An Englishman in New England

currently. . .

[Playing] Oh, holy Halo 2, Xbox
[Reading] War of the Worlds
[Songs of the Moment] Freelove Freeway, Ricky Gervais/David Brent & Noel Gallagher (The Office), Let Me Love You, Mario
[Movie(s) of the Moment] Before Sunset

highlight reel

Pussy Perspectives
The Laid List
Liquored Up and Lookin' Fer Pussy
Orphan Rampage
The Office and David Carradine
Urkel's Calling
A Wee Turtle's Head
Non-Event Horizon
Taxatives
The Illusion of Time
Born To Run
Bush Humor
Fiendster: The Anti-Friendster
Crusoe and the INS
Peak Oil
Smile for me, Mona
Spin the bullet bachelor party
Spin the bullet part II
Heaven and Home
Heal the world

Atom Feed me, Seymour

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Tuesday, June 29

Insurance Policy

Once, when I was very young, I was watching my mother pack my little suitcase - we were going on holiday for a whole week. Now way back then, one week consisted of precisely seven days. So why, I asked her, was she packing 14 pairs of underwear?

She looked at me, in the infinite wisdom that mothers have, and said simply "For accidents".

It struck me recently that I have been packing 'for accidents' ever since, something I find quite amusing and not at all necessary.

It also struck me that I will still be packing 'for accidents' in sixty years' time, when I will find them necessary, and my predicament not at all funny.

thus spake The Englishman at 5:13 PM
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As Promised: An Interview With My Cat

How rude of me not to introduce you all to my newest family member. I do apologise, and hope to make it up to you with an in-depth profile of someone I wait upon hand and foot, and whose shit and piss I clean up every day, yet am still fond of. Her. . .I'm fond of her, not her shit and piss.

AEINE: Penny, thanks so much for taking time out of your hefty schedule of licking your anus, and shedding fur directly onto my highly allergic, and usually morning-encrusted eyeballs while I sleep to answer my questions.

P: No problem, Biggest. Just know that I feel a hefty turd on the way, and unless you change that fucking litter before it comes, I'm putting it in your shoe. And not near the heel, either, I'm laying it directly in the toe; I so enjoy watching you dig around for it.

AEINE: Ah. . .duly noted. Now for my first question: How does *ahem* that taste?

P: Like ass, ass. Still it's better than that dried up pellet crap that you keep leaving for me to eat. Why not gimme some more of that chicken you snuck me under the table when the One With The Teats wasn't looking?

AEINE: I have no idea, um, what you're talking about. . .

P: Sure you don't. Coward.

AEINE: Next question - how do you spend your typical day? Both myself and my wife work all day, and we often wonder what you get up to while we're not there.

P: Well I usually start out with a good long scratch on those chairs that I get shrieked at for scratching on. With both of you away, I can usually get a hugely satisfying fabric ripping sound out of them without having to endure the shrieking and tantrum throwing.

AEINE: ah. . .ha ha ha, yes, my wife does have a high pitched voice, doesn't she?

P: I was talking about you, Biggest, you're usually the one shrieking like a One With Teats.

AEINE: *glances briefly at the camera*

P: So yeah, once I'm done with that, I usually find a flat place in the sun and have a nice nap.

AEINE: And what else do you do?

P: Well, then you come back, biggest.

AEINE: So that's it? You just sleep all day?

P: Well, you pretty much know the rest from there - you and Teats get back, stare at that big picture-thingy, then go to sleep. Sometimes you try to shut me out of the room, and I hear noises coming from there for about 20 minutes. What do you both do in there?

AEINE: I -ah, I'll be the one asking the questions, Penny. Ok, one final que-

P: *Gasp* You're both doing it, aren't you? How delightfully sinful - you animals. Does she like her hair pulled? I bet she does, she looks like the typ-

AEINE: Okay, interview over!

P: Have it your way, Biggest. Now, where are your shoes?

thus spake The Englishman at 1:15 PM
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Thursday, June 17

We who are about to die, salute you!

Feeling uncharacteristically democratic, I am, yes, mmm. Below cower the seedlings of two separate posts. See how they tremble! For you see, they both know that one shall live, be completed, and go on to join its worthy brethren in the blog-valhalla known as An Englishman in New England, living out its days eating ripe meat off the bone and drinking malt beer from neverending flagons.

They also know that the other shall be cast down as unfit for any but the most corrupt data-infested recycling bin, rubbing shoulders with temporary internet files, and that Jessica Simpson MP3 you downloaded for its catchy beat, and then reconsidered your terrible, terrible actions.

They know you shall choose their fate. Choose wisely.

The Truth About Allergies

"Mummy, what causes my allergies?"

"You see little Horatio, when you were stuck in Mummy's belly, she made some bad lifestyle choices, which included hanging out with Andy Warhol, and more or less blocking out any semblance of reality behind a decade-long blizzard of cocaine, binge drinking and Brady Bunch reruns.

When Mummy finally came to sometime in the 80's, you were there, although she didn't quite remember the actual birth, as well as some unpaid gambling debts that came back to haunt her. . .

An Interview With My Cat

How rude of me not to introduce you all to my newest family member? I do apologise, and hope to make it up to you with an in-depth profile of someone I wait upon hand and foot, and whose shit and piss I clean up every day, yet am still fond of. Her. . .I'm fond of her, not her shit and piss.

AEINE: Penny, thanks so much for taking time out of your hefty schedule of licking your anus, and shedding fur directly onto my eyeballs while I sleep to answer my questions.

P: No problem, Biggest. Just know that I feel a hefty turd on the way, and unless you change that fucking litter before it comes, I'm not taking responsibility for where it lands.

AEINE: Duly noted. Now for my first question: How does that taste? You know, that thing you're licking. . .

thus spake The Englishman at 5:24 PM
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Thursday, June 10

An homage to the Discworld

Bob Gumby: "But it's not my time! I wasn't supposed to go like this!"

Death: "ALL OF YOU HUMANS ENTER LIFE SCREAMING, NAKED AND COVERED IN THE BLOOD OF ANOTHER. WHY SHOULD YOUR EXIT FROM IT BE ANY DIFFERENT?"

thus spake The Englishman at 1:34 PM
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Tuesday, June 8

"Hi, I'm the end of your rope - pleased to meet you!"

This househusband thing is getting real old. Like hip-replacement old. Old like those giant sequoia trees that were reaching for the sky when Jesus was doing his holy thang. Yeah, like that.

When I started this little hiatus from the office, I was kind of excited about not having to work, and instead enjoying a lifestyle that comprised of sitting on the couch consuming mucho potato chips, playing videogames till my hands resembled those of oompa-loompas, and generally making like the proverbial porker in its' own filth.

But I've discovered during my piglet tenure that a man cannot subsist on chips, games and shit alone, oh no.

It's kind of sad, but this rat actually wants back in the race.

thus spake The Englishman at 11:38 AM
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Monday, June 7

10 Things I Do When I'm Trying To Get Laid

A heads-up for any would-be additions to The Englishman's harem:

1. Tidy up: Apparently, nothing kills the female libido faster than my scraggy withered underwear lying in a heap within line of sight.

2. Tidy up more: Because being in possession of a penis and the ability to really clean are as mutually exclusive as an asshole and an elbow (it's either one or the other).

3. Pluck my eyebrows: How much hot sex action did Bert and his monobrow score in Sesame Street's entire broadcasting run? Big fat fucking zero.

4. Shower: And how much action happens when I'm dripping with man-stink? See above.

5. Shave: Interesting fact, this. Women like to keep their faces. So when you scrape the flesh away from their skulls with your diamond hard 5 o'clock shadow, they tend not to come back for a repeat performance. Which is funny when you think about it, because you'd probably not want to make out with a girl who has a bloody skeleton-face anyways.

6. Brush teeth: This one's always a giveaway. Being english, I'm accustomed to the civilised brushing of one's choppers once a day, not like over here with their "Oh my god, you're going to get hillbilly teeth" twice-a-day routine. Thus, when I embark upon a nightly brush, my better half knows I'm preparing to pounce. Often, all I have to do is start the water running, only to hear her call out "Not tonight, honey, I have a headache". At which point I feign a hurt kind of ignorance, and then try it on anyway, in case she was bluffing, or her headache was miraculously cured by, you know, nothing.

7. Clip nails: Edward Scissorhands was a virgin.

8. Light candles: Mmmmmm, burning animal fat, string and plant juice. . .sexy

9. Get comfortable: Oooh, this is really nice, this. I'm feeling warm, fuzzy and all relaxed, like.

10. Try not to. . .fall. . .aslee*snore*

thus spake The Englishman at 9:39 AM
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Saturday, June 5

"Damn you, meddling mutants!"

Some of you may remember my little rant about gay rights and their need for corporate backing to put an end to this gay marriage hoo-ha. If you don't, you can refresh your memory here.

It turns out, that corporate backing may actually already exist for the cause of gay marriage.

Dare I say it, but in this instance, corporations' complete lack of loyalty to nations and governments may actually strike a blow for human rights this time.

Who'da thunk? Makes me think of the formulaic episode that popped up in virtually every saturday morning cartoon in existence, when the heroes (Turtles/Autobots/X-Men/Power Rangers), are faced with a new, unstoppable enemy (Krang/Unicrom/Apocalypse/Big guy in a rubber suit), and must reluctantly join forces with their arch nemeses (Shredder/Decepticons/Magneto/Slightly smaller guy in less flamboyant rubber suit) in order to save both their causes.

Let's hope at the end of this little adventure, the corporations and gay couples don't part ways in an uneasy truce, but instead forge a new path together for the future.

thus spake The Englishman at 9:20 AM
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