My First Dictionary

...is a brilliant little blog. It's greatness is it's simplicity, so rather than ramble on about it at length, here is a couple of extracts plus a link. www.myfirstdictionary.blogspot.com. DO IT


p.s the blogger who made this also has another blog called Musty Moments, which I have added to the ole HOT LINKZZZ and would recommend a gander at.

Baby fashion tips

Now I am not an expert on children, in fact, show me a child over the age of 9 months and ask me to guess it's age and even with leeway of a year either side I will probably still get the answer wrong. One thing I do know however, is that babies up to that point where they get all chubby and smiley (four months? six months?) all look like pissed off tiny pensioners.

Henceforth, if you have a baby, it might not be the best idea to dress it in tiny old lady clothes, for, as Kanye West would say, THATS SOME BENJAMIN BUTTONS SHIT RIGHT THERE.

Incidentally, do you remember that episode of the Simpsons where they take Maggie to daycare, and when they pick her up they are faced with a terrifying room full of staring babies, silent except for the noise of sucking dummys?

I went out to lunch with my friends and their two babies on Friday, and we chose to go to Giraffe, as it was a family friendly place (knoweldge gleaned from three years ago when I attempted to light a fag and was promptly kicked out. This was pre smoking ban so they were clearly nazis. 'Family orientated' nazis.). And how. Earlier in the day I had been plunged into Blursville, as the optician who a week previously given me a glorious exciting new world of details and colours via the introduction of contact lenses, cruelly took them away again as in my excitement I had worn them for far far too long and 'damaged a few cells'. So anyway, I enter Giraffe, and after stumbling slapstick style over about ten Buggaboos (prams, to those without children) parked by the doorway, I gazed around squintingly for my friends. All around me, like bobbing bouys in a sea of blur were these pink round wobbling blobs. Babies. Lots of 'em. Utterly terrifying. And noisy.

I would recommend a lunchtime trip to Giraffe for any girl feeling a bit broody. By 'eck, it will make you want to nip next door to Boots to stock up on propolactics sharpish!

The Henrietta Barnett School for Girls, Wizards.

Yes, I was one. (not that I really shout it from the rooftops unless trying to win an argument with someone usually of a male, middle age and patronising persuasion). Unsurprisingly some of my friends are ones too. Yesterday, my friend Ms G commented that whilst bored at work, she had googled our old alma mater and was confused because on Wikipedia under 'famous alummni' it included someone we vaguely knew as 'groupie extrordinare'.

Today, while bored at home - well, watching Hollyoaks omnibus but whatevs - I did the same, and this is what I found... (click to make bigger):
Yes, that's right, Ms G, graduate of 'one of the top academic schools in the country' noticed Robin Driscoll, but failed to see that "The school uses a system much like that in operation at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry where only the smartest can see the school buildings. This is why some candidates cannot find the school when arriving for entrance examinations."

I do like the basically accurate zing 'The school was judged by The Times newspaper to rank 1st and 2nd best achieving state school according to GCSE^[3] and A Level^[4] results, respectively (thanks to a combination of the girls' natural intelligence and intensive tuition to make up for lack of teaching)' but I feel I must state that this was Nothing To Do With Me as I would have done it a lot better.

The Yoof of Today

Call me naive and not 'down with the kids', but I thought eight year olds daydreamed about Bratz, the Jonas Brothers and gummy hairbands, not obese hippos sensually wallowing in chocolate to the dulcet tones of Terrence Trent D'Arby.

Won't Somebody Think of the Children?

Possibly the creepiest Wikipedia entry I have found to date*




* I was looking up the Todd Solondz film 'Happiness' yeah?

Korea Koolness

Remember when I previously blogged about these people who had turned kids doodles into real professional cartoons?

Well Korea (yes the WHOLE country) has gone one better and turned kids drawings into real life. Supacool! (click pix to see bigger)

Indiana Jones and the Temple of Hmmmmm

Childhood film nostalgia is a funny thing. I'm currently sitting here with my brother, watching Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, one of our all time favorite films from the days of yore. We both remembered exactly what would happen when: 'Oh yeah then they go off the cliff in a dinghy' 'He drives because he has boxes stuck to his shoes' etc, what we both didn't realise is *ahem* quite how racist it is..

Now I know Indian cuisine is a tad different to chips and peas, but monkey brains, beetles and snakes? What region is that from? And who knew Indians in turbans (Sikhs?) who worship Shiva (Hindus?) also spend their time sacrificing humans by tearing out their still beating hearts?

Then again maybe we're just being unduly sensitive and PC because our uncle is Indian, and although he covers everything in chilli sauce and is want to make horrible phlegmy noises in the bathroom, I have yet to see him drink from a skull or attempt to extract my brother's still beating heart when he forgets to flush the loo.

It is still a great action film though, brain and social consciense set far aside... much better than the Goonies, which everyone else in the world ever watched as a bairn, but is curiously absent from my and my brother's collective memory. Either some awful psychological event happened to us that afternoon, or our parents had the taste to not expose us to a load of shrieking yank brats looking for treasure. Hmmm that said, it's kind of hard to take a moral high ground when we gobbled up images of colonial India which would make Salman Rushdie, Anita Desai etc's heads spin. Although Harrison Ford was very fit back then and there is only one shrieking stereotyped child...

Edit: My brother would like to make it clear that he has never forgotten to flush the toilet ever. Even though hardly anyone who reads this blog knows who he is, and a quick straw poll of those who do suggests that even though he never forgets to flush the loo, he certainly looks like someone who might. Conclusion: Brother of Biche needs to stop lacing his trainers with string and buy a jacket that doesn't have 'anti capitalista' glued to the back with PVA glue.

A Short Grumble

I still live near my old primary school. Back in the dark days when I went there, our playground consisted of a large bit of empty tarmac, a bench and a small wall. I think one time we spent a full week jumping off the small wall and attempting to grab this one leaf off an overhead tree. Happy days.

Yesterday I went past the old place on the bus - dear god! It is a riot of colour and so full of adverture playground contraptions that you could barely run a meter before tripping over some stimulus or another! No wonder kids are hugely obese and have such weak imaginations that if you ask them to think about a pink elephant they will pause, look confused and then look up google image search on their mobile.

Well tsk, I say...if my kids go to a school like that, I am going to take them out twice a day and force them to run around an empty car park and make their own fun. Yeah they will be a bit eccentric, skinny, and prone to talking to themselves, but frankly I would rather have a Holden Caufield than a horrible cabbage for a child.

Photo of the Day - The Hair Bear Bunch

Who knew that if an Ewok and and the contents of a hoover had a baby it would look like David Bowie in Labyrinth?

Tattoos 4 Toddlers

I am once again merrily submerged in the world of Miami Ink (much to the annoyance of the Flatmate who does not see the interest or irony in such things) and it reminded me of this ludicrous website.

I think I initially dismissed it as a hoax, but apparently this is not so; I only wish I hadn't been so cynical as there used to be an amazing gallery of this guy's work, which is now scaled back to a few select pics.

Yes ladies and gentlemen, I am talking about Tattoos 4 Toddlers, a company which specialises in PERMANENT (well, ten years) tattoos for ummm... redneck hicks. Well, the kids of redneck hicks.

It's Sunday night, I'm tired, and I trust anyone who reads this site will be clever enough to draw their own conclusions about why tattooing a two year old might not be the best idea in the world, so I will spare you all an 'stating the bleeding obvious' rant on the matter. Instead just conjour up (if you can be bothered...there is quite good telly on now) an image of the Biche frowning at her laptop and going 'Gah! Gnnnnr! Duh!' in an exasperated fashion, and consider the below quote from some 'happy customers':

"My daughter Emily always enjoyed looking at my tattoos. Once my wife Julie and I found out about Tattoos 4 Toddlers we were excited about getting Emily her first tattoo. We felt it was no different than getting her ear's pierced and with only a few more tears."

Yeah, that's Emily in the photo btw... she's had the ear piercings and the tattoo, now all she needs is a kiddie bra and thong for her third birthday and she can go join Mommy at the Pussy Lounge Gentlemen's Club. ("She's so excited about earning back all the dollar Julie lost when her figure went after she gave birth!")

Poor brat, I think her face says it all..

Ha, and completely unrelated fact from le tele.. JFK refused to wear a hat as his hair was his trademark, and he was so influential that he caused a massive drop in hat sales in the USA. So whenever he came to campaign in a town there would always be some poor milliner desperately trying to force a hat upon him to perk up flagging sales!

Hilarious Holy Moly Rip Off Of The Day..

I am loath to just post things on here that I have read on other sites, as funny although they may be, it isn't exactly 'good form'. That said, this has to be the most brilliantly hilarious headline I have ever seen on a trash mag (barring 'My Son Was Re encarnated as a Fishfinger' from Chat Magazine 2006 sometime) so I felt I could break my self imposed rules.

There was actually another OK! clanger featuring dear old Kerry a few months ago which went along the lines of 'Oh No! I'm Pregnant Again!'; less instantly funny, but came into it's own once you imagine the Katona kids in years to come comparing each of their Ok! headlines:

Molly - Well I have 'My Baby Joy'!
Lily - Not as good as 'We're Overjoyed.. a Sister for Molly'
Heidi - I like my 'We're so Happy, Now Our Family Is Complete'
newsprog - I hate you all.

Yes yes, I know the names of all Kerry's offspring.. so shoot me!

What's That Coming Over The Hill..

... is it a giant anthropomorphised paedophile hand? Giant anthropomorphised paedophile hand!

Photograph taken from my recent-ish travails in Japan. I mean, I am assuming that is vaguely what it means, but given that I can't so much write my name in the language it could just be a health warning about dirty fingernails or something.

I am quite amused by the idea of loads of little Japanese kids growing up in fear of giant floating evil hands; a completely irrational, imagination fuelled fear much like the one I suffered from when locked my dolls in the bathroom every night for a couple of years after watching Childs Play.

I then saw it again about six years later when I was about thirteen and felt like a right tool as it could actually be the most un scary shit horror film ever.

Horrific Painting of the Day

Now I will admt I have a penchant for wall art featuring trannies/gold cats/pelicans/Judy Garlands who stare down at you with big boss eyes as you attempt to watch Hollyoaks, but even I would not put this headfuck of a painting on my wall. It's like being raped in the eyes.

I once read that a sign of schizophrenia is an obsession with starey art. But then I once read that if you suck your thumb a man with scissors for hands will come and cut your fingers off and that eating algae will make you lose weight. Yes, those are two things that I have also read at some point in my life and completely believed. So basically the moral of this tale is that I am a mug.

Belated Halloween Post 2007!

Halloween costume ideas for the disabled child in your life:

Lots more tips and tricks for costumes here!

What can I say? I'm just bitter because my costume consisted of a pink wig which I have had for three years... I decided to cut it into a bob this year for a 'fresh new look' (aka it was getting all ratty) and ended up looking like the girl from Lazytown rather than the 'Natalie Portman in Closer' look I was aiming for. The girl from Lazytown if she wrapped her pear shaped arse in a black mac and trudged around Whitechapel looking at carparks where 119 years ago some prostitutes were killed rather nastily. *

*Jack the Ripper tour, in case that wasn't clear. Pretty interesting, but only because of what the guy said, which I think would have had the same effect said on a warm coach instead of wandering around law firm carparks and back entrances to office blocks. Although I suppose there were a couple of old buildings that gave a sort of atmosphere, until we had to move on as another Ripper group was on our tail.