| | Security: | | | Subject: | engrish | | Time: | 11:42 am |
|
| engrish speakers of English speaking backgrounds...Brits, Aussies, Westerners
Would've
Not would of
Would've
Would've = "would'(have-ha)"
Savvy? Capisce? Comprende? No habla Espanola? Preggo...
One fly-lice pleeesss...xie xie | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment   |
| Cyclists
I don't care if you don't pay road taxes or registration.
But if you're going to use the fucking road, you obey the same fucking rules.
The next time you choose to run a red light and get hit by a car, I'm not calling 000. When the lights turn green, I'll be going.
The next time you choose to ride side-by-side beyond the white line that defines "your" lane and use half of mine, I will more than happily use "your" lane to take the smoother line through a bend or roundabout.
It's not my problem if you can't brake and turn at the same time while taking a tighter line. Adjust your speed. You're not in Le Tour de France. I'm not in Circuit de la Sarthe. But automobile does not yield to cyclist. When I rode my bicycle as a boy, I knew my place on the road. It wasn't in the middle of a lane full of traffic.
The next time you waste my time wobbling around off the line at the traffic lights in front of me while I need to get somewhere, take your spendex-wrapped carcasses down to K-mart for a set of trainer wheels. You evidently skipped this step in the learning process. Oh and we can get a better start than you. Get over it.
Don't look at me funny if I use my horn because you're using MY lane.
On the road, we are not equals.
If you're a pissed off cyclist reading this...don't. If you want to flame me, you are welcome to do so but will be grossly mistaken for me caring as I'm not going to read anything you have to say.
End of story. | | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment |
| Dear cock, ballsack, anus
Shut your fucking dogs up. In general, I fucking hate cats. Arrogant little lazy fuckers that you are. With few exceptions like Gabriel - fat pouch of warm furry cushioning that you are. But you two woofing fuckers - well, it's not both your faults. In the human world, we call what you are experiencing a domestic disturbance. Some people still wonder how a couple can consider it rape, well, if it's not consentual, it's rape. Or the beatings. In either case, one of you little fuckers - if you were human, would I'm sure be driving a Holden Commodore, and the little bitch would be the sister you've impregnated. But anyway...SHUT THE FUCK UP
You nutsack owners. Discipline your fucking dogs, and have some fucking cuntsideration. When your dogs are barking, there must be a reason. If they're not barking at possums, or lorikeets, crows, they are fighting each other. This isn't the Dicovery Channel, Simba and whatserface are not 'playing'...the yelping and whining are not symbols of friendly play until someone lost an eye. When you leave at 6:30 in the morning, you must've heard the preceeding 1/2hr of barking - DISCIPLINE THEM. I didn't need to do a Chester Bennington and let the whole neightbourhood know your dogs need to SHUT UP. Before you got home at 6pm, they were barking their nuts off. If you can't be responsible enough to teach them to be quiet in your absence, then discipline them to SHUT THE FUCK UP when you are home, and especially when people are trying to get their rest, so Father will give them Strength NOT to call the fucking Council guy who left the calling card regarding an alleged dog attack.
Lastly at the time of publication - if you want to pack boxes, it seems you know that *TTjjZZZ-TTJJJZZZZZzzz...TTJJJZZZZZzzz...* noise is really annoying, that's why I guess you chose to not do it in the house and wake your housemates up, but instead to do it outside on your varandah where EVERYONE else is able to hear it. At 5:30 in the morning, one might excuse you for packing for a trip, but I saw no further evidence of this when you then sat down to read some other shit from some other boxes.
I would consider audio warfare, but the nice lady next door would be collateral I'm not willing to involve.
I don't know of a more offensive word to use than 'cunt' at the moment (which gets a bad rep), but I welcome suggestions.
...like "scrotum". They are full of sticky little things that fuck you up, and over.
Yours sincerely
S.T.F.U. | | comments: 3 comments or Leave a comment |
| Thus endeth the Triple J whirlwind tour of the UK 2009.
On Friday night we flew home and arrived on Saturday evening, watched LeMans 2009 until 9pm today.
Tomorrow is getting some work done, then driving to KL on Thursday, spend the night out with my sisters, then fly home Friday morning, arrive that night and then life resumes to some level of undefined normality. I will be fucked.
England, Scotland, Ireland, Malaysia and Australia in 5 weeks. Nearly 5000km covered apparently - TBC. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| 3 nights in Dublin and it is time to move onto Galway, down through Shannon, the cliffs of Moher, Ring of Kerry(?), Killearney, Dingle, Cork and then back to London.
The Guiness tour is worth the price of admission and the certification of pulling you own pint makes for good party conversation I suppose.
Only problem with Dublin so far is too many tourists, and too many Euro foreigners. Doesn't even feel like I'm in Ireland...more like some random Eastern European location...and with the kinds of girls around the place...that's a lot of Eastern European JZZzzz...
I think I have developed a taste for Guiness too... | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | Security: | | | Subject: | Dublin | | Time: | 10:42 am |
|
| Tonight I write from Dublin.
For once this trip, we are not paying to stay in a Travelodge, which is becoming a bit tiresome. The rooms we have all booked are carbon copies of each other, which is kinda weird given that the outside scenery has been changing every night as we're literally living out of our car. From ~8am, we are on the road to check out our overnight destination by day, then onto the next town for the next attraction. The sun doesn't set until nearly 9/10pm, so we're forced to do laps of the city at night to take shots/look around. Bedtime is therefore ~11pm after having been driving/walking/navigating for almost 15hrs daily. So I'm kinda fucked. So it's weird to go different paths to our room/reception everynight, but then it's like being at home and returning to your room. Which is not where it was last night.
Tonight we are in Maldron in Dublin, which is somehow a 4-star hotel for the cheapest price in Dublin. Lupe at reception is simply the most lovely and friendly receptionist yet and Dad has already chatted her up. The best thing about this place is the free complimentary Wifi, so for the next 3 days I will have free Internet access before we head to Galway, then down through the cliffs of Moher through Shannon to Limerick and Dingle and Cork over the next 10 days before returning to London.
We have so far spent today retracing Dad's historic youth spent in Dublin and meeting his old old friends, and awesomely enough, one of their girls, who is only a year younger, and just the loveliest girl. It makes all the difference to meet nice people along the way and making new friends when you're travelling for as long as I am. It's just so hammer/tong otherwise to just blast from one destination to another without a break. So I'm looking forward to meeting and old Unimate in London at the end, and now I have someone in Dublin too.
Tomorrow, the Ford Focus we've rented today needs to be returned. The wipers blur the windscreen more than clear it and the brakes are spongy and have fuckall braking power. The suspension squeaks and supposedly the tyre is vibrating the steering. Overall, a terrible car, worse than the Fiat Bravo we had for Stage 1 of JJJUK09.
Oh by the way. So far, I make no head/tail of claims of whinging poms. The English are the most well mannered people I've come across. The Scots are hilarious and I would love to have a drink with them, and the Irish are positively the funniest fuckers so far. No one swears, no one really horns unless you're doing something especially unreasonable, no one is really pushy. Truly outstanding. That cuntry should take more than a leaf out of this country and learn something about everything.
FOOken'ELL... | | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment |
| It is 20:30 on Tuesday night and I am writing from the most beautiful, serene and amazing nightstop in West Stowford, South Moulton, near Chittlehampton North of Torquay.
The first night we arrived and spent 2 days driving around Brighton which I have just about fallen in love with. Monday we picked up our hire car and have driven West to Torquay via Southampton which was a little disappointment, but Dorchester was amazing.
Today we've driven around the Torquay area and gone through Brixham which was also utterly beautiful. So far, I don't know who has been where, but of the places we've been, I don't think anyone else has, and if they haven't, then it's really something special to have been to the places that I have. None of the tours I can imagine will ever take anyone to any of these places. Torquay I can say reminds me a lot of the impressions I have of the Rivieras of Monaco in Monto Carlo.
Tonight we are staying with old travelling friends of my folks' who they apparently met in Cairo 30 years ago. Where I am now it's quintessentially the picturesque farmstay image you have in your mind of rolling hills of green patches with little farmhouses spotted around the place. In getting directions to our nightstop, we stopped at a farmstay and as navigator, I had to ask a local for directions. Said local was tending to a typical...English horse that stood probably 1-2 feet taller than me and was getting its hoofs clipped and the horseshoe changed. I wasn't really expecting that at all. Outside are 7 acres of government-reserved natural greenery that includes a little lake with its own mother goose. All I can say is, it's unbelievable. Every image I've had over 25yrs of an English forest area surrounds me and I haven't believed it until now that it truly exists anywhere but in my mind and the books I've read. This is the kind of place that tourists pay $100s per head to spend a few nights to play with farm animals and shed their city slicker image. We took a walk earlier before dinner and all I can see are green, green, and more green. A farcry from Aus and M'sia. Now, I'm sitting in a centuries-old typical English cottage facing a traditional fireplace sipping from a glass of Old Pulteney single malt. God it's smooth going down...next in line will be the Talisker, probably followed by Glenfiddich. Yes. I swallow. Dad and I are supposedly under orders to sample all the house Whiskeys and compare them. So I have now also sampled the local Strongbow, Devon mead (14% alc/vol at 2.75/175mL), can-pints of Carling (8 cans for 7 pounds) and Bulmers and have had 2 homecooked meals of tradional curry, a 5 pound (currency, not weight) steak & chips and a 4.95 bangers & mash.
My observations/findings so far? Frankly, it's getting very difficult not to criticise Australia. The food, the cost, the people, the driving, the facilities...I understand perfectly well now why everyone is falling in love with this country and running from that cuntry. I felt the same for Eastern Europe in 2005 when we drove between Austria, Budapest, Czech Republic, Slovenia, Slovakia, nearly Italy and did Oktoberfest. The standard of living here is unbelievable compared to Australia. For the kinds of meals I can get here, dollar-to-dollar, Australia would cost the equivalent of serving 3 heads here. In terms of converting what it's actually costing me, it's even cheaper than Aus for better quality. A Cornish pastie here puts a Brumby's pastie to shame. But I will not spend my evening criticising Australia. I will spend my evening soaking up this dream atmosphere that I have been promised exists and will fall in love with the country and its people. The promised land indeed.
Oh...and what is it with English girls...or at least locals...something special.
I'll stop making you jealous now ;)
Talisker now I think... | | comments: 15 comments or Leave a comment |
| | Security: | | | Subject: | UK 2009 | | Time: | 10:35 am |
|
| I am currently writing from the VIP lounge in KLIA en route to Heathrow Airport.
Some of you may have known this was happening, most I imagine didn't. But the reality is that I've been so busy this past month that I haven't had time to do much else but work and plan.
Anyway, to whom it may concern, after MAS brought my flight forward by 24hrs, I've now spent 2 days in my hometown and am now officially on my way to England where I will spend 5 weeks driving around England, clockwise up through Scotland and back down to England via Stirling. Then I'll fly to Ireland and drive counter-clockwise over to Galway and back to Dublin. I will then spend a further 10 days around the London area and then return to M'sia and spend a further week at home before flying back to Brisbane in mid/late-June.
See you upon my return. | | comments: 11 comments or Leave a comment |
| |
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=92.1){kind=small}
n838o's journal