
And art that nobody else has seen.
I can't help it
Because I am so much more intelligent
And well-rounded
Than everyone who surrounds me.

I stopped watching tv when I was six months old
Because it was so boring and stupid
And started reading books
And going to recitals
And art galleries.
I don't go to recitals anymore
Because my hearing is too sensitive
And I don't go to art galleries anymore
Because there are people there
And I can't deal with people
Because they don't understand me.

I stay home
Reading books that are beneath me,
And working on my work,
Which no one understands

I am sensitive...
I am a sensitive artist...

True, y'know

"Everything You Know Is Wrong"

I was driving on the freeway in the fast lane
With a rabid wolverine in my underwear
When suddenly a guy behind me in the back seat
Popped right up and cupped his hands across my eyes

I guessed, "Is it Uncle Frank or Cousin Louie?"
"Is it Bob or Joe or Walter?"
"Could it be Bill or Jim or Ed or Bernie or Steve?"
I probably would have kept on guessing
But about that time we crashed into the truck

And as I'm laying bleeding there on the asphalt
Finally I recognize the face of my hibachi dealer
Who takes off his prosthetic lips and tells me

Everything you know is wrong
Black is white, up is down and short is long
And everything you thought was just so
Important doesn't matter

Everything you know is wrong
Just forget the words and sing along
All you need to understand is
Everything you know is wrong

I was walkin' to the kitchen for some Golden Grahams
When I accidentally stepped into an alternate dimension
And soon I was abducted by some aliens from space
Who kinda looked like Jamie Farr

They sucked out my internal organs
And they took some polaroids
And said I was a darn good sport
And as a way of saying thank you
They offered to transport me back to
Any point in history that I would care to go

And so I had them send me back to last Thursday night
So I could pay my phone bill on time
Just then the floating disembodied head of
Colonel Sanders started yelling

Everything you know is wrong
Black is white, up is down and short is long
And everything you thought was just so
Important doesn't matter

Everything you know is wrong
Just forget the words and sing along
All you need to understand is
Everything you know is wrong

I was just about to mail a letter to my evil twin
When I got a nasty papercut
And, well, to make a long story short
It got infected and I died

So now I'm up in heaven with St. Peter
By the pearly gates
And it's obvious he doesn't like
The Nehru jacket that I'm wearing
He tells me that they've got a dress code

Well, he lets me into heaven anyway
But I get the room next to the noisy ice machine
For all eternity
And every day he runs by screaming

Everything you know is wrong
Black is white, up is down and short is long
And everything you used to think was so important
Doesn't really matter anymore
Because the simple fact remains that

Everything you know is wrong
Just forget the words and sing along
All you need to understand is
Everything you know is wrong
Everything you know is wrong